Overwhelming Firepower-Chapter 288: Dragon’s Claw

Dragon’s Claw, a famous mercenary group, had a leader who was an aura user at the sixth mantle. It had several squads, each with a Captain and Vice-Captain at the fifth mantle. Their basic members were at the third and fourth mantle.

This was a mercenary group that could match the power of a small kingdom. Over the years, this mercenary group had risen to fame, as they aggressively taken on many missions that offered a lot of money.

It was not unusual for soldiers of fortune to go wherever the coin was, but even they had times when they would stop to enjoy the coin they made.

The Dragon’s Claw, on the other hand, didn’t do that; they never rest, and they are always seeking the next mission to get more money.

Dragon’s Claw was known across the continent as a mercenary company driven by coin, feared for its efficiency, and unmatched in discipline. Few, however, knew the truth behind the clawed banner they carried.

Long before they became mercenaries, they had once been honorable knights.

They once served a kingdom whose banners no longer flew anywhere in the world. Its capital had burned in a war now remembered only in fragmented songs and fading records. Surrounded by enemies, betrayed by allies, and abandoned by history, that kingdom had fallen in a single catastrophic campaign.

The forgotten kingdom of Milton was a jewel set within the southern mountain ranges, where green valleys cut through stone ridges and warm winds from the lowlands softened the climate.

Snow crowned the highest peaks during winter, but the valleys below remained fertile and temperate throughout most of the year.

Its people lived neither lavishly nor desperately. They were disciplined, industrious, and quietly proud.

Unfortunately, in the end, they were unable to protect their lands. In a last-ditch effort to keep the kingdom alive.

The most loyal of knights were given the only heir to the throne, a child barely two years of age. They were tasked to protect the child, and one day, hopefully, Milton would rise again.

The child grew to be quite the talent, and after three decades, he was able to reach the sixth mantle.

The loyal knights had become mercenaries, and their main objective was to gain enough coin to rebuild their beloved kingdom.

They took any and all jobs that paid a lot of coin. They had been paid a lot by a Marquis from a Kingdom situated North of the Continent.

They had sent one squad based on the amount of coin given. They, like most of the mercenaries present, thought this was going to be an easy job.

A war with twenty thousand on their side, while the other party only had five thousand. Even if the other party was the so-called Iron Duke, a person who is currently at the same level as their leader.

Aura users and mages might be superhuman, but they were, in the end, still human. They could be overwhelmed and killed.

That is what they thought as they went and did this mission. Yet what they experienced was completely different from what they expected.

There were those unknown weapons that the other party used. Not to mention, there were even dwarves on the Iron Duke’s side.

Now they were facing the right-hand man of the Iron Duke. The knight who many in this kingdom said was the paragon of what it is to be a knight, Sir Thalos Stonemaul.

Despite being the same fifth mantle aura user as the Captain and Vice-Captain of the squad, he was able to overwhelm them both and kill almost all of their fourth-mantle subordinates without any difficulty.

Not to mention the Vice-Captain’s hands were broken now; this might actually be their last battle.

The Captain looked at the Vice-Captain as if able to read each other’s minds; they simply nodded their heads.

The Captain took a step forward and spoke to Sir Thalos. "I’m Luka Jenor, a loyal knight of Milton."

Luka spun his spear and then got into a fighting stance. "I challenge you, Sir Thalos of Norvaegard, to a duel."

Sir Thalos looked at Luka with a confused expression and then sighed. "I do not know where Milton is, or understand why a supposed knight from another kingdom is here as a mercenary. But you do understand we are in the middle of the Styrhord, right?"

Sir Thalos glanced at the remaining members of Dragon’s Claw. "Any other time, I would have gladly accepted this duel, but if we duel now, your men will try to destroy the thing I’m protecting."

Luka did not lower his spear. Behind him, the Vice-Captain forced himself upright despite his shattered hands. Blood dripped steadily from his fingers, but he did not allow himself to kneel.

"I swear upon my honor that my men will not make a move while we duel. I just want you to promise me that if I lose, please allow my men to retreat."

