The Imperial Supreme Commander Has Returned - Chapter 35

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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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The Imperial Commander Returns — Episode 35

Thunk!

The neck caught on Tarving’s blade tip shot skyward.
The motion was as natural as plucking a persimmon hanging from a branch.
The eyes suspended in the air, wide with panic, dimmed rapidly.

“No, it can’t be!”
“Michel!”

The two Knights nearby let out a belated wail.
Not a single drop of blood sprayed when the head fell.
The surrealism of it all delayed their reaction.

“Die!”
A low, furious hum filled the air.

Rage, inevitably, erupted into violence.
The Aura clinging to the Knights’ blades as they thrust and slashed was thick with malice.
You could feel the fury rising to the crown of their heads just by looking at it.

Clang!

But it wasn’t enough to kill Delram.
Delram evaded the attacks with Back Tumbling.
His movements were lithe, befitting his young age.
The blades scraped perilously past his armpits and ribs.

“You fools! Protect the young master!”
“Yes, yes!”

The Mid-rank Knight who had been watching was the one most furious.
The Mid-rank Knight drew his own sword and stepped forward.
The sheer force of his presence exploded outward.

He stood at the same level as the warrior Delram had fought at the Altar before.
But the two were different in temperament.
A beast ruled by instinct versus a rational killer.
There was no question which would be harder to face.

Indeed, the two Knights behind seemed reassured.
After all, their opponent was merely a Lower-rank Knight.
No matter how superior the blade the commander had given him, that was all it was.
Closing the gap between realms was an impossibility.
Yet there was something odd.

Tap, tap, tap-tap!

Delram hadn’t stopped his Back Tumbling.
But that wasn’t all.
The moment his feet touched the ground from his final tumble―

Whoosh!

He spun around and began to flee.

“See you next time!”
“Huh? What?”

The Knights stood frozen, staring at him.
It was a sight that shattered a lifetime of understanding.

Retreat? Even when outnumbered?
Was this what a Knight did?

Yet Delram did not return.
He was already distant, far down the road.
A Lower-rank Knight spoke up, his face troubled.

“My lord, what should we do now…?”

The one asking was Matthew.
The architect of this disaster, the lord’s second son they served, and the strategist of this expedition all at once.
Surely he would render a wise judgment.

“That is… now—”

Matthew’s decision was to withdraw.
The wisest choice available in these circumstances.
But a Mid-rank Knight’s cry came faster.

“Michel is dead! We must pursue to the ends of the earth and exact our vengeance!”

The Mid-rank Knight’s face contorted like a demon’s mask.
A Knight—a valuable asset to the Territory—had fallen.
Who, then, would bear the blame?
The lord’s cherished second son?
Or himself, a Mid-rank Knight who had foolishly lost his subordinate?

“I’m going ahead! Bring the horses!”

I need that bastard’s head—that much, I owe!
The Mid-rank Knight stamped the ground.

* * *

Caw, caw.

With the cry of crows, the sun finally set.
It was unremarkable.
After all, the five had first appeared in the Rocky Terrain when the sun was already dipping low on the horizon.

“Damn this bastard…! How is he so fast?”

Gibson, the Mid-rank Knight, spat out his fury.
His rage had reached such a fever pitch that he unleashed killing intent in all directions, heedless of Matthew’s presence.
Only his two subordinates exchanged nervous glances, quietly feeding kindling into the fire they’d just lit.

Needless to say, Delram’s body was nowhere to be found.
They had simply lost him.

Gibson was right—Delram was remarkably swift.
Even with Gibson, a Mid-rank Knight, expending every ounce of his power to chase him, all he could manage was to follow at his heels, seeing only the man’s back.

There had been a moment when they nearly had him.
When Gibson had detonated his Mana outright, accepting the risk of burning out his circuits.
But by the thinnest margin, Delram had slipped through their grasp.

“Is there some Artifact that helps with escape? I can’t make sense of this at all!”

