Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 118: Knight Scions
The noble knights wore armor far finer than any hedge knight’s.
Finer, and stronger. Their fathers had seen to that. A son sent to serve at a count’s side had to carry the family’s dignity on his back. It was not only for safety or killing power. It was for the quiet, vicious contest between noble houses.
Gold chased the edges of their plate. Intricate etching crawled over polished steel. Small shields hung over their hearts, each stamped with a family crest.
When their lord came running toward them, no order was needed. The first rank of sword-and-shield knights opened a gap at once, letting Count Stessa rush straight into the protection of their formation.
The moment Stessa saw his noble guard, the will to live flared in his eyes like a torch catching oil. He knew what these knights were worth. They were not common soldiers. They were not wandering blades.
They were men made different by money.
He ran for the gap with open relief.
Just as he brushed past the front-rank shields and was about to plunge into safety, that familiar voice sounded again.
“Down, my lord count.”
The title held no respect. Only mockery.
Stessa’s pupils shivered. His body obeyed before thought could catch up, and he threw himself flat.
A heartbeat later, a familiar pressure of wind scraped over his scalp.
Two war hammers screamed over him, weapons taken from the corpses behind. Their speed tore a shrill cry from the air, and before anyone could properly react, they crashed into the opened formation.
Clang.
Solid steel struck hollow steel. The sound stabbed the ears.
Two tall knights in the rear rank took the hammers full in the helm. Their conical visors caved inward, the impact points frighteningly precise despite the differences in their height and stance.
Blood sprayed from their breathing grilles like juice squeezed from fruit.
They had no chance to scream.
Bodies weighing more than a hundred and ten kilograms with armor folded backward under the force and slammed into the knights behind them. Balance broke. Men toppled in a chain.
Two hammers killed two men and knocked down six more.
Eight in all.
The noble guard’s formation collapsed.
Not a controlled opening this time. Not a brief change in order.
It broke.
Among the front rank, one sword-and-shield knight seemed to be their leader. A few pheasant tail feathers stood from his helm, pretty and proud. He raised his shield at once and shouted, “Close ranks!”
He was the first to understand how bad it was.
Formation decided battles. He had never heard of a knightly company recovering victory after its line had been shattered.
Now he understood.
The fleeing count had been bait, forced into them to make them change shape.
In the few breaths while the formation opened, their fighting strength had been cut by at least seventy percent.
He did not know who the attacker was. He did not know why the man was so confident, confident enough to believe he could cripple a noble guard formation in less than ten seconds.
None of that mattered now.
Their line was broken.
All he could do was mend it and send the count toward safer ground.
“Close ranks! Now!”
He shouted again, dragging his stunned comrades back to themselves.
Too late.
Thud, thud, thud.
From the dark at the far end of the corridor came the sound of something charging, something mad and heavy.
Each footfall made the stone building tremble faintly.
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