"You speak of honor," Thalos said evenly. "Yet you stand beneath the banner of a foreign Marquis who seeks to crush my liege."

Luka did not flinch as he looked into Sir Thalos’s eyes and responded. "We stand beneath no banner; we simply sell our strength. It might not seem like it to you, but we have never forgotten, we have never abandoned our oaths."

Sir Thalos could feel the burning passion from Luka. It would seem that this was his last-ditch effort to save his subordinates from him.

"Tell me, Luka, what is a knight?" Sir Thalos suddenly asked. Luka and those with him were momentarily stunned. Luka did not answer immediately.

The battlefield raged around them with the constant thunder of artillery, the screams of the dying, and the clash of steel.

Smoke drifted across the battlements, and the ground trembled beneath their feet. Yet Luka stood still, and he gripped the spear in his hand tighter. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady and unwavering.

"A knight is," Luka said.

His aura mantle flickered faintly around him, not blazing with overwhelming power, but burning steadily with quiet resolve.

"Someone who stands in the face of fear and does not yield. Even when death stands before him, he will never turn his back." He took a slow breath, and his eyes did not leave Sir Thalos.

"A knight protects those who cannot protect themselves. He places their lives above my own."

Behind him, the surviving members of Dragon’s Claw listened in silence. Their bodies were wounded, their numbers diminished, but none of them moved.

"A knight gives his blade to justice, not to cruelty. He does not raise hisweapon for selfish gain, but for what he believes must be protected." The Vice-Captain, his hands shattered and trembling, lowered his head in silence.

"I am a knight!" Luka suddenly said his voice became firmer than ever before.

"I keep faith with my brothers, in life and in death. I do not abandon them, even when defeat is certain." Luka’s voice grew firmer with each word.

"I do not abandon my oath, even if my kingdom has fallen. Even if its banners no longer fly. Even if the world has forgotten its name." The wind carried ash and dust between them.

"I do not retreat from my duty." He raised his spear and pointed it toward Sir Thalos, not with arrogance, but with resolve.

"I do not kneel before despair." His eyes burned with quiet conviction.

"I am Luka Jenor. Knight of Milton. And I will fulfill my duty until my last breath."

Silence fell between them, even as the war continued all around. Then, amidst all the noise, Sir Thalos started laughing heartily.

"Hahahahaha! That’s right, that’s how a knight’s supposed to act." Sir Thalos then placed his fist on his chest and bowed his head slightly. "It would seem that I have failed to see a true knight in front of me. I shall trust your words and your vows."

Sir Thalos then looked at Luka with a different demeanor from before. Before, Sir Thalos was still emitting a playful atmosphere, but now, he felt like an overwhelming predator.

"I, Thalos Stonemaul of Norvaegard, Commander of the Stellhart knights, accept the duel against Sir Luke Jenor, knight of Milton."

"Thank you," Luka spoke softly.

For a moment, neither of them moved, even as the battlefield continued to roar around them. The clash of steel, the screams of men, and the thunder of distant explosions all faded into the background, leaving only the two knights facing one another.

Luka adjusted his footing and lowered his center of gravity as he held his spear firmly with both hands.

His breathing gradually slowed, and the tremors in his muscles faded as he forced his body to obey his will.

He could feel the pain from his wounds and the exhaustion weighing heavily on him, and he understood with perfect clarity that death stood before him. Yet, despite all that, he did not fear.

Sir Thalos stepped forward once, and the stone beneath his boot cracked under the sheer density of his aura.

His mantle did not explode outward wildly but instead remained tightly compressed around his body, dense, controlled, and absolute.

This was his power forged through countless battles, through tragedy, through adversity; this was the power he gained from continuing to move forward.

Luka narrowed his eyes as he studied the man before him. He had fought a lot of people before, knights, mages, generals, mercenaries, yet the man before him felt more absolute than any of them.

Sir Thalos, for the first time since the start of this battle, took a proper fighting stance. "Seeing that this is an honorable duel between knights, I will not insult you," Sir Thalos said in a calm and steady voice. "I will kill you with everything I have."

