Lance Charging in Arkship, but No Mount

One month later, in a wilderness far from any mobile city, people had gathered to see Claude off.

Margaret looked at Claude, her eyes carrying an indescribable emotion.

"Claude, you've helped me so much. I truly don't know how to repay you. Besides, I even used your honor..."

Claude raised a hand, smiling as he stopped Margaret from continuing. "Margaret, there's no need to feel guilty toward me. I did this simply because I wanted to. You don't need to feel indebted to me."

Margaret took a breath. When she opened her eyes again, her usual expression had returned. With utmost seriousness, she asked Claude, "Will I be able to see you again someday?"

Claude smiled. "Of course. It won't be long before we meet again."

A somewhat elderly yet dignified female knight said to Claude, "Mr. Claude, you are an exceptionally outstanding young man. It's a pity we did not discover you sooner."

"You flatter me, Grand Knight. With all of you here, this country does not lack one more person like me."

After saying that, Claude smiled faintly and looked at the white-haired girl beside him.

"So, where are you headed, miss?"

Centaurea looked at Claude. "What other choice do I have? Take me with you."

"It would be my honor."

A New Beginning: Chapter Fourteen — Road Trip?

Claude turned to his sole apprentice, Maria, and said, "Maria, I've been your bargain-bin master for so long, yet I haven't truly taught you much. The method I told you for training yourself should be useful if you practice diligently. Of course, you can also do things you're better at and enjoy more."

Maria smiled brightly. "I understand, Master. By the time you return, I'll definitely become a famous master mechanic."

"Don't slack off on your swordsmanship either!" Claude added helplessly. "O-Of course!!" Maria's face immediately turned red.

"And you lot, when I get back, let's have a drink together." Claude called out to Martin and the others he used to drink with.

"Oh, please. You only ever drink one cup each time. Who wants to drink with you?" A rare trace of embarrassment appeared on Claude's face.

"Alright, get going. You look like someone destined for great things. I knew you wouldn't stay here long." Old Martin laughed as he chased him off. "Oh, and this too. I've already maintained your weapons for you. Maria handled the Originium circuits." Kowal tossed over a weapon bag packed full of gear.

Claude put the things beside the off-road vehicle's seat, then leaned out and waved vigorously to everyone.

After fastening his seat belt, Claude prepared to start the vehicle and leave. Centaurea suddenly seemed to remember something and asked, "Can you drive?"

Claude grinned. "You can drive something like this just on momentum. Besides, I practiced for two hours just now. I've completely mastered it."

Centaurea's face went pale. "So that means..."

"That's right. I just started practicing."

The off-road vehicle sped away in a massive cloud of dust, carrying Centaurea's screams with it.

"Then let me drive if you can't! Aaaaaah!!!"

The off-road vehicle drove steadily across the wilderness, Claude's feet moving expertly between the controls. Naturally, what he had said about not being able to drive had been a joke. Claude had easily mastered how this machine worked. After all, it would not throw tantrums, and it basically never got tired. Compared to caring for a griffin, this was much easier.

"Have you really made up your mind? The place I'm going is the Ursus tundra. Conditions there are far from good."

"I've made up my mind. The Armorless Union might not be able to deal with you, but taking care of an insignificant nobody like me would be no problem. I can't stay in that city anymore. Besides, you don't seem like the kind of boss who kills the donkey after it's done grinding the millstone, so I came to follow you." Centaurea reclined in her seat. Her top was very short, exposing her slim yet toned waist.

"Oh, then good. You're my first subordinate." Claude stared straight ahead, the corners of his lips curling slightly.

Night fell, and they found a sheltered place to camp between three enormous boulders. They parked the vehicle outside to block the wind.

They lit a campfire and warmed some rations for dinner.

"Tonight, we'll take turns keeping watch. You take the first half, and I'll take the second. Wake me later."

After seeing her nod, Claude said nothing more. He covered himself with a blanket and fell asleep in just three minutes, his breathing even and steady. Seeing this tall young man sleep so quickly and peacefully, the girl was somewhat speechless. He really trusted her.

Amid the crackling of firewood, Centaurea sat idly on a rock, her intricate, precision-made longbow resting across her knees. One hand supported her chin as she stared blankly at the fire.

As time passed, Centaurea's attention was involuntarily drawn to the sleeping Claude. It seemed she had only just noticed how long his legs were—strong and well-proportioned, taking up more than half the space in the cave. Those long legs, perfectly proportioned to his body, made even her, as a girl, feel a little jealous.

