I Became the Black Knight

The cursed sword may have sliced through the flames for a moment, but it hadn't completely extinguished them. The fire that had filled the room only died down after some time had passed.

Parts of Dale's armor, engulfed in the flames, had melted here and there. His body was in poor condition as well.

But Dale didn't particularly care. Instead, he looked around.

There, writhing on the floor, was Hashina.

Surprisingly, she was still breathing.

The head that had been split in two was somehow rejoined.

'What a persistent one.'

But the wounds outside of her head hadn't healed. Her pupils were fading. Her life was slowly slipping away. No matter how much demonic power she possessed, she couldn't survive injuries of this scale.

Dale approached.

Hashina stared blankly at the ceiling with vacant eyes.

"If… if I'd known it'd end like this… I wouldn't have followed Argur…"

Dale responded flatly.

"If not Argur, then what? Were you planning to follow Ganiagos instead?"

He was one of the demons Dale had fought in the game.

A favorite of mages.

An infuriating enemy known for using bizarre and unpredictable spells.

Hashina chuckled.

"Heh… hehehe… You been hiding under a rock? Ganiagos died ages ago…"

Dale paused for a moment, then quickly asked,

"…He's dead? Who killed him?"

Hashina didn't answer.

She simply kept laughing, that irritating, grating laugh, and spoke only what she wanted to say.

"Undead, rejoice in your victory while you can. My master has seen you through my eyes. He will surely avenge me."

"…Weren't you just saying you regretted choosing Argur?"

"Ahh… The stars are drawing near. I am crumbling into dust, leaving not even the faintest trace in this vast universe…"

Hashina began muttering incoherently, as if she were no longer in her right mind. Then suddenly, her expression changed.

Unlike before, it was a deeply human expression.

"Wh… What have I done? What did I end up doing? I just wanted power… to take revenge. Mother… Fath—!"

Slash!

Dale severed Hashina's neck and drove his gauntlet into her heart.

An immense surge of vitality and residual soul flooded into him.

The armor that had melted away quickly regenerated to its original form.

He didn't bother peering into Hashina's memories. Honestly, he didn't care.

Everyone has a story.

Hashina must've had her reasons—her own painful circumstances—for betraying humanity and turning to demons.

But one thing was certain.

Hashina had become a servant of demons and committed countless sins.

That was all Dale needed to know. He was simply satisfied.

'Maybe I'll rank up from this.'

More growth. A reliable sword.

Dale had gained a lot from this mission. It was time to return.

Before leaving the ruins, Dale sliced Hashina's head a few more times—just in case. She was a demon's servant, after all. There was always a chance she might resurrect.

Having finished his cleanup, Dale left the room without hesitation.

As if all the chaos from moments before had been a mere illusion, a cold silence settled over the ancient dwarven ruins once again.

***

As soon as Dale stepped out of the ruins, he came face to face with Haken, Estelle, and Valton—who was being supported by the two.

The three of them were startled to see Dale coming out alone.

"S-Sir Dale!"

"Is it really you? You didn't… become a servant of the demon or anything, right?"

Dale frowned.

"Why are you still here? I told you to run."

Estelle and Haken exchanged glances, hesitating before responding.

"Well, we just couldn't bring ourselves to leave you behind…"

"I had a feeling you'd win, Sir Dale."

One stayed because of conscience, the other because they believed in Dale's victory.

That loyalty to not abandon a comrade was commendable, but...

"If I had lost, someone needed to report back to the guild. But instead, you stood around here like fools and would've been captured by the demon's servant."

"…Yes, sir…"

"Ahem."

"Especially you, Haken. Maybe I could understand Estelle, but you've been a mercenary far too long to make that kind of mistake."

Dale's words were right.

What could they have possibly done for him by waiting here?

Running without looking back would've been the smart thing to do. The rational choice.

Haken scratched his head awkwardly and replied,

"Y-yes, Sir Dale. You're right. We should've fled… I have no excuse."

This was something Dale hadn't anticipated.

In Dale's mind, Haken was a seasoned mercenary.

Even back when they were being chased by the One-Eye gang, Haken had always tried to make the best, most logical decisions.

But now, that same calm and rational mercenary wasn't here.

Had Dale misjudged him?

'Or maybe… something in his heart has changed.'

Suddenly, the image of Haken weeping alone in the tavern came to Dale's mind.

Had the death of an old comrade changed him?

Dale didn't press any further.

After all, he had won—and returned alive.

Though doubts now lingered about Haken and Estelle's judgment, at the very least, he had confirmed they weren't the kind of people to abandon their comrades mid-battle and run off.

That was enough.

Before they knew it, a pale light had begun to cover the sky.

They had fought through the entire night.

But setting off immediately wasn't an option. Estelle and Haken were visibly exhausted.

Valton, too, clearly needed more rest.

The group lit a campfire and sat around it.

Haken, warming himself by the fire, murmured quietly.

"Before we left for the mission, I never imagined we'd end up fighting a demon's servant. Ah, come to think of it, Sir Dale—was there anything of value? Didn't that servant bastard have jewels or gold coins on him?"

"No. And even if there were, it all would've melted in the fire."

"Ah, I see. I guess this one's a bust, then."

"Instead, I picked up this."

Dale gave a brief explanation of how he defeated Hashina and then showed them the black longsword.

Estelle, Haken, and Valton all leaned in with interest.

"So the Kingdom of the Heretic Dwarves really did exist? Huh. I always thought it was just a made-up story."

Haken marveled in genuine awe.

