Chapter 13  

The Black Hawks.

In the original novel, the Black Hawks was a major force.

They were the group that fought Aksion to the bitter end when he went insane.
No wonder I still remember the name of one of their sub-leaders.

Leon.

Even his name sounded cool.
He was basically my favorite side character.

Later in the story, when Vanilla became the head of the Siastor family, the Black Hawks appeared as her elite knights. Readers loved them so much they practically begged the author in the comments:

“Please, please don’t let Aksion kill the Black Hawks!”

Honestly, people threatened to strangle the author if the Black Hawks died.

Even now—before the future events of the story—they were already incredibly famous.

As a reader who had once left similar murderous comments, the moment I realized I had transmigrated into this world, I casually asked Carl:

‘Grandpa, do you know the Black Hawks?’

‘The Black Hawks of the Siastor Duchy? Of course. Everyone in the Quizen Empire knows them.’

Carl then told me the story from 10 years ago.

I sat munching on an apple while he talked, as if it were a bedtime tale.

‘Ten years ago, when His Majesty Scarlet first took the throne… The previous emperor was physically and mentally weak, so imperial authority had fallen to rock bottom.’

‘Mm.’ crunch

Duke Balten—His Majesty’s maternal uncle—seized the opportunity and launched a coup. That was when the Black Hawks made their mark.’

‘Made their mark?’

‘Yes.’

Carl lowered the fabric he was sewing and gazed into the distance, remembering.

Then he summarized the incident in one dramatic sentence:

Duke Balten burst into Emperor Scarlet’s bedroom to kill him, but the emperor survived thanks to a barrier previously cast by Dazhar Siastor.

It sounded like a grandpa telling an old legend.

I forgot my apple mid-bite, completely absorbed.

Back then, I hadn’t met Dazhar yet and only thought of him as “Vanilla’s dad,” so I simply went:

“Ohhh.”

‘A transcendent duke truly is on another level!’ I had thought.

Until then, the Siastor family had little involvement in politics. But saving the emperor from within the barrier forged an unbreakable bond with the Imperial Family.’

‘Wow. How did they save him?’

‘They used divine magic to tear open space itself and appeared in the imperial bedchamber with their knights. They shattered all the defensive magic set by the imperial mages. Then, standing before the emperor—who was kneeling behind them—they surveyed the enemy and commanded their knights like this…’

‘What did he say?’

Carl raised a trembling fist.

“Run wild, Black Hawks.”

Carl actually shivered with excitement.

‘Isn’t it magnificent? My heart pounds every time I reach this part!’

“Mm… It’s a little cringey, but yeah, it’s cool.”

‘Cringey… what does that mean?’

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s serious.’

I tried calculating Dazhar’s age.

Ten years ago… So in Earth terms, he would’ve been a hot-headed high school boy going through a “power fantasy phase.”

‘Anyway, the Black Hawks tore everything apart. They annihilated everyone.’

“Mhm.”

I pictured the scene:

Red-stained carpets, portraits of past emperors scattered across the floor, monsters pouring in through broken walls—
and black-armored knights rampaging through the chaos.

‘The Duke stayed in the emperor’s bedroom without stepping out and single-handedly slaughtered all the monsters pouring in.’

‘Monsters?’

‘Yes. Duke Balten deliberately opened dimensional rifts and released monsters into the palace.’

‘Good grief.’

‘After that, Balten was executed on the spot by the transcendents who arrived late. If not for Siastor, the imperial family would have fallen.’

I couldn’t deny it—it was impressive.

“Auu!”

“Ah—”

My recollection snapped as Aksion yanked my hair.

“Uwaang?”

“Ow ow… Aksion, that hurts, baby.”

I plucked my poor hair out of his little fist and flicked his nose lightly.

“Let’s go meet those cool big brothers, okay?”

“Uu!”

Meeting the legendary Black Hawks as workers?
I couldn’t help feeling excited as I crossed the training grounds.

The building with the Black Hawk emblem was shaped like a big square “□.”

The hallways and rooms surrounded a wide central training arena.

“Um… excuse me.”

I walked through what seemed to be the entrance.
But strangely, no servants or soldiers were around.

No knights either.

‘Didn’t he say he informed them?’

It was weird that Dazhar told me to find workers among the Black Hawks, but the thought of seeing them made me hurry anyway.

A few steps in, a delicious smell drifted through the air.

A meal?
But it was only around 3 p.m.—an odd time to eat.

Curious, I continued walking…

And found a scene straight out of a messy bar district near a college campus.

“…”

Around a dozen big guys were sitting in a circle on the training ground floor.
Some were half-lying down.

Their helmets, armor, and swords were tossed everywhere.

In the middle of them was a massive barrel of alcohol.
Next to it, meat skewers rotated lazily over a fire.

And above their heads, hanging on a wall, was a tapestry with bold writing:

♥ 30–40s Gourmet Drinking Club ♥

I rubbed my eyes.

Rubbed again.

Squinted.

Nope. Still there.

Smaller text beneath it read:

“Follow taste, follow pleasure—such is life.”

“True workplace happiness is eating and drinking.”

Beside the term “workplace happiness,” someone had scribbled:

(AKA salary thief)

The drunken men shouted:

“Hey, Leon! This meat is PERFECT! As expected of you, Captain!”

My neck creaked painfully as I turned.

There he was.

My once-beloved Leon.

In this timeline he should be in his early twenties.

He stood by the alcohol barrel with his head shoved into it while rotating lamb skewers with one hand.

His muffled voice echoed from the barrel:

“You old men burn the meat every time. You leave me no choice.”

I wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

What was this trash pit?
Was I actually in the Black Hawks’ headquarters?

Maybe I got lost.

Yes, that must be it.

I shook my head rapidly and started backing away.

If I stayed, I’d lose brain cells.

But then—

A shout froze me mid-step.

“HEY! That’s MY skewer, you bastard! And you call yourself a Black Hawk?!”

…Black Hawk?

A Black Hawk???

I turned my head again—slowly, painfully.

Two men were glaring at each other.

“I SAW you eat two earlier, moron!”

“What? Moron? You pig! Who are you calling a moron?!”

“P-pig?! Such hurtful language…”

The sun-bronzed, muscular man trembled and dramatically collapsed sideways like a tragic heroine.

The bald man panicked.

“Oh no, not again. Captain, get the salt!”

“Ugh, so annoying.”

Leon frowned, multitasking skewers and alcohol.

“There’s salt next to the skewers. Use that.”

The bald man smacked his forehead with a giant hand.

“Oh, right.”

He grabbed a fistful of salt—

FWOOOSH! FWOOOSH!

He threw it all over the bronzed man, salt flying everywhere.

A few grains even smacked me in the cheek.

“Hey! Aim properly!”

Someone complained.

They were all completely wasted and still hadn’t noticed me at all.

After finishing his salt attack, the bald man angrily bit into his skewer.

“Captain, is His Grace coming today?”

“No. He said it smells like trash.”

Leon answered.

The men lying around groaned drunkenly.

“What trash? Where? hic”

“Hehehe! Anyone should be honored to join our gourmet club!”

The bronzed man abruptly sat up, now serious.

“You idiots. If His Grace comes, we can’t slack off. Ugh. Useless bunch.”

“We could just slack off together, then.”

“Oh! That works!”

… I held back the urge to run.

I forced myself to continue listening.

And finally concluded:

These chaotic drunk idiots…
really WERE the Black Hawks.