Chapter 55
Trapped in a Damn Game
It was the fourth day since they had stayed in Bravion.
Except for the knights who had left the East for their missions, most of the knights had returned under Kyros’s command.
Unlike a few days ago, the training grounds of the mansion were now crowded with countless people wielding spears and swords.
Under the strict guidance of the knights, the soldiers sweated profusely and focused entirely on training.
Dermo and his party were also mingled in among them.
‘They really stand out.’
The party members were no ordinary foot soldiers.
No matter how elite the soldiers of a count’s household were, they couldn’t compare to mercenaries who had ruled an entire city.
Moreover, having spent time with Dermo, they had grown far stronger than before.
The final part of the morning training was a team-based sparring exercise that was as close to real combat as possible.
Dozens of teams fought simultaneously, and the last surviving team would be the winner in this survival-style match.
According to the knight in charge of training, the results of the sparring would determine the order and amount of the lunch distribution.
Everyone was exhausted from the grueling training, and hunger sharpened their eyes.
Among them, a few stood out particularly.
“Those mercenaries are crazy strong!”
“This level is on a whole different plane!”
The instructor grouped Dermo’s party into one team.
He probably assumed they were on the same level as the other soldiers.
Since the party had been sparring half-heartedly before hearing that meal distribution would depend on the results, their true level had not been assessed.
But that decision gave the soldiers an experience they had never expected, nor ever experienced before.
“Hey! Target those mercenaries first, every other team!”
“This isn’t the time to fight among ourselves!”
Walter possessed skills specialized for multi-person battles.
“Mercenary Corps’ Roar” and “Vanguard’s Will” were not skills one could learn from anyone—they were talents one had to be born with.
“Shields, deploy to the right! The formation of the two teams on the left has collapsed! Now! Push the left!”
He also had the battlefield intuition known as “Sense of the Battlefield”, allowing him to read the flow of combat.
Under Walter’s command, the party overpowered the other teams at an overwhelming speed from the very start of the sparring.
Kyle utilized his agility to move quickly.
He didn’t even use the wooden training swords, which felt unfamiliar in his hands; instead, he effectively incapacitated opponents with joint locks and flashy kicks.
Levin, as if having meticulously studied a manual on sword techniques the night before, displayed a dramatically improved performance.
The once youthful image of the youngest member was gone; he now stood out alongside Walter at the front lines.
Tom laughed gleefully as he swung his sword, and Rowin awkwardly followed his lead.
Wherever the party passed, the soldiers fell like leaves before a gust of wind.
At this rate, first place was guaranteed.
Watching this, Dermo felt a sense of pride and crossed his arms with a smile.
Clang! Clang!
From a short distance, the harsh sound of clashing metal rang out.
Drawn by the noise, Dermo turned his head.
“Is that all you’ve got?! It’s shameful to be a knight of Aslan!”
Away from the soldiers, a sparring match among the knights was taking place.
One knight, notable for his neatly groomed brown mustache shaped like a seagull, was raining fierce attacks on Jeron.
The difference in skill was obvious.
Jeron struggled just to defend, unable to retaliate.
“If this is your level, your father—who probably spent his life digging fields—would be more knightly than you!”
The mustached knight provocatively mentioned Jeron’s family without hesitation.
It wasn’t a personal insult fueled by malice but a calculated attempt to stir Jeron’s anger and provoke his fighting spirit.
Did Jeron perceive the intent? Or was it just his anger taking over?
His eyes changed.
The pupils, which had been wavering, now locked onto a single point like a hunter zeroing in on prey.
“Uaaah!”
Regardless, the provocation was successful.
Jeron’s sword became enveloped in a crimson aura.
In an instant, the aura transformed into flames radiating intense heat.
It was not caused by a Soul Stone weapon.
‘Oh…’
Dermo blinked in disbelief, his gaze fixed on the sight.
It was the first true aura he had seen since witnessing the half-formed aura displayed by the captain of the Heratz Barony’s knights.
“Yes! Give it everything you’ve got!”
The mustached knight lowered his stance, raising his own aura.
His sword began to glow a deep ochre, and the Soul Stones embedded in his armor shimmered in response.
The amplified aura spread through his body, enveloping him entirely.
Whoosh!
Jeron swung his sword without hesitation.
The blade, wreathed in fierce flames, struck down toward the mustached knight.
Whoosh! Boom!
A relentless sequence of attacks followed.
The mustached knight blocked several strikes, then deflected Jeron’s sword with his aura-imbued shoulder guards.
Jeron’s balance collapsed, and the knight slammed his pommel into Jeron’s wrist before punching him in the face.
Crack!
Jeron lost his grip on the sword and fell backward, blood flowing from his nose.
“An aura at that age. Congratulations.”
“Th-thank you, senpai!”
Jeron smiled widely, bloodied.
The crimson aura from his sword had enough destructive power to slice down an opponent instantly.
Meanwhile, the mustached knight’s ochre aura was slow but had excellent defensive properties.
If the knight’s control and understanding of aura were slightly lacking, his shoulder guards might have been cleaved by the sword.
