Rise of the Blood Prince: From Slave to Emperor

But it wasn't a knight. It was Aslan who had thrown a spear at the enemy threatening Chira from atop the table, come down, and drawn his sword to cut down three men.

It was swordsmanship so clean it gave you goosebumps. It looked like he'd made three attacks in one breath—a trajectory created by pursuing extreme rationality.

He'd only shown one move, but that afterimage kept rippling in Isaac and Oben's eyes. It was that impressive—a sword that could even be described as beautiful.

"That was..."

Swoosh!

Aslan discarded his sword and pulled out the fallen spear. Then whoosh! Whoosh! He swung the spear.

"Even spears?"

Swords and sabers are used in subtly different ways. Axes are different from both. Like that, each weapon has its characteristics, so handling them all skillfully isn't easy.

But there was a weapon with an even bigger gap from swords, sabers, and axes. That was the spear.

Especially since spears were powerful just by holding them, if you knew how to handle them properly, their power on battlefields like this was incomparable to swords and axes.

Whoosh!

A cut using centrifugal force.

They couldn't understand how that long spear could move so naturally. When they thought he'd moved simply, two rebel heads were already flying.

Isaac, Oben, and even Chira watched that scene blankly.

"Fight!"

At Aslan's shout, they came to their senses and joined the battle. But since Aslan was in front of them, the burden coming to them was considerably reduced.

That's how proper chaotic battle began.

How long did the battle filled with madness continue?

Their allies were still mostly alive. Especially many guards from Rocom Arena were alive. Liscal had also taken a sword hit, but it wasn't fatal.

Isaac, Oben, and Chira had no problems other than minor injuries.

Aslan had no wounds at all.

But their complexions weren't good.

They were holding out. But enemies kept pushing in. Now fatigue was accumulating and their movements were gradually slowing.

So the rebels weren't pushing in recklessly like in the beginning. They were trying to act cleverly to reduce troop losses.

"Catch that bastard! That pretty-faced bastard!"

They were pointing at Aslan.

"Capture him alive! I really want to see that bastard bleed."

"Dozens got done in by that bastard."

Even in the frenzied battle, Aslan's performance was distinctly outstanding. But he too had limits.

Since his internal energy was still shallow, he needed sufficient time to rest. However, with the help of the Drunken Immortal Method, that rest time was much shorter than ordinary people's.

If he could catch his breath for about one cycle, enough strength to move somewhat would return.

If he distributed that strength appropriately with his internal energy, he could hold out for another hour. But the problem was his surroundings. He could hold out for about an hour, but those around him couldn't.

So Aslan made a suggestion.

"We need to fight while retreating now."

"What?"

"We've bought enough time. It's fine to slowly retreat and fight now."

Aslan's group began slowly retreating backward.

'If we get pushed back more, I'll have to hide completely.'

If they got pushed back further, he was planning to do that. Debt forgiveness was good, but there was no need to throw away his life.

He had no such loyalty to the Empire, nor such obligation. Forcibly clinging to something impossible was foolish behavior.

Actually, that's why Aslan had volunteered for this battlefield without hesitation. With his current abilities, he could extract himself anytime. And he could protect Isaac, Oben, and Chira easily enough.

Whoooooosh!

Suddenly a sound like air being sucked in was heard. Like the sound of a giant ventilator running?

Shortly after, something passed over their heads, cutting through the darkness. And mixed with the air sounds were the rebels' screams.

Aslan realized it was some kind of energy made of wind. As soon as he saw that, Isaac collapsed on the spot.

"So damn tiring."

"They're here! This time it's real!"

***

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Like doing a triple jump, one being appeared stepping lightly. It was a female knight wearing full plate armor.

Each time she leaped, she jumped over 5 meters, and her speed was tremendous too.

'Is it something like lightness skill?'

Swoosh!

The female knight who instantly joined the battlefield pierced a rebel's belly with her longsword and threw him straight forward.

The moment she threw, green light fiercely leaked out from inside her helmet.

Crash!

The rebel who flew over 10 meters took several allies with him to the afterlife.

"Our pretty boy was out here too?"

"Pretty boy?"

The female knight said while looking at Aslan.

"You came at the right time. Our pretty boy can't get hurt."

The female knight's voice was seductive. Her appearance couldn't be seen because of the helmet. But Aslan thought that voice was somehow familiar.

'Who is it? I don't remember seeing such a woman after coming to this world. Is it the body owner's memory?'

But no matter how much he recalled, there was nothing. Even if it was the body owner's memory, he'd lived ordinarily in the Maran Kingdom and then woke up to find himself a slave.

The female knight joined the battlefield first, followed by about fifty knights. They wore various armaments.

