I Became a Tin Knight

#263 North Witch Olin and the Frenzied Banquet (3)

“A single excellent wizard is worth ten elite warriors.

Warriors can’t project the same powerful firepower as wizards, their ranged attacks are extremely limited, and they can’t display special abilities. The weakness in close combat can easily be resolved when accompanied by summoned beasts.

After all, the warrior’s role can be somewhat substituted by handing spears to the peasants, making it far more efficient to focus on training wizards.”

Back in the chaotic times of war, these words from a certain magic supremacist sparked countless debates among gossipers, but generally, the consensus was, “He’s right.”

The reason was simple.

Wizards were more “flashy,” while warriors were more “plain.”

Wizards shoot fire, summon winds, and unleash cold blasts, whereas a warrior’s ultimate moves were just hitting, kicking, stabbing, and slashing.

And honestly, anyone doesn’t need to be an excellent warrior to pull that off.

Of course, warriors argued that chopping through a piece of grass was not the same as splitting metal armor with a single strike, but people naturally liked clear visual effects.

But at this very moment.

Dorothea was painfully realizing how bothersome those “plain guys” could become when their level surpassed a certain point.

“Block them! Hold them back!!”

“Show them the pride of Lenart!!”

So fast they could easily catch up to a wagon with both legs, hacking through magically reinforced bone armor with ease, whether it be a rugged footing or a tight space, launching ambushes without hesitation.

What was most annoying was their robustness and tenacity; they’d get knocked down by a wagon, trampled by hooves, blasted by cannon fire, and doused with poison and curses, yet they stubbornly got back up to charge again, almost feeling a sense of awe.

The synergy of their innate high stats and the balanced growth typical of warriors was terrifying.

These guys hardly got sick, didn’t get easily tired, and even had short resting times?

For a commander, there was no more dependable safety net than this; conversely, no more troublesome enemy in confrontation.

It wasn’t for nothing that the warrior-tech tree of the Lion Duke’s bloodline held up the empire against the Magical Kingdom.

But, Dorothea couldn’t help but utter a word.

“…No, you should have demonstrated that in the tests. Why now?”

If they had shown such terrifying abilities during the tests, they wouldn’t be criticized as useless or inflated as they were now, leading Sophia to give a clear response.

“Maybe they couldn’t do that in the tests?”

“Why not?”

“Because getting hit by a wagon would hurt worse than being beaten up by the Tin Knight and Adel. Those persistent folks wouldn’t even be able to move if they got caught.”

“…….”

It was a conclusion that left one speechless.

It wasn’t that they were weak; it was just that the allies were even more monstrous.

Conversely, it meant that if those guys really rose up all over the empire, while the Tin Knight team might be all right, others would be in serious trouble.

After a tumultuous ride that could have easily wrecked a normal wagon dozens of times over, the Tin Knight finally spoke as they saw the Duke’s mansion ahead.

[The ‘Tin Knight’ kindly reminds passengers to brace for impact!]

Like a safety belt, bony hands extending from the floor securely strapped Dorothea and Sophia in.

The Tin Knight leaped from the driver’s seat onto a golem steed, spreading his sword aura like a veil as he wrapped himself and his golem horse.

Charging through enemy ranks like a savage cavalry assault, the bone-armored golem horse slammed hard into the mansion’s front gate.

Kaaaaaam!

The massive, opulently gilded metal doors flew through the air like paper, crashing to the ground, showcasing the Duke’s formidable presence.

Without the Tin Knight’s support, even a golem horse would have suffered significant damage from such an impact.

A few bloodlines gathered hastily at the thunderous noise, staring blankly at the utterly smashed front door.

The Duke’s mansion wasn’t just one building; numerous structures were arranged within a sprawling estate, and as they stood before the grandest one, Dorothea pulled back the horse and wagon into her armor.

As if in exchange, she summoned a massive pile of skeletons.

The mountain of beast bones instantly transformed into undead the moment they touched Dorothea’s black magic.

-■■■!

The number of terrorists, initially numbering just four, miraculously bloomed into four digits in a flash.

Dorothea stated, “I’ll take care of this area to prevent any escapees, so you handle inside.”

“In that case, I should stay here too. If you two are set on going all out, my movement speed will only be an inconvenience.”

The Tin Knight and Adelheid.

The two priests nodded and charged unhesitatingly into the building’s interior.

“What, what are these!?”

“Undead! Kill that witch!!”

As radicals sprang up from all corners of the mansion, seeking to take down Dorothea and Sophia, they found it difficult to break through the undead army blocking their way.

Some exceptionally skilled individuals, mainly direct descendants with blond hair, fought savagely through the undead, but even they couldn’t cut down the targets.

The barrier created by Dorothea’s staff boasted tremendous durability, enhanced further by the divine power exuded by Sophia.

It was a joint technique made possible by a magical device from North Witch Olin, which prevented the necromancy from interfering with the holy magic.

Clang!

The young blonde man, staring blankly at the blade that shattered hopelessly against the barrier, suddenly yelled with a face flushed red.

