48: Chapter 41 Last Stand_2 48: Chapter 41 Last Stand_2 “Let’s see,” Olivia began with an unnerving calm, “which is more, your hostages or your flesh?
If you don’t command your men to comply within fifteen minutes, I’ll start chopping off your limbs, bit by bit.
your little brother down there?”
Baron Dawson frowned and fell silent upon hearing this.
He could tell from the carelessness in the other party’s tone that it wasn’t a bluff; these two strangers, who sprang out of nowhere, apparently didn’t care much about the threat to the lives of the other villagers.
His attempt to stall for time having failed, he glanced towards the golden-haired girl.
Although her eyes flashed with shock and anger at his threats, she said nothing to interfere with the other’s statement.
Baron Dawson realized these two, posing as mercenaries, had come with the girl.
It was likely that the old blacksmith held hostage in the village hall was no longer under his control.
Beside them, Olivia struggled to suppress the emotions of concern for the surviving villagers.
Wracked with guilt yet on the brink of escape, she couldn’t selfishly allow Leon and the others to be threatened over those unrelated to them.
Azeryan, seeing the group of knights and attendants at the door still hesitating due to their lord’s indecision, raised his blade to Baron Dawson’s earlobe and shouted, “Give the order for them to do it, now!”
The young man seemed poised to slice off the other’s ear at any moment.
“Alright, alright, you win.”
Feeling the pain behind his ear, Baron Dawson urgently called a halt, resigned.
It was one thing to suffer such indignities on the battlefield, but he had no wish to lose valuable parts of his body over an unexpected situation.
As if he had given in, he shouted to his men, “Do as they say, Luke, bring three warhorses.
Everyone else, move back.”
The knights and attendants looked at each other, resigned, and slowly backed out of the house, following orders.
“Olivia, you watch him from behind.
If he makes any sudden moves, don’t hesitate to strike,” Leon instructed before turning his head to Azeryan, “Remove the armor from his upper body and tie his hands.”
Indeed, without Olivia’s superior swordsmanship, he and Leon would never have been able to threaten someone in such securely fastened armor, let alone take him hostage.
The boy quickly put away his waist knife and, together with Leon, moved swiftly to unfasten the buckles and clasps of the armor.
Baron Dawson grunted, not attempting to resist, and let them remove the chest armor, chainmail, and undershirt, leaving him in just a thin tunic.
He closed his eyes, the cool edge of a blade at his neck, pondering something silently.
Picking up the ropes that had previously bound Olivia, Azeryan this time securely tied the noble’s hands behind his back.
With all preparations complete, a tense and brief waiting period ensued.
Soon after, a knight did as promised, bringing three warhorses to the door.
With his left hand holding the knight’s sword, Leon prodded the noble to stand up.
Leon led the way, Azeryan at his side, Olivia following from behind.
Their blades pointed at the noble’s neck, chest, and waist—three vital spots—they slowly stepped out of the house.
All seemed to go smoothly; the knights and attendants had indeed retreated to a safe distance.
Leon lowered his sword, moving to bring the horses closer, aiming to lift the bound noble onto one of the warhorses.
Unseen by anyone, something beneath Baron Dawson’s tunic stirred, creeping like a beetle toward his heart.
A silent convulsion swept through Baron Dawson’s heart.
…I will remember the losses you brought upon me.
Hidden beneath his collar, the necklace’s pendant swayed gently against his chest, pulled by the stirring charm.
The awaited opportunity had arrived, his men surrounding the scene, and in the open village road, there was no escape.
The pendant’s short, sharp spikes pierced his skin,
Baron Dawson’s eyes bulged with blood boiling, his expression suddenly twisted into a ferocious snarl.
A surge of crimson spread upward, coloring his skin, his bulging veins giving him the appearance of an overcooked shrimp.
The ropes binding his arms exploded.
His now free hands swung with superhuman speed, striking out with inhuman force, his fist landed on the unexpecting Azeryan.
The mercenary’s poor-quality chest armor caved in at the impact as if crushed by a warhammer; the boy, like a broken kite, was flung backward, feet leaving the ground.
Olivia, taken by surprise, thrust her sword forward in an attempt to pierce through the erupting Baron Dawson.
