Chapter Fifty-Four: The Overbearing General

The two soldiers surrounding Shaya felt perfectly at ease: though this young man looked robust, he carried no weapons and seemed to be nothing more than an ordinary, simple-minded villager. Especially deceptive was the harmless smile that perpetually adorned Shaya's face.

Though orders had been given to avoid causing trouble in Wildfire Town, especially with demon hunters or mercenary bands making their living there, this youth had all the marks of a laborer—dull-witted and born to carry burdens.

One soldier flipped his sword and brought the hilt down towards Shaya's head, while the other raised his shield and lunged, barking, "Behave yourself, boy, or you'll regret it."

Shaya still wore his usual bewildered look, but with a casual turn of his head, he dodged the sword hilt. He then seized the soldier's wrist and gave it a gentle twist, forcing him to his knees with a cry. Shaya's shoulder collided with the shield-bearer, sending him flying onto the wooden platform.

The surrounding Byzantine soldiers were stunned for a moment, then burst into shouts as they drew their swords and closed in. "This is mutiny! Assaulting the imperial troops!"

Ordinary soldiers were nothing to Shaya. Already seething, he dispatched those who rushed at him without much effort. Grabbing a shield, he knocked aside several soldiers with well-placed blows and fixed his gaze on an officer, landing a kick squarely on his abdomen—a restrained blow, for had it landed lower, the officer's lineage would have ended then and there. Even so, the officer doubled over, crying out in pain.

In just a few exchanges, Shaya had downed five or six soldiers. The remaining men, enraged, threw caution aside and surged forward as a mob, with the officer on the ground clutching his stomach, yelling, "Seize him! Cut him down!"

Shaya, still unarmed, wielded two shields. Facing a dozen or more soldiers, he wasted no words and charged into the fray, shields raised to deflect their swords. Relying solely on brute strength, he scattered the ranks, leaving them tumbling in disarray.

The plaza was close to the city gate, so the commotion quickly drew the attention of the garrison. Soon, a patrol arrived, finding their comrades sprawled on the ground, and agitation erupted among them.

The plaza was encircled now, and as more Byzantine soldiers pressed in, Shaya began to regret his boldness. This was trouble—he could escape, but there was no hiding from the authorities. He considered fleeing, but the exits were blocked; only the city gate seemed less crowded, yet it was already shut.

With a shout, Shaya raised his shield and charged, overturning two men in his path. He kicked aside a sword-wielding officer, sending him sprawling amidst the chaos, and reached the city gate. The gate of Wildfire Town was hardly fortified—what thief would dare commit crimes here? It was little more than two thick wooden planks.

Shaya reached the gate, and the soldiers on either side raised their spears. He blocked two thrusts with his shield—snap! Snap!—the spears broke. Shaya grabbed a spear, tossed the soldier aside, and then, with a low roar, rammed the city gate.

Boom!

A gap in the shape of a "great" character appeared in the gate, and before the stunned soldiers could react, the wild youth had already burst through.

The soldiers hesitated, then shouted and gave chase...

※※※

Once outside Wildfire Town, Shaya relaxed, thinking he'd escaped. But just as he indulged in a moment of triumph, he heard the urgent beat of hooves—an armored cavalry squad was fast approaching the city gate!

A fierce wind swept the ground, raising a curtain of dust. The cavalry, a black torrent of steel, thundered forward. Seeing Shaya break through the gate, the pursuing soldiers called out, and the foremost rider without hesitation dashed toward him, body low against the horse, a spiked mace whistling through the air!

Shaya could only raise his shield in time—boom! He was struck by the force of the charging horse, sent flying backwards, his shield splintered to pieces. He tumbled across the ground several times before coming to rest.

The rider, even after galloping far ahead, wheeled his mount, sat upright, mace still in hand. Beneath the visor of his helmet, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. He raised his hand, shouting to the infantry behind him to hold back.