Gibson had every right to complain.
All the wind was blowing from behind Delram.
Then naturally Gibson should have caught that same wind.
Yet the harder he ran, the more he faced headwinds instead.

How was this possible?
The wind shifted completely over a mere hundred meters.

The chase ended once the forest appeared.
True to his rural roots, the man darted nimbly between the trees like a crafty squirrel, and there was nothing bulky Gibson could do about it.
He couldn’t possibly keep pace.

Moreover, Gibson’s Mana had been depleted by then.
Meanwhile, the Lower-rank Knight Delram’s Mana remained fresh.
The only conclusion was that it came down to his Artifact.

‘But how could a commoner possess an Artifact?’

It puzzled him, but Gibson shook his head.
What did it matter if it made no sense?
It had already happened.
So he would accept it, find him, and tear him to pieces.

Afterward, he regrouped with his subordinates who had ridden in pursuit on horseback.
That was the situation now.
The sun had already set, leaving them no choice but to make camp.

“Tch, I should have remembered that commoners care nothing for honor. Who’d have thought he’d actually run?”

Matthew groaned beside the campfire.
The Knights crouching nearby voiced their agreement.

“Indeed. I cannot fathom what the Vistache House was thinking, teaching such a man the Mana Technique.”
“A Knight should prioritize something above mere talent. Without honor, what separates a Knight from a mercenary?”
“My thoughts exactly!”

Matthew nodded vigorously in agreement.
Then, growing slightly more hesitant, he asked a question.

“But what if he returns to Camp and reports us to the Commander? If the Commander finds out about this……”
“We must play innocent, as planned. Haven’t you said we’ve already prepared witnesses for a situation like this?”
“Right, if we all stick to the same story, no matter what nonsense he spouts, they’ll side with us, won’t they?”
“Of course!”

Matthew brightened at the Knights’ words.
The conclusion they’d reached once more was clear: return.
Further pursuit was impossible, so the plan was to return to Camp now and establish their alibi.
As luck would have it, there was only one road, and on horseback they could reach it much faster.

…….

Fortunately, Gibson seemed to agree with the sentiment.
Since they’d lost him rather than caught him, there was nothing else to be done.
Gibson opened his mouth.

“What if we say that Knight Michel departed first to return to the Territory, then went missing?”
“I concur.”
“Michel will understand.”

Matthew and the Knights alike agreed with Gibson’s words.
It was an action that abandoned a Knight’s honor entirely, but regardless—at least they themselves weren’t the dead ones.
Besides, everyone here was complicit, so there was a comfort in knowing the secret wouldn’t leak.

“……!”

Then, suddenly, Gibson lurched to his feet.
The bewildered faces of the Lower-rank Knights hardened at once.

The air had gone utterly silent.
The birds that had been singing everywhere as spring arrived, the beasts stirring from hibernation and rustling through the undergrowth—all of them had fallen mute.

There was only one thing this meant.
The prelude to an attack.

A sharp breath cut through the silence.

Then, sure enough, the stench of beasts assaulted his nostrils.
At the same moment, the surrounding grass erupted into frenzied motion.
What emerged from the darkness were dozens of lights—no, eyes.
Eyes unmistakably not of human make—

“Demon Beasts! Draw your weapons!”
“Demon Beasts? But we’re right beside the road—how could they possibly appear here?”
“It’s not unheard of. Stay sharp, everyone! You—stop worrying about the Demon Beasts and guard the Young Master.”
“Understood!”

Did the creatures hear Gibson’s cry?
Four-legged Demon Beasts came bursting through the thicket.

“Grrrrrowl!”

A dozen or more Demon Beasts suddenly ringed them on all sides.
They were the size of wolves, but far more grotesque in appearance.
Instead of fur, their bodies were slick and rippling black.
But what was truly alien was their teeth.
Teeth sprouted not just from their snouts, but across their entire frames—heads, torsos, legs, hindquarters—a chaotic eruption of fangs.
Their identity was unmistakable.

“Hellhounds!”
“Damned spawn of darkness!”

