Episode 50: The Joust (3)
The moment Demian severed the troll’s head, Abel found himself clenching his fist without realizing it.
Even Abel, who was usually so composed, couldn’t help but be thrilled by the exhilarating scene.
Trolls, even those considered low-class, were not easy opponents. Their wild nature, endless regenerative abilities, and sheer brute strength made them formidable. A single misstep could easily turn the tables, even against a low-class monster.
Yet Demian had dispatched such a creature with a single stroke.
“Abel, your brother is… truly remarkable,” Lady Olivia exclaimed, her face a mix of shock and admiration as she gazed at the arena.
Seeing his brother receive such recognition, Abel couldn’t help but smile.
“Incredible! I’ve never seen such skill in my life!” shouted the Earl of Copperhead, leaping from his seat.
“Abel, what breed of horse is that? How can it move so effortlessly?” the Earl asked, turning to Abel. Abel found himself at a loss for words.
‘Isn’t that just a draft horse?’ Abel thought, recalling that it was indeed a workhorse from the Haxen estate, typically used for plowing fields or hauling heavy loads.
‘How is it moving like that?’ Abel was too bewildered to respond. Just then, the Earl grabbed Abel’s hand.
“Seems you’re at a loss for words! But please, convey this to Sir Demian: I must have that horse! I’ll pay any price!”
“Well… it’s just that…”
“Or at least lend it to me as a stud! I’m begging you!”
Abel’s head spun at the Earl’s insistence.
Meanwhile, Demian successfully hunted down the remaining two trolls, securing an overwhelming victory in the first joust.
“Brother! You were incredible today!” Abel exclaimed as soon as they returned to their quarters, his usual calm demeanor replaced with excitement.
“I knew you were skilled with a sword, but I didn’t expect you to handle a horse so well!”
“Not just well! You ran up a troll’s arm and sliced it down in one stroke! I bet even centaurs couldn’t pull that off,” Victor chimed in, equally enthusiastic.
Demian chuckled at their excitement.
“By the way, did you get closer to Lady Olivia?” he teased.
Abel’s face turned sheepish. He had been so captivated by Demian’s performance that he hadn’t had much chance to talk to her.
Trying to change the subject, Abel mentioned what had happened earlier.
“By the way, brother, the Earl wants to buy your horse. If not, he wants to borrow it as a stud.”
“What? Why would he want to buy a draft horse?”
“Wait, so it really is a draft horse?” Abel asked, surprised.
“How did it move so nimbly? Everyone thinks it’s some extraordinary breed.”
“That’s because your brother’s skills are just that exceptional,” Demian said, pointing to himself with a grin.
Abel looked at him incredulously. The horse’s movements in the arena were beyond what any rider’s skill could achieve. No draft horse could run up a monster’s arm.
”…Alright, I understand,” Abel conceded, choosing not to press further. If it was Demian, perhaps it was possible.
“Should I explain it that way to the Earl?”
“No, that would be problematic,” Demian replied, understanding the Earl’s eagerness. It wouldn’t be wise to refuse such a heartfelt request when relations with the Earl were good.
“Tell him I can’t sell the horse, but I’m willing to lend it as a stud.”
The horse’s remarkable performance was entirely thanks to Demian. Selling it would reveal the truth immediately, but lending it as a stud posed no such risk. If ordinary horses were born, it would be the Earl’s fault for not raising them properly, not Demian’s.
“Make sure to mention a reasonable fee,” Demian added, thinking it would also help their family’s finances.
The next day, the second joust commenced.
-Grrr!
-Grrr.
Today’s monsters were orcs. Dozens of them were caged, gnashing their teeth.
The knights eyed the orcs with tense expressions. Compared to trolls, orcs weren’t as formidable individually. However, their true terror emerged in group battles. The heat of battle, the death of their kin, the bloodlust of enemies—when these elements combined, orcs went berserk. Even with limbs severed, they would continue to fight, earning them the nickname “berserkers.”
“Begin!” the Earl shouted, and the cages opened. The orcs charged at the knights.
The knights prepared to charge back, but someone was already ahead of them.
“It’s Sir Demian!”
“Demian! Demian!” The nobles recognized Demian Haxen and cheered.
Ignoring the knights, Demian plunged into the orc horde. As he passed through, a flash of light followed, and several orcs fell, decapitated in an instant.
-Grrr!
Orcs swung their clubs at Demian, trying to catch him. Anticipating this, Demian pulled the reins, and astonishingly, the horse sidestepped the attack.
“How… how can a horse move like that?”
“Is that even possible?” The spectators were in disbelief. Horses typically only moved forward. Sidestepping required exceptional talent, something that couldn’t be taught through training.
The horse dodged the clubs, moving in sync with Demian’s commands. With each swing of his sword, another orc fell.
-Grrr!
An orc lunged at Demian from behind, determined to kill him even at the cost of its life. Without looking back, Demian commanded the horse, which twisted its body and kicked out with its hind legs. The hooves struck the orc’s jaw, sending it flying.
-Grrr!
-Grrr…
With nearly twenty of their kin slaughtered in the blink of an eye, the remaining orcs hesitated, retreating with wary eyes.
