The Knight King Who Returned with God-Chapter 9 Chivalry (2)

Seeing the Dullahan dismount from his horse, Leon felt his assumption had been correct.

"Indeed, a knight of honor."

Leon summoned a sword into the air. It was an old iron sword, but one that radiated strength.

He wore no armor. After countless wars, the armor forged for him by Heto, the god of iron and blacksmiths, had long since been broken.

Looking at the Dullahan gripping his massive sword with one hand while cradling his own head at his waist, Leon offered a word of courtesy.

"You may set your head down. Surely your swordsmanship was once two-handed. To wield your blade with only one hand would make this no true duel."

"...Your Majesty."

It was Hari, approaching cautiously.

"What is it?"

"The... Dullahan... it won't die unless its head is severed."

"And?"

And? What do you mean, and? How do you plan to win without cutting off its head?

"That doesn't matter. What determines the outcome is the honor of knights."

No, but—he literally can't die otherwise!

Leon dismissed Hari's warning without a second thought and turned his gaze to the Dullahan, who had now handed his head off to a skeleton and gripped his sword with both hands.

"I am Ariana's First Knight, Grand Duke of Dragonia, and the Lionheart King of House Lionheart. I grant you, honorable knight, the right to challenge me."

The archaic introduction and grand declaration had barely concluded when—

With a clatter of heavy armor, the Dullahan closed the distance in an instant and brought his massive sword down like a hammer.

Boom! A thunderous crash echoed—but Leon remained unharmed. The blades clashed, pressing against each other in a fierce power struggle.

"A... are they evenly matched in strength?"

Chief Kim, who had been struggling to get back up, spoke hesitantly—but Hari silently disagreed.

Leon's sword was a standard longsword. In contrast, the Dullahan's weapon was a greatsword nearly twice its size. And despite the advantage of striking downward with full body weight, Leon hadn't budged.

'What kind of strength...?'

Leon was overpowering the Dullahan through sheer physical might. In fact, he was the one with room to spare.

The Dullahan gripped the blade with both hands, trying to force it downward. But in that moment, Leon twisted his sword, redirecting the force, and slipped into a sword grapple—his blade now aimed straight at the Dullahan's heart.

"That's one."

There was no need to explain what that meant. The Dullahan stepped back twice and spun his body.

With a gust of wind, his greatsword came swinging around in a full-force arc—a devastating blow meant to crush through defenses.

At first, it looked like Leon would parry it with his blade—but instead, he pressed it down with the pommel. His longsword, buried deep into the ground, held fast and stopped the incoming strike.

—...!

In the next instant, Leon's foot struck the Dullahan in the chest. It was more of a shove than a swift kick—but somehow, the Dullahan's stance crumbled and he landed hard on his backside.

Leon immediately leveled his blade again.

"That's two."

The Hunters watching couldn't understand what they had just seen.

Leon's kick had looked like little more than a light push. And yet the Dullahan had completely lost his balance.

To a casual observer, it might have even looked like the Dullahan had gone easy on him.

"What just happened?"

"...Amazing."

"Hari?"

Among them all, only Hari understood what had just occurred.

She had practiced swordsmanship from a young age, once considered a promising kendo prodigy.

In boxing, fencing—any combat art—it might seem like it's all about fists or blades, but there's always something more:

the foundation of balance and movement that stems from the lower body.

Even a light jab, or a wrist flick meant to probe, begins from the weight centered in the hips.

What Leon had done was destroy that foundation.

'At a glance, it seemed like he focused power into his kicking leg, but the real trick was the grounded foot. He used magic to create a small shockwave in a 2.5-meter radius.'

A technique that shakes the ground with footwork alone. A double-edged sword that disturbs the opponent's stance, but can also destabilize the user.

Leon had executed it seamlessly, shattering the Dullahan's footing in one smooth motion.

And once the balance was broken, the kick itself was just the final nudge—like pushing someone teetering on the edge of a cliff.

He had performed this subtle, intricate move in the blink of an eye.

"Steady your stance once more."

The Dullahan clattered as he stood again—and the same sequence repeated itself.

The Death Knight Dullahan was a knight who once sought honor and glory.

But he had been cursed by a necromancer and forced to become the commander of an undead army.

Though the necromancer's binding had long since vanished, all he could do now was remain in this unknown place, repelling intruders.

He led his troops once more to fend off another set of invaders—just another cycle in his tiresome, endless task.

This time, some of the intruders were somewhat strong humans, but none were particularly exceptional.

"Magnificent!"

Except for one man.

The one who called himself Leon Dragonia Lionheart.

That man had boldly demanded a duel—as a knight.

It had been so long. So long since someone treated him like a knight and challenged him to a duel.

Yet, he suspected it might simply be a ruse by a desperate man trying to survive. Anyone would have thought so when asked, "Won't you dismount your horse?"

But had someone tried to utter such foolishness, the Dullahan would have been enraged at the insult to knighthood.

Look at him.

Look at that knight.

The bearing of a battle-hardened veteran, the upright posture, and eyes like stars that yearned for honor and renown.

He was the very embodiment of the glory that knights pursued.

The one all knights looked up to with reverence, the one they must one day challenge—

The King of Knights.

How could anyone see that man and think he would resort to petty tricks?

"That makes three. Will you continue?"

—...

His third "death." To an observer, it may have looked like he had simply been knocked back, his armor protecting him from any real damage. They might say it was all for show.

But the Dullahan knew.

He knew that this man could have crushed him at any moment if he had wished to.

This knight—this icon of all knights—had instead chosen to teach him, to honor him, and elevate his dignity.

