Lumberling stepped off the carriage. A bandit lunged at him with a sword, but he calmly parried the strike and decapitated the man in a single, fluid motion.
"Help!"
"Ahhh!"
"We're getting overwhelmed! Where's Captain George? If he doesn't show up soon, we're all dead!"
Chaos raged around the convoy. Over fifty bandits swarmed the merchant group, cutting down soldiers and civilians alike. The defenders barely numbered fifteen—they didn't stand a chance.
Lumberling's gaze locked onto a cluster of movement. Captain George was locked in combat with a towering bandit who moved with sharp, practiced precision. Nearby, another enemy—a Knight Page, judging by his aura—circled in, waiting to strike.
'The bandit leader… A Knight Apprentice? And there's a Knight Page too? If they have more hidden in their ranks, this is going to be a massacre.'
He grabbed his spear from the carriage and launched into a sprint. He wove between the retreating soldiers and panicked merchants, a blur of movement that cut down bandits as he passed. His sudden appearance threw the enemy ranks into disarray.
One soldier, cornered and moments from death beneath three attackers, stared wide-eyed as Lumberling skewered all three in a single sweep.
"A K-Knight…?" the soldier stammered, stunned.
"Get up, soldier. Regroup with your comrades and protect the carriage."
"Y-Yes, Sir Knight!"
Lumberling pressed on, systematically eliminating bandits and giving the defenders a fighting chance. But as he moved to dispatch another enemy, a shadow loomed. A massive bandit stepped in, stopping Lumberling's blade with a clang. Tattoos snaked across the man's bulky arms, and he hefted a massive hammer with ease.
'Knight Page. I didn't sense him earlier. So there's more than one of them. This is bad. I need to finish this fast before the other Knights notice me.'
'Let's see if my training paid off.'
He raised his palm, rolled his wrist inward in a taunting motion, and beckoned the brute forward.
"Come on, big boy. Show me what you've got."
The bandit snarled. "You'll be begging for mercy once I crush you!"
He charged. As he closed the gap, his hammer gave off a faint glow—barely noticeable unless you were watching for it.
Then came the strike.
Boom!
The earth trembled under the blow. Lumberling narrowly dodged, but the impact alone sent a concussive shockwave rippling outward. It hit him hard—dizzying disorientation, bones rattling, vision swimming. His limbs momentarily refused to respond.
The bandit laughed maniacally, dropped his hammer, and lunged. He gripped both of Lumberling's arms, preparing to rip them apart.
"This is the part I like best," the bandit growled. "Crushing 'em barehanded, piece by piece."
But as he began to pull, his smirk faltered.
Lumberling didn't budge.
No matter how much force the bandit used, he couldn't move him. He grunted, straining harder. Nothing.
"...Are you done?" Lumberling's voice was low and calm.
Panic flickered in the bandit's eyes. He tried to pull away, but Lumberling clamped down on one of his wrists like a vice. He swung his other fist, aiming for Lumberling's head—too slow.
In a flash, Lumberling unsheathed the sword at his waist and slashed upward.
Blood sprayed.
The bandit screamed, clutching the stump of his severed arm.
Lumberling didn't hesitate. He surged forward.
"Wait, the—!"
His blade swept clean through the man's neck.
The head hit the ground a moment later.
Lumberling exhaled and muttered, "You almost got me there, big guy."
That hammer strike… if the bandit had followed it up with another blow instead of his little torture game, Lumberling might not have gotten up. A direct hit to the head could've killed him.
This was a close call—and a sharp lesson.
'Never underestimate a Knight, even a weaker one. A clever tactic or an unusual skill can tip the scales.'
He'd used tricks and timing himself to beat stronger foes. It would be foolish to forget others could do the same.
His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar message echoing in his mind.
(You have devoured the Knight Page's essence. 55 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Knight Page's memories and experiences.)
(Active skill: Beginner Hammer Shock Lv0 has been learned.)
Using any blunt weapon, this skill channels physical strength into a thunderous strike that generates a localized shockwave. Deals heavy physical damage and stuns enemies within a short radius. Effectiveness increases with skill level and physical strength.
Lumberling's eyes gleamed beneath his mask.
An active skill. And a good one, at that.
He bent down and picked up the massive hammer. Curious, he focused on activating the newly acquired skill.
Energy stirred within him. It wasn't the usual draw on his stamina—this was different. He recognized it from the dojo manuals.
Mana.
Though most people couldn't control it until they reached Knight Rank 1, some active skills acted as conduits, allowing even early-stage Knights to channel mana through their bodies or weapons.
The hammer hummed faintly. Light traced faint runes across its surface. He slammed it down onto a nearby boulder.
Crack!
