30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?!-Chapter 277: A Knight Fears People More Than Ghosts 2 (7)

Dozens were raining down.

Crack!

Boom!

Thud—!

One after another, more arrows shattered Hensel’s exoskeleton.

"...Aren’t you all just full of surprises?"

Hensel muttered, forcing a smirk.

But his trembling pupils betrayed his real emotions.

Never before had his indestructible exoskeleton been broken.

It was impossible—and yet, here it was happening before his very eyes.

Still—

"I can just regenerate."

He reassured himself.

Yes. Regeneration would fix everything.

After all, he was a vampire.

An immortal.

He could heal endlessly, unable to die.

No matter how many arrows they fired, they could never—

Drip.

"...Huh?"

A dark, black nosebleed dripped down his lips.

Twitch.

"W-What the hell!?"

The moment the black blood fell, a dizzying vertigo overtook him, his body trembling violently.

And Hensel immediately realized the cause.

Poison?

The symptoms—

They were unmistakably those of poisoning.

Even in his disoriented state, he was dumbfounded.

A vampire? Poisoned?

That was about as logical as a cat barking like a dog.

Drip.

Drip.

"...This is real?"

But disbelief changed nothing.

The poisoning was already spreading, and for the first time—Hensel felt a flicker of panic.

"I can’t play around any longer."

Fwoosh!

Ignoring the arrows raining down, Hensel charged forward.

He didn’t know what trick they were using, but taking any more hits was out of the question.

Better to charge forward and kill them directly.

"You think you're the only ones who can fight from a distance?!"

Pabababak!

His own blood erupted from his body, sharpening into needle-like spikes and launching skyward.

[Blood Spikes].

A vampire’s coagulated blood, sharp enough to pierce even steel armor.

Even airborne knights wouldn’t be able to dodge—

SPLASH!

"??"

A foul-smelling liquid splattered across his body.

Not just any liquid—

It was oil.

And not just any oil—

Fwoosh!

Highly flammable oil.

"Knights... using tactics like this?"

A flaming arrow flew toward him, igniting the oil, setting his own blood ablaze.

Watching his own flames consume him, Hensel scoffed in disbelief.

"...What kind of bullshit game is this?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

***

Most knight orders had standard entrance exams—measuring martial skills, stamina, and swordsmanship.

Tristan was different.

Their tests were... unconventional.

For example—

"Here’s a dagger. Without using aura or any other weapons, bring me twenty boar corpses. You have two days."

"...What?"

Hunting.

"Here’s a bow and three arrows. Capture—not kill—a Rank-2 criminal (murderer or violent offender). Killing them is too easy, don’t you think?"

"???"

Tracking.

"This is a week’s worth of rations. Survive in the wilderness for a month."

"H-How?"

"Figure it out."

"...What kind of lunacy—"

"Cursing is an automatic fail."

Survival.

Tristan’s reputation for its absurd entrance trials was well-known, and most believed it was because its first lord had been a hunter before becoming a knight.

Regardless, those who passed understood one thing:

"There is nothing in this world that cannot be done."

"There is no such thing as an unkillable monster."

"Agreed."

They were knights—

But they were also hunters.

And upon joining, they only became more skilled.

After all, Tristan had accumulated centuries of hunting knowledge.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

From the anatomy of magical beasts to the weaknesses of supernatural races—

Even the handling of legendary poisons was recorded ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ in their archives.

Descendants of the first Tristan, who had become a Round Table knight with nothing but archery and hunting skills, had spent generations refining their craft.

Their knowledge and techniques were unmatched in the southern lands.

Some still looked down on the Red Eagles, ranking them below Lionel or Galahad, but Tristan knights could say with pride:

"If we choose to hunt you, you will not escape."

Not even—

"[The Bloodfeather Poison] is working perfectly."

"First time using it... How the hell did our ancestors even bring such a dangerous poison all the way to the south?"

"Must've wanted to hunt an immortal at least once in their lives."

—the so-called immortal.

The poison had been extracted from a peculiar avian species.

In the Eastern Continent, it was called Bloodfeather—a bird known as the King of Poisons.

It was said that even undead beings succumbed to its toxins, reduced to nothing but a puddle of blood.

Three hundred years ago, Red Eagle knights had crossed mountains and seas to obtain it, successfully bringing back Bloodfeather poison.