And so, as a knight, the Dullahan could not help but be deeply moved.

This knight—this Lionheart King—was treating even him, a fallen Death Knight, with honor.

The Dullahan possessed many powerful abilities as an undead commander:

Death armor that negated up to 80% of all physical damage.

A dark magic sigil his head could invoke.

The title of General of Bones, allowing him to rally skeletal soldiers.

These were the terrifying powers granted when he became a Death Knight. Yet he didn't wish to use any of them.

All he wanted was to fight—as a knight, with sword and steel alone, untainted by dark arts.

Again and again, he wanted to cross blades with this man.

Just like the days, long forgotten, when he roamed the world with honor, dueling famous knights.

"That's ten. Your swordplay becomes more refined. Have your memories from life returned to you?"

Ah...

O knight of honor.

The Dullahan finally understood this man's true intent.

He wasn't treating him as some wretched undead minion of a necromancer—but as a knight, restoring to him a piece of his glorious past.

"Will you continue, Sir Knight?"

The Dullahan summoned a skeleton to bring him his head. Then, kneeling on one knee, he presented it to Leon.

A complete surrender—placing his fate in Leon's hands.

"Well done. I am overjoyed to see you have reclaimed your honor."

Leon placed his hands upon the Dullahan's offered head and spoke with reverence.

"I shall pray for you. If you have a god you follow, may they grant your soul rest. If not, may the goddess guide you to the edge of her eternal garden."

How many years had he spent in slaughter?

How long had his battles lacked honor?

"May I meet this noble knight again, at the banquet of the gods."

The Dullahan was overwhelmed with emotion.

This knight—this man—had treated him as a knight once more, prayed for him, and even offered him a blessing.

"Let there be light."

Light shone from Leon's hand. The Dullahan instinctively felt it—this light would guide him.

In his final moment, he collapsed all the remaining skeletons under his command and bowed deeply before Leon.

—Glory to Leon Dragonia Lionheart!

Though unspoken, his awe and devotion echoed throughout the dungeon.

The dungeon boss, the Death Knight Dullahan, had fallen.

Normally, that wouldn't be the end. Even if the boss was defeated, any remaining mobs would still need to be calmly dealt with.

"You... kept your promise."

"He... he really ended it with a duel."

At the very last moment, Dullahan had destroyed the undead army by his own will.

He prostrated himself before Leon in what seemed like genuine reverence and accepted his end.

"W-what was that light just now? He said something like, 'Let there be light,' didn't he?"

"...Wasn't that holy power or something?"

Among the Awakened, no one possessed holy power. Even survivors who claimed the gods existed never proved their presence.

But the power Leon had just used to purify Dullahan in an instant could only be described as divine power—the kind seen in novels and comics, the natural enemy of undead and demons.

"U-um... if you had that kind of ability, you could've used it earlier..."

Hari couldn't bring herself to say it directly, but she voiced what everyone had probably been thinking.

"Had I done so, that honorable knight would have met his end merely as an undead."

So it was to revive Dullahan's memory as a knight? So that he could accept his death by his own will?

"A knight is a being who follows honor and renown. Honor comes from action, and action is born from the strength of one's will. A noble knight, then, must walk that path."

Hari didn't fully understand Leon's words. There was a lot she wanted to say:

The uncertainty of success.

The potential consequences if it had failed.

The irrationality of a plan that ignored all risks and logic.

But she felt no need to say any of it out loud.

Because this man would act that way regardless, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn't reason, but emotion.

Not logic, but intuition.

Not rationality, but a flower blooming within the irrational.

A flower everyone knows exists, but no one can imitate—and that's why it's beautiful.

"Hmm, now then, shall we go collect the spoils?"

"Uh... what?"

"If there was battle, there must be loot. Lead the way. As for what's valuable, I leave that to you to decide."

That day, as the dungeon was being cleared, the Hunter Association members stumbled upon unexpected loot.

[Dullahan's Cloak]

[Dullahan's Greatsword]

[Necromancer's Jewel]

And various magic stones hastily gathered after the boss's death.

"Wow! Look at this jewel! You can feel the enormous magic power just by looking at it! If we sell this—"

"A wicked artifact of a vile vermin. Such things bring only discord."

—CRACK!

Correction:

[Knight's Cloak]

[Dullahan's Greatsword]

And assorted magic stones, etc.

There was a bit of a commotion during the loot collection process, but overall, the clearing of the Honam Plains Gate was a great success.

Not only had they purified the plains tainted by magical beasts, they had also witnessed the miracle of blessed rice, and fully dealt with a crimson-grade gate.

Watching from a distance, the Phoenix Guild and Yong-Wan Lee ground their teeth in frustration and turned back, but for now, everyone else was celebrating the victory.

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However, the problem came from an unexpected angle.

"Uh... Your Majesty. Y-you need to pay taxes."

"How dare one nation demand taxes from another nation's king! These spoils are solely mine by right! Taxing them is a violation of royal law!"

"N-no, you don't have to pay in cash. You could just use some of the magic stones from the loot..."

"A king does not count coins. Such duties are for underlings. How could you speak of this to a king?"

"Th-then what are we supposed to do, Your Majesty?!"

"There is no need to report anything to a king. It is best we simply respect one another's honor."

"A-are you really saying you won't pay even a single coin in taxes?"

"Enough talk of coins. It's distasteful."

As they watched Leon stubbornly cling to his pride while avoiding taxes, the Hunter Association staff all thought the same thing:

"This guy... might actually be worse than the Phoenix Guild."