Matthew and the Knights cried out in alarm.
But Gibson remained composed, his Aura rising steadily.
The faint glow of his Aura cast light across his face.
Strangely, he was smiling.

‘Filthy vermin.’

This was better than he could have hoped for.
His rage had been churning inside him with no outlet, threatening to consume him from within.
And now, when he’d had no way to vent it, a target for his fury had practically walked straight into his arms. He almost laughed at the gift.

“I’ll grind every last one of you to dust!”

Gibson roared and charged forward.

* * *

Hellhounds.
Formidable demon beasts, every one of them.
A pack of ten could pin down even a Lower-rank Knight.
The epithet “Traveler’s Nightmare” hadn’t been earned for nothing.

But there were limits to what they could do.
To Gibson, a Mid-rank Knight, the difference between a Hellhound and a common hunting dog?
Negligible.
Both fell to a single clean stroke.

Yelp! Yelp-yelp!
“Ha ha ha! Yapping like mongrels, are they?”

Each time Gibson moved, the Hellhounds paid the price.
His blade work was unusually ferocious—nothing like his measured self.
Before him, the beasts were torn this way and that, rent to pieces like a plump rooster on a butcher’s block.
The dark night grew darker still as the creatures’ black blood sprayed in every direction, a fountain of carnage.

“G-Gibson…”

Even Matthew, watching from the sidelines, had grown so disturbed he nearly spoke up.
This was dangerous. Truly dangerous.
A Knight—not a mere mercenary—must never allow passion to seize him.
That was the curse of any who drew a blade.

Gibson knew this better than anyone.
But one of his own Knights had been killed before his eyes.
Slain while executing a mission to dispatch a worthless commoner.

And the opponent had been nothing but a fourteen-year-old child.
His own son was twenty this very year, and yet—

This fury could not be contained. He had to spend it.
That was why he thrashed about like a madman now.

But he should not have.
Had he known who his opponent truly was…

Whee-thunk!
“Huh!?”

Gibson leapt back in genuine shock.
An attack from an utterly unexpected quarter had found him.

It cut cleanly through the darkness and the screams of slaughter, threading a precise path between shadow and sound.
An Arrow.

No ordinary Arrow, either.
Coated in Aura, it glowed blue even through the darkness.

Swish.

Yet Gibson was a Mid-rank Knight.
The instant he perceived the Arrow, reflex took hold—he twisted his head aside.
The projectile that had aimed for his skull whistled past empty air.

Cold sweat beaded at his temple.
Another fraction of a second’s delay, and it would have buried itself in his skull.

Thud.
Crack!

Then came a death cry from behind.
It made no sense.
His men had been outside the arrow’s path, hadn’t they?

He spun around to see one of them collapsing.
Blood—white and crimson—streamed from his temple.
Dead. No question about it.

“Henry! Henry!”
“Damn it all! The arrow curved?”
“Ahhhhhhh!”

The camp descended into chaos.
A surviving comrade’s shock, Matthew’s curses at nearly being the next target, Gibson’s fury at being struck twice—it all erupted at once.

What infuriated him most was the situation itself.
The forest. That bastard had fired from nearby, no doubt about it!
If he pursued now, he could catch him—but it was impossible.

Growl-growl-growl-growl.

The Hellhounds salivated, staring at Henry’s corpse.

Tremble-tremble-tremble-tremble.

Behind him, the lord’s son trembled in terror.
If he abandoned his post, would the next arrow come flying?
If that arrow aimed for the young lord instead of himself?
Everything would be lost.

“Nooooooo!”

Gibson roared in fury.

“I will tear you to pieces! Whoever you are, wherever you hide—I don’t care! I stake everything on this oath: I will tear you apart!”

Gibson’s eyes blazed a crimson sheen as he swore it.
This was a Knight’s vow.
Even if he lost everything, even if his honor were stripped away, even if it took a lifetime—he would see it through.
Without fail.

But the world wasn’t won by resolve alone.
None of the three slept that night.
Not with arrows that could come from anywhere, at any moment.

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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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