Chapter 41

The Game Difficulty
Is Crazy

As the sun went down, torches were lit here and there around the Avenew Fortress training grounds.

Not long after, dozens of Gray Wolf Knights gathered in the training yard.

They seemed to be personnel on standby, with no training or guard duty at the moment.

They lined up in front of Glen, then moved in perfect unison and gave a knight’s formal salute.

“The shield that protects Wordsworth!
The Gray Wolves of Avenew greet the blood descendant of Wordsworth!”

The thunderous voices of dozens of knights shook Avenew Fortress.

Feeling the overwhelming spirit overflowing from them, Glen nodded with satisfaction.

“The direct line of Wordsworth.
Glen, the second son of Henry Wordsworth, greets the brave Gray Wolves.”

With a polite, public-facing smile, Glen returned the proper courtesy.

Then he carefully examined the Gray Wolf Knights one by one.

Strong, solid builds.

Clear eyes gleaming with sharp light.

Gray armor radiating dignity under the sunset glow.

And on top of that, the fierce aura of a wild beast that could not be felt from ordinary knights.

It was as if only the strengths of knights and beasts had been gathered into one.

‘Ah, I really like them.’

Of course, this was only Glen’s first impression of the Gray Wolf Knights.

Unlike Glen, who was excited by the pleasant first meeting, the Gray Wolf Knights, after finishing their formal greeting, looked at him with unfriendly gazes.

Cold, pitiful looks unique to seeing something pathetic.

Naturally, Glen did not care.

The reason the Gray Wolf Knights looked at him that way was not because they were rude or ill-mannered.

It was simply because they only knew Glen through rumors they had heard.

—They say the second son of Wordsworth is a fanatic executioner.

—Even though he’s a noble’s child, he didn’t learn swordsmanship like everyone else and locked himself in his room reading only scriptures like a madman.

—He spouted nonsense about hearing the voice of God and even set fire to the storehouse.

Rumors like those.

In other words, their cold gazes were not aimed at the current Glen, but at the rumored fanatic executioner.

But how long ago was that?

It had been two months since he picked up a sword, and it had already been more than ten days since he wove his third holy ring.

‘The fanatic executioner you despised has changed, and he will change even more.’

To show them that fact with his own body, Glen was standing here now.

The Gray Wolf Knights lived by a strict law of survival of the fittest.

Within that society, they only showed true respect to those they personally acknowledged as strong.

Therefore, what Glen needed to do to change their gaze was simple.

He just had to prove that he was strong, with a single sword.

Zaber, standing beside him, asked,

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Seeing Glen’s confident smile, Zaber nodded.

Then he took a deep breath and shouted toward the Gray Wolf Knights.

“Proud Gray Wolves! Listen!
Today, the second young master of Wordsworth has requested our support!
Whether this man possesses the qualities worthy of the name Wordsworth—
You will confirm it with your own eyes!”

“Yes!”

Zaber’s voice and the voices of the Gray Wolf Knights boomed across the training grounds.

Glen looked at Zaber.

“How many of them must I defeat for you to acknowledge me?”

“Hahaha! When judging talent, what does the number of sparring matches matter? One is enough.”

Zaber grinned broadly.

He had personally trained well over a hundred Gray Wolf Knights.

Was there any need to take long to evaluate the talent of a boy who had held a sword for only two months?

Glen stroked his chin and slightly raised the corner of his mouth.

“One won’t be enough.”

“I hope that confidence lasts long.
So then, young master, what level are you at? Judging by the holy power you give off, you seem to have achieved quite a bit.”

“I’m a little worse than my sister Tris.”

“Oh?”

Zaber raised one corner of his mouth with interest.

Tris Wordsworth.

A genius who reached the realm of five rings at the age of twenty-three.

To say he was only slightly worse than that genius—Glen’s words must have sounded extremely arrogant.

“I heard you haven’t been holding a sword for long.”

“Well, I suppose I am still of Wordsworth blood, after all.”