"Tch. No wonder he runs so fast..."

Time passed swiftly. The fire was nearly out, so Centaurea found some dry wood and added it to the flames. She silently calculated the time, preparing to wake him in another two hours. An arrow remained nocked on her bow the entire time. Centaurea was no ignorant fool. She knew how dangerous it was outside mobile cities, filled with all kinds of Originium-infected beasts and scavengers.

The time was up. If she woke him now, she could still sleep a few more hours. Thinking this, Centaurea walked over to Claude and looked down at him. Suddenly, a whim struck her. She reached toward his black horse ears. Before her fingers could touch those glossy black ears, they twitched on their own. She found it amusing, a smile appearing on her lips as she could not help reaching out again.

A long, powerful hand suddenly seized her wrist. Claude had opened his eyes at some unknown moment, and they gleamed with the cold light of blades. Once he saw it was her, the light faded from his gaze.

He released her hand and sat up, folding his blanket with remarkable speed before giving her the spot.

"Next time, just call my name. Don't get so close," Claude reminded her.

Without saying a word, Centaurea burrowed into the blanket. Her face felt frighteningly hot, and her heart raced as she worried Claude had noticed what she had just done. She tossed and turned for half an hour before slowly falling asleep.

The cold morning wind blew across Centaurea's face and woke her. She climbed up groggily. Claude had already begun preparing to leave. He extinguished the fire, folded the blankets, and loaded their supplies into the vehicle. After finishing all that, he turned to Centaurea and said, "Awake? Time to go."

Morning sunlight shone from behind him, passing through his black hair and casting a faint golden sheen over his entire body. Centaurea suddenly froze, then immediately snapped back to herself.

"Mm, okay." A faint smile appeared on her face.

Most places in this world had no roads. Even if roads were built, Catastrophes would quickly destroy them. Over time, no one bothered with such a thankless task. Only some economically developed mobile cities built roads in the places they frequently traveled through, making it easier to develop their trade and economy.

Because of the terrible conditions outside mobile cities, most vehicles driven beyond the cities had wide tires and high chassis to improve stability on rough terrain.

But that did not mean traveling through the wilderness was comfortable. No matter how powerful the suspension system was, it could not handle ground shattered to pieces by Catastrophes. Just like now, the ride over such terrain was extremely bumpy. Every time they crossed a rock or drove over a narrow ditch, a huge force rose from beneath them, throwing their entire bodies upward before slamming them back into their seats. After a day of jolting, their bodies were exhausted.

By the time the sun set, they had not found a suitable campsite. The entire wilderness was an endless stretch of flat land, without any cover at all. With no other choice, they decided to spend the night in the vehicle. Claude still took the latter half of the watch.

In the middle of the night, Claude was poking at the campfire with a stick when his hand suddenly stopped. The horse ears atop his head twitched slightly.

His fingers moved, and the stick flew out, striking Centaurea's blanket as she slept. She showed no reaction, but Claude clearly heard her breathing change.

One, two, three, four, Claude counted silently. Five! Claude suddenly turned, pulled a throwing spear from the bag behind him, spun, and hurled it.

"Ah!!" A piercing scream rang out as a black figure crawling along the ground was pinned to the earth.

That scream instantly shattered the silence of the night. Several black figures abruptly rose from the ground. Before they could move, an arrow suddenly pierced one of their heads.

The tremendous force of the arrow sent him flying backward. Seeing this, the remaining people gritted their teeth and charged forward.

Two more arrows flew in succession, each accurately striking a head. The last man rushed before Claude, only to have his attention drawn by the screams of his companions behind him. Before he could turn around to look, a sharp sword sliced him diagonally from shoulder to waist, cutting him into two. Before a great amount of blood could spray out, Claude nimbly leaped backward, avoiding the mist of blood.

He took a branch from the brightly burning campfire and used its flame to inspect the attackers.

These people wore extremely ragged clothes. Some were simply wrapped in animal hides. They had tied scrap iron plates or wooden boards over vital areas with rope, serving as barely adequate protection. Their weapons were spiked wooden clubs or crude iron axes, apparently homemade.

"They're scavengers," Centaurea said from nearby. "That's right. Looks like we can't stay here any longer. Let's leave first."

They recovered the throwing spear and arrows from the scavengers. There was nothing worth looting from them anyway; defeating them only got you trash, which was why people rarely bothered provoking them.