"What a fierce boy! Try another blow from me!" the rider laughed. Shaya had already scrambled to his feet, seeing cavalry blocking his path and infantry behind. He knew escape was futile—no man could outrun a horse. His nature was fierce; he shouted, "You have your horse—dare to try me on foot?"

The rider hesitated, but from the ranks behind came a commanding voice: "Kevin, test him."

The voice was deep and imposing, brooking no defiance. Kevin, the rider, laughed, dismounted, drew his knight's longsword, and threw it at Shaya's feet. "Pick it up, boy—I won't take advantage."

Shaya sized up the cavalry: about a hundred strong, each mounted on a fine steed, every rider sturdy and upright as a spear, clad in black light armor, bearing maces and swords. They halted and formed a wedge, clustering around a middle-aged knight at the center.

This knight wore a black leather robe, no armor, a black cloak billowing behind him. He carried a sword on his saddle, reins in one hand, the other raised to signal the distant infantry to halt.

His features were bold—thick brows, wide eyes, a face full of authority, a high nose, tight lips. Such a face bespoke indomitable will, yet a scar slanted across his visage, from the left brow to the right corner of his mouth, dividing his face and lending him an especially fierce air.

Seated on his horse, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, he seemed even more formidable than his troops. His gaze swept over Shaya, giving even the stout-hearted pause.

This man radiated an aura that could not be concealed. The scar on his face only heightened his masculine vigor.

(This is a man of consequence!) Shaya instantly judged.

"Pick up the sword and test yourself," Kevin said, advancing slowly with his mace. Shaya snorted, spat on the ground, ignored the sword, and drew his fire fork from his belt, gripping it in both hands as he stared coldly at Kevin.

Their previous clash had told Shaya that Kevin's strength surpassed that of Shem, whom he'd fought before, by a good margin.

Kevin saw Shaya ignore the sword and use a blackened fire fork, but showed no contempt. He grew more cautious, gripping his mace as he advanced step by step.

Shaya felt the killing intent and fighting spirit in Kevin's eyes, a pressure that made him feel as if he faced not a man, but a beast. They circled each other warily, until Kevin gave a shout and charged, bringing the mace down hard.

Shaya raised his fire fork to block, sidestepped, and with a clang, the fork snapped off one spike from the mace. Kevin, undeterred, spun the mace in a fierce horizontal sweep.

Shaya gritted his teeth, raised the fork again—clash!—the fork wedged deep into the mace, locking them together. Both paused in surprise, entangled at close quarters. Without hesitation, both raised their legs and kicked hard at each other.

Both grunted. Kevin's kick struck Shaya's abdomen, while Shaya aimed for Kevin's groin. Kevin hurriedly blocked, so Shaya's kick landed on his upper thigh.

Shaya, tough as iron, shrugged off the blow, but Kevin staggered, his thigh aching so badly he nearly lost his footing. He retreated two steps, and with a snap, his mace was severed by the fork, leaving only the handle in his hand.

The middle-aged knight watched from afar, noting the shape of Shaya's fire fork with surprise. Kevin looked at the broken handle, but showed no anger—his eyes burned with renewed fighting spirit.

He was proud indeed; though his weapon was ruined, and his own sword lay nearby, he would not retrieve it. With a low growl, he charged at Shaya barehanded.

Kevin, unarmed, lunged like a tiger, even fiercer than before. But he had barely taken two steps when the middle-aged knight called out:

"Enough. Stop."

Kevin halted mid-stride, panting heavily, eyes fixed on Shaya, but dared not defy the order, clearly holding the knight in utmost respect.

The knight rode forward, stopping beside Kevin with a slight smile. "Convinced? There's always someone stronger. Next time, use your head."

Kevin glared at Shaya, nodded in acceptance, and quietly stepped back behind the knight, never daring to stand alongside him, even though he was on foot.