But the feel of the blade’s tip was like hitting thick leather, and she barely pierced it despite using all her strength.
Before she could drive the sword deeper, her rapid reflexes caught the sight of him incredibly turning to avoid his neck being struck.
The red fist wrapped in rolling heat waves crashed toward her face.
In a dire emergency, the girl hastily changed her moves and twisted her body to retract her sword.
In that instant, judging the terrible force, she knew she couldn’t meet the enemy blade on blade, fearing being pushed back onto her own edge, so she hurriedly blocked with the flat of her blade in front of her.
The sound of metal colliding with metal reverberated.
The fine steel sword, forged by the old blacksmith, bent into an exaggerated arc, and the girl’s petite body was launched into the air by the momentum.
Just as Leon reached out to grab the reins, he heard two sudden dull thuds from behind him.
One was the heavy sound of armor being hit.
The other was the loud noise of steel being bent!
Suddenly sensing the whoosh of wind approaching from behind, instinctual movements preceded thought, and experience gained from countless dangers led Leon to throw himself to the side without hesitation.
He narrowly avoided the heavy blow, but the warhorse in front of Leon wasn’t so lucky.
The enormous body jolted violently, and the warhorse screamed in pain as if struck by a chariot, tumbling to the ground and wailing pitifully.
Leon ran desperately and only stopped running to turn around once he reached Olivia, who had landed firmly on the ground; confused, he looked towards where he had been standing.
Baron Dawson was there, his face twisted like a demon’s.
He withdrew his fist, the unbearable heat covering his body, and Dawson simply tore off his undershirt, revealing his red-muscled upper body.
Wisps of heat rose from his body, and there on his chest hung an insect-shaped gem pendant, clinging tightly to his sternum with its segmented limbs; a dense web of veins spread across Dawson’s upper body.
Baron Dawson’s demonic face extended his left hand, opened his fingers wide, and bellowed towards the knight running from a distance.
The veteran Spear Knight, unsurprised by the Sealing Lord’s transformation, inverted his Long Spear and hurled it fiercely.
The whooshing Long-handled Halberd was easily caught by Dawson, who deftly twirled it to offset the force, and the heavy base of the staff crashed into the ground with a thud, sending dust flying.
“I gave you the chance to choose your side of the bed.”
Dawson’s voice was hoarse as he lifted up the Long Spear, holding the staff horizontally with both hands, and strode toward the golden-haired girl who had regained her stance.
“But since you chose to fight, I’ll give you a real battle.”
Olivia’s fine eyebrows furrowed, not understanding the sudden changes within her opponent.
She learned swordsmanship from her father’s teachings and had come to grasp what grappling meant on her own.
But the drastic transformation of her present enemy was something utterly foreign to the girl’s mind.
Facing the “Red Knight” approaching with a Long Spear,
Olivia discarded her long sword, bent beyond ninety degrees, and took the Kantadar noble’s knight’s sword handed to her by Leon.
She stepped forward to adjust her breathing, positioning herself to meet the incoming attack.
Leon glanced in the direction Azeryan had been sent flying, his companion lay on the ground with life or death unknown, his heart anxious, yet at this moment he had no ability to check.
Then looking at the noble, who, like a second-stage boss, had torn open his shirt…
He wondered if he had offended any local deity in charge of luck.
Or some other kind of trick?
His gaze lingered on the red-glowing gem pendant on the noble’s chest for a moment; Leon sighed, perhaps that was the culprit.
He turned and stood behind Olivia.
Leon raised his Long Sword towards the enemies surrounding them from another side, adopting a practiced mid-level stance from the ancient style, and spoke towards the girl behind him with one final caution.
“Olivia, if you can, try to destroy that glowing thing on his chest.”
Back to back with the boy behind her, facing enemies from both sides, the girl replied softly, “Mm.”
Despite the dire situation, Olivia inexplicably felt a wave of calmness.
“I will defeat him, I must!
I will make sure you all get out alive!”
The girl promised to her companion behind her.
Hearing the girl’s vow, Leon couldn’t help but find a bitter humor in their predicament, jokingly saying, “Heh, I believe you, you’re the lion of Selva.”