I’m a Holy Knight, but I Contracted with an Evil God - Chapter 11

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 11.
‘Even if my physical condition falls short, I won’t lose in Holy Power.’
【So you mean to decide it on that alone?】
‘Yes. That’s the only way.’

Realistically, Leon defeating Ilbar was impossible.
In pure offense and defense alone, it certainly was.
Yet the duel, expected to end in a single stroke, had stretched on—and it was not Leon who felt the panic, but Ilbar.
That disquiet would soon open a gap.

Ilbar’s expression grew tense as he faced Leon, who slipped away like a loach with each exchange.
In the instant before Ilbar’s blade could land, Leon would evade by the narrowest margin—a pattern repeating without end.
It was only by a hair’s breadth, yet the fourteen-year-old boy was dodging his strikes as though he’d foreseen them, and Ilbar couldn’t help but grow increasingly unsettled.
……As if he’d rehearsed such duels countless times before…….
A brief question flickered through Ilbar’s mind, but he continued his assault in silence.

“Hah…… Hah…….”

Leon’s labored breathing grew louder as the gap in stamina widened.
With it came a faint disruption in Ilbar’s own rhythm.

Leon seized that difference without hesitation, closing the distance and slipping inside Ilbar’s guard.
It appeared to be a blade strike, but it was a subtle feint meant to deceive his opponent’s eye.
The moment Ilbar moved to knock aside Leon’s sword, Leon locked his blade with Ilbar’s and drove through the opening.

“!”

The two entangled blades were far too close.
Panicked, Ilbar reflexively pushed with all his strength, wrenching the sword away.
And the blade flared with a blue radiance—the color of long discipline, blooming as reflex.
At the same instant.

Clang!

Light and sound erupted where the blades met, accompanied by a deafening crack.
Both bodies were driven backward simultaneously.

“……That’s the Sacred Light Phenomenon?”
“Looks like it.”
“……Madness. The Sacred Light Phenomenon against Ilbar…….”

The Sacred Light Phenomenon.
When Holy Powers of comparable strength collided, a blast and brilliant flash tore forth.
The Sacred Light Phenomenon’s appearance meant that the Holy Power Ilbar had unleashed in that instant matched what Leon had thrown back.
“……That half-baked dropout bastard…….”
Someone spoke, but couldn’t finish.
There was no need to hear the rest.
A Candidate on par with Ilbar himself?

“They said petals showed during the Proof Ceremony…….”
“That wasn’t just talk?”
“You know how Elmuor makes a fuss. I figured it was the same sort of nonsense this time.”

Murmurs rippled through the Candidates.
Amid the commotion, Leon smiled silently.
When he lifted his gaze, he saw Ilbar standing opposite him, sword still in hand, staring at his own palm with an expression of pure disbelief.

‘It worked.’

Better than he’d expected.
The gap Leon had exploited was deliberate—his true purpose had been to create an impression of a newcomer forced to draw upon Holy Power against mere swordplay. The result exceeded his expectations.
Now that the Sacred Light Phenomenon had erupted, the other candidates would regard Leon’s Holy Power as equivalent to Ilbar’s.

“……Impressive. Fourteen, was it?”

Ilbar extended his hand to Leon, admiration flickering across his face.
Leon grasped it and pulled himself up. “Though it seems you weren’t fighting at full strength either, senior.”

Ilbar’s lips curled into a bitter smile as he faced Leon’s grin. Winning a decisive victory against someone six years his junior was hardly laughable when one fought seriously.

Yet Ilbar quickly erased the smile and nodded.

“A clumsy attempt on both our parts.”

Mutual praise. Mutual acknowledgment.
Yet beneath those words ran an undercurrent of tension.
Among the other candidates, confusion rippled outward.
The match that should have ended in absolute dominance had concluded in a draw.

* * *

After the bout with Ilbar, the other candidates’ resentment toward Leon visibly diminished.
Yet whatever ill will they harbored paled beside what Leon faced in the actual candidate training regimen.