At that moment, the city gate opened, and a squad of soldiers emerged, escorting an officer in armor. The officer, bearded and stern, strode forward, barking, "What's going on here? Who dares cause trouble?"

At a glance, he recognized the middle-aged knight and saw the flag among the cavalry. He frowned, took a breath, and saluted, "Ah, General Adrick. I didn't know you were in my district..."

The knight ignored him, eyes fixed on Shaya. "What is your name?"

The commanding gaze swept over Shaya, the tone brooking no denial, clearly accustomed to giving orders. Shaya instinctively replied, "My name is Shaya Thunder."

"Hmm. Why the disturbance?"

"Bah! I'm a demon hunter from nearby. These men tried to conscript me as a laborer. I refused, so they tried to force me..."

Before Shaya could finish, the Wildfire Town officer interrupted angrily, "Nonsense! General Adrick, I am the provisional commander for Wildfire Town. This is my district. Please allow us to handle this troublemaker. He caused a disturbance in a military zone and forced his way through the gate—we have reason to suspect him as a spy..."

The knight ignored the officer, eyes only on Shaya. "Are you local?"

"Yes, I live nearby." Shaya answered straightforwardly, knowing there was no escaping today—infantry and cavalry blocked any route. If honesty didn't work, he could always fight later.

But under the knight's gaze, he felt a heavy, oppressive weight.

"How old are you?"

"...Eighteen." Shaya swallowed.

"General Adrick..." The commander, left out, couldn't help but interject again.

The knight finally reacted. He raised his head, turned with irritation, rode closer, lifted his chin, and said coldly, "What did you say?"

"I am..." The commander answered stiffly, proud and defiant—after all, he wasn't under Adrick's command and had no fear of offending him.

But before he could finish, the knight drew his horsewhip and lashed him across the face!

The supple whip snapped straight, landing with a dull thud. The officer was knocked flat, a swollen red welt across his face, nose smashed.

The knight looked at him coolly, raised an eyebrow, voice low but full of arrogance and dominance:

"When I'm speaking, who gave you leave to interrupt?"

The commander, humiliated and in pain, was about to rise in protest, but caught the contempt and latent killing intent in the knight's eyes. Remembering the man's fearsome reputation, his courage melted away—he dared not stir.

With the commander cowed, the soldiers dared not step forward, standing meekly.

The arrogant, domineering knight snorted, ignoring the officer groaning on the ground. He turned to Shaya, gazing steadily, noting the youthful, bright eyes staring back—tense and wary, but not the least bit afraid, and with a hint of defiance.

A smile curled his lips. "Very good, boy. Any family?"

"...None." Shaya replied—well, a goblin hardly counted as family.

"I like you. You've got guts! From now on, follow me!"

His gaze and brash demeanor set Shaya's blood racing—such overwhelming spirit!

And Shaya had always dreamed of leaving the mountains to become a demon hunter or mercenary. Now, an obvious high-ranking general was inviting him—far more appealing than joining some mercenary band as a mere swordsman.

Shaya was tempted, but asked, "Follow you? What's in it for me?"

The cavalry behind couldn't help but chuckle; Kevin snorted, muttering, "When the general selects you, you still hesitate? Do you know how many in the army would beg for the chance..."

"Ha! What's in it for you?" The knight raised an eyebrow, smiled proudly. "Big bowls of wine! Big slabs of meat! Big blades hacking foes! Fair shares of loot! No one bullies us—we do the bullying! Is that good enough? Do you dare?"

Damn!

His words made Shaya's heart pound wildly.

"Dare! Why wouldn't I?"

...

Later historians recorded... Well, to hell with historians.

The situation was thus: the knight glared at Shaya, "Boy, if you follow me, you'll be my brother! If I have a piece of meat, I'll share it with you all. Remember my name: Adrick, General of the Empire's Thirteenth Cavalry Corps. I've got an ugly nickname—'The Overbearing General.' Remember it! If you follow me, you'll be a true man—don't disgrace me!"