The rock exploded into shards, and a shockwave pulsed out from the impact zone—this time, leaving him untouched.
Compared to Big Boy's version, Lumberling's strike had more force and a wider radius.
Skill level plays a part... but strength makes a difference too.
He grinned.
"Thanks for the skill, Big Boy."
Lumberling picked up his spear and resumed cutting down the remaining bandits. One by one, their numbers dwindled. After a few minutes, only a handful remained. Aside from "Big Boy," it seemed the only other Knights among them were the ones locked in combat with the captain.
He glanced toward the ongoing battle.
Captain George was still holding his ground. Clad in full body armor, he deflected blow after blow with solid technique and unshakable defense. From what Lumberling could observe, the man's skillset revolved around shield mastery—firm, efficient, and precise. If left alone, Lumberling suspected the captain would eventually emerge victorious regardless.
But chaos disrupted the rhythm.
"Boss, Gordon's been killed!"
A bloodied bandit sprinted away from the carnage, shouting as he reached the bandit leader and his lieutenant.
"What? Gordon is dead? Who the hell killed him?" the leader barked.
"There's a Knight Page among the merchants! He was hiding inside the carriage—we didn't spot him earlier!"
"F*cking useless! One Knight Page? There were dozens of you!" the leader snarled.
"I… we tried. He was just too strong," the bandit stammered, unable to explain how quickly Gordon had been overwhelmed.
The bandit leader's eyes darted toward the carriage—just in time to see a masked figure sprinting toward them with terrifying speed.
'That must be him.'
Grinding his teeth, the leader turned to his subordinates and muttered, "We're leaving."
The decision came fast. They'd lost a Knight Page, half their force, and had gained nothing. It was a complete disaster. But the bandit leader was no fool—he knew when to retreat.
But the captain had other plans.
As the bandits began to retreat, Captain George suddenly charged, his shield raised.
"Running? Cowards!" he roared.
The fleeing bandits turned and unleashed a flurry of attacks. The leader vanished from view for a second—his strongest technique—and reappeared at the captain's left flank. His lieutenant hurled a spear straight at the captain's chest.
Knives and arrows clanged harmlessly off the captain's shield and armor. But the lieutenant's spear was fast, infused with strength. The captain barely managed to deflect it—and in that fleeting moment of imbalance, the bandit leader slashed at his exposed side.
Blood spurted from the captain's ribs.
But he didn't fall.
With a fierce grunt, he smashed his shield into the bandit leader, sending him flying. He yanked the sword out of his side and pressed forward with relentless force.
The bandits faltered.
One by one, the slowest were cut down. Their screams echoed through the trees as the captain tore through them. The leader, regaining his footing, continued fleeing with what few men he had left.
The captain shifted his focus and charged at the remaining Knight Page, ignoring the leader.
"Clang!"
The bandit Knight Page spun around, thrusting his spear. But the captain's shield absorbed the blow without effort.
"Fight someone your own rank, bastard!" the bandit leader yelled, trying to distract him.
The captain didn't even flinch. His blade lashed out at the Knight Page.
"Tsk," the bandit leader spat. He lingered for a heartbeat—then turned and ran, leaving his lieutenant behind.
The Knight Page tried to retreat, but the captain gave him no room. Every time he moved, it opened him up to another slash. His armor cracked, his foot was crushed, his spear snapped in two. Blood poured down his body.
Lumberling arrived beside the captain just in time to see the final blow. The bandit Knight Page staggered, half-conscious, a faint smirk on his lips. He didn't resist as the captain's sword pierced his stomach.
In that instant, Lumberling activated Sprint, flashed to his side, and finished the job—his sword cleanly taking the bandit's head.
(You have devoured the Knight Page's essence. 55 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Knight Page's memories and experiences.)
The captain turned and looked at him. Though killing blows weren't sacred among knights, his sharp gaze suggested suspicion.
'Are you stealing credit?'
"Just helping out," Lumberling said with a grin, wiping his blade. "Can't be too careful. Never know what tricks they've got left. Don't worry, I'll let the merchants know who really finished him."
The captain, a bulky man in his forties with a face like a carved stone wall, nodded gruffly. His thick armor and towering build gave the impression of an immovable tank.
"I didn't expect to find a Knight Page hiding inside the carriage," he said at last.
"It just happened to be going in the direction I needed."
"You fought well. Thank you."
"You would've done fine without me."
"Maybe. But the others wouldn't have survived. Come—let's return to the carriage. I'll speak with the merchants about your reward."
Lumberling wiped the blood from his hands, and watched the bandits flee.
As they walked back, Lumberling noted the captain's manner—stern, efficient, few words wasted. He reminded him of a strict drill instructor from his past life.