30 Years after Reincarnation, it turns out to be a Romance Fantasy Novel

Chapter 157

Ironically, Ihan had once exchanged punches with that spear-wielding knight, yet they had never formally introduced themselves.

Well, considering their first meeting involved trying to kill each other, there was hardly any time for pleasantries.

So—

“Lach de Duron, is it you?”

As the battle finally ended, Tristan’s knight addressed the spear-wielder with that name, and Ihan properly learned the name of the knight he had fought.

Lach. That must be the spear-wielder’s name.

Even though this was the first time Ihan had learned his name, neither he nor the others had any inclination to exchange formalities and build camaraderie.

And frankly, neither did he.

Step.

“Sir Ihan?”
“Where are you going…?”

When Ihan turned to leave, Galahad and Tristan’s knight blinked in confusion.

Now that the enemies had been defeated, where was he headed?

To this inquiry—

“Where else? I’m going to end the bastard who called in these so-called Assassins.”

He answered confidently, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and for a moment, the two knights failed to grasp his intent.

…Until they belatedly realized he meant to confront the Sultan!

“Sir Ihan, that’s…”
“Please reconsider. While there’s circumstantial evidence, we lack concrete proof. If you act rashly against the Sultan, it could create a diplomatic incident.”

It was sound advice.

No matter how crazed with lust the Sultan seemed, he was still a Sultan.

He was likely thorough enough to leave no traces of hiring the Assassins.

“But it’s obvious he’s the one behind this.”
“…We think so too, but if the Sultan continues to deny it, that’s the end of it.”
“Hmm.”
“Attacking the Sultan without evidence would be nothing more than personal vengeance.”

In the end, attacking the Sultan would be little more than an emotional outburst justified by mere suspicions.

However—

“Then I’ll just make sure there’s no evidence. Give me a couple of hours, and I can make him spill everything. So don’t worry.”

Ihan had no intention of letting the bastard off the hook.

Suspicion without proof?

Don’t worry. He was fully confident he could extract that proof from the Sultan’s mouth.

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to see just how much that bastard could endure before breaking.

At that moment—

Clang.

“…What’s this?”
“Don’t act recklessly.”
“……”

Someone blocked his path.

The spear-wielder stood in front of him, and Ihan narrowed his eyes at the man who dared to obstruct him.

“I’ve never let someone off after trespassing in my territory.”

To a knight who valued honor and justice, Ihan’s actions must have seemed like nothing more than a fool’s tantrum.

But—

‘A criminal mindset always leads to more crimes. The time to act is now.’

Ihan knew how terrifying criminals could be, especially those in positions of power.

…They were the type of bastards who believed they’d never face consequences.

And Ihan couldn’t let that stand.

‘I’m not going to sit around waiting for him to commit his next crime!’

The usual romance-fantasy logic of “wait for proof” or “handsome, rich villains deserve a second chance” was nothing more than nonsense to him.

If someone committed a crime and did something bad, they deserved punishment—period!

“Step aside, Spear-Wielder.”
“You arrogant scoundrel…!”

The spear-wielder glared at him, eyes blazing with fury.

“You fool! How can you call yourself a knight and—!”
“I have no intention of debating chivalry with you.”

Was this guy seriously trying to stop him by bringing up chivalry?

This was exactly the problem with these rigid knights.

The world didn’t operate on chivalry alone…—

“—Wait your turn! I’m first!”
“??”

Ihan blinked, baffled by the sudden declaration.

Did he mishear?

But no—

The spear-wielder repeated himself, shouting again with conviction.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said wait your turn! That man dared to ruin the lady’s first party! A mere couple of hours wouldn’t be enough—he deserves eternal torment!”
“…I mean, who am I to judge, but are you sure about this?”
“If he so much as laid a finger on Galahad, even the Emperor himself should die!”
“…This guy’s crazier than I am.”

Ihan instantly realized—

This guy wasn’t some prim-and-proper knight.

