Chapter 18 _ The Knight of the Mire, or Divine Intervention
The stench of night soil
and the pain of a crossbow string biting into my fingers—
those had been my daily life
for half a year now.
Routine had seeped into my bones.
I woke before sunrise.
My body moved before my thoughts did.
Push-ups—twenty was still my limit.
Sit-ups—fifty left me gasping.
Running—around the city walls, breath burning in my lungs.
Had I grown strong?
Don’t be ridiculous.
I wasn’t that naive.
After months of effort, my strength had finally reached
slightly below average.
In the mirror, I could see it—
a little muscle on my shoulders,
my stomach slightly more taut.
But the training load kept increasing.
Slowly. Relentlessly.
Why could I push myself this far?
Because I could not forgive
the man who had violated Iris.
Sleep rarely came.
Her tear-stained face burned itself
into the backs of my eyelids.
“Help me…”
How many times had she screamed that day?
No one helped her.
And I… had run.
I clenched my fists until my nails cut into my palms.
Pain stirred anger.
Later, something began to bother me.
The knight had demanded “compensation” from Iris—
and then forced her into prostitution to pay it.
I started investigating between jobs.
While hauling waste, I listened to rumors.
In taverns, I eavesdropped on adventurers.
At the guild, I gathered information from the families of the dead.
And eventually—
I found them.
A dim alley.
An old wooden house.
I knocked.
A haggard man answered—
deep shadows under his eyes, hair unkempt.
“I’m sorry to trouble you,” I said.
“I’d like to ask about your child…”
His face twisted.
“Don’t dance around it.
My son isn’t coming back.”
His voice shook—anger or grief, I couldn’t tell.
“I heard that the survivors of the party were
a male knight and Iris.
Has Iris paid any compensation?”
“Like hell that woman has money!” he spat.
“That bastard—living comfortably while my boy is dead!”
The door slammed shut.
I knew then.
The knight had pocketed the money
while spreading Iris’s disgrace.
Her honor.
Her dignity.
Trampled.
I couldn’t forgive it.
I decided to challenge him to a duel.
I didn’t care if I died.
Even one punch would be enough.
For the woman I loved—
if I could do anything for her,
then my own existence meant nothing anyway.
But a simple duel wasn’t enough.
I would lose—almost certainly.
Nothing would be resolved.
I punched the wall.
The pain in my hand was nothing
compared to the pain in my chest.
Then, a turning point.
In a tavern, I heard Roger’s name.
“He won a trial by combat.”
“As a proxy?”
“Yeah. The other side hired a strong one too—ended in an instant.”
My heart leapt.
Trial by combat.
I ran.
“This country,” Roger explained lazily,
“settles disputes before the omniscient goddess Inanna.
You fight. Whoever wins is righteous.”
“Clients can hire proxies,” he added.
“If they can pay.”
The words struck deep.
Whoever wins is righteous.
This was it.
Before dawn the next day,
I prepared myself and headed to the Adventurers’ Guild.
“Are you going?” Frey asked.
She stood there—not as a squirrel,
but watching me with eyes heavy with sorrow.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Frey… thank you.
I couldn’t do anything for you, but I’m glad I became your friend.”
She said nothing.
I walked on.
An hour later, as the city woke—
Johann appeared.
Tall. Broad-shouldered.
Muscles bulging beneath his armor.
Confidence in every step.
“I challenge you to a trial by combat,” I said.
“My petition has already been filed with the Church of Inanna.”
My voice shook.
Johann burst into laughter.
“You?
I was wondering who’d be stupid enough.”
“What weapon?” he sneered.
“A sword? You think you can beat me?”
“No weapon,” I said.
“With my fists.”
More laughter.
The Cathedral of Inanna.
Light from stained glass painted the floor in seven colors.
The hall filled with spectators.
“That waste hauler?”
“Against Johann? Instant kill.”
“How many seconds?”
I was a spectacle.
The priest’s voice echoed.
“Let the trial by combat begin.”
Is the righteous truly on my side?
“Begin!”
I sprinted.
Just one hit—
He dodged easily.
I lost my balance.
Pain exploded in my abdomen.
Air left my lungs.
I hit the floor.
He mounted me.
Fists rained down.
Blood filled my mouth.
My vision faded—
But—
Iris’s face appeared.
Not yet.
I thrashed, somehow breaking free.
I charged again.
My legs faltered.
My vision blurred.
Then—
Our movements overlapped.
Impact.
My fist struck his face.
It hurt.
But it felt better than anything
I had ever known.
That was all I had.
Johann’s expression changed.
Rage.
He beat me mercilessly.
I clung to his armor—
even as he kicked me away.
Sword drawn.
“Die.”
“Enough.”
The air froze.
Frey stood there in her true form,
radiant, overwhelming.
“Do you not understand what ‘enough’ means?” she said calmly.
Johann trembled.
The priest declared:
“The righteousness of Mario’s claim is recognized.
Johann is forbidden from any further involvement with Iris.”
“Why—this is cheating!” Johann screamed.
“If you object,” the priest replied,
“then fight Lady Frey.
And win.”
Johann fled.
When I awoke,
Frey was cradling my head.
“Well done,” she said gently.
“Your victory.”
“You said… you’d protect me.”
“No,” she smiled.
“You protected Iris.
And your own pride.”
Light warmed my body.
I stood.
It hurt.
But my heart was light.
That night, as I slept—
I dreamed that Iris,
for the first time,
smiled.
