Reincarnated as the Descendant of a Fallen Noble

Chapter 72: The Giant Coffin

The next morning, in front of the tent where the members of the Daphne Viscounty were staying.

The Maw mercenaries and Malion crawled out through the tent entrance, their faces swollen and bruised.

“My... my arm won’t move...”

“My back’s the problem for me.”

“Feels like I’m gonna die. Seriously.”

Everyone’s faces were pale and lifeless.

In truth, their bodies were covered in bruises, from their backs and the soles of their feet to their calves and arms—there wasn’t a single uninjured part.

Naturally, the reason they were all in this sorry state was because of the endless wave of monsters (mainly Frost Ghouls) that had kept coming.

‘How many of them are there?’

‘They really never end...’

All day yesterday, the ghouls had come in wave after wave.

How many had I cut down? Thousands? Maybe even more than ten thousand.

They even attacked during the night, forcing us to stay up and fight without a moment’s sleep.

During this chaos, several soldiers had gotten injured, and the only thing we had to eat were sprouted potatoes... it’d be weirder if we actually had energy.

Even during brief lulls, we only managed to get some shut-eye by taking turns...

“The watchtower! Incomingggg!”

 Screeech! Screeech!

Screams rang out again from beyond the fortress walls, causing the heads of the Daphne members to turn instinctively.

Soldiers were firing arrows, and the shouts of knights echoed in the air.

It was clearly another ghoul assault.

The Maw mercenaries’ brows furrowed instinctively.

‘I want to run.’

‘This place is hell...’

At that moment—

“Damn it, why am I so tired.”

“R-Right? Seriously.”

Hardin let out a deep sigh and scratched at his tangled hair, while Malion leaned on a wooden stick like a cane, struggling to support his shaking legs.

Though the mood was different, both of them clearly had endured hell the previous night.

“Brother, are you really sure about this?”

“Sure about what?”

“About whether we can... get Her Highness out of this fortress.”

Malion’s face twisted with despair.

There was no food, the ghouls never stopped coming, manpower was insufficient, and there was no hope for supplies.

In other words, this fortress was becoming...

‘A giant coffin.’

Just then, Hardin waved his hand dismissively and replied.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

“What’s fine?”

“I’ve got a rough idea. Of what to do.”

“What kind of idea?”

“Something like that. It’s not certain yet.”

When Hardin muttered something vague and turned his head away again, Malion’s shoulders slumped.

‘What the hell is he talking about.’

I knew that Brother Hardin had achieved incredible results in both the Territorial War and the Kreveion Subjugation.

But this situation was completely different.

Even the esteemed Princess Medeia and her knights couldn’t solve the problems of this fortress.

Holding off the ghouls for now might be doable somehow, but...

‘It’s only a matter of time…’

There was a clear limit to both mental and physical endurance.

If they kept holding out without any supplies, it wouldn’t take much for everyone here to be wiped out.

Malion turned his gaze around the base.

A short distance from the tents, he spotted dozens of mounds.

Clearly the graves of those who had died here.

A chill ran down his spine, and he instinctively swallowed.

‘It’d be a miracle if I don’t end up like that.’

Well, before it got to that point...

If they failed to keep the promise to Her Highness, that’d be the end of it anyway.

‘Damn it, we’re completely cornered.’

Front, back, left, right.

There wasn’t a single visible way out.

Malion’s expression twisted into despair.

“Alright, come get your rations!”

Just then, in the center of the base, soldiers and refugees began lining up to receive their rations.

The Maw mercenaries naturally joined the line, received their potatoes, and found spots near a campfire, chewing away at them.

“Tastes terrible again today, Beryl hyung…”

“Eat it anyway. Unless you want to starve to death.”

“Living is hard these days.”

“It’s just this place that’s hard.”

Everyone looked like they were swallowing poison, but what could they do?

If they didn’t eat this, they’d have to go hungry all day again.

Hardin, on the other hand, tossed his potato sack up and down in one hand a few times, then held it out and spoke.

“Your Highness. Do you need this again today?”

“……”

Princess Medeia silently snatched it out of his hand, only to toss it carelessly onto the ground again.

It just so happened to land in front of a child of similar age to the one from yesterday. The child looked around and then devoured the potato in the blink of an eye.

Princess Medeia let out a displeased sigh, then looked back at Hardin and asked,

“You don’t mind starving? If you keep this up… you won’t last long.”

“Well, I figure starving is better than getting food poisoning from a rotting potato.”

“You’re full of yourself.”

“Sorry, what?”

When Hardin tilted his head, Medeia snorted and muttered,

“I heard your ancestor, Varlach Daphne, was a great knight. And here his descendant is, being picky about food. Isn’t that laughable?”

“Huh? Wait… You know Varlach Daphne?”

“When I was young, my great-aunt used to tell me stories about him.”

At that moment, Medeia touched the bracelet around her wrist.

It was engraved with unreadable, intricate markings.

She raised her head again and continued.