“Heh heh heh. Raising expectations like this…
It makes me worried about how you’ll handle the aftermath.”

Chuckling, Zaber turned his head and shouted,

“Jurban! Come up to the sparring ground and show the young master the valor of the Gray Wolf Knights!”

“Yes!”

At Zaber’s command, a young knight answered loudly and ran up to the sparring ground.

“I am Jurban, son of Knight Bolimurf Edinger!
It is a true honor to cross swords with Young Master Glen of Wordsworth!”

With a spirited voice, Jurban saluted Glen.

Glen nodded lightly.

“He is a knight who wove his third holy ring one month ago.”

“Didn’t I just say I’m a little worse than my sister?”

“Hahaha! There’s nothing to worry about.
The knights here are different from the half-baked fools who only weave holy rings.”

In other words, even as a three-ring holy knight, his actual skill surpassed that of an ordinary three-ring knight.

“So be careful not to get hurt. Once these wolves bare their fangs, they forget about masters and everything else.”

From the looks of it, assigning a three-ring knight against him was a small mercy, telling him to suffer only a moderate humiliation.

Of course, Glen already had the record of defeating a four-ring holy knight named Robert long ago.

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that reply, Glen slowly stepped onto the sparring ground.

Old bloodstains were scattered across the white stone floor.

It clearly showed how fiercely the Gray Wolf Knights normally crossed swords here.

“I will never forget this spar with Young Master Glen for the rest of my life!”

Jurban bowed his head.

It was a greeting in form only, yet strangely filled with sincerity.

Interpreting the meaning in Glen’s own way, it was roughly—

‘I’ll beat you half to death today and use it as a lifelong bragging story.’

Something like that.

Jurban’s eyes were simply too honest.

Eyes glinting with greed, as if he had found a perfect opportunity.

He seemed eager to thoroughly beat up the rumored executioner.

At that pitiful attitude, Glen sneered inwardly.

Of course, outwardly he maintained his polite smile.

“Please take care of me.”

Glen and Jurban took their distance.

Soon, a knight who looked like a low-ranking member came up with two suitable swords.

After swinging the practice sword a few times, Glen nodded.

“Then we will begin the spar!”

Zaber declared the start.

At the same time, Jurban drew up his holy power.

Three holy rings spun as holy power spread throughout his body.

“Then I’ll go first. You may get hurt, so please be careful, young master!”

Warning him with a sharp voice, Jurban kicked off the ground.

A swift opening attack worthy of a three-ring holy knight.

In contrast, Glen calmly drew up his holy power.

In the blink of an eye, Jurban closed the distance until their noses were almost touching.

He thrust forward the sword he had drawn back before leaping.

“I warned you!”

A thrust aimed at Glen’s shoulder.

It wasn’t aimed at a vital point, but it was still a serious attack.

But that was all.

Kang—!

“Huk!”

A scream rang out across the training ground.

At the same time, Zaber and the Gray Wolf Knights widened their eyes.

“Kh… ugh…!”

Jurban was kneeling on one knee, clutching his right hand.

Glen rested his sword on his shoulder.

“Did you hurt your hand? I’m really sorry about that. Still, it’s not cut off, so it should heal with treatment.”

There was no trace of apology on his face. Instead, a faint smile lingered on Glen’s lips.

“H-hey, did you just… see that?”

“Jurban… He must’ve let his guard down.”

“Even so… against the same three rings…”

The Gray Wolf Knights, who had been quietly watching until now, began to stir.

They had expected Glen to barely block Jurban’s sword and be knocked down.

Even if, by some miracle, the executioner won, they expected a long, fierce battle.

But the match ended in a single exchange.

It was completely different from what they had imagined.

“…Jurban. Go down and get treatment, quickly.”

Zaber, whose eyebrow twitched with visible agitation, was no different.

To deflect the swift attack of a three-ring holy knight at an angle and counterattack—

It was a level of skill impossible for someone who had trained for only two months.

‘Was learning for two months a lie?’