"...It doesn't give off a good feeling. Maybe it's better to just throw it away?"

Estelle spoke with a hint of unease.

"...."

Lastly, Valton spent a long moment silently examining the longsword.

Then, closing his eyes, he muttered,

"The Godless Ones."

Dale asked,

"The servant called it that too. Are they well-known?"

"To those interested in relics, it's a fairly well-known tale. I never thought I'd see it with my own eyes, though."

Dale gave a slight nod, urging him to continue.

After organizing his thoughts, Valton began to speak:

"In the distant past, there were dwarves cursed by the God of Light. No one knows exactly why they were cursed or the nature of the curse—only that it was a terrible one. The god must have hoped they would repent and atone. But these blasphemous dwarves refused, and instead, they rejected faith altogether."

"Tch. Crazy bastards," Haken muttered.

Estelle frowned and shook her head in disapproval.

Valton continued his explanation.

"The dwarves fell one by one under the curse. In the end, only the king remained. The king spent a hundred days and nights forging a single sword, pouring into it the desperate will of his entire kingdom. That sword is…"

"This one," Dale finished.

"Yes."

Dale lifted the cursed sword and examined it closely. Knowing the history embedded within it gave the weapon a new weight in his mind.

Then, something on the blade caught his eye—a line of ancient writing etched into the metal. Dale pointed at the characters with his finger.

"What script is this?"

"Ancient Dwarven."

"Can you read it?"

Valton gave a slight nod and began to speak.

"'I will stand tall, not by reliance, but by my own strength.'"

Dale turned his gaze back to the sword. He traced the engraved letters with his fingers.

Had the last dwarven king carved those words with a sound mind… or after he had already gone mad?

Valton, still unable to take his eyes off the sword, concluded his explanation.

"According to legend, this cursed blade can cut through all things holy. It's said that only a heretic can wield it… but I suppose that part was false."

"I have a question," Dale said.

"Ask away."

Dale set the sword down on the ground and continued,

"This sword cut through the flame of the servant. I'm not entirely sure, but I think it was a flame conjured by magic, not divinity."

"You're asking how a sword could slice through a spell?"

"Exactly."

Valton shrugged.

"To the dwarven king, perhaps there was no real difference between divine power and magic."

"I see."

"Ahem. Ahem! That's enough of that talk."

Estelle finally cut in, unable to listen any longer. To her, the entire conversation sounded far too heretical—blasphemous, even.

Haken, who had been staring blankly, also added,

"Hm, the conversation's a bit complicated. But basically, there was a powerful sword—no, a cursed sword—and that demon servant woman came all the way here to find it, right?"

Valton burst out laughing.

"Hahaha! That's a neat summary. Though I've no idea how she managed to locate ruins that had been buried for thousands of years."

After that, the group fell silent. As their tension eased, fatigue quickly overwhelmed them.

Everyone except Dale soon drifted off to sleep.

Dale removed his helmet and warmed his pale face by the fire, lost in thought.

The demon servant Hashina. The overwhelming power of the demon she revealed. The God-Denying Blade. The dwarves who had rejected the divine.

And the demon—said to have been defeated long ago.

'Demons don't die that easily.'

This world shared the same setting as the game Dale had once played. Thanks to that, his memories were proving quite useful.

But not everything was the same.

More than anything, the timeline was a little different. The moment Dale was now living in took place five years after the events portrayed in the game's story.

Dale recalled the past from five years ago—the one he had seen beyond a computer monitor, the setting of the game.

A grim era when the demon horde sought to swallow the entire continent.

An apocalyptic atmosphere, as if the world might end at any moment.

A hopeless world where, if the player didn't save it, destruction was inevitable.

But now, things were different.

The situation at the front lines had reportedly settled into a lull. Rather than being helplessly pushed back by demons, the front had become stabilized.

He even saw mercenaries like Haken returning to the cities from the front lines—a sign that things had relaxed somewhat.

'What in the world happened?'

In Dale's memory, demons were overwhelmingly strong—absurdly so.

So much so that the game company had been harshly criticized for poor balance, forcing players to approach demon encounters with extreme caution.

You had to prepare meticulously, pour every ounce of effort into the fight, and sometimes even resort to cheap tricks. Occasionally, you'd have to change your class and try again from a different angle.

Even with all that, players still failed to defeat the Demon King.

Demons were that powerful.

It was hard to believe that such monsters had truly been brought down.

Of course, this place was, after all, just another reality that happened to share the same setting as the game.

It wouldn't be strange if, without relying on a gamer, the people of this world had joined forces to hunt down the demons.

"..."

Whenever Dale pondered these things, he always arrived at the same question.

Who had summoned him here—and why?

There was a time when he dwelled on that question nearly every day.

But no matter how much he thought about it alone, no answer ever came.

The only one who could possibly provide an answer now was the Goddess of the Night.

And she had offered no response.

She had only given him a vague direction that might eventually lead to the truth.

"Mmm. How long did I sleep?"

Estelle's sleepy voice broke Dale out of his thoughts.

She looked at him and raised one eyebrow.

"Something on your mind?"

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason. You just look more serious and solemn than usual. Just a feeling I got."

"It's nothing like that."

"Then that's good to hear. You should get some rest too, Sir Dale."

Dale nodded and pressed his helmet back down.

His mind was in turmoil, but the path he needed to walk was simple.

Grow stronger. Advance forward. If he did that, perhaps he could grasp what he sought at the end of his journey.

As he looked at the young priest who kept giving him odd glances, Dale thought—

It's not time to rest yet.