Chapter 133 – The Story of A Low Rank Soldier Becoming A Monarch [Novel]


< Episode 133. How the Confederacy was formed (3) >

The 1,200 Southern Army turned against the approaching enemy.

At the forefront of that was Yenrid of the wingless hawk.


The axes in his hands became his wings and flew away.


The power hidden within his body, symbolizing the unknown and mysterious, responded with a whimper. Vice woke up and looked at the hero in front of him.

I’ve heard of this before.

“A real vice has eyes and ears.”

That was the comment of a Vice knight I met sometime before. I thought he was joking, or so I thought.

It wasn’t a lie.

The symbols of mystery and the unknown that I carry within my body reacted to seeing the man in front of me and hearing his voice.

The movement of the vise that swirled and shook gave me goosebumps and made me throb with ‘oodles of excitement.

The man who said the vise had eyes and ears said again.

I wonder if the reason Vice Knight is at the forefront is because he fights better than others.

“Do you really think so?”

Why did his question come to mind so vividly at this moment?

Right, I thought so. He fights better than others, so I thought he was going out.

I remembered every moment I stood in front of our troops. I, part of me, who guarded the invisible wall with Count Van Ludwig’s body in front of me, was running in front of me now.

I would have been like that.

A vice isn’t just about making your body hard and fast. It was to have the energy blowing out of your body, to gather up your battle flags and take the lead to catch the momentum of the enemy, that was the real Vice Knight.

It was an arrow fired first in front of our troops and a shield that blocked them.

I can tell from the side without standing in front. How I was able to fill Count Van Ludwig’s vacancy and defend it.

Crouching low, Yenrid kicked the ground.


The soil he kicked soars up. It’s a tremendous dash. When it comes to charging, I also put Yanlid above me.

The first enemy he meets has two-handed axe.

Narrowing the distance at once, the warrior of the other tribe thrusts his heavy two-handed axe from top to bottom.

Yanrid twisted his body to avoid it. He bends at the waist and changes direction, a movement full of vitality to the extent that there are no other wild animals.


The moment his ax hit the ground, two flashes of light hit him in the neck and shoulder and pass by.

Moving forward, Yenrid’s two axes began to dance.

His ax mercilessly cut, hit, and erased the enemies he was attacking.

The heads and arms of the roaring elephant tribe warriors who had targeted Yenrid at the front were scattered in the air.

Less than five steps later, six fell to the ground, incapacitated. Every time the ax blade was soaked in blood and flew through the air, the enemy was lying on the floor.

I controlled the beating heart with a long breath and looked at the battlefield.


Watching the South and the South fighting screaming, Viscount Dutch approached me frozen.

Even then, my eyes did not leave the battlefield.

“… … What should we do?”

Viscount Dutch asked.

In his view, both groups may be enemies. Yeah, it was originally like that.

He had no idea. Combat was not Viscount Dutch’s specialty was trading and sales.

“I will stop them.”

I spoke, borrowed a helmet from the Viscount’s soldier, and handed the Bluish to the Viscount Dutch.

The blue light shone through the spear was very conspicuous.

The Viscount received the spear and asked with his eyes, unable to continue the words. I averted my gaze, put on my helmet, and turned myself away.

The southern Roaring Elephant clan is strong.

They use a heavy two-handed ax as their main weapon and put their strength in the weight of a blow instead of a quick foot.

Seeing that, I walked forward.

“Baron Fraunmunt!”

Viscount Dutch called me from behind, his voice deadpan. When I stopped, he continued to speak.

“If you leave, who will protect this place?”

Protect? what?

Viscount Dutch had eyes, but could not see. No, no one in this position could properly see the battlefield in front of them.

The moment the hero named Yenrid blocked the enemy and wielded his axe, victory or defeat was decided.

The elephant tribe was strong and the quality of the warrior was high, but the opponent could not reverse the flow of morale and victory that had risen due to one vice knight.

“This guy!”

Dozens of warriors from the Elephant Tribe rushed towards Yenrid.


The Viscount Dutch, who saw this, spit out in surprise. I walked casually while watching it.

“Kill him!”

“Oooh wahhh!”

Southerners weren’t stupid. With a two-handed axe as their primary weapon, they weren’t stupid enough to wield it alone.

There were also many warriors holding daggers in their hands and aiming for an opening. Ten people made a circle and attacked him, so Yanrid’s appearance was hidden by them and could not be seen.