You might think what could just fifty people do, but no. Their eyes intermittently emitted light of various colors, and each time they did, they produced bizarrely powerful strength.

'I can see why they called them monsters.'

The power they used was similar to martial arts. The difference was that they only produced strength several times stronger than usual when light emanated from their eyes.

Since their physical abilities were already beyond human level, the rebels were no match.

Then even wizards appeared. Compared to the rebels, they were very few, but they unilaterally massacred the rebels.

'Their combat techniques aren't particularly special.'

That was Aslan's impression after carefully watching their movements. Their combat techniques were rationality itself.

There didn't seem to be techniques like in the Martial World that used forms to maximize power.

In other words, the swordsmanship used by knights and ordinary soldiers was almost similar.

It was just that knights had ridiculous physical abilities, so their movements were twice as fast.

'Or maybe there's no need to use them.'

He watched with intense concentration, not wanting to miss any of the knight's movements.

It was such fierce concentration that he couldn't hear what sounds were around him.

There was a high possibility that separate techniques existed, but they weren't showing them because there was no need to use them to catch rebel slaves.

Anyway, Aslan was surprised that the knights' level was higher than he'd thought. But it wasn't a level he couldn't handle.

Right now, the internal energy he'd accumulated was shallow, so he'd have to take risks even facing one of them, but if a little more time passed, he was confident he could handle it sufficiently.

How much time passed like that?

Aslan didn't miss a moment of watching the knights fight. The war situation was already tilted, and the rebels surrendered before long. Their faces were pale with terror.

The same was true for their allies.

The impression most received after witnessing the otherworldly beings called knights was shock.

"Pretty boy, you're not hurt anywhere, right?"

"?"

The female knight who had come first said this. She was covered in blood all over her body.

"Ah... wait a moment."

The female knight took off her helmet. Then the appearance of a woman with red curly hair down to her shoulders could be seen.

The woman looked to be in her twenties, with slightly protruding lips and fair skin. There were slight freckles under her eyes.

Aslan examined her carefully. He definitely remembered seeing her.

"Still don't remember? How about this?"

Then the female knight sheathed her sword, put both hands to her ears, and did a strange dance. Then Aslan could remember her.

The woman who always came to the front seats and cheered whenever he had matches.

And the woman who danced even stranger dances with her companions whenever Aslan won.

He heard later that it was a famous courtship dance in Airs.

"You're..."

"Now you recognize me a bit? Aslan. I'm your fan. My name is Dunephy. Knight Dunephy. Pretty boy. You're welcome anytime. Contact me."

Dunephy winked and smiled.

She quickly put her helmet back on and disappeared.

"You know her?"

"I know her. You know, the one who cheers from the front seats..."

"Ah... the one who does the courtship dance? But she was a knight? Amazing."

"Yeah. I never would have thought."

***

The rebellion was suppressed and as promised, the group had half their debts forgiven. Rocom was reliable in these matters.

He called someone and even provided written guarantees.

Then he prepared sufficient rest and rewards for Isaac, Oben, and Chira.

"And you... I heard. Your performance was amazing."

Rocom said.

"There was a good bow."

"Still, since you performed well, I should give you a different gift. It's rare, but... I'll give you a slave."

"?"

"Don't look surprised. It's not unheard of for gladiator slaves to have female slaves to serve them. It's also less expensive in various ways. Liscal."

When Rocom spoke, Liscal brought in female slaves. Most were women he didn't know, but among them were some women he'd seen a few times. They were women who'd been at the arena.

"Choose. If you get slaves, you have to take care of their meals."

"It seems like all the women at the arena are gathered."

"Right."

"Then I can choose anyone?"

"Right."

"Then I..."

***

"You're really crazy."

"It was a promise."

"A promise?"

"Something like that exists."

"Change your mind even now. Why on earth?"

Liscal kept questioning until the moment Aslan came to his room. Because it was a situation he couldn't understand at all with his common sense.

He'd given him a slave to serve him, but what he chose was the odd-eyed girl.

The nameless girl with mismatched eyes.

The child so filthy that even executioners wouldn't touch her.

"Crazy bastard."

After Liscal left, the odd-eyed girl entered Aslan's room shortly after. She looked quite surprised.

"You can lift your face in front of me. I just kept a promise."

"I..."

"Wilis. I've thought of a name from before. From now on, let's call you Wilis."

Aslan had gained a slave. But he had no intention of using her as a slave. When he escaped this place and created a mercenary group, he planned to take her as a member.

If she had talent for combat, he could use her as a member, and if she had no talent, he could take her along as an attendant doing odd jobs.

Mercenary groups always had attendants with various skills attached to them.

However it turned out, he thought he could take care of one person like Wilis. Wilis seemed to quickly adapt after not knowing how to accept this situation.