It was a one-sided slaughter.
Over fifty knights fell one after another, their blood splashing.
The knights, clad in armor, were not slow, but they were slower than Jared and his companions, who were lightly armored. The knights provided by Annette were likely the private soldiers of Viscount Paggio, and they were not unskilled.
However, it was not enough.
Not enough in numbers, not enough in fighting strength, not enough in anything to face just three people.
“Uaaaaah, aaaaaaaah!”
A scream echoed.
A knight, his throat slit by a dagger thrust into the gap in his armor, stained his iron-colored armor red. At the gruesome sight, one knight cried out.
Wahash was remarkably skilled in combat. Armor always has seams. By inserting the blade of his dagger into these gaps, he would immobilize his opponents and then surely finish them off. And he did so with blinding speed.
Johan, fighting as a knight himself, would parry his opponent’s weapon with his mighty arm and then mercilessly drive his blade into the seams.
With an arm severed and screaming, a knight was kicked aside and, to finish him off, Johan drove his sword vertically through the armor.
Though his methods were monotonous, his combat skills, honed on the battlefield, ensured he killed the enemy with certainty.
Jared, following in the footsteps of his grandfather and father, wielded a knife but used magic to slaughter the knights one by one. Spears of obsidian, refined without incantation, pierced through the knights’ armor as if it were nothing, leaving them dead.
Knights, aided by the power of spirits, were compressed by the raised ground and cried out ear-splitting screams for help. But mercy could not be given to those who came to kill their loved ones, and they were crushed to death, their armor contorted.
In just a few minutes, half of the knights had fallen. The remaining knights stood frozen, unable to comprehend the scene.
“What are you doing! Overwhelm them with numbers, crush them!”
An angry shout erupted from behind the knights. As Jared and the other two turned their gaze, the man who had been spitting saliva raised his voice even louder.
“To be outmatched by mere servants of a baronial family is a disgrace to the Paggio Viscountcy! Kill them, kill them quickly!”
Jared recognized the man with neat, brown hair swept back. It was Viscount Paggio, Annette’s father.
He took pride in being a noble, or rather—he had nothing else to be proud of but his noble status. That was the impression Jared had of Viscount Paggio.
He clearly remembered how that man had looked at him with disdain ever since his father told him he wouldn’t inherit the baronial family.
He had instructed Annette to usurp the Daum Barony, and ultimately, he was the mastermind who orchestrated the death of his mother, Liz. Furthermore, although the Marquis Family seemed to be involved, Viscount Paggio was the only one acting so arrogantly. Jared regretted that he wasn’t present. No, he reconsidered, thinking that Viscount Paggio, who had come all the way here, was the imbecile.
This was murder. He was using his private soldiers to attempt to kill the people of the Daum Barony, including a daughter of a Ducal Family. To appear so openly and issue orders like this showed either extreme confidence or extreme foolishness. It was likely the latter.
If they couldn’t kill Jared and his companions, they would undoubtedly face the death penalty. From their perspective, they wouldn’t have shown themselves if they hadn’t thought they could win, but it seemed utterly foolish.
Even if Jared and Johan were not present, Wahash, the leader of Waalthe, alone could have dealt with fifty knights.
Was he flustered by the exposure of his daughter’s misdeeds, or was he arrogant? If he thought he could finish them off with a mere fifty soldiers without checking their strength—he was vastly underestimating them.
Jared hurled the obsidian spear he had refined with great force. The spear flew straight, piercing the head of a knight standing next to Viscount Paggio, splattering blood.
“Ah—Ahhhhhhhhh!”
Viscount Paggio, drenched in blood staining his clothes and body red, let out a pathetic cry and fell on his backside. Now there was no one left who could give proper orders. The knights were also terrified and stopped moving. If that was the case, then all that was left was to exterminate them.
“Let’s press the attack, Johan, Jared!”
“Roger that.”
“Don’t order me around.”
Though he protested with his words, they acted according to Wahash’s command.
The knights screamed like children. Some tried to escape, others attacked recklessly, but there was no longer any semblance of order.
With Viscount Paggio sitting stunned on his backside, there should have been someone to rally the knights—but everyone was too terrified of Jared and his companions.
“Help, please help me—I was forced to comply—aagh… Aaargh?”
A knight, kneeling and begging for forgiveness, was then had his helmet and armor’s seam pierced by Wahash, his neck tragically slit. He desperately tried to remove his helmet and hold his throat, but the blood flowed ceaselessly. Unable to breathe, his face turning pale, the knight’s repeated opening and closing of his mouth was more than enough to inform the surrounding knights that they could not surrender.
A few knights, driven to madness, attacked with the simple thought of killing to avoid being killed. Their swords, distorted by fear, were not a threat; it was questionable if they could even be called attacks.
Johan swept his long sword, severing the knights’ arms along with their weapons. Screams echoed once more.
Jared also fired his obsidian spears, surely killing them one by one.
Wherever someone moved, blood splattered, and the dead appeared. Faced with such a hellish scene, Annette and the others could only stare in stunned silence.
Who could have imagined that Jared, whom they had mocked for so long, would be so strong? They had never predicted that a man who endlessly mourned a dead woman would kill enemies so brutally. The sight of Liz’s father reaping lives like a grim reaper made them feel more than just fear; it made them nauseous.
In fact, Rex and Claire were on their knees and hands, vomiting repeatedly. Mentally immature and still children in age, the two could not accept the scene unfolding before them. As a rejection response, they vomited. It might have been easier if they had fainted, but the fear of losing their lives if they lost consciousness prevented even that.
With no solution to break the current situation in sight, Annette could only pray for the spreading hell to end. Then, a short scream was heard, and another knight fell. Before they knew it, no one was standing. The fifty knights, prepared to kill everyone in the Daum Barony, a number that seemed excessive—not a single one was left alive.
—Only they and their father remained.
The Marquis, who had lent them half his forces, would never have imagined that they would all be so brutally killed.
“—Eek!”
The three who had massacred the knights turned their faces towards them in unison. Annette saw them as demons and let out a short scream, falling on her backside.
She had to escape, or she would be killed—
However, her body refused to move properly due to fear.
Without even being able to think of where to run, Annette could only cower.
As time passed, the three demons drew closer.
“Now, allow me to introduce myself again. You who stole my daughter—I am Wahash, the leader of Waalthe.”
Under his sharp gaze and killing intent, Annette lost control of her bowels.
