30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 107

Arend still refused to acknowledge his defeat.

‘I didn’t lose!’

Though he had been taken down in a single blow, it was merely because he wasn’t in peak condition and had been caught off guard. He never once considered himself weak or his opponent overwhelmingly strong. After all, he was the "White Lion" that the Silver Lion Knights prided themselves on.

The White Lion of Pendragon.

It meant he was one of the most outstanding knights of his era! Because of this, he denied his loss and was convinced the outcome would change if they fought again.

‘Even if I can’t deny that the opponent was strong, the result would have been different if I had drawn my sword!’

Arend believed himself to be formidable when he wielded his sword. This unshakable self-confidence had always filled him, even just moments ago.

That was until...

‘W-what... what is that...?’

Arend stared wide-eyed at the scene unfolding before him, unable to close his mouth.

“Sir Baker? Sir Lehman....”

Baker and Lehman. Though not masters, they were knights with decent strength befitting their titles. And yet...

‘They were brought down that pathetically?’

It was absurd. If they had been ambushed, perhaps it could be excused. But their opponent had charged them head-on, roaring like a wild beast, and the two knights had frozen in place, collapsing as if crushed by an invisible force.

It was as though an intangible energy had enveloped and subdued them.

And that seemed only to be the beginning.

“S-Sir Delin. Sir Temern. Even Sir Tovaros....”

The proud warriors of the 1st Division were falling one after another. Knights who had drawn their swords and charged were effortlessly flung aside like toddlers playfully tossed by an adult.

Even Arend, who would struggle against these knights in battle, was left stunned. Yet, more shocking than the fact that they had been defeated was the manner in which it happened.

“Hah! They keep calling him a troll, and now he thinks he’s an actual troll? How the hell did he get this strong?” “...He’s on a completely different level compared to when I crossed swords with him. I thought I had worked hard, but to think the gap has widened this much....” “This isn’t about you being insufficient. That guy’s growth is just absurd. Still, defeating ‘over a hundred knights’ single-handedly doesn’t seem like something that can be explained by growth alone.”

And not a single injury.

Yes, that monster had effortlessly subdued well over a hundred members of the Silver Lion Knights.

‘What kind of creature is he?!’

Arend’s complexion turned even paler as he realized that, despite the sweat and heavy breathing, the opponent bore not a single wound. And that monster...

“Is there no one else willing to step up?”

“......”

“No one? Then as the victor, I’ll say this: stop bothering me. I’m not interested in your politics, and I want nothing to do with any of you. If you ignore my warning and come at me again, I won’t hold back next time.”

The calm warning resounded in the silent air. He had just threatened the combined might of the 1st and 2nd Divisions—the symbols of royalist and noble faction power.

And yet, no one dared to defy that warning.

His overwhelming strength had made that clear enough.

‘This is insane. He’s not even an Aura User....’

The display alone was enough to evoke comparisons to an Aura User.

The knights could not hide the trembling in their eyes. One knight, his pride clearly wounded, finally spoke up.

“...Do you really think you’ll get away with this?”

“Threats are all well and good, but you need the skill to back them up. Empty threats are worth less than a dog’s bark.”

“?!”

“If it bothers you that much, get stronger. For your information, with your current skill level, you wouldn’t even stand a chance against a single Red Hawk. At least ten of you would have to gang up for it to be an even fight.”

“Y-you...!”

Comparing the Silver Lion Knights to the Red Hawks and claiming they were far inferior left the knights red-faced with humiliation. Even after their devastating loss, they were still Silver Lion Knights—the kingdom’s finest!

It was insulting, and their anger was understandable, but...!

“I told you, if you’re dissatisfied, come at me. Just know this—‘I won’t go easy on you anymore.’”

“......”

The low warning hung in the air, and the knights could now fully understand what it meant to feel one’s hair stand on end.

His sheer presence alone overwhelmed them entirely.

It was a complete defeat for the Silver Lion Knights.

Ihan found himself in the royal prison.

He wasn’t forcibly dragged there. Rather, when trembling soldiers under orders approached him hesitantly and pleaded:

“Um... Could you please... come with us...?”

He had taken pity on their pitiful state and decided to come along.

Even so, upon arriving, Ihan made his stance clear.

“If you don’t prepare a proper meal and bed for me, I’ll tear this prison down.”

“Ah... well...”

“Or should I just finish off the ones still lying around over there?”

“...Would you like anything else, sir?”

Thus, though confined behind bars, Ihan was untouchable. He could bathe in clean water and request anything he wanted from the guards, making his stay surprisingly comfortable.

He figured staying for a day wouldn’t be too bad.

“Hahaha! I knew you’d cause a big scene one day, but this? This is incredible! Hahaha!”

“...Could you laugh a little quieter? My eardrums are about to burst.”

“Hahaha! This is too amusing not to laugh! Hahaha!”

“...I’m going to lose it.”

It seemed peace wasn’t on the agenda.

Every time he laughed, Ihan could feel the vibrations through his entire body, as if standing directly in front of a massive speaker.

‘And they call me the monster? The real monster is right here....’

Before him stood an elderly man with a slight frame, seemingly frail, with white hair reminiscent of withered branches. Yet his vibrant energy and piercing gaze were as intense as that of a young knight.

Baltar.

A living legend, a great hero, and the most powerful knight of Pendragon.

‘So this is how strong he is....’

Ihan shivered. Though he had been through countless life-threatening situations this year, forcing him to grow stronger, standing before Baltar made him acutely aware of the immense gap between them.

It was overwhelming.

‘I thought I’d caught up, but... he’s a hundred laps ahead of me.’

He couldn’t even see the back of his opponent.

“...A man needs to stay humble, after all.”

“You’re realizing that just now?”

“Damn it...”

Even though despair weighed down on him, Ihan didn’t give up.

‘I’ll catch up to this man no matter what.’

Even if the gap seemed insurmountable, Ihan was determined to close it. His resolve burned bright, refusing to falter.

Watching him, Baltar chuckled softly, this time with a warmth that resembled pride.

It was the laughter of someone watching the growth of a disciple or child.