“They said Varlach Daphne was an exemplary knight. Selfless, righteous… and highly skilled.”

“……”

An exemplary knight? Righteous? Me?

Hardin crossed his arms and scratched his chin for a moment.

‘Khhhhh…’

He felt his neck stiffen with pride for no reason.

Are you guys watching this? This is me.

He shouted inwardly toward his subordinates who had gone on ahead to the afterlife.

Hardin cleared his throat and asked again.

“If it’s not too rude to ask, may I know the name of the great-aunt who told you those stories?”

“…It was Lady Linian Fabian.”

Linian Fabian?

For a moment, Hardin’s eyes went wide.

– Lord Varlach Daphne, did your expedition go well this time?

– Ah, yes, very well indeed. This time, what happened was…

Vivid memories from his days loitering around the royal palace came rushing back.

Linian Fabian.

The princess who had looked so frail, as if she might collapse at any moment.

Every time he visited the palace, he’d felt sorry for her always holed up in her room, so he used to tell her stories during his spare time.

From youthful adventures to battlefield tales.

He’d sprinkle in a little (?) exaggeration for entertainment, and she’d laugh and clap delightedly. In return, he’d get delicious desserts.

But still…

‘Even if she’s her great-aunt, how can their personalities be that different?’

Hardin glanced at Medeia and mentally compared her to the Linian from his memory.

Linian had been cheerful, giggly, like a ray of sunshine… whereas…

‘That one’s more like a soulless doll.’

Silver hair and red eyes.

Their appearances overlapped in certain ways, but the atmosphere was completely different from Linian’s.

Anyway—

‘So she heard some stories about me when she was young, huh.’

The issue was that the stories she knew were, well, a little—no, very—exaggerated.

– Wow, Lord Varlach. You really did something that amazing? Really?

– Khm-hm, yes, well… Something like that.

Put together, everything he told Linian had painted him as the most righteous and upright person imaginable.

Wasn’t that shameless?

‘If I told it like it really was, she’d be disappointed.’

He’d just added a bit of flavor for fun, that was all.

So for now, he decided to take what Medeia said with a grain of salt.

Varlach Daphne, the knight among knights.

Not a bad reputation to have. Not bad at all.

Hardin nodded and continued speaking.

“I see. Haha, what a curious connection. To think you knew my ancestor. Lord Varlach was amazing, wasn’t he? Almost as much as me.”

At that moment, Medeia frowned and said,

“Don’t tarnish your ancestor’s name.”

“Pardon? Tarnish? How?”

“No matter how I look at you… you don’t seem nearly as great as Lord Varlach.”

Crack.

Veins began to pop on Hardin’s forehead.

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

“If you’re a descendant, then act like one. Show respect to your ancestor instead of arrogance.”

Respect? Excuse me, ma’am. I am Varlach Daphne, you know?

Hardin felt the words rising all the way to his throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to say them out loud.

“…Yes, yes. I’ll do that.”

It was frustrating, but what else could he do?

If he went around shouting that he was Varlach, people would just think he’d lost his mind.

‘Karma. This is all just karma.’

Hardin let out a deep sigh and scratched the bridge of his nose. Just then, Medeia asked,

“So, what are you planning to do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“You still haven’t told me your plan.”

“Ah…”

To be precise, he meant to say it, but the Frost Ghouls had kept attacking nonstop.

Hardin paused for a moment to organize his thoughts before speaking.

“First, I’m thinking about securing food.”

“Food…?”

“Yes. At this rate, we’re all going to starve to death. And whatever we’re going to do, we’ll need to eat and regain strength first.”

The food situation in the fortress wasn’t just dire—it had already hit rock bottom.

Even the sprouted potatoes were almost gone, and with more mouths to feed because of them, it would run out even faster.

In this state...

‘No operation or plan is going to work properly.’

For what he intended to do, both they and the others needed to be in top condition.

Besides...

‘It doesn’t sit right with me to just watch this and do nothing.’

Hardin’s gaze drifted to the refugees.

They were all exhausted and starving, their eyes void of life.

There were even infants among them, no more than four or five years old.

It just made him feel... awful.

Medeia frowned slightly and responded.

“That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“This land... is not suited for that. To get food, you’d have to go outside.”

Medeia and her knights weren’t fools.

If securing food had been possible, they would’ve done so already.

The Ruslan Mountains were covered in snow year-round.

Naturally, no fruits or grains grew here, and farming was impossible.

Even hunting animals or monsters was incredibly difficult, and most of them had blue blood that allowed them to survive the cold.

This trait helped those creatures resist the cold, but if a normal person ate them, it would become a deadly poison.

In other words, most of them were inedible.

Even the livestock that once provided milk and meat—the edible animals of the refugees—had long since become ghoul food.

“Your Highness, have you ever heard this saying?”

“What saying?”

‘Seek, and you shall find.’

“……”

“I have a knack for these kinds of things, just like our ancestor.”

“What did you say?”

You little brat. Hey, the one standing right in front of you is Varlach Daphne himself.

