30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?!-Chapter 272: A Knight Fears People More Than Ghosts 2 (2)
Ghost-type monsters.
To put it simply, Wraiths—ghost-type monsters that had materialized enough to be seen by human eyes—were already a well-documented phenomenon in academic circles.
Of course, just because they were documented didn’t mean they were common.
Ghosts were already hard enough to believe in—let alone ones that physically manifested.
That rarity alone made them stand out.
But just because Wraiths were rare didn’t mean encountering one was lucky.
Quite the opposite.
After all, a ghost—a vengeful spirit—wasn’t supposed to be visible to the human eye.
If a ghost had manifested visibly, it meant it harbored an overwhelming grudge or hatred.
And creatures fueled by such deep-seated resentment were bound to be incredibly powerful.
To make matters worse, Wraiths couldn’t be harmed by physical attacks.
Without divine energy or magic, they were completely untouchable.
That’s why encountering a Wraith ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ was considered as unlucky as being struck by lightning—it was living proof of terrible misfortune.
After all, the symbolic weapons of knights—swords, spears, bows, shields—were utterly useless against them.
...Or at least, they were supposed to be.
Smack!
[!!?!!]
“Where do you think you’re looking, huh? Acting all high and mighty while illegally squatting in a building?”
[Ge... Geeeh... Gegekk...]
Whack!
“If you’ve got something to say, say it properly, damn it!”
[!?]
Simon stared blankly.
...Why was that even possible?
A knight—using only his left jab—was beating the crap out of a Wraith.
Simon was utterly confused.
What the hell?
‘Wait... is it actually possible to hit them?’
Curious, Simon hesitantly reached out to touch the shaking Wraith, which had just been slapped into submission.
Maybe—just maybe—he’d be able to feel it too.
But...
Swoosh.
“...Nope.”
His hand passed straight through, as if touching mist.
The laws of physics still applied, and Simon realized that academic knowledge hadn’t been wrong after all.
Which meant that this wasn’t just some misunderstanding.
‘Hold on... what if... what if this guy is actually a Monk?’
Holy Warriors.
Also known as Sacred Guardians, these were divine warriors of light and faith.
It was rumored that some of them hid their true identities, wandering the world to train in secret.
What if this guy was one of those mystic warriors?
‘Shit... That actually makes sense!’
Simon nodded furiously, convinced that his theory was completely reasonable.
But then, Ihan—who had clearly noticed the look on his face—spoke up.
“...I think I can guess what you’re thinking.”
And with that, Ihan decided to clear up the misunderstanding.
***
Ihan hadn't used some secret divine power or mystic technique to hit the Wraith.
It was much simpler than that.
‘I just hit it where it could be hit.’
People often described Wraiths as invincible, but that was a misconception.
If a knight actually believed that, it meant they were either a rookie with zero combat experience or a third-rate fool.
Sure, it made sense that people would think Wraiths were untouchable since physical attacks usually didn’t work.
But—
‘Anyone who’s actually fought them before knows the truth—they aren’t real ghosts.’
At the end of the day, Wraiths were just another type of monster.
And the key difference was that Wraiths had materialized to the point that ordinary people could see them.
What did that mean?
It meant they existed in the physical world.
It meant they could interact with the environment.
And more importantly—
‘If something can hit you, that means you can hit it back.’
The only tricky part was—
‘You have to time it just right.’
Whoosh!
Another Wraith lunged at Ihan, its energy flaring with rage.
It was trying to avenge its fallen comrades.
In that moment, Ihan felt its presence sharpen.
“Hah. You’re just begging me to hit you, huh?”
Whoosh!
Right before the Wraith attacked—Ihan punched first.
Counterattack.
His fist connected a split second before the Wraith’s attack landed, smashing it right in the forehead.
Smack!
[!!!]
A sound like a watermelon bursting filled the air, and the Wraith collapsed instantly.
It had been knocked out cold.
“Well? Not that hard, right? It tried to hit me, so I just gave it a lesson instead. You guys should handle them like this from now on.”
“......”
“What?”
“...How the hell is that supposed to be easy?”
“Huh?”
“...You’re gonna drive me insane.”
Simon could feel his blood pressure rising.
***
The Wraiths that had suddenly appeared inside the building were swiftly dealt with.
There had been exactly thirty-six of them, but all of them were knocked out cold, proving that even ghost-type monsters were equal in the face of a proper physical education.
“Should we... kill them?”
“...You want to kill something that’s already dead? That’s a level of evil even demons would back away from.”
“...That’s not what I meant.”
“Relax, it was just a joke.”
“.......”
As absurd as it was, Wraiths could be knocked out or subdued, but actually getting rid of them was a different matter.
In the Southern Continent, Wraiths were often regarded as the spirits of ancestors.
Even though that was highly unlikely.
But people were sentimental like that.
It was a universal belief that one’s ancestors continued to watch over them, even in death.
So, while different regions had their own customs, in the Southern Continent, Wraiths weren’t exorcised in the usual way. Instead, they were given a proper send-off—a ritual known as [Spirit Releasing].
‘Of course, if they were actual Evil Spirits, that would be a different story.’
That said, even if exorcism was necessary, getting rid of Wraiths was no simple task.