“Therefore, within a Phase Interference Coordinate System, the nonlinear oscillations of the mana field actually acquire directional properties. Through the transformation coefficients computed at this stage, the calculated distortion rate allows interference with the singularity at the source point of magic, penetrating the relevant phase barrier. As you all know, if one enters the magical formula without such calculations, you’ll be torn apart on the spot. Hence, calculating spacetime distortion rates is a fundamental qualification for elite knights. Particularly when facing Spatial Magic combined with aggregate spatial distortion, if you cannot grasp this formula, you won’t be able to predict even the trajectory of the spell, much less its point of origin.”

The Old Professor, his white hair thick as snow, was filling the blackboard with incomprehensible equations and diagrams, speaking with passionate fervor. Leon was struggling desperately to maintain his focus on the lecture.
It wasn’t that he failed to understand.
Rather, if the content had been unfamiliar, concentration would have come naturally.

【You look ready to pass out.】
‘What can I do? I already know all this. Hearing it again in that voice is torture.’
【Fair enough. These are pretty basic concepts.】
The Old Professor’s material was far removed from foundational theory, and Leon couldn’t agree with Ecrise’s dismissal—but hearing content he already mastered recited again was maddening nonetheless.
Had the Old Professor even embellished with examples or illustrations, it might have been bearable. Instead, he delivered only honest theory in a monotonous, unvarying drone.
At this point, the lecture was indistinguishable from a lullaby.
【Is any of this even useful?】
‘No.’
Whatever his reputation, Leon held the formal qualifications of a certified Holy Knight.
More than that, he’d studied theory with desperate intensity to compensate for his inferior Holy Power compared to others.
As a result, Leon was confident his theoretical knowledge approached perfection.
And yet, despite all this, Leon could flatly declare such theory mere academic speculation with no practical merit.

Unfortunately, the other candidates, whose real combat experience was meager, seemed to hold a different view than Leon.
Many found the Old Professor’s lecture genuinely fascinating, and several scribbled frantically, transcribing his every word as though afraid of missing a single phrase.
It was only natural that Leon, desperately fighting off drowsiness amid such earnest students, stood out.

“You there, our new friend.”

The Old Professor’s gaze landed precisely on Leon.
In that instant, every eye in the lecture hall fixed upon him.
“If the theory is difficult, I’ll pose a question you can comprehend—think of it as testing your fundamental instincts as a knight.”
The Old Professor’s tone was gentle, but beneath it lurked a barb: ‘Surely you grasp at least this much?’
That reproach, masked in courtesy, drew snickers from various corners of the room.
Everyone in the lecture hall, including the Old Professor himself, clearly believed Leon’s half-lidded eyes were the result of failing to keep pace with the material.

“If an enemy mage used Forward Teleportation to move ten meters ahead while simultaneously launching a Frost Spear, how would you respond?”

It wasn’t a question demanding theoretical exposition—something he could actually answer.
That was the underlying assumption built into the question.
And if he couldn’t answer even this, it would mean he had no business being here at all.
Leon fell silent for a moment, and in that small gap, scattered laughter rippled through the room.

“Isn’t that too simple a problem?”
“Fundamentals.”
“Come on. It’s a problem you can’t judge without having learned the fundamentals.”

As crude mockery bounced back and forth, hundreds, thousands of combat experiences from before his return flashed through Leon’s mind.
Memories of struggling to survive at death’s threshold.
Recalling those moments, Leon slowly opened his mouth.

“The question is missing several variables.”
“Variables?”

The Old Professor’s brow furrowed.
As if encountering something unexpected.
Leon met the old man’s gaze directly and continued.

“Yes. First, the enemy mage’s disposition. If they’re the cautious type, they’ll attack from maximum range to secure a safety margin, but if they’re aggressive, they might close in to chain their next spell. Second, my own condition. If I’m wounded or exhausted, the enemy will attack boldly, but if I’m unharmed, they’ll try to maintain distance. And third—the most important one.”