It had taken them fifty years to mass-produce an artificial version.

For one reason—

To hunt the immortal.

"Enough talk. The target is not yet neutralized."

[[Yes, Sir Bale!]]

The Vice Commander of the Red Eagle Knights, currently acting as its de facto leader, watched the burning vampire with a cold, calculating gaze.

If only it could die this easily.

Fwoosh!

"As expected, this alone won’t be enough."

Before arriving, Bale had studied all known records on vampires.

There hadn’t been a sighting in over 400 years, but back then, the records had been clear—no known method could kill them. Only the light of the sun was considered a definitive answer.

However—

"It's walking around in broad daylight. That means even sunlight isn’t a weakness anymore."

This one was far more troublesome than any vampire recorded in history.

Still—

"Well, at least this gives me the perfect opportunity to test 400 years' worth of accumulated knowledge."

Bale decided to make full use of this chance.

Rumble—!

"Sir Bale!"

"I see it."

A massive shockwave erupted around the vampire.

It was undergoing a drastic transformation, a shift into something even more monstrous.

Without hesitation, Bale gave the order.

"Fire!"

Whizz!

This content is taken from fгeewebnovёl.com.

The arrows fired were obsidian-tipped, coated in a special alchemical solution, and infused with aura.

They weren’t just sharp—their penetrative power was unparalleled.

However—

Slash! Slash! Slash!

Crimson tendrils lashed out, swatting the arrows aside.

Slash! Slash! Slash!

The tendrils weren’t singular—they multiplied, countless blood appendages emerging from the ground.

"Vampiric tendrils, huh?"

It seemed to be a fusion of the vampire’s blood and exoskeleton, likely one of its trump cards.

Splurt!

...Or so Bale had thought.

[Krrrraaaah! Kaaaaak!]

What emerged from the ground wasn’t just tendrils—

It was something far worse.

"...Ghouls."

Ghouls.

Monsters born from corpses or humans infused with a vampire’s blood.

According to the records, they possessed five times the strength of a normal human and carried a lethal corpse toxin.

And there were—

Gooooooo—!

"Ten thousand—no, closer to twenty thousand of them."

It was an overwhelming horde, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

Truly—

"This is starting to feel like a damn game."

[I'll take that as a compliment.]

Bale found his own words thrown back at him.

The disgusting voice of the vampire slithered into his ears.

[I've heard plenty about Tristan. You're impressive, I'll give you that. But aren’t your methods a little too cruel for knights?]

The vampire, sheltered within its writhing tendrils, spoke in a mocking tone.

A voice that was sticky, oozing with arrogance and disdain.

Bale frowned.

"Who in their right mind fights with honor against a monster?"

—Mental Manipulation.

The creature was still trying to use its tricks.

Bale’s expression twisted into pure disgust.

That this honorless abomination even thought it could manipulate knights—

That was beyond insulting.

"I will erase you from existence."

[Oh my, how persistent. Men like you aren’t very popular, you know? Hehe~]

"...Coming from a man, that makes it even more repulsive."

[You son of a—!]

"Ah, that reminds me of something Sir Ihan said."

Clink.

Bale drew his spear and sword.

"Facts hurt, don’t they?"

Shooting arrows from above had been effective, but—

"There’s nothing wrong with us becoming the arrows ourselves."

Boom—!

Without waiting for a signal, the knights grabbed their lances and charged, following Bale’s lead.

Their target—

A vampire and twenty thousand ghouls.

To most, that would be an unwinnable battle—but—

"Better this than sparring against Sir Ihan, no?"

"Agreed."

"Fighting him is ten times worse."

"Pffft! Hahaha!"

They had fought far worse, under the guise of "training."

And so—laughing—

They descended into battle.

It was the dawn of a battle that would forever be recorded in the history of Wales.

***

Rumble—!

The ground shook violently.

"...Did a war just break out?"

Ihan blinked, noting the earthquake.

Then—promptly—decided he didn’t care.

Whatever was happening outside was irrelevant to him right now.

Wham!

[Grrrrrrrrrrr!]"

"...What breed of dog are you supposed to be?"

[GRAAAAH!]

"A chihuahua?"

First, he had to finish wrestling with this two-headed mutt.