30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 22

“-Why don’t you stay for dinner, Cadet Irene?”

“Huh?”

“It’s already late, and I feel bad just sending you off like this, especially after you shared this meal with us.”

“I-it’s just something I wanted to prepare myself...”

“It’s a matter of courtesy. We can’t let you leave like this. Maid.”

“Yes!”

“Please warm up some beef stew and bread.”

“Leave it to me!”

“...Don’t rush. Please take your time.”

“??”

“I-I’ll help you.”

Irene, being quick to notice, approached Leira to assist her in the preparations.

Seeing this, Ihan smiled contentedly as he began to gather two hand axes hanging on the wall.

“I’ll chop some firewood while you prepare. Take good care of the maid, Cadet Irene.”

“Yes, yes!”

Everything seemed to be moving along haphazardly.

Despite finding herself unexpectedly staying for dinner, Irene was somewhat relieved that she wouldn’t have to eat alone.

Even though there was a ghost constantly chattering inside her, a ghost has no warmth, after all.

‘He seems like a considerate person, doesn’t he?’

As Irene watched his back as he left, she thought maybe, despite his appearance, Ihan might be a kind man who was attentive to others.

─But, contrary to her expectations...

Creak.

“......”

As he stepped out, the expression on his face was far from warm or kind—it was nothing but cold and grim.

Around the tranquil cabin.

To the unknowing eye, the peaceful scene would seem like something from a fairytale being told by a storyteller to a child.

But within this serene landscape, Ihan felt a distinct sense of disturbance.

Gripping his two axes tighter, he strode forward.

“—Come out.”

-..........

“Just so you know, I only give two warnings.”

Ihan’s eyes began to narrow, and a powerful aura surged around him.

Whoosh.

‘They’ appeared.

A group of suspicious figures, all dressed in black.

There were about thirty of them, and as Ihan stared at the group, his expression did not soften one bit.

At that moment.

“Calm down. We haven’t come to threaten you,” said the one with the strongest presence among the group, attempting to explain.

“Hah, you say you’re not here to threaten me, but you reek of danger.”

“......”

“You look like a dangerous bunch to anyone.”

A poor excuse will never convince anyone.

Reeking of blood, and yet asking to be trusted—who would believe that?

However.

“You’re no different.”

“What?”

“If we’re talking about danger, you’re no less dangerous. A commoner like you standing next to the young lady—how could we possibly remain calm?”

“...Ha, look at this guy.”

What nerve.

Seeing the man speaking so boldly, Ihan’s mind went cold.

But instead of losing his temper, his heartbeat began to pound loudly as he slowly...

Tap.

“Enough. Even if I let the others go, you’re getting a beating.”

“Rubbish.”

Ihan tossed the axes to the ground and approached the black-clad figure who had irked him the most. In response, the man also stepped forward.

“I won’t kill you.”

Maybe the man liked Ihan’s proposal. He handed his sword to someone else and approached bare-handed.

In the next moment...

Smash!

Boom!

Without further words, the two men began exchanging blows.

...It was a sudden and unexpected brawl.

Ihan’s fists—no, his entire body—was strong.

Thanks to the troll blood running through him, his physical strength was exceptional, and through constant training, he had refined his body to a point where he could easily overpower most knights with sheer physical force.

The previous day’s beating of the sub-commander of the Pollet family’s knights was proof of that.

In a fistfight, few could match Ihan.

No, actually, no one should ever try to fight him barehanded.

And yet...

Smash! Smash!

Boom!

Crash!

It was a real fight.

In fact, it wasn’t just a fight; Ihan was being pushed back.

Despite never losing in hand-to-hand combat, Ihan found himself struggling.

The black-clad man’s punches were fast, skilled, and precise, showing that he had clearly mastered some form of martial art.

Considering most knights focused exclusively on weaponry, this was unusual, but right now, that wasn’t what Ihan cared about.

Because...

Crack!

Both men were entirely focused on one thing: overpowering the other.

Their punches collided, and for a moment, there was a cracking sound. However, it wasn’t their bones breaking—it was the stones scattered beneath their feet.

Whoosh!

Ihan threw out a series of quick jabs, as though he were a boxer. The sound of his fists cutting through the air was menacing.

Six sharp punches were thrown in quick succession, and even a graze would have torn flesh.

But the black-clad man dodged and deflected them all, stepping into Ihan’s guard and kicking his shin.

Though the blow lacked strength, it carried a sharp precision that cut into the bone.

There are sometimes people like this.

Some fighters pack power into their punches, while others pack a ‘blade’ into them.

It was as if the man’s whole body was a razor blade.

The more blows landed, the redder Ihan’s skin became.

But Ihan’s blows weren’t to be underestimated either.

If his opponent’s strikes were like a blade, then Ihan’s were like hammer blows.

Boom!

Boom!

Whoosh!

Whoosh!