Finding food? I could do that with my toes, with my toes!

Hardin grinned and gave a thumbs-up.

---

Ruslan Mountains.

Even beyond the northern border of the Fabian Empire, this towering, colossal range was renowned for its piercing cold.

The terrain was so harsh that, aside from a few minority tribes, only a handful of monsters, grasses, and trees adapted to extreme conditions could survive there.

On a desolate slope of the mountain range, six people were cutting through the blizzard.

“Brother, seriously… where are we going?”

“I told you, we’re going to get food.”

“And what kind of food do you think we’ll find here?”

At the front were Hardin, Malion, Beryl, and Mikkelsen.

– Groooooooar!

From up the mountain, dozens of Frost Ghouls came swarming toward them again.

“Damn it, more of them!”

“Ugh, just stop already. Stop.”

Malion, Beryl, and Mikkelsen’s faces all twisted in frustration, their shoulders drooping.

They had already taken down hundreds of ghouls just getting this far from the fortress.

And yet those things kept showing up all the way out here… At this point, it wasn’t just exhausting—it was nauseating.

‘This place is hell.’

‘Why are there so many of them?’

With their stamina already worn thin, and this happening constantly all the way up the mountain, it was draining their spirits fast.

They all gripped their swords and prepared for battle when—

KRA-KRA-KRAK!

“SCREEEEEE!”

A flash of lightning burst from behind them, crushing the Frost Ghouls in a single blow.

An instant kill.

Hardin turned his head toward where the flash had come from and muttered,

“Your Highness, you really didn’t need to follow us, you know.”

Standing there with her sword drawn were Princess Medeia and her adjutant, Benjamin.

When they heard Hardin’s group was heading out on an expedition, the two had insisted on coming along.

“Is there a problem with me coming along?”

“It’s not that, it’s just… we could’ve handled this ourselves.”

Mostly, it’s just that I feel like you being here is going to be a pain in the ass.

Hardin let out a sigh, and Medeia sheathed her sword as she replied,

“Sending you off alone comes with too much risk.”

“What risk? We’re just out here to find food…”

“Well, I think that’s more than enough reason for you to do something stupid that threatens the fortress.”

“You’re being a bit harsh…”

When Hardin frowned and responded, Medeia’s eyes flared as she said,

“So, are you saying you don’t want me to come along?”

At that moment, Malion’s face turned ghostly pale as he shouted in a panic.

“...O-Of course not! Absolutely not! Her Highness must oversee us, naturally! Right, Brother?”

“What do you mean, ‘right’? Just stop being a pain and head back—mmph! Mmph!”

Just as Hardin was about to snap back with his usual tone, Malion quickly clamped his palm over Hardin’s mouth.

“Brother, you’re happy with this, right? You’re convinced, yeah? Haha, I feel the same way!”

What choice did he have?

She didn’t listen to reason, so this was the only way.

– Screeeeech!

Right then, a monster’s cry rang out nearby.

Medeia raised her sword again and said,

“Prepare yourselves. Looks like more are coming.”

Moments later, several Frost Ghouls and even a White Fang came charging toward them.

This time...

CRACK! CRACK! ROAAAAR!

“Ah, shit! Die! Die, you bastards! Stop being such a pain, huh?!”

Hardin stepped forward and furiously smashed the monsters to bits.

Seeing this, Medeia asked,

“Hardin.”

“Yes?”

“Were you talking to me just now?”

“No, not at all.”

Hardin waved his hands defensively.

Sparks crackled subtly between Princess Medeia and Hardin.

‘This guy…’

‘So annoying.’

Benjamin’s face twisted.

‘Brotheeeeer…’

‘That man is seriously insane.’

Malion and the Maw mercenaries’ faces once again twisted into despair.

“Alright, let’s get moving! Before we freeze to death!”

Eventually, Hardin pushed everyone to keep going.

After taking down several more monsters and climbing for quite a while—

“Whew, we’re here.”

Hardin finally stopped at a certain point.

“What could possibly be here?”

Medeia raised her head, and before them rose a massive vertical ice wall, easily over a hundred meters high.

Naturally, there was no sign of food—or anything resembling it.

Everyone turned doubtful eyes toward Hardin.

“Just wait a moment.”

Hardin approached the ice wall and climbed a few meters up.

Looking up at him, Benjamin furrowed his brows and said,

“Lady Medeia, isn’t it clear now that this guy was just spouting nonsense? I don’t see anything that even remotely looks like food.”

“……”

Medeia’s expression also grew more and more displeased, when suddenly, Hardin yanked something from the wall and leapt down to the ground.

“Hyup!”

Upon landing, snow fragments shot up, spraying toward Medeia.

“You scoundrel! What insolence is this!”

Just as Benjamin was about to erupt in anger—

Snap!

“Here you go.”

Hardin held out what he had pulled off.

“From now on, you just need to catch as many of these as you can.”

“This is…”

Something squirmed in Hardin’s hand.

A bug resembling a beetle—with a white shell and six long, twitching legs.