The Knight King Who Returned with God-Chapter 1 You Are the Ones Trapped Where I Am

I was reincarnated into a fantasy world.

A quiet, rustic ceiling.

Instead of LED lights, the room was lit by oil lamps.

Clothes woven from silk and velvet. The clunky wooden utensils clearly showed this place was less advanced than Earth's civilization.

Still... for a fantasy world, doesn't this seem like a rich household? Not a bad reincarnation for someone who died from overwork doing manual labor as an orphan.

But the one thing that truly convinced me I was now a noble—was my mother's beauty.

"My sweet baby..."

The radiant smile of the woman who was now my biological mother. With a face like that, how could she not be a noble? I had a good feeling my future dating life was gonna be just fine.

By my third year, I finally left the cradle and saw outside the room. Even considering I was still a toddler, the house was massive.

"Young master!"

My nanny, Mona, scooped me up in a panic. And just like that, my first attempt at adventure ended.

Looking back—

I probably shouldn't have dreamed of adventure back then.

If I had known what real adventure was like—100% raw, dirty reality—I wouldn't have suffered so much later.

At six years old.

Turns out, I was born into a family known throughout the kingdom: a ducal house.

The House of Dragonia. The founder was a legendary knight who slew an evil dragon and was bathed in its blood. Apparently, four past kings came from our lineage too.

For reference, the monarchy here is an elected one.

At eight years old, I was told I needed to train to become a knight of the kingdom.

My heart raced. A fantasy knight! Would I be able to summon sword energy or coat my blade in aura?

I was to be trained by a man called Sir Gordic, a Holy Grail Knight dispatched from the royal palace.

Huh? Holy Grail Knight?

At ten years old.

It hurt. My whole body felt like it was breaking.

Having chosen the path of a knight, I was getting beaten up daily by that muscle-headed bastard Gordic.

Sure, being the heir of a duke gave me the privilege to be trained as a squire, but every day I trained with the sword and learned to ride.

Holy Grail Knights... Yeah, in fantasy terms, they're like swordmasters.

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Knights in this world are nothing like the ones I imagined in fantasy stories—but Holy Grail Knights? They're straight-up monsters. Beings on a whole other level from regular humans.

But to become one, you have to complete intense training quests, earn merit and honor as a kingdom knight, be chosen by the Grail, and drink the Holy Elixir.

You need strength, sure—but also honor and piety to become this world's version of a Swordmaster.

Damn it... I don't even believe in religion.

At fourteen years old.

Every day was suffering.

The back-breaking training? That I could handle. I could feel myself growing stronger, day by day, and that sense of accomplishment kept me going.

The real problem was the etiquette and academics.

As the legitimate heir and likely next duke, I had to learn everything required of one.

How to govern the people, enforce the law, engage in philosophical debates on justice versus legality, how to treat noble ladies, and even study the holy scriptures.

This world is home to countless gods, and people offer tributes at the Pantheon and follow divine teachings.

Gods, huh? Definitely fantasy.

But apparently... I have to be recognized by the Goddess of Justice to be chosen by the Grail?

At sixteen years old.

Now I was wandering the world.

Huh? Sixteen? Isn't that middle school age? Well, in this world, that's considered adulthood.

The first requirement to become a Holy Grail Knight is this: "Leave on a pilgrimage, protect the people of the kingdom, and complete honorable quests."

To get those quests, you have to find an avatar of the goddess. How? By wandering the kingdom and raising your honor. Supposedly, she'll find you. Seriously?

At seventeen years old.

Today, I slaughtered a bunch of orcs. Those damn warmongering beasts. They're always invading the kingdom's borders and killing civilians. Without them, this land would be at peace.

I fought alongside Sir Gildus, Sir Antok, and Gunlar—the moving tree-man, guardian of the forest—and we cut down the orcs together.

"Thank you, Sir Knight! Thank you!"

"Tend to the wounded and reinforce the palisades. May the sword of the kingdom and the grace of the goddess be with you."

It's concerning. The harvest is bountiful each year and the taxes keep the kingdom wealthy, but there are just too many enemies.

Too many non-human threats surround us. Lately, cultists have even been on the rise.

At twenty years old.

I met the goddess.

No joke. It really happened. The gods actually exist.

Isn't religion supposed to be a tool to enlighten the ignorant and unify the people?

Heaven? The Hall of Honor? Banquets with the gods? I thought all of that was just made-up myth.

Well... the current king has been alive for 110 years, and he's a Holy Grail Knight who's basically undergone some form of rebirth.

Even my teacher, Sir Gordic, is a 90-year-old Holy Grail Knight this year.

"Leon Dragonia, son of Duke Ulfric Dragonia. I shall grant you a quest to prove your honor and devotion."

"I—I accept your command, O Goddess!"

Year 4 as a Knight-in-Training.

I finally met the avatar of the Goddess. Ariana was real!

I cut down orcs. Tore goblins apart. Purged bands of wicked cultists and defended the kingdom's lands.

It wasn't bad. Actually, it felt good. Every time my name echoed in praise and admiration, every look of awe and respect—those made my chest swell with pride.

Sir Gildus, son of War Knight Galbart. Sir Antok, guardian of the mines. And Gunrar, the tree-man who was only 2 meters tall when I met him, had grown into a towering 5-meter Tree Giant.

I was recognized by the Holy Grail and became a Grail Knight.

Year 27.

I became the youngest War Knight in history.

Slaying the Orc Warlord and wiping out an entire barbarian nomad tribe helped, I suppose.

