I Obtained Sword God Level Talent - Chapter 4

My body feels like a burning fire.
That was my brief impression as I opened my eyes, having lost consciousness from the fatigue of battle.
Swoosh.
I sat up and looked around. A tent, a military barrack, or something like a canvas tent. Fortunately, my sword was placed neatly beside my head.
‘This is….’
The barracks were meticulously organized, reflecting the owner’s personality. In the center, a warm stove was placed. Recalling that the weather outside wasn’t cold, it seemed like the fire had been lit for me.
T hi s w a s c o p ied f r o m k in g mt l . o r g
“You’ve finally awakened.”
In the corner of the barracks, a man was sitting in a wide folding chair, reading a book.
Flip!
“State your affiliation and name. As a mercenary employed by the Empire, I will treat you comfortably without any inconvenience.”
Thi s w as c opi e d f ro m k in g m t l . or g
“….”
State my affiliation and name? And speaking informally too. I furrowed my brows and let out a sigh.
‘There’s no need to be on edge.’
Given the circumstances, this unidentified man must have saved me. There was no need to engage in a pointless nerve war.
‘If I had been careless, I could have become a wild animal’s prey.’
When I struck down the last orc, I couldn’t hold onto my consciousness any longer and fainted. The fact that I woke up in this tent instead of in the middle of the cold orc camp was all thanks to this man’s consideration.
T h i s w a s c o p ie d f r o m k i n gmt l . o r g
Since he spoke informally, wouldn’t it be okay for me to do the same?
“Oak Mercenary Corps, Frey.”
Through conversations with Hans, I had already memorized the name of the mercenary corps. I spoke to the man casually.
Pause.
At my short reply, the man’s finger, which had been smoothly turning the pages, stopped moving once again.
‘…Is he dissatisfied with me speaking informally?’
The man slowly rose from his seat. Then, with slow steps, he approached me as I sat leaning against the bed.
Tap, tap.
“Oak Mercenary Corps, Frey.”
The man’s subsequent action was quite simple.
He patted my shoulder. Without the need for further words, that simple gesture seemed to convey his sincerity.
“You’ve worked hard. The Empire has won. Your role in returning from the front lines has also contributed to the Empire’s victory. And your comrades… the bodies we recovered will be cremated and returned to their families in their hometowns.”
Did he ponder what to say? The man paused for a long time before opening his mouth.
‘…Ah.’
The forgotten fact resurfaced at the sight of the man’s serious expression, and I stared at him blankly, mouth agape.
I know this man. Very well, in fact.
Brown hair and brown eyes. An unyielding gaze, slightly stubborn lips, and a tightly closed mouth. His pure white light armor was spotless, as if proving his upright character.
The Empire’s rising star, the man destined to become the Empire’s most righteous Sword Master in the future.
‘Lancelot.’
Lancelot du Armand.
A character from (Silver Ring) is standing before me, alive and breathing. For a moment, my breath caught in my throat at this astonishing reality. Imagine it: a character from a fictional work like a game, movie, or comic book, having a conversation with you.
‘To think the first named character I meet is Lancelot. Should I consider myself lucky?’
I almost let out a chuckle without realizing it.
The reason is simple. I knew Lancelot du Armand’s future like the back of my hand.
‘The epitome of a knight who lives and dies by honor. But a symbol of chivalry with a strong complex about ‘money’.’
Well, that doesn’t mean he’s greedy for money. This future Sword Master would live just fine even without it.
Swoosh.
T h i s w as c o p ie d f r om k i n g m t l. o r g
Lancelot slowly straightened his back. And in a low voice, he introduced himself.
“Lancelot du Armance. Squad leader of the Golden Lion Knights.”
“As I said before, Frey.”
“…Don’t you have a last name?”
Lancelot tilted his head at my immediate reply. It was a reaction as if not having a last name was peculiar.
‘…Last name? Did I have a last name?’
Sadly, I don’t know. After all, I learned that my name was ‘Frey’ and that I belonged to the ‘Oak Mercenary Corps’ while in the prison of the orc village.
“I don’t know. My memory is hazy. I might have hit my head before being captured by the orcs, because I can’t remember anything but my name right now.”
“Hmm. That’s a serious problem.”
“Anyway. Where am I?”
“This is the Knights’ encampment. We brought you here and treated you after you collapsed unconscious.”
So that’s how it was.
One thing was certain: this guy was my benefactor, whether he intended to be or not. In such situations, I should at least express my gratitude… As I thought this, he suddenly asked a question.
Th i s wa s co pie d fr o m k i n g m t l. or g
“Are you not afraid of me?”
“What?”
What kind of strange question was that?
The main traits possessed by the named character ‘Lancelot du Armand’ were (Sword King), a weaker version of (Sword God), and (Gifted). He shouldn’t have a trait like (Intimidation) that instills fear in others.
“…No. There’s no need to answer. You’re different from ordinary mercenaries.”
T h i s w a s c opi ed fr o m k i ng mtl .o r g
Lancelot shook his head heavily. As expected, he was a difficult person to communicate with.