After extinguishing the fire and collecting their supplies, Claude said to the girl beside him as the off-road vehicle sped onward, "Sleep a little more. The road is still smooth for now." Centaurea nodded, covered herself with a blanket, reclined her seat, and lay down to sleep.

This time, the girl was awakened by a violent jolt. Her head slammed hard into the car door.

Rubbing her forehead, she sat up. The sun outside had already climbed high in the sky. Before she could fully regain her bearings, the vehicle suddenly stopped. Claude got out, shielded his eyes with a hand, and looked into the distance. Before long, he seemed to spot something and beckoned Centaurea over.

"Look over there." Following Claude's direction, Centaurea's excellent eyesight clearly picked out three small beasts two hundred meters away. They had brownish-yellow fur and short horns. Their four legs were slender and long, making them look highly suited for running. Their long ears turned alertly from side to side.

"Think you can hit them?" At Claude's question, Centaurea curled her lip disdainfully. "Of course. Any archer with a little skill could do it." As she spoke, she raised her bow slightly and drew it to full extension. The bow's complex pulley mechanism gave a creak.

She released the string. The arrow shot out like a black meteor, arcing through the air and accurately striking one of the small beasts that was lowering its head to graze. Its companions scattered in fright.

She quickly drew another arrow, nocked it, pulled the bow taut, and fired. One of the small beasts, sprinting at full speed, fell with a cry.

"Alright, that's enough." Claude ran over with some satisfaction and retrieved the prey.

He quickly lit a campfire, skinned the prey with a dagger, removed the innards that could not be processed, cut down a branch, and skewered the animals on it to roast over the fire.

Wild game like this had very little fat, so roasting it directly would make it tough and dry. But if it was dried into jerky, it could be preserved for a long time.

Claude gathered the fat from both animals in a small bowl and heated it over the fire. Once clear, glistening oil had rendered out, he dipped a small brush made of dry grass into it and spread it over the prey browning over the flames.

As the oil seeped into the dry muscle fibers, the roasted meat released an intense aroma. He then sprinkled on some seasoning and cut into the thicker portions with his knife, allowing them to cook more evenly.

Once the meat was properly done, the two of them eagerly dug in. Eaten with rations and water, it had a flavor all its own. After eating and drinking their fill, Claude used his dagger to slice the meat from the other animal into thin strips, placed them on slender branches, and smoked them over smoldering coals. During the smoking process, he continuously brushed the remaining fat over them.

Once the jerky's moisture content had fallen to a sufficiently low level, Claude put it away and wrapped it in cloth. It added a little protein to their journey ahead.

The vehicle continued onward. Claude said to Centaurea beside him, "Check the map. How far are we from the next settlement? We're running out of water, and we need to replenish other supplies too."

"Judging by the landmarks over there, the next settlement should be a little over a hundred kilometers away. Chris Town, to the west."

"Alright, we'll head there first." Claude said this while chewing on a piece of jerky.

The hundred-kilometer journey took only about half an hour with the vehicle moving at full speed. They successfully reached the town.

After arriving outside the town, the two parked the vehicle and got out, only to stare at each other.

The town, which should have shown signs of life, was now utterly silent. Tangled weeds covered the roads, with no one around to clear them. The only sound in the entire town came from a black feathered beast perched in a treetop, making harsh, grating cries.

A New Beginning: Chapter Fifteen — It Really Is a Road Trip! (Certain)

The only impression this town gave was deathly silence. Its walls were moldy and cracked, clearly uninhabited for a long time, while weeds covered the ground.

According to their original plan, they should have replenished their resources by now. Perhaps they could even have slept soundly here for a night, rested, and taken a bath. That was obviously impossible now. They could only go in and investigate, to see what remained.

A sword blade pushed aside the weeds at the entrance, revealing the door behind them. The paint on it had already peeled away, while the wood had rotted green and looked extremely fragile. Claude reached out and gently pushed the door open. What met his eyes was a dilapidated living room, its floorboards broken apart and scattered, exposing the sand and gravel beneath.

He took a step forward. Dark green filthy water seeped from the damp carpet beneath his feet. Moss covered it, and it gave off a powerful smell of mold. The window glass was obscured by dust, leaving the sunlight unable to enter at all.

Continuing farther inside, they found torn paper scattered across the floor, shattered bowls and plates, and rotted, moldy wooden tables and chairs. Claude reached out, grabbed one leg of a table, and snapped it off with a gentle tug. Looking at the pale fracture in the wood, Claude muttered to himself.