Luka smiled faintly at those words. "That is all I could ever ask for," he replied.

In the next instant, Luka vanished from his position. The stone beneath his feet shattered as he launched forward with explosive speed, his spear thrusting straight toward Thalos’s heart.

His aura mantle surged along the shaft of the weapon; he was putting everything in this single strike. It felt like his spear could pierce through anything at the moment.

Sir Thalos did not retreat. Instead, he stepped forward to meet the attack head-on. His hand struck the side of the spear with tremendous force.

A thunderous shockwave erupted from the impact, cracking the surrounding stone and sending dust into the air.

Luka felt it immediately. The difference in strength was not overwhelming, but it was undeniable.

Sir Thalos had not completely deflected the spear, and the tip grazed his side, tearing through his armor and drawing blood.

Sir Thalos smiled faintly. "Excellent attack."

Luka did not hesitate and immediately followed with another attack. He twisted his body and spun the spear, turning the failed thrust into a sweeping strike aimed at Thalos’s neck.

Sir Thalos seemingly expected such an attack, took one more step forward, and caught the spear’s shaft in his armpit. He then countered with a twisting forward punch.

Luka tried to evade the attack, but he was too slow. The punch grazed his ribs. It was just a graze, but the sound of cracking bone could be heard clearly.

The force of the blow sent Luka flying backward, and his boots carved deep grooves into the stone as he struggled to stop himself.

Pain exploded through his chest, and he immediately realized that several of his ribs had been broken.

Sir Thalos did not pursue him. Instead, he waited calmly, allowing Luka to recover and stand on his own. He would not rob him of his dignity as a knight.

Luka coughed, and blood spilled from his mouth, yet he still managed to smile. "So this is the strength of Norvaegard’s finest knight," Luka said weakly.

Luka tightened his grip on his spear, and his aura mantle surged once more. This time, it burned brighter than before. He stepped forward again, with no fear of what was to come; he charged ever forward.

His spear moved like a storm, unleashing thrust after thrust, each one carrying the full measure of his strength and conviction. Every strike represented his loyalty, his honor, and the memory of the kingdom he had sworn to protect.

Sir Thalos met every attack and parried them with the palm of his hand, in calm precision. He waited until the right time presented itself.

It didn’t take long for Sir Thalos to see a flaw in the attacks. He did not hesitate to take advantage of that flaw and counter. He stepped and drove his fist into Luka’s chest with overwhelming force.

The impact shattered Luka’s aura mantle completely. His spear fell from his hands, and his body lifted into the air before crashing heavily onto the stone.

The battle continued around them, but Luka did not rise again. Sir Thalos approached the fallen knight and stood over him.

Luka coughed weakly, blood spilling from his lips as his vision began to fade. He looked at his opponent and showed a faint smile on his face.

"I have lost," Luka whispered.

"Yes, it was a fine duel filled with honor and conviction." Sir Thalos replied. There was no mockery or pride in his voice; there was only truth.

"... Thank you... Please... Honor... Your Word..."

Sir Thalos turned his gaze toward the surviving members of Dragon’s Claw, who looked at their fallen Captain while gnashing their teeth and clenching their fists.

"I will honor the deal we made, now leave," Sir Thalos ordered.

The group did not leave, and instead, the Vice-Captain, with his broken arms, stepped forward. "May we take the Captain’s body?"

Sir Thalos nodded his head and stepped aside. One of the remaining fourth-mantle aura users walked slowly towards Luka’s dead body and picked him up. He and the others then bowed their heads at Sir Thalos once before leaving.

"You were a fine knight," Sir Thalos spoke as he looked at Sir Luka.

As his men carried him away, Luka heard those final words. A faint smile formed on his lips, and for the first time in thirty years, the weight on his shoulders eased.

Luka exhaled slowly, and the tension left his body. His grip loosened, and his eyes dimmed as peace finally claimed him. For the first time in thirty years, Sir Luka Jenor, Knight of Milton, allowed himself to rest.