“Anyway. Thank you, Lancelot du Armance. I’m alive thanks to you.”
“Hmm.”
As if he misunderstood something.
Lancelot stared at me intently with a complex expression. Then he turned and headed towards the tent exit, saying,
“You’ll probably need some time to collect yourself. I’ll bring you something to eat in thirty minutes.”
“Something to drink too.”
“Ha.”
Flap!
T h i s w a s co p i e d f r om k i ng m t l. o rg
But then.
As he disappeared with a short sigh, a faint smile played on his lips.
Silently watching him, I couldn’t help but wear a dumbfounded expression.
‘He’s smiling?’
…He’s not usually like that.

T h i s w a s co p i e d fr om k i ng m t l . o rg
An astonishing rumor spread through the Knights’ encampment. The source of the rumor was the junior knight, ‘The Braggart’ Andrew.
(This boy who just reached adulthood single-handedly slaughtered hundreds of orcs!)
The seasoned knights scoffed at his words.
The possibility of a mercenary who just came of age properly training in swordsmanship and mana manipulation was incredibly low. In other words, it was highly likely to be just another of Andrew’s tall tales, known for his loose lips.
However.
‘It’s true.’
Lancelot, the squad leader who had been on the mission with Andrew, put an end to such doubts.
The knights were shocked. A junior mercenary single-handedly defeating hundreds of orcs? It was an impossible feat, even after searching through ancient historical records.
T h i s w a s c opie d fr o m k ing mt l . o r g
And now.
“S-Squad leader! What about that mercenary?!”
“How is his condition? I heard his external injuries weren’t serious.”
Having heard the news that the protagonist of the rumor had awakened, the knights swarmed around Lancelot like bees.
“He’s interesting.”
“……!”
“……Huh!”
The knights in the encampment stared at Lancelot with their mouths wide open in response to his answer.
Lancelot wasn’t the type of person to say things like ‘interesting.’ It was an incredibly fresh shock to the knights who had only ever seen him practicing his swordsmanship since joining the Knights.
“Squad leader, is it true that he killed hundreds of orcs alone?”
“I haven’t asked him yet.”
“Aah!”
The knights’ groans then filled the encampment.
If the scene that Andrew and Lancelot witnessed was truly the work of a young mercenary, then this was a momentous event. It could be reported to the commander of the expeditionary force, or if they were even luckier, to His Majesty the Emperor himself.
And the following sequence of events was obvious.
An invisible war would break out to claim this monstrous man. He wouldn’t just be granted a noble title; with some luck, he could even become the Emperor’s son-in-law.
Murmur, murmur.
Even though knights lived and died by honor, in this case, they couldn’t help but whisper amongst themselves, unable to calm down. This was because the value of ‘talent’ was incredibly high in this era.
But then.
“Sir Lancelot. Why did you call him interesting?”
Someone muttered in a voice filled with disbelief.
Everyone’s gaze turned to a middle-aged man who emerged from the crowd.
He had a large belly that seemed unbelievable for someone wearing the Knight’s armor, and the knights looking at him had a hint of disgust in their eyes.
“…Sir Gler.”
“I couldn’t help but be intrigued. It’s the first time I’ve seen Sir Lancelot call someone ‘interesting.'”
The middle-aged knight, Gler, said, his chubby cheeks trembling. From the start, he had been looking at the surrounding knights with disdain, as if he didn’t believe this kind of rumor.
“I was so flabbergasted that I couldn’t close my mouth! I wonder where those who believe such lies keep their brains…!”
“Tsk! As if he has any honor, running away after sending his subordinates to their deaths.”
“What? Who was that just now! Which lowly bastard dares!”
It was at that moment that someone’s sarcastic voice could be heard softly. Gler, completely flustered, turned red in the face and shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Y-You damn, stupid fools! I will personally skin that liar alive and make him confess the truth!”
Clang!
And then he drew the sword from his waist and strode forward. His destination was obvious. Lancelot’s tent, where the mercenary of the rumor was resting. That’s where he was headed.
“H-Huh?!”
“Squad leader! Shouldn’t we stop Sir Gler?!”
Some of the knights, startled by the sudden turn of events, shouted at Lancelot.
“…No.”
However, it was Lancelot’s reaction that shocked the knights.
He shook his head with his usual impassive expression. It was a sign that there was no need to stop Gler; it would be better to let things run their course.
“O-Oh dear!”
“Stop Gler!”
But it seemed the knights didn’t share his opinion. Most of the gathered knights hurriedly chased after Gler.
“Hmm.”
Lancelot looked at the knights running towards the tent and recalled what had just happened.
‘Lancelot du Armance. That is my name.’
Following Lancelot’s introduction.
‘Anyway, thank you. Lancelot du Armand. I’m alive thanks to you.’
Frey’s greeting.
Smirk.
Lancelot might have been a bit blunt, but he wasn’t stupid enough to miss the difference between the two sentences. That’s why he had a hunch. The man inside that tent was someone who had received a similar… ‘blessing’ as him.
“…I should watch.”
There were things he wanted to ask him. A lot of things.
Th is was c op i e d f ro m k i ng m tl . o rg