Thump Thump.

I walked along without paying any attention to it.



I didn’t even take a few steps, but the sound of the wave broke out, and an ax soaked in blood popped out of the enemy’s gap.

He was seen cutting the neck of the warrior who survived at once.

I grabbed one of the club that fell to the floor as I saw ten enemies fall to the floor where he had slipped out.

[Blunt force proficiency: 38]

I bent my wrist and rotated the club once in a large circle. It is a heavy and tough weapon.

The center of gravity is also a mess, but the destructive power was enough to break even the skull if hit properly.

This is enough for one fight. Southern warriors were valiant, so they fought without backing down.

As a result, the death toll was quite high.

What a waste.

With that thought in mind, I joined the battlefield.


The one who rushes in with a beast-like spirit is a Southerner. I hung up on his foot and grabbed his back and threw it.

He was bleeding from a deep cut on his shoulder, but I knew he would come at me.

The exhausted guy rolled around on the floor gasping for air.

As I moved forward, we saw the elephant tribesmen. They have duller skin than the others and wear gray leather shoes.



“My brothers are with me!”

“die! die!”

“I have my sister’s axe!”

Winning a battle and taking damage are two different things.

If possible, I would like to reduce the damage here for the next time.


The club cuts through the air. To be exact, the moment the enemy turns his head, it faces the back of the head.


His head exploded, and brain and blood spattered on his face.

once one guy.

I picked up my breath and looked down coldly. My job here is not to become their king.


Behind the one who went crazy screaming, his head fell down.

Another fell down with an ugly snap of his neck, slammed by the club that swung upwards from below to match.

I crossed the battlefield. Yenrid’s charge killed the enemy’s morale and forced strong warriors to rush towards him.

In the meantime, I was just playing diligently so that my allies wouldn’t die.

Fighting, I made up my mind. There will be no Southern Rebellion in this life, and I will make it happen.

How was the Southern Blood Alliance created?

Heroes, opportunities, enemies.

Three things would have to be combined. He had to have a hero to prove himself by force and had a chance to show it.

And there had to be an enemy.

To make people revere, they needed at least a Vice Knight-class hero to bind them.

Not a guy who rolls his head and gains profits, but a hero who is more southern than anyone else.

“I am Yenrid of the wingless hawk! Whaaaaa!”

It was the first time I’d ever seen a Yenrid so excited and roaring. Drunk with exaltation, he cried out, soaked in the blood, with ax in both hands.



He raised the ax, and even if they exchanged fists until just now, they stood behind him because they respected him.

That was the reverence of the South.

Yenrid stood in front of 1,200 and led them, killing more warriors than anyone else.

No one stopped him and no one stood in front of him.

He proved his power by knocking down countless warriors.

He showed what kind of result it would produce when the force was directed at the enemy.

In the end, the roaring elephant clan ran away without even being able to survive half.





The remaining southern troops followed Yenrid’s cry. Before they knew it, they were all gathered together, raising their weapons and cheering in victory.


It was a slightly different method from the Central Continentals. A man approached me, perhaps thinking I was one of his own, raised his hand to my shoulder and shouted.


My ears are going to fall off. Dude.

Of course, I also enjoyed this moment.

It was the preparer’s job to seize the opportunity. Of course, I knew this was coming, so I prepared for it.

It was entirely up to Yenrid to seize it.

He did exactly what he was supposed to do. The “persuasion” I mentioned was akin to the “foundation” of the Confederacy.

Standing alone, being a hero and putting the South under your feet.

That’s how the Confederacy was created. I knew that, so I put Yenrid here.


At some point, the 1,200 Southern Army began to call out Yanrid’s name.


If the beginning of the Southern Federation was the birth of a hero, I was no different from seeing the beginning of a new federation here.

Viscount Dutch did not even think to collect the soldiers when he saw those southerners shouting.

‘Why? What happened?’

He knew the Southerners well.

The southerners the Viscount Dutch knew were people who did not follow others well and did not listen to words.

Have you ever been ignored by Southerners once or twice?

My son said he was a knight, but he was beaten up by a southern guy and he had to lie in bed for a month.

I can’t forget what the southern guy said then.

“No deal with the weak.”

Oh, you sick bastard.

It was natural for him to swear. It took a lot of effort on Viscount Dutch’s part to get the deal started. The relationship with the Southerners was arguably the most important secret to running the estate.