‘Even I, right now, wouldn’t easily pierce that mustached knight’s aura.’
Dermo realized once again the importance of aura.
Aura was essential for every class that wielded swords.
In all the countless cycles he had experienced, there had never been a moment when he hadn’t learned aura.
Even wizards mastered aura to compensate for their lack of defense.
When stats were similar, the presence or absence of aura determined victory.
No, aura could even overcome differences in stats.
‘I need to learn aura too…’
Dermo bit his lower lip.
Normally, one would acquire aura from skill books in dungeons or from knights who could manipulate it.
But his body could not learn aura in such a way.
‘Wait!’
Snapping out of his thoughts, Dermo’s eyes flashed.
Once matters concerning the count were settled, he planned to have his party learn aura under the guidance of Aslan’s knights.
Dermo now looked at aura with a completely different perspective.
‘It’s not something to be seen as a skill.’
Others did not consider aura a skill.
In this world, Dermo was probably the only person who recognized aura as a “skill.”
Unless, by chance, there were others trapped in a game like him—which he was certain there weren’t.
As the knights, and as Jeron had just shown, they approached aura as something to be physically learned and internalized—not merely a skill.
‘It’s not impossible.’
There was magic inside the body.
By increasing intelligence, one could control magic at will.
In that state, learning aura wasn’t impossible.
Just as Dermo was lost in thought, someone approached and spoke.
“Your subordinates are quite skilled. I didn’t expect that even soldiers with real combat experience wouldn’t respond properly.”
Tall, handsome, with refined features.
It was Nerven.
“Not only the low-ranking knights but a few are skilled enough to be mid-tier knights.”
“Is that so?”
Dermo shrugged.
Nerven nodded slightly and continued speaking quietly.
“Come with me. Lady Evelia wants to see you.”
Dermo knew without asking that this was to thank him for saving her life.
Although he had no particular reason to meet Evelia and found it bothersome, refusing was not an option.
Otherwise, Nerven—who harbored feelings for her—would dislike him and constantly find reasons to harass him.
“Understood.”
Dermo reluctantly followed him to the annex.
From behind, Walter’s voice shouted loudly, urging him to come eat immediately.
Clatter.
In the annex’s dining hall, the sound of dishes softly echoed.
Though the table could comfortably seat more than ten people, only three were present.
“I expected mercenaries to look rough…”
Evelia tilted her head while bringing a fork with fruit to her mouth amid the greasy meats.
“Not noble-born, are they?”
The blonde man in front of her seemed completely out of place for someone who risked his life daily.
If she hadn’t been told he was a mercenary…
And if not for the eyepatch covering one eye…
Evelia might have mistaken him for someone like herself.
“No. I don’t even know who my parents are.”
She chewed and swallowed her fruit slowly before answering.
“Oh? Then you could really be of noble birth. Some nobles reproduce for pleasure without concern—it’s not unheard of. A secret about your origins you don’t even know.”
“Milady…”
“Well, it’s not wrong, is it?”
“…”
Evelia smiled innocently.
An older maid standing behind her sighed lightly and shook her head.
Though her words had no malice, they could come across as rude.
She had been advising Evelia since she was little, yet there was no sign of improvement.
“Hmm… I get the same vibe I did when I first met Nerven.”
Ignoring the maid’s thoughts, Evelia continued to speak whatever came to mind.
“Since Nerven, I’ve never seen anyone this handsome.”
Dermo froze.
He paused mid-cut with his knife, feeling the sharp gaze coming from across the table.
Ahem…
Until now, Nerven had been moving quietly, but suddenly, his knife scraped the plate noisily.
Dermo cautiously averted his gaze and lowered his head.
Could it be… he’s jealous?
Not childish at all, but petty.
Thinking this, Dermo put a piece of meat in his mouth.
“I heard your father personally gifted you armor. I should give something to my benefactor as well. Is there anything you want?”
There wasn’t much he could get from her—maybe just a few coins.
“I don’t particularly want…”
Dermo stopped mid-sentence. Though he hadn’t had anything to ask for, something came to mind from her offer.
“There’s nothing I wish to possess, but there is something I want to learn.”
“Go on.”
“Aura.”
“Aura?”
Evelia blinked at his unexpected answer.
“If that’s the case, I might be able to help a little.”
Evelia glanced at Nerven.
Nerven put down his fork and knife and said:
“Aura isn’t something someone can teach. You have to realize it yourself.”
“You can help me, can’t you?”
“Even the knights in my family all realized it themselves…”
“You’ll help me, right?”
“…”
Nerven sighed deeply and reluctantly nodded.
Dermo inwardly chuckled.
This young knight was the youngest captain in a knightly family.
Though currently stagnant, if his story progressed so that he desired growth, he could become the youngest Sword Master.
A genius among geniuses.
Learning from him would shorten the time it took to master aura.
‘While we’re at it, I might as well teach our kids too.’
Having a top-tier instructor for free.
Thinking that, the flavor of the meat in his mouth seemed even richer.