Orcs—damn things breed like rats. Just when you forget about them, another horde of 100,000 or 200,000 comes crashing in.

First thing I did with my newfound war autonomy and knight summoning rights? Orc extermination.

Those cursed green-skinned bastards—men, women, and children—I buried 700,000 of them. Felt cathartic.

Year 35.

The honorable 14th Lionheart King—living saint and demi-god, Arhen Majesty Lionheart—passed away, fighting a greater demon summoned in the empire's frontier.

As if orcs weren't enough, now we had demons running wild. Damn imperial mages and their cursed curiosity, dabbling in black magic until the whole world burns.

This is why people should believe in the gods and live faithful lives.

People chase knowledge, truth, whatever—end up summoning eldritch demons that devour a hundred thousand souls. Pathetic.

Anyway, we had to choose a new Grail Knight to succeed our late Lionheart King, who died helping a nation that nearly collapsed.

"Grail Knight Leon Dragonia."

"Lady Ariana..."

The Goddess descended in person and named me her chosen.

Not through the Grail—herself. First time in our kingdom's history.

Maybe slaying the greater demon had something to do with it.

It was a path of honor, a burdensome title, but I could not disappoint the knights who followed me, nor the people of the kingdom.

I became Grand Duke of Dragonia and King of Lionheart.

I pledged to protect the Grail, bearing the holy relic Lion's Heart granted by the Goddess. I took up the Holy Sword and Spear, smiting the enemies of the realm.

Year 80.

A lot happened.

Three massive wars against the orcs. A weird hunchback goblin underwent a true awakening and became a greater demon.

I could've torn the bastard's jaws off, but he escaped through a demon gate.

"Your Majesty! The Empire's black magic school is conducting forbidden experiments again!"

Are they insane? What's wrong with those damn imperial freaks lately?

Their lawlessness and blasphemy had reached a boiling point.

They even stopped participating in the annual All-Gods pilgrimage. Now some fools preach "sacred independence," trying to separate from the gods.

It's because they started accepting northern heathens and barbarians into their military due to a lack of soldiers. Now they're adopting their heathen faiths too.

In our kingdom, those filthy tribes would be peasants dying like pigs. Treating them like people? Disgraceful.

Maybe I should just go ahead and conquer them. It's like being in a group project with a teammate who does nothing but sabotage.

Year 98.

The Empire finally did it.

The Emperor himself, afraid of death, performed a secret cult ritual and summoned the Lord of Chaos in the capital.

A brat not even seventy years old—barely a kid—killed himself and 3 million imperial citizens in a bid for immortality.

"Haah..."

I drew the holy sword, still stained with orc blood from last year, and summoned the knights.

Year 121.

The world is falling apart. I truly did my best.

In Ariana's name, I cut down countless demons. I sent priests of Demera, Goddess of Harvest, across the land to restore farmlands.

Hehto, god of iron and smithing, blessed our knights with armor and swords. Petos, god of war and flame, descended and set battlefields ablaze through me.

This Divine-Demonic War, now in its 23rd year, all started with the Empire's idiocy. And it led to the end of the world.

"Lord Leon."

"Sir Arenne."

He looked just like his father, my old comrade Sir Antok, when he was young. I, still looking as I did a century ago, was preserved by the Goddess's grace.

"Be proud, Arenne. Your father fell with honor, welcomed into the banquet hall of the gods."

"...Yes."

I comforted the son of my fallen friend and turned to look at my soldiers and knights.

The final battle—no, the final stand.

The ground trembled from the enemy's march. I could feel the chaos rising in their eyes.

Terror. Fear. Helplessness. Despair.

Ah... my Goddess.

You gave your unworthy creation the heart of a lion and ignited the sacred light in his holy blade.

Here your lambs tremble in fear.

The women hush crying children while swallowing their own sobs.

The young hold fading embers of resistance in their shaking hands.

The knights plant seeds of hope even in blood-soaked wastelands.

But you, bearer of the Holy Sword, Spear, and Grail...

Your first knight knows he cannot stop the evil beyond the horizon.

O Goddess.

My Goddess, what should this foolish knight do?

『Do as you will.』

"..."

『My knight. My beloved, noble knight. Your goddess shall be with you until the very end.』

She is with me.

And if this is the end, then let it be glorious.

"For the Goddess! For Honor! For Lionheart!"

Year 121, that winter.

We fought a final battle against ten million demons covering the land.

Barbarian peasants were used as worthwhile meat shields. Free men with spears and shields fell in glory, as did the Knights of Honor.

The Grail Knights, slaying demons until the last moment, one by one, ascended.

Only I remained—chosen by all gods, the one true Apostle of the All-Gods.

I continued butchering demon lords and greater demons, shining divine light in their cursed eyes.

Year 217.

Winter has not ended.

Year 256.

I destroyed the last demon gate.

Hundreds of thousands of demons, now trapped, looked at me with hollow eyes.

"Vile, wretched breeds! You're not trapped with me—

You're trapped where I am! You're the ones stuck in here, you damned bastards!"

Year 300.

"Oh my god, I've never seen a gate like this. What is this place?"

"Stay alert, Hari. It's been 13 years since we've had an immeasurable-class gate. Anything could be in there."

"I know... but what could this world possibly hold that we can't even rate it?"

"No idea... Maybe a high-ranking demon?"

"Don't say things like that..."

It was exactly the 300th year when I finally came face to face with humans from Earth.