If anything—

‘Could we… actually get along?’

For some reason, Ihan felt an odd sense of kinship with this lunatic spear-wielder.

…And it disgusted him.

**
**
**

“The connection with the Crows has been severed.”

“…Ha, is that so? I knew it. I should never have relied on those useless vermin.”

Inside the returning carriage, the Sultan sneered bitterly.

As if to say, he had never expected anything worthwhile from that flock of crows in the first place.

“Sultan…”

Yet the captain of the guards delivering the report understood.

He knew how much effort Salah had poured into this operation and the massive wealth he had risked and lost.

Even for Salah, the wealthiest of all Sultans, hiring the Assassins in bulk would leave his finances strained for a while.

‘Those bastards are infamous for not issuing refunds even when they fail….’

But on the flip side, the Assassins’ reputation for success was high enough to justify such arrogance.

‘They’re not called the Nightmare of the West for nothing.’

And yet, they had failed.

“So even in its decline, Pendragon still stands, is that it…?”

That Pendragon had stopped them.

And not only that—they had neutralized the Assassins without causing a stir.

‘How many Sultanates can even dream of capturing Assassins without a trace?’

Sultan Maham’s warriors, known for their unmatched martial prowess, came to mind, yet even they had suffered heavy losses when fighting the Assassins in the past.

Of course, considering the environmental disadvantages and the foreign terrain, it wasn’t surprising that Pendragon held the upper hand.

“…No, all of that is just an excuse. In the end, the Assassins failed, and that only proves their incompetence. Isn’t that right, Salman?”
“…Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Then we simply prepare for the second attempt.”
“B-But Sultan, if we proceed now, we might be exposed…”

Hearing the Sultan’s declaration to prepare for another move, Salman panicked.

Even if no evidence had been left behind, Pendragon was already suspicious of the Sultan.

If another attempt were made under such circumstances, it would be nearly impossible to conceal it, and a formal investigation from the royal court would follow.

Granted, they wouldn’t dare punish a Sultan.

After all, he was the ruler of a nation.

But—

‘If we’re treated as unwelcome intruders, we could be expelled.’

And if they were expelled…

‘Would the Sultan even make it back alive?’

Shudder.

[“Tragic accident! The Sultan’s ship mysteriously sank…”]

[“Fire engulfs the Sultanate! Power struggle erupts after Sultan Salah’s disappearance!”]

[“Suspicious circumstances?! Was the Sultan assassinated by another Sultan?”]

Drip…

Salman broke into a cold sweat, as if drenched by rain.

His mind conjured up horrifying headlines that could dominate the newspapers in the near future.

A grim future indeed.

Yet Salah, oblivious to his subordinate’s fear, brimmed with confidence.

He had not given up and seemed utterly convinced he would achieve his goal.

“The sails are already raised. How can I halt a ship that has already set out to sea?”
“Sultan…”
“If we drop anchor now, all that awaits is sinking. Surely you wouldn’t want that?”
“……”
“Trust me, Salman. I have never lost—not once!”

Sultan Salah.

One among the many offspring of the previous Sultan, yet he had seized the throne through a brutal power struggle in his twenties.

There had been crises, but with loyal subordinates, good fortune, and exceptional talent, he had risen to his current position.

And so, despite this setback, he neither despaired nor feared.

He was brimming with the confidence that he would succeed.

“When victory comes, it’s always worth far more than the risks taken.”

Investment was simple—no matter how much you lost, success was defined by how much more you gained in return.

He just had to win big and pay back the losses.

All he needed was to obtain the Mystique, that dazzling power.

If he could just secure it—

“I can recover more than what I’ve lost.”

In Salah’s dictionary, there was no retreat.

‘…Ah, come to think of it, there’s something else to gain.’

Salah recalled the mysterious and enchanting jewel he had seen today.

Galahad’s adopted daughter.

A mage who wielded the most precious Mystique.

Yet beyond her reputation, her breathtaking beauty had left him spellbound.