Leon paused and glanced around the lecture hall.
The mockery had stopped by now, and every eye was fixed on him.
His gaze met that of the blonde boy—Ilbar.
Eyes gleaming with fascination.

“Whether that flat ground is truly an empty wasteland, or if there’s even a single pebble there that could catch my ankle—that changes everything.”

A cold silence fell over the lecture hall.
It was broken by the dark-haired boy who’d been watching Leon with displeasure from the start.
What was his name again? Bercello?

“That’s sophistry. You’re not even grasping the point of the question.”

But the Old Professor cut him off.
The old man’s eyes had shifted, much like Ilbar’s.

“Continue.”
“There’s no predetermined answer. But there is a best response.”

Leon stood from his seat.
He walked toward the blackboard where the Old Professor had been lecturing, picked up a piece of spare chalk, and began sketching on the empty space while continuing his explanation.

“An enemy’s direction of movement typically breaks down into eight cardinal directions. However, from a psychological standpoint, in a direct confrontation, people rarely move completely behind themselves—visibility becomes compromised. So left, right, and forward-diagonal are the four most probable directions. Since the Frost Spear is a linear spell, the moment the enemy completes their movement, I’ll hurl my body perpendicular to the line connecting that position and myself. The direction doesn’t matter. Evading the first attack takes priority.”

Leon’s explanation contained no complex equations or theory.
Only raw insight and logic born from experience.

“And the counterattack must come within 0.5 seconds after the enemy finishes casting—while they’re locked in place. I either throw my Short Dagger while evading, or charge in immediately to close the distance. There’s no greater foolishness than giving a mage a second chance.”

Having said that much, Leon set the chalk back down.
He returned to his seat and sat back down.
The lecture hall was silent as if it had been doused with water.

The Old Professor remained quiet for some time before speaking softly.

“Remarkable. Do you have practical combat experience?”

The Old Professor’s face was genuine admiration.
Since he couldn’t tell the truth, Leon fabricated a plausible story.
“I’m from the Mountain Village.”
“And you arrived at an interpretation like this?”
“I found many books like this at the village chief’s house and read them. To survive alone while avoiding dangerous beasts, I had to mimic the content of such books……”

Leon deliberately let his words trail off.
It was to suggest the nuance of ‘an orphan in the Mountain Village struggling to survive.’
Fortunately, the Old Professor nodded as if convinced.

“It seems it was a treatise on tactics. What was the book called?”
“The book was so old I couldn’t quite make it out. The cover was badly damaged.”
“I see.”

The Old Professor no longer harbored pity or contempt for Leon.
Instead, his gaze held a complex wonder tinged with awe.
He’d acquired such theory merely to avoid dangerous beasts?
Through self-study, no less?
‘No, wild beasts would be threat enough to a child.’
Knowing theory and applying that theory to bloody real combat—understanding the situation in action—were entirely different dimensions of knowledge.
The harsh crucible of survival might have sharpened the boy’s insight.
‘Still, to acquire this level of mastery through self-study alone…… Raftio has brought back excellent raw material.’
Within the Old Professor’s self-satisfied delusion, even Bercello, who had loudest mocked Leon at the outset, could no longer bring himself to ridicule him.
Leon’s first lesson thus came to a close.
Continued in next episode ▶
A Holy Knight Who Made a Contract with an Evil God
Author
Ram Dat
Publisher
Kim Seok-hwan, Choi Se-ra
Publishing House
Gra Publishing
Inquiries
[email protected]
Publication Date
March 27, 2026
UCI
G720:N+A327-20260227066
※ This e-book is protected by copyright law. Unauthorized reproduction and copying are prohibited. Violations may result in criminal and civil liability.
※ Pentagram eagerly awaits your precious manuscripts.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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