At the very least, you’d need the help of a priest or a shaman—and if neither were available, maybe even an alchemist.
...However.
‘I wonder if I could do it with Willforce?’
Ihan had a gut feeling that if he infused his fists with Willforce, these Wraiths would burst like balloons.
Actually, no. It wasn’t just a feeling—he was almost certain of it.
And since they’d probably just cause more trouble when they woke up, he figured he might as well try it now while they were still down—
“Santa, what are you doing?”
“...Lady Louise?”
The girl who had once worn nothing but rags, barely distinguishable from a pile of old cloth, was now dressed in an elegant, frilled dress, smiling brightly.
She must have been out for a walk with the maids—her forehead was damp with sweat.
The maids, who had been playing tag with her, froze in terror the moment they saw Ihan.
“S-Sir Santa....”
“W-we’re so sorry! We w-were just playing tag with the young lady, and before we knew it—”
“W-we deserve death!”
“......”
They were literally shaking, as if they’d just come face to face with the Grim Reaper.
Ihan felt awkward.
Maybe he had been a bit too much when he first established discipline in the mansion.
...Yeah. Maybe.
They must have developed severe PTSD after watching him mold people like clay that day.
‘...Did I go overboard?’
He didn’t regret it, but for the first time, he felt a little bad about how harsh he had been.
Meanwhile—
“Wow, this feels so weird! It’s like a blanket made of ice! Huh? But why is it so soft?”
“Lady Louise?”
“Hm?”
“...How are you touching that?”
“...Did I do something wrong?”
“No, not at all, but...”
“Hehe, that’s a relief!”
“...Still, you should stop. It’s dirty.”
“Okay!”
Yep.
Our youngest Margrave.
A child more obedient than any noble brat, and more well-mannered than any so-called "precocious adult."
Ihan patted her head in praise, and Louise smiled radiantly.
“......”
“Santa?”
“...Hmm.”
“?”
But Ihan’s expression grew complicated.
And he wasn’t the only one confused.
“W-why can’t I touch it?”
Simon was still trying to poke at a Wraith, failing miserably.
Ihan exhaled a quiet laugh.
‘So... the kid who supposedly has no powers is casually touching ghosts?’
“No one’s gonna believe this.”
“...What the hell is going on today?”
It felt like one thing after another was happening today.
Too many incidents.
Back-to-back.
“Is today some kind of special occasion?”
“You’re telling me. As if we weren’t already drowning in work... and now this mess....”
The Wraiths that had appeared inside the castle weren’t the only ones.
They were all over the territory, manifesting anywhere and anytime, seemingly at random.
It was a baffling situation, and they had no choice but to deal with it.
The only silver lining was that the Wraiths weren’t attacking civilians.
Only—
“They’re only attacking outsiders, huh.”
Some Guild members had suffered minor fractures or sprains, though none were seriously injured.
Still, their work was disrupted, and that was a problem.
Simon, after taking a moment to think, spoke up.
“...This is just a theory, but... could these Wraiths have been tamed by Mordred’s mysticism? Maybe they’re conditioned to attack foreigners....”
“That would make sense—if they attacked me on sight.”
“Ah....”
The theory was immediately discarded—even Simon himself didn’t seem convinced.
He frowned in frustration, clearly just as annoyed as everyone else.
The Guild had been working tirelessly to speed up their operations, and this unexpected chaos was throwing everything off track.
It was infuriating.
Ihan, watching Simon stew in frustration, sighed.
“They say you need to slow down when things get hectic. And as the leader of an organization, you need to stay calm. If you lose your cool, how do you think your people will feel?”
“......”
“...Though I’m sure you already know that.”
“...Thank you. That really woke me up.”
It was a firm but considerate reminder of Simon’s position.
And hearing those words from Ihan made Simon feel... strangely grounded.
He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment.
If this was just a cold business partnership, Ihan wouldn’t have bothered giving advice.
The fact that he did meant he acknowledged Simon’s competence—that he trusted him.
Simon, regaining his composure, steeled himself once more.
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“First, we need to question the locals. If anyone knows something, it’ll be them.”
“What do you need from me?”
“...Get me an audience with the castle staff—especially the head maid. The longer someone has worked here, the more they’ll know.”
“Hm.”
“Don’t worry. While we can’t compare to Santa Ihan, the Guild has its own experts.”
“Alright. Since I said I’d help, I’ll make sure to do it right.”
“You won’t regret it.”
“Hey. We’re partners—don’t say things like that.”
“...If I were a woman, I’d be falling for you right now.”
“...Shut the hell up.”
Ihan visibly shuddered, and Simon quickly scurried off to handle his tasks.
To some, Simon might have seemed weak or hesitant.
But his steady stride carried a conviction that was unmistakable.
“...Yeah. That’s how a Guildmaster should be.”
Ihan felt oddly satisfied, though he quickly erased any sign of it from his face.
Because at that very moment—
“Did you find it?”
“Yeah, we found it.”
“...It was a pain.”
They had finally found an important clue.
“...Sorry for making you go through all that. I’ll reward you later.”
“Then wine!”
“It looked delicious!”
“...You brats—!”
“...Boomer.”
“So unfair....”
The twins pouted, and Ihan clicked his tongue.
Kids these days...