“Charge! Let’s finish off these orcs!” The knights, arriving late, attacked the orcs. Already demoralized, the orcs fell easily.
Demian sheathed his sword, having slain more than enough orcs. Thus, the second joust ended with Demian Haxen’s overwhelming dominance.
“Demian! Demian!” The nobles chanted Demian’s name as the second joust concluded.
The remaining knights left the arena with frustrated expressions.
‘Damn it.’
Among them was Jackson Cutter.
‘That brat who used to cry after getting beaten by me…’
Jackson had come here seeking fame, but instead, he found himself ignored by everyone.
He was furious, unable to contain his anger. But more than that, he was tormented by a growing sense of defeat within himself.
The skills Demian Haxen had displayed over the past two days were extraordinary. Even Jackson couldn’t help but be impressed.
The truth was, Jackson couldn’t even imagine trying to emulate Demian Haxen.
‘No way. That loser is stronger than me?’
He didn’t want to admit it. But deep down, he already knew it to be true, which only fueled his rage further.
“Where’s Sophia?” Jackson snapped, mentioning her out of frustration. Yesterday, she had come to greet him right after the joust, but today she was nowhere to be seen.
Jackson headed to the stands to find Sophia Russell.
“Wow! Demian! Demian Haxen!” And there she was, cheering for Demian Haxen.
”…”
In that moment, something snapped in Jackson Cutter’s mind.
Sophia Russell couldn’t take her eyes off Demian Haxen. He had been impressive when he felled the troll with a single stroke, but today was even more astounding.
Slaughtering a horde of orcs single-handedly was something no one else could do.
“Sir Demian! Look this way!”
“Sir Demian! Sir Demian!” Other nobles around her were also calling out Demian’s name in excitement.
Watching them, Sophia Russell felt a sense of pride. Did they have any idea that Demian Haxen had once been so infatuated with her?
“Sigh… Sir Demian… Where did someone like him come from?”
“I’ve decided. I’ll ask my father to arrange a match with the Haxen family.”
Hearing this, Sophia’s mood soured.
‘A match? How ridiculous. Who do you think you are, aiming for him?’ she thought, scoffing at the idea.
Since yesterday, more and more women had started showing interest in Demian Haxen. Fortunately, none of them were as beautiful as Sophia Russell. But it wasn’t a situation she could be complacent about.
Objectively speaking, Sophia Russell and Demian Haxen had no official relationship.
There was always a chance that Damian Haxen might give up on her and choose another woman.
Sophia Russell imagined Damian with someone else by his side.
Just the thought of it made her furious, her body trembling with anger.
”…No. I can’t allow it.”
The Damian Haxen of the past might have been different, but the man he was now was too precious to let go.
The only consolation was that Damian still seemed to have feelings for her.
“But then there’s Jackson…”
Sophia was torn between the two men.
Suddenly, she felt a gaze on her and turned to see Jackson Cutter standing in the stands.
It hit her then—she had been so preoccupied with Damian that she hadn’t gone to greet Jackson.
“J-Jackson!”
Sophia jumped up in a hurry.
Jackson turned and started to walk away from the stands. Sophia quickly chased after him.
“Jackson, wait! Please, wait!”
She caught up and grabbed his hand, but he shook her off.
“Sophia, what are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re cheering for Damian Haxen when I’m right here? Are you out of your mind?”
Sophia’s face flushed with embarrassment and shame at Jackson’s accusation.
“What did I do wrong? Isn’t it natural to cheer for a knight who performed well in the tournament?”
But Sophia wasn’t ready to admit any fault.
“What did you just say?”
“Jackson, don’t be petty. You’re just jealous because Damian’s getting attention.”
Jackson’s face tightened with anger.
“Sophia…!”
“And do you really have room to be jealous of Damian right now? You haven’t done anything noteworthy in the tournament.”
Sophia thought she should stop there.
But once she started, she couldn’t hold back. She had her own grievances.
“Jackson, what have you always told me? That you’re the best, that no one your age could beat you. So what is this?”
When Jackson had decided to enter the tournament, Sophia had been hopeful.
She imagined Jackson excelling, with her by his side, basking in the attention and cheers.
“Instead of getting mad at me, maybe you should focus on what you’re going to do in tomorrow’s match.”
With that, Sophia walked past Jackson and disappeared.
Jackson stood there, watching her retreating figure in a daze.
“This… this…”
His anger surged, reaching a boiling point.
Just as he was about to lose his temper, a voice came from behind.
“The match is over.”
Surprisingly, the sound of Jacques Noir’s voice instantly calmed him.
Jackson turned and bowed his head.
”…Master.”
He couldn’t bring himself to look up.
Jacques Noir had ordered him to win the tournament.
Yet, he had failed to make any impact.
“Your performance was pathetic. Yesterday and today.”
Jacques offered no words of comfort.
“As I suspected, you can’t defeat Damian Haxen with your current skills.”
Jackson bit his lip at his master’s words, unable to argue against the truth.
“Fortunately, I had a backup plan. Otherwise, our grand scheme might have been ruined.”
Jacques turned to leave.
“Follow me.”
“Where are we going?” Jackson asked, bewildered.
Jacques replied nonchalantly, “To finalize your engagement with Olivia Copperhead.”