“You, evil witch! Do you think you can remain unscathed while opposing the bloodline of the Lion Duke!?”

“I do think I can, actually.”

“What?”

In response to the bewildered young man, Dorothea returned a wicked smile.

It was the “evil and seductive smile of a witch” that didn’t surface when she was with the Tin Knight.

“Well, I wouldn’t easily touch you if you were a proper member of the Lion Duke’s bloodline. The accomplishments and honor built by your ancestors over hundreds of years are real.”

But, Dorothea continued,

“You’ve tossed that honor and reputation straight into the muck this time, not just into dirt.”

“That’s nonsense! We were merely fighting against the unjust oppression of the Empress!!”

“Then you should have claimed that face-to-face.”

With a disdainful gaze, Dorothea looked at the young man.

“You should have proclaimed fairly in front of everyone that this is unfair, instead of trying to kidnap the enemy leadership to plunder the empire. If you couldn’t do that, then either stand your ground through your skills or negotiate persistently. If you hate this and you can’t do that either, then just whine like a kid until your efforts drag down everyone else into the swamp; that’s a great move, isn’t it?”

“Don’t just blabber like it’s someone else’s business! What do you know?!”

“At the very least, I don’t think your ancestors would be happy seeing you in this state.”

“No! They would be cheering us on!”

“Hmm.”

Dorothea’s expression turned infinitely arrogant.

In truth, she could have easily buried this guy under the undead army waiting in the back instead of engaging in pointless banter, but watching him stubbornly insist on his superiority amused her.

“…I was only intending to assist Adel, but here we are.”

Only Sophia, standing right next to her, heard her mutter softly.

Stretching her left hand into the air opposite the hand holding the staff, Dorothea began to spin something invisible in circles.

Three precise counterclockwise rotations.

Holding the chain ring that had transformed into a cage, Dorothea declared,

“—Those who wish to say a word to their descendants, come forth.”

Thump.

In an instant, the air pulsated.

The Duke Lenart’s mansion.

In the land where the heirs to the Lion Duke’s bloodline were born, stayed, and eventually lay to rest, dim will-o’-the-wisps of souls emerged from the sky.

And to them, Dorothea poured her magic power lavishly.

“Ah…!”

“Hah!”

Gasping sounds echoed from various spots.

The once hazy souls took on clear forms as they absorbed Dorothea’s magic.

A warrior riddled with scars. An immaculate scholar in formal robes. A rigid knight who embodied strictness and seriousness, and a half-clothed warrior exhibiting a wild spirit.

A beauty whose charm could not be expressed, and a wise old man, filled with deep wisdom in his wrinkled face, even a child smaller than Adelheid.

Their common traits were three.

One. Golden hair.

Two. Violet eyes.

Three. Each wore a face expressing anger as they stared at their descendants.

“Ah, father.”

The young man who had just been lashing out at Dorothea and proclaiming their justification trembled at the sight of the spirit of a middle-aged man approaching him.

“Why do you look at me with those eyes? Why, why! We were just trying to protect our house! So! So—”

《…….》

The spirit uttered not a word.

Without scolding the young man’s actions or tormenting him for his words, it simply gazed silently at him.

Perhaps that silence was the most intense denial and a heartfelt rebuke.

Thud.

The young man crumpled to the ground, collapsing onto his knees.

From various parts of the mansion, sobs and pleas for forgiveness echoed.

“Everyone, hold your ground! This is fake! It’s just that witch’s sorcery!!”

“We are the only ones who can protect Lenart! Fight till the end!”

“Damn it! Are you out of your mind!? What are you—cough!!”

Of course, the world wasn’t all fairy-tale perfect; even with the appearance of ancestral spirits, there were plenty who stubbornly insisted they were right without reflection.

Well, in the end, they’d just end up being bitten by the endlessly advancing undead, grabbed by arms, and eventually buried under the skeletal army.

Sophia marveled.

“Impressive, in many ways.”

“I’m glad there were more souls than I expected. I heard the duke’s stronghold isn’t only in this capital but has several locations, so honestly, I thought it’d be hit or miss. …Huh?”

Suddenly, Dorothea’s eyes narrowed.

Clatter, clatter, clatter.

The magical cage she held.

It began to tremble violently, as if something was wrong.

Dorothea sharpened her senses to find the source and muttered in wonder.

“…Underground?”

Deep down, deep within the mansion’s depths.

The cage responded to a profoundly alien and powerful “something.”

So brilliant, yet also violently intense.

Like a mass of sun and lightning condensed into one.

“Spirit? No, residual thoughts? But wait, why does just a thought carry such presence?”

What was even more peculiar was another force wrapping around that mass like a shell.

Not using magic, nor being a form of magic, not principles or theories, but emotion and raw essence.

Dorothea had encountered such forces a few times before.

Once in a tower where a woman became a malicious entity to protect her daughter.

Once on an island where a woman voluntarily isolated herself to ensure safety.

The identity of that power was…

“─People of the Underworld.”

---