The Way of KnightChapter 17 – Fire from the MarshShadows in the Night
The northern marsh was shrouded in mist. Moonlight spilled across stagnant pools, glimmering faintly. Fenrir stood before twenty Eisenwald youths, their crude spears and shields clutched tightly, their faces pale yet resolute.
From the darkness came the steady rhythm of marching boots—heavy, disciplined.
Not bandits. Soldiers.
Fenrir drew in a slow breath, then unsheathed his plain sword. Moonlight caught the edge, turning it silver.
"Listen. Tonight, we do not face thieves or beasts. We face men paid to kill. But remember—walls do not crumble if every stone holds."
Geralt raised his spear, fire in his eyes. "For Eisenwald!"
The rest echoed him, though some voices trembled.
Out of the mist, twenty-five figures emerged. Hardened men in leather and chain, armed with steel swords, axes, and bows. At their front strode a broad-shouldered man with a gray beard and eyes sharp as steel.
The pressure he exuded was suffocating.
"Little Baron of Eisenwald," he rasped, his voice rough from years of battle. "Fresh from dueling a knight, and you dare play war in this swamp? Your children won't survive the night."
Fenrir narrowed his eyes. That man's presence—it was wild, suffused with killing aura.
[Enemy Status]
🔻 Commander of Mercenaries – Klaus the Iron Fang 🔻
Level: 8
Aura: 70
Strength: 65
Stamina: 72
Cunning: 38
Charisma: 20
Skills:
[Heavy Blade Lv.3] – Devastating cleaves with a greatsword. [Aura Burst Lv.1] – Unleashes destructive aura in short bursts. [Mercenary Commander] – Raises morale of irregular troops.
Fenrir raised his blade. Lava-red aura seeped from his body, dense and oppressive. It pulsed like molten stone, crackling in the cold air. Even his militia gasped.
"If you want this marsh," Fenrir said, voice calm yet sharp, "you'll have to step over our corpses."
Klaus grinned, hefting his greatsword onto his shoulder. "Bold words. I'll plant your body in the mud."
"Spears, ready!" Fenrir shouted.
The youths lifted their makeshift weapons, forming a jagged wall. Shields overlapped, though full of gaps.
"Loose!" barked one mercenary.
Arrows hissed through the night. Thuck! Thuck! Two boys staggered as shafts embedded in their shields.
"Hold! Don't break!" Fenrir roared.
Then the mercenaries crashed into them. Wood groaned, metal slammed, men screamed.
Crack! A spear snapped, but another stabbed forward, piercing a mercenary's gut. Blood splattered the mud.
Fenrir surged forward. His blade clashed against steel. Clang! The jolt rattled his bones, but his aura flared, forcing his opponent back.
Each swing of Fenrir's sword left red afterimages, as if magma wrapped around the steel. The air rippled with heat. When he struck downwards, sparks burst against a mercenary's shield.
"That boy—he has aura!" one mercenary shouted, panic in his tone.
Fenrir thrust hard, his aura-laced blade shattering a round shield. Bam! The soldier was hurled into the mud, lifeless.
The Eisenwald youths, seeing this, roared. Geralt rammed his spear through another mercenary's chest. "For Eisenwald!"
Then Klaus advanced. His greatsword swept wide—three spears shattered in one stroke, their wielders thrown back bleeding.
Fenrir steadied his breath. So this is the true test.
"You dare fight a man like me?" Klaus sneered, his body igniting with dark-blue aura that surged like a storm.
Fenrir lifted his sword, lava aura blazing hotter. The two auras collided, shaking the ground, pressing even seasoned mercenaries to their knees.
"It's not about daring," Fenrir replied coldly. "It's about survival."
Klaus roared, his blade cleaving downward. BOOM! The impact sent mud flying, the clash of auras making the earth quake.
Fenrir's knees buckled, arms screaming in pain. But he forced aura into his blade, the red glow brightening, holding the strike at bay. Cracks split the earth beneath their feet.
Around them, chaos raged. Arrows hissed, spears thrust, shields cracked. The Eisenwald youths rotated in crude formation—those exhausted pulled back, fresh fighters stepped forward.
"Close ranks! Don't leave gaps!" Fenrir barked even while straining against Klaus.
The line wavered, but it held. Every time one fell, another stepped in. Mud mixed with blood, the air reeked of iron and sweat.
Fenrir deflected another swing, sparks bursting as his sword screamed against Klaus' steel. He's stronger… far stronger. But if I falter, all ends here.
With a roar, Fenrir swung across. Shrrak! His lava aura seared a glowing mark into Klaus' greatsword, forcing the mercenary commander to stumble back.
Klaus glanced at the red scar burned into his weapon. For the first time, his expression wavered.
"Boy… what are you? A monster?"
Fenrir raised his trembling sword, eyes burning despite his battered body.
"No. I am Eisenwald. And this is my land."
Around them, the clash of steel, fire, and screams continued—mud turning to a battlefield where seeds of war had been planted.
The battle of the marsh had only begun.
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