I’m a Holy Knight, but I Contracted with an Evil God - Chapter 29

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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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Chapter 29
“Damn it!”

The moment Aila left the conference room, Tristan’s curses came pouring out.
He kicked at the massive meeting table as if to sweep it aside, then glared at Leon with a heavy snort.
But Leon found Tristan’s display entirely unworthy of his attention.
Merely inconvenient, he thought.

【How far is the east?】
‘Fairly distant. The Arsera Mountain Range where the Order is sits near the continent’s center, so the distance to Elderit is comparable. Even riding hard, it’ll take a good week.’
【So I’ll be stuck with this ignorant fool for at least a fortnight, then.】
‘Yes. Just the two of us.’
【Already tiresome.】
‘You’re far more tiresome than he is.’

While Leon exchanged cynical remarks with Ecrize, Tristan let out an impatient shout.

“What are you dawdling for? Pack your gear and get to the main gate, now!”

Tristan barked the command and left the conference room without so much as a backward glance.
As Leon heard the door slam hard enough to splinter, he was thinking what a tiresome temperament the man had when Corbin cautiously approached him.

“Don’t mind it. He wouldn’t treat any new recruit differently—Tristan reacts that way to everyone.”
“I’m not bothered. It’s nothing to concern myself with.”

Leon’s answer was genuine, yet Corbin’s face filled with apology as he pressed on.

“Tristan was very close to Cepian. They were like brothers, really, so that’s why he’s like this now. I hope you’ll understand.”
“No one doubts your qualifications, so don’t worry about that.”
“And the captain has had nothing but praise for you—I’ve been curious to meet you.”

Bregar and Alarik both offered a word or two, so Leon nodded in acknowledgment rather than repeating himself again.
He found it unexpected that Aila had praised him.

“I should go now. I mustn’t keep Barka waiting.”
“All right. See you when you’re back.”

* * *

“Why are you taking so long?”

His belongings were sparse, and he was well accustomed to external missions.
Despite the little time Leon had spent preparing, he could not escape Tristan’s sarcasm for having arrived later than his superior.

“It doesn’t seem to have taken very long.”
“If you arrive after your superior, then you’re late. No excuses about it.”

Tristan shot the remark curtly, but Leon made no reply, instead surveying his surroundings.

“Are we not taking horses?”
“Down a mountain path in winter? That would take forever. We’ll run to the village, then acquire horses there.”
Creak-squeal.
As the heavy main gate swung open, a bitter wind rushed in as if it had been waiting.
Winter came to the Arsera Mountain Range earlier and more mercilessly than anywhere else on the continent.
Whether because of the altitude, the cold was sharp enough to evoke memories of Elderit, Leon’s homeland, in the depths of winter.
Exhale.
What sprawled before him was less a path than a steep ravine fit only for beasts to traverse.
A labyrinth of stone where a single misstep would send one tumbling a thousand feet down into the abyss.
Yet even this desolate landscape was as familiar to Leon as if he’d seen it yesterday.
After his regression, once he had become an Elite Knight and reduced himself to a mere errand-boy for the Order, he had walked this path countless times.
“Come on. We need to reach the village before sunset.”
Tristan snapped out the words and immediately launched himself down the slope like a landslide, steep as a cliff face.
Jagged terrain and treacherous rock formations stretched before him, but he pressed forward without hesitation, accelerating like an enraged beast.
Tap-tap-tap!
Each footfall sent stones scattering as though the mountain itself were shattering beneath him.
This pace was excessive—far too harsh to be mere hazing of a recruit.
As though charging at an invisible enemy, a suppressed killing intent seeped through with every stride.
‘Venting his frustration, then.’
Leon read the urgency radiating from Tristan’s back as they descended.
The words he’d heard in that conference room echoed in his ears—how Tristan and the dead Cepian had been bound like blood brothers.
【Emotionally immature, the fool. Throwing a tantrum like this. And showing no consideration toward the newcomer, of all things.】
‘Consideration’s pretty funny coming from you, though. And did you just call me a kid?’
【Your surface looks young enough. As for what’s inside—you’re a decades-old serpent in a boy’s skin.】
‘So I’m a kid or I’m not?’
【Simple. You’re both.】
‘You’re being prickly today.’
【Mood.’s all.】
Ecrize’s commentary rattled through Leon’s mind, yet his footfalls across the stone remained steady and sure.
If anything, his senses had grown sharper—the way he flowed with the air’s currents felt far more acute than usual.
A year of bone-grinding training had honed his body precisely for moments like this.
The wind of the Arsera Mountain Range was savage.
The chill bit deep as early winter settled in—each breath scorched the lungs, each exhalation scattered into white wisps that shattered on the frozen air.
Even well-trained knights would struggle to maintain this pace through such cold, yet Tristan pushed faster still.
Like a beast blinded by rage.
‘Emotional. But…’
If Tristan were one of the Rat Bastards, Leon had to admit the acting was flawless.
Beneath Tristan’s reckless behavior ran a deep conviction that Leon had unjustly seized Cepian’s place.
Moreover, to see even the other Elite Knights defending Tristan’s willful conduct—it meant he was deceiving not just Leon, a stranger they’d met only today, but also the comrades who’d walked through life and death together. Every. Single. One.
‘If he were a Rat Bastard, maybe. But the odds seem slim.’
【A man that emotional would find it hard to scheme quietly from the shadows.】
‘I agree.’
Yet separate from that volatile temperament, the balance and grace with which he bounded across the jagged terrain—Twin Swords at his hip—was flawless.
Hot-headedness was a flaw, certainly, but he possessed the skill to back up that fiery nature. That much was undeniable.
‘An Elite Knight is an Elite Knight, then.’
Leon’s mouth twisted wryly.
Emotional though he was, Tristan’s speed was no mere reckless thrashing born of uncontrolled passion.
It was deliberate provocation—testing Leon’s endurance while claiming to be swept away by emotion, intent on wearing him down and breaking his spirit in one stroke.
Any ordinary recruit would have collapsed halfway, exhausted under the weight they carried, unable to match that pace.
But the opponent was unfortunate.
As they descended the final stretch of the mountain, Tristan glanced back over his shoulder and found himself admiring what he saw.
“Huh.”
The boy he’d expected to be gasping, barely keeping up, was instead shadowing him like a wraith—Greatsword still strapped across his back.
His face utterly composed, as though this grueling pace were nothing whatsoever.
Aila’s praise apparently wasn’t idle flattery after all.