Salah desired to possess her at all costs.

‘Irene. Irene Windler.’

Taking her Mystique could wait.

For now, he was convinced she belonged to him.

‘I will have everything, and all will be under my control!’

With clenched fists, Salah reaffirmed his conviction.

He was the Sultan—the embodiment of power that claimed whatever it desired.

To him, giving up did not exist—

Crack!

“—?”

For a moment, Salah’s mind went blank.

His thoughts failed to process the sudden event, and he called out to his fallen guard.

“…Salman?”

Salman—the captain of his guards.

A man whose skill was so exceptional that serving as the Sultan’s protector made him the finest warrior in the Sultanate.

Yet this Salman—

Splatter!

“Gah! S-Sultan, r-run! R-Run away…!”
“Salman!!”

Salman’s arm had been severed.

By something that had pierced through the carriage window without warning.

“…A pebble?”

And Salah saw it.

The object that had sliced off his proud guard’s arm wasn’t a dagger or arrow.

It was merely… a pebble.

Yet that pebble—

Boom!

“!!!?”

—continued to hammer against the carriage with devastating force, tearing through countless protection spells as though they were paper.

Ten layers of magic, strong enough to withstand an ogre’s attack, crumbled like a sandcastle.

In real time—!

“A-attack! Protect the Sultan!”
“Defend the Sultan—gah!”

Crack!

The Sultan’s hundred-strong guard unit was thrown into chaos.

They couldn’t even block a single pebble, and their ranks were quickly reduced to corpses or cripples.

Salah trembled, lowering his head to the floor in fear.

“W-What is this—”

Thud!

“…?”

Drip…

It was then that Salah realized.

A small pebble had grazed his ear.

Thwack.

Like Salman’s severed arm, his ear had been neatly sliced off.

“AAAGH!!”

Salah screamed in agony, writhing on the floor.

*****

“…This is harder than it looks.”
“If it’s too hard, let me do it.”
“Wait. A bet’s a bet. The loser steps aside.”
“……”
“Who told you to lose, anyway?”

The knight, who had won a quick game of rock-paper-scissors before coming here, grinned triumphantly and kicked another pebble.

It was essentially sniping with pebbles within a 2-kilometer radius.

Yet the knight’s absurd skill allowed this ridiculous long-range assault—or rather, stone-throwing—to succeed.

Watching this unfold, Tristan’s knight spoke up, clearly impressed by the bizarre technique.

“What exactly is that skill called?”

Yesterday, he had seen this man walk on air.

Today, he was sniping better than any archer—with pebbles, no less.

To this question—

“It’s not some fancy technique. Back in the day, I played a lot of Pxoris, you know?”
“P…Por…?”
“Never mind. It’s a thing.”

From ancient times, Koreans were masters of sniping, excelling at long-range attacks like stone battles and archery.

Even if it was in a past life, the muscle memory from Ihan’s days as a member of the long-range “DPS clan” hadn’t gone anywhere.

“Anyway, as I keep saying, Sir Ihan. I’m fine with all this, but please…”
“I know, I know. Don’t kill him, don’t leave any evidence. That’s why—”

Whoosh!

—I’m just going to rough him up a little.

Well…

“He might end up wishing he were dead, though.”

“……”

“Oh, and let’s drop off some of those Assassin corpses we brought along. Just leave them lying around here. That’ll make it more fun, don’t you think?”

“…Ha.”

The two knights had the same thought.

If possible, they should never end up as enemies of this man.

He was vicious and ruthless—there was no denying it.

“Hmph. Surprisingly clever for a scoundrel.”
“Right?”
“But it’s still sloppy. We should carve the insignia of another Sultan onto the bodies. That would be even better.”
“…Not a bad idea.”

And so—

It seemed the Sultan’s misfortune wasn’t limited to dealing with just one sadistic lunatic.

Because now, he had two.

Two knights who were all too enthusiastic about tormenting a cocky Sultan.