And yet, it was true.


laughter came out. Southerners were outcasts. However, the results in front of me did not say that much.

‘Because you’re the same as Southerner?’

He asked himself and immediately dismissed it as bullshit.

“Those lunatics.”

It was the little southern girl next to him swearing. To say that they respect each other just because they live on the same continent is real bullshit.

“They are crazy about fighting.”

The southern girl, Jabrien, murmured again.

Fight-crazy bastards, you were right.

“You fight well. Our friend.”

“Good. You’re good at fighting, too.”

They would say that even when they fought to the death and groaned when one of their arms was broken.

They would raise their broken arms with blue bruises on their faces and say things like that.


A second laugh broke out. No, he didn’t even laugh anymore.

He just looked at the situation with a blank gaze. Viscount Dutch instinctively knew there was nothing he could do here.

Neither the person who led this situation nor the person who had the decision-making authority here was himself.


The person approaching with his blood-stained pitch off was the real protagonist who made this place.

The southerner shouts the name Yenrid, but it is this man who actually led the situation.


Viscount Dutch got goosebumps.

‘Did you expect it?’

If so, where is this person looking now?

When the Viscount Dutch saw a young man with dark blue hair called Baron Fraunmunt, that thought occurred to him.

‘I can’t lose him.’

If he had expected and moved up to this point, he would be a person with a really scary level of momentum and power.

Of course, he probably didn’t know all of this. It’s partly a result of luck, but luck is also a skill.

“Now… … .”

Before I even asked what to do.

“Smile. We have stopped the enemy.”

said Baron Fraunmunt.

Smile? Will laughter come out of this situation?

It seems that a herd of wil cats has been bitten, and a tiger has entered the room.

“What shall we do now? There is only one No, to be precise, three.”

Baron Fraunmunt speaks and looks at himself. Viscount Dutch caught his gaze and knew he had no choice but to listen to whatever he said.


My son came and stood behind me. Was his anxiety contagious?

‘Even if he takes over this land, I cannot resist.’

Viscount Dutch thought he was naive. It was a terrifying knight and vise night that blocked 2000 with four people.

He was the one who had defeated Count Bantes. He had been overlooked despite his military prowess and resourcefulness.

What did I believe in bringing him here?


The third laugh had to hide his expression and burst inward. It was then that Viscount Dutch realized that his humble status as a nobleman could not protect him.

This man in front of me was not a human being to care about such a thing. He showed a spirit that had not even seen from the previous king.

Now he knew that one word from him could decide his life or death.


Tim Dutch, let’s save our son. That was when I made up my mind.

The Baron recited three things to do.

“We won, so eat, drink…”

He blurs the end of his speech, then makes eye contact with himself and continues the conversation.

“I need to rest.”

“… … You mean eating, drinking and resting?”

asked the Viscount.

“Is there something else you need me to do?”

Baron Fraunmunt retorted the words.

There isn’t. No, you have to stay, don’t you? Even with all the deaths, the number of Southern troops here is still over five hundred.

You’re just letting that number of troops eat, drink, and rest here?

If I make even the slightest move, my territory will be directly at his throat. If not, he could renegotiate the contract through the threat.

But that was not to be.

“Are you short on supplies?”

Is that possible?

“All I have is money.”

said Viscount Dutch. It was a willingness to buy and feed them if they didn’t have any.

There was a party and the Viscount Dutch finally showed some anxiety, but in the end, the remaining Southern troops did not cause any trouble.

They just ate, drank, rested, and left in the morning.

The Viscount had only one task left to clear up where the battle had taken place. However, there was one strange thing.

It was said that Baron Fraunmunt and Yenrid had joined them and left with them to the south.

“I can’t believe it.”

Said Viscount. At the end Chris’ words echoed in his head which he had heard at the banquet.

“I like capable people.”

Clearly, at that moment, Chris did not see himself as a peer nobleman. There was no threat or intimidation.

‘He is the image of a monarch.’

Instinct and the merchant’s intuition said so. A man named Chris Fraunmunt wouldn’t just stop here.

The Viscount Dutch hated gambling, but knew that for this moment he had to stake his entire fortune.

‘I really can’t believe it.’

Baron Fraunmunt’s arrival and what he has done so far has been like a wizard’s visit. The Viscount was still stunned.

Mistakes are expected so if something doesn’t make sense then just try to understand the situation and make something up by yourself.

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