"Judging by the thickness of the dust, no one has come here for at least two years. But why are the wooden objects here so badly decayed? The humidity is also very wrong."

It was not until he reached the second floor that he finally solved his doubts.

The air here was even more humid. The floor was not made of dry boards, but wet mud. Moss grew over the mud, which was also mixed with all kinds of trash. One round, flattened bug after another, their cracked surfaces covering their bodies, wriggled across the ground.

Each of these bugs was several dozen centimeters long. Some were covered in spikes, while others had several tentacles. Their bodies were yellow or red. They left clear trails of slime wherever they crawled.

These things could be found everywhere in this world. Everyone knew them: Originium Slugs, the most common infected creatures. These creatures were Terra's scavengers. They could eat almost anything, especially Acid Originium Slugs. The acid they secreted was highly corrosive and helped them soften their food.

Originium Slugs naturally preferred warm, humid environments, so they altered their nests. That explained why the room was so damp.

However, while Originium Slugs were numerous, they were also the weakest infected creatures. Given the size of this town, they should not have been responsible for its current state. Claude considered this as he continued searching.

He casually swung his sword, killing two Originium Slugs crawling toward him, and headed deeper into the building. It was not until he reached a bedroom at the very end that he found what he was looking for. Several skeletons draped in tattered strips of cloth lay on the floor.

Claude crouched down and carefully examined the remains. The bones had been corroded by Originium Slugs for a long time and had become brittle and rotten, but marks from blades were still visible on them.

He carefully lifted a small skull from the floor and gently turned it in his hands. There was a highly obvious wound on the cranium, about five centimeters deep, nearly splitting the skull in two. It was unclear whether the wound had been caused by a sword, an axe, or another sharp weapon.

He then picked up a femur beside it. Looking at its smooth break, Claude's expression grew serious. Such a clean cross-section could never have been made by scavengers wielding crude weapons.

"The edges were ground very finely. Their weapons were of excellent quality."

He stood and searched around some more.

"The attackers probably charged in through the main entrance on the first floor while the townspeople were unprepared, drove them to the second floor, and finally trapped and killed them in the innermost bedroom."

"The attackers were well-organized. The entire assault was carefully planned and highly disciplined. They did not even let anyone escape." Claude frowned as he reached his final conclusion.

"It was probably a military force, or at the very least a well-equipped private armed force."

Claude did not know why those people had destroyed this town. But more than two years had passed since the tragedy. He would find neither the perpetrators nor the victims.

After looking around town, the one fortunate discovery was that the central well had been properly covered with a large stone slab, and the water inside had not gone bad.

He sent a signal toward a distant hillside. Before long, Centaurea drove their off-road vehicle over to the well. She had been standing on high ground, providing him cover.

"The good news is that we found water. The bad news is that we only found water."

Centaurea suddenly let out a breath of relief. Seeing the state of the town, she had thought there would not even be water.

"If we have water, we can take a bath."

Centaurea stared at Claude in astonishment as he said exactly what she had wanted to say before her.

"You're not bathing? Then I'll go first." Claude looked at Centaurea. She shot him an annoyed, embarrassed glance.

"I'm bathing first." After saying that, she began tidying up, drawing water from the well and cleaning out a room.

Claude watched her carry several buckets of water inside before locking the door. For a moment, he had nothing to do. Naturally, he would not do something as shameless as peeping on a lady while she bathed.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up as though he had thought of something. He reached up, undid the strap at his shoulder, and removed one of his pauldrons. Then he rummaged through his bag and pulled out a bottle of gold paint. He had swiped the paint from Kowal. Apparently, it was a fairly high-grade product that was waterproof, wear-resistant, and easy to use.

He had taken it because he wanted to paint an honor mark onto his armor. It was a bit of legion culture from his time in the First Legion. The more elaborate and luxurious the patterns on a knight's armor, the more respect he tended to receive from his comrades, because each symbol represented a battle. Armor markings could be designed by the wearer, but each battle could only have one pattern. It only needed to convey the time, place, and name of the battle.

Claude dipped a brush into the gold paint and drew a graceful arc over the black pauldron. Before long, smooth and intricate patterns took shape across the shoulder. It was a commemoration of the honor Claude had earned in the tournament. Only after completing the final stroke did Claude put away his brush and leave the paint on the pauldron to dry.