As Zaber’s eyes sharpened, they met Glen’s.

“Do you see some talent now?”

A faint smile on his lips, and sharp light in his eyes.

Only then did Zaber realize that this boy had not come here as a joke.

“…If it’s alright, could you show us a bit more?”

“If that’s what you wish.”

Glen smiled softly with his eyes.

At that moment, one of the knights shouted,

“Young master! If you’re willing, I would like to be your sparring partner!”

He was a man with a heavy, solid impression.

“Ilmar, is it. He’s also a three-ring knight like Jurban, but higher in rank.”

“Perfect.”

When Glen agreed, the man quickly stepped onto the sparring ground and saluted.

“I am Ilmar Rihent, third son of the Rihent family. Please take care of me.”

He looked better than the first man, but still only three rings.

“Please take care of me as well. If you’re ready, we’ll begin right away.”

“Yes. This time will be different.”

Zaber announced the start again.

Ilmar kicked off the ground.

Chaeng!

A swift opening strike like a wolf.

Then Ilmar continued his sword attacks with serious momentum.

‘He has some feel for it.’

But thinking Glen was the same level as himself was a big mistake.

Chang!

Swordsmanship forged by a knight without rings and the favor of the blade itself could not overwhelm him.

In an instant, the initiative shifted to Glen.

“Kuh!”

A groan escaped Ilmar’s mouth, and a few seconds later—

Kkaang—!

“Kuhack!”

“Oh dear. Please go get treatment quickly. Good work, Sir Ilmar.”

Unable to withstand Glen’s sword, Ilmar ended up in the same state as Jurban.

With two three-ring holy knights defeated, silence fell over the training ground.

“You are certainly on a different level. As expected of the Gray Wolf Knights.”

It was sincere.

Unlike the Gray Wolf Knights, the three-ring knights at the Wordsworth estate couldn’t even last this long.

But hearing such words from someone who was also three rings would only sound like mockery and provocation to them.

“I’ll be your sparring partner, young master!”

“How about me, ranked thirty-eighth!”

“Among the three-ring holy knights of Avenew, I’m the best, young master!”

As if his words had lit a fuse, the Gray Wolf Knights raised their hands one after another, volunteering to spar.

Zaber looked at Glen with questioning eyes, but Glen simply smiled.

Today, Glen planned to lay down as many of them as it took until they were satisfied.

Glen’s challenge continued.

Chaeng—!

“Kugh!”

Chang! Kkaang—!

“I-I lost!”

Seven? Eight?

He was starting to lose track of how many Gray Wolves he had knocked down.

‘Ah, I do remember the four-ring one.’

—It seems that three rings aren’t enough to face you, young master. I apologize, but may this four-ring knight spar with you?

Saying that, a four-ring knight had stepped onto the sparring ground against three-ring Glen.

‘I don’t remember his name, but I think his rank was twenty-seventh.’

After fighting him, his skill was noticeably better than Robert’s.

Of course, that guy also ended up laid out on the nicely warmed stone floor.

“Hoo…”

After knocking down several high-level knights, Glen’s breath grew heavy.

Still, the number of volunteers did not decrease.

Was it the competitive instinct unique to beasts, seeing such an entertaining match?

Or was it stubborn pride, annoyed that the executioner they expected to fall long ago refused to go down?

Looking down at the men on the sparring ground with fire in their eyes, it truly felt like he had stepped into a wolf’s den.

‘If this keeps up, I’ll end up fighting everyone here.’

Sparring with them increased his experience and stats, so it wasn’t bad to continue, but it was time to return to his original purpose.

Just as he was searching for a stronger opponent to win their full approval—

“How about the knight ranked fifteenth as your sparring partner, young master.”

A deep, heavy voice cut through the noise.

Turning his gaze, Glen saw a man with a very serious expression looking up at him.

‘Rank fifteenth…’

Glen raised the corner of his mouth.

Fifteenth out of three hundred knights.

A perfectly suitable offering had appeared.