‘Still just a brat, though.’

Yet the glint in Tristan’s eye as he glanced at Leon burned with stubborn pride.
Tristan himself had become an Elite Knight at a young age, but the rumors surrounding this new recruit had grown wildly exaggerated.
A fifteen-year-old boy who hasn’t even finished growing? Defeated a Contaminated Being that even Cepian couldn’t handle?
‘That’s absurd.’

Yes, luck was one of an Elite Knight’s necessary qualities—but within reason.
To deliver the final blow to a Contaminated Being that Cepian had already subdued, then to be promoted for it?
If this was how things worked, the Order’s upper ranks must be rotting from within.

While these thoughts churned through Tristan’s mind, the two of them arrived at Kars—a small village nestled at the base of the Arsera Mountain Range.
Leon, who had followed in silence until now, finally spoke.

“Do we hire horses here?”
“All right. Wait here.”

Tristan left Leon behind and made for the town’s way station.
Carved into the entrance of the building were a galloping horse and the emblem of Arseriel side by side.
It was a mark Leon knew well.

‘A supply route, then.’
【Like a cooperative organization?】
‘Something like that. If you prove you belong to the Order, you can obtain various provisions.’

But acquiring horses would be another matter entirely.
As Leon was thinking this, Tristan reappeared.
He gestured toward the back of the building and spoke.

“The stables. Out back.”

Following the direction Tristan indicated, Leon spotted the stables ahead.
Tristan emerged leading two horses toward Leon.
One brown, one grey—both decent enough mounts.

“You know how to ride, I assume?”

Tristan asked it sourly, but Leon didn’t rise to the bait this time either and swung up onto the brown horse.
The brown horse was slightly smaller in build, making it better suited to Leon than to Tristan.
His movements were fluid, practiced without flaw.
“Not bad. You can read a room, it seems.”
Tristan’s tone dripped with mock surprise.
He’d apparently expected Leon to stubbornly choose the larger mount out of spite.
But Leon ignored Tristan’s juvenile provocation cleanly once more.
Instead, he asked this:
“Do we pass through Orden?”
“We do. Looks like you’ve learned your basics properly, at least?”

It was a natural question, since the route through Orden, the border city, was the most common path eastward from the continent’s center; yet Tristan’s mockery spilled out all over again.
Leon thought him tireless and, rather than reply, simply pulled the reins to turn his horse’s head.
It was Tristan who finally snapped.

“Don’t they teach recruits these days to show respect to their seniors?”

As if any answer would have sufficed as a pretext for more quarreling.
Leon spoke, making no effort to hide the contempt in his gaze.

“Was that a question that required answering?”

Tristan’s face flushed crimson and pale by turns.
Leon watched as his superior’s hand moved toward his sword hilt, his face burning scarlet, and he added:

“Drawing steel now? We’re on a mission.”

At such close proximity that their gazes locked, despite the suffocating killing intent radiating from his senior at point-blank range, the newcomer—undoubtedly still a whelp—didn’t so much as blink.
Rather, he met the greatly excited Tristan with a cool, unwavering stare.
That expression and bearing reminded Tristan of Cepian, who used to scold him for his wild antics, and he found himself instinctively freezing.
At the same time, his own reaction felt profoundly distasteful to him.

“…You’d do well to mind your attitude.”

Tristan forced the anger down and mounted his horse.
Without another word, he spurred his mount toward Orden and rode on.
To be continued ▶
A Holy Knight with a Pact to an Evil God
Author
Ram Dat
Publisher
Kim Seok-hwan, Choi Se-ra
Published by
Grae Publishing
Inquiries
[email protected]
Publication Date
March 27, 2026
UCI
G720:N+A327-20260227066
※ This e-book is protected under copyright law. Unauthorized reproduction and copying are prohibited. Violators may face criminal and civil penalties.
※ Pentagram welcomes 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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