30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 277

Arrows rained down.

Or rather, they were fired with deadly precision.

Each shot was aimed squarely at him, forcing Hensel to hastily cover his entire body, even his head, with his bone armor.

That decision—

Pababababak!

—was the wisest he had ever made.

Crack—!

One of the arrows pierced his exoskeleton.

It didn’t go all the way through, but even breaching the surface was astonishing—something even a fire scroll explosion had failed to accomplish.

But what was even more shocking—

Pababababak!!

—was that it wasn’t just one arrow.

Dozens were raining down.

Crack!

Boom!

Thud—!

One after another, more arrows shattered Hensel’s exoskeleton.

"...Aren’t you all just full of surprises?"

Hensel muttered, forcing a smirk.

But his trembling pupils betrayed his real emotions.

Never before had his indestructible exoskeleton been broken.

It was impossible—and yet, here it was happening before his very eyes.

Still—

"I can just regenerate."

He reassured himself.

Yes. Regeneration would fix everything.

After all, he was a vampire.

An immortal.

He could heal endlessly, unable to die.

No matter how many arrows they fired, they could never—

Drip.

"...Huh?"

A dark, black nosebleed dripped down his lips.

Twitch.

"W-What the hell!?"

The moment the black blood fell, a dizzying vertigo overtook him, his body trembling violently.

And Hensel immediately realized the cause.

Poison?

The symptoms—

They were unmistakably those of poisoning.

Even in his disoriented state, he was dumbfounded.

A vampire? Poisoned?

That was about as logical as a cat barking like a dog.

Drip.

Drip.

"...This is real?"

But disbelief changed nothing.

The poisoning was already spreading, and for the first time—Hensel felt a flicker of panic.

"I can’t play around any longer."

Fwoosh!

Ignoring the arrows raining down, Hensel charged forward.

He didn’t know what trick they were using, but taking any more hits was out of the question.

Better to charge forward and kill them directly.

"You think you're the only ones who can fight from a distance?!"

Pabababak!

His own blood erupted from his body, sharpening into needle-like spikes and launching skyward.

[Blood Spikes].

A vampire’s coagulated blood, sharp enough to pierce even steel armor.

Even airborne knights wouldn’t be able to dodge—

SPLASH!

"??"

A foul-smelling liquid splattered across his body.

Not just any liquid—

It was oil.

And not just any oil—

Fwoosh!

Highly flammable oil.

"Knights... using tactics like this?"

A flaming arrow flew toward him, igniting the oil, setting his own blood ablaze.

Watching his own flames consume him, Hensel scoffed in disbelief.

"...What kind of bullshit game is this?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

***

Most knight orders had standard entrance exams—measuring martial skills, stamina, and swordsmanship.

Tristan was different.

Their tests were... unconventional.

For example—

"Here’s a dagger. Without using aura or any other weapons, bring me twenty boar corpses. You have two days."

"...What?"

Hunting.

"Here’s a bow and three arrows. Capture—not kill—a Rank-2 criminal (murderer or violent offender). Killing them is too easy, don’t you think?"

"???"

Tracking.

"This is a week’s worth of rations. Survive in the wilderness for a month."

"H-How?"

"Figure it out."

"...What kind of lunacy—"

"Cursing is an automatic fail."

Survival.

Tristan’s reputation for its absurd entrance trials was well-known, and most believed it was because its first lord had been a hunter before becoming a knight.

Regardless, those who passed understood one thing:

"There is nothing in this world that cannot be done."

"There is no such thing as an unkillable monster."

"Agreed."

They were knights—

But they were also hunters.

And upon joining, they only became more skilled.

After all, Tristan had accumulated centuries of hunting knowledge.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

From the anatomy of magical beasts to the weaknesses of supernatural races—

Even the handling of legendary poisons was recorded ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ in their archives.

Descendants of the first Tristan, who had become a Round Table knight with nothing but archery and hunting skills, had spent generations refining their craft.

Their knowledge and techniques were unmatched in the southern lands.

Some still looked down on the Red Eagles, ranking them below Lionel or Galahad, but Tristan knights could say with pride:

"If we choose to hunt you, you will not escape."

Not even—