Sir Berrin felt like he'd been trapped in a nightmare these past few days.
He was a noble—how could commoners treat him like this?!
Just thinking about the past few days made his throat twitch. He felt like vomiting at any moment.
Ever since the knights had been defeated by those repulsive Gloom, they had been locked away by the villagers in a damp, crude cellar.
The worst part was that the despicable commoner had actually assigned several Gloom to take turns guarding them.
Gods, this was a cellar—poorly ventilated and stifling. The entire place was filled with a dizzying stench.
Just remembering it made Berrin feel like vomiting up the coarse black bread he'd eaten that morning.
"I am a noble! How dare you treat me like this?!" Furious, Berrin stormed up to the cellar door and roared upward.
But no matter how loudly he shouted or screamed, no one responded—only faint wafts of foul odor drifted down from above.
"Berrin, stop yelling. Those villagers have no intention of letting us out," one of the other nobles said weakly.
There were eight nobles in total locked in the cellar. When they were first thrown in, they'd all reacted the same way—shouting threats and demands. But now, only Berrin still persisted.
Berrin clenched his teeth and walked back, angry. "Unbelievable. Have all of you given up already?"
"What else can we do?" one of the noblemen sat huddled in a corner, arms wrapped around his knees, head buried. His voice was laced with fear of the unknown.
"What do you think these villagers plan to do with us?" another noble asked, his voice trembling.
Darkness and uncertainty always bred fear, and during this time, their minds had been through relentless torment.
"Don't worry. We're nobles—they wouldn't dare kill us," Sir Berrin snorted.
He still had confidence in this belief. Their status alone would make the villagers hesitate. Otherwise, the villagers would risk incurring the wrath of the nobility from Aspiration City.
Although Fruitvale Village had tamed a large number of Gloom and Mightyena, they were still too weak to challenge the entire nobility of Aspiration City.
These villagers were probably just using them as bargaining chips—to restrain the nobles and secure some form of gain. All they had to do was sit tight and wait for rescue.
Creak.
Suddenly, the lid to the cellar opened, letting a shaft of light cut into the dim space.
The nobles immediately stood up, a spark of hope kindling in their hearts at Berrin's words.
"Hey, still alive down there?"
Simon poked his head in, scanning the nobles. Confirming they were all alive, he grinned. "Time for some fresh air."
"Fresh air?" The nobles were stunned. A moment later, one of them lit up. Were they being released?
Had Aspiration City's reinforcements finally arrived? Not too late, it seemed. Berrin also breathed a sigh of relief. Although he'd acted confident, he had been secretly uneasy.
As the nobles speculated, a wooden ladder was lowered into the cellar.
Without hesitation, Berrin scrambled up. He couldn't bear to stay in that place a moment longer.
"You filthy—" Berrin had just emerged and instinctively began to curse, but stopped short.
The commoner in front of him casually pulled out a long rope and tied his hands together.
After securing the knots, Simon turned to Berrin with a grin. "What were you just about to say?"
Berrin froze and swallowed his words. His mind raced—what was going on? Wasn't this just a fresh air break?
The other nobles climbed out too, each having their hands bound. All wore confused expressions.
"Follow me. Someone wants to see you," Simon tugged on the rope, pulling the nobles—tied together—toward the village entrance.
As they walked, the villagers saw the procession and began pointing and whispering.
The nobles' faces turned from red to pale. They wanted to lash out but held back when they saw the grinning Mightyena nearby. With anger buried deep in their chests, they followed the villagers forward.
Berrin's expression was grim, his eyes sharp and hateful as they swept over each villager, as though memorizing every face for future revenge.
Suddenly, his gaze froze on a man among the villagers—a man wearing knight's armor. Berrin recognized him as a member of the knight order.
Why was a knight walking among the villagers? Had he… betrayed them?
Berrin's heart filled with questions, but before he could process it, he saw another knight—this one turned and walked away the moment their eyes met, but Berrin still recognized him.
More than one traitor?
As they reached the village entrance, another squad of knights appeared—marching in formation.
Berrin was stunned. He recognized them as members of the 13th Knight Squad.
What was happening? Had the entire squad defected?
Clearly, these knights recognized the nobles too. The captain at the front froze, panic washing over him. He quickly led the squad off the path, running in a different direction, avoiding eye contact entirely.
"What's going on with these knights?" one of the nobles finally couldn't hold back. His voice trembled as he asked.
Hearing the question, Simon paused mid-step, then turned back and grinned. "What's going on?"
Before the noble could answer, Simon continued, "The misunderstanding between us and the knight order has been resolved. We're friends now—you saw them, didn't you?"
As he spoke, another squad of knights ran across the grassy field. It was morning training time, and this patch of land had become a training ground.
At that moment, the nobles were all stunned.
The misunderstanding between Fruitvale Village and the knight order had been resolved?
Misunderstanding? What misunderstanding?
And if things were settled… then what about them?
"W-we've been abandoned…?" one of the nobles trembled all over.
That terrifying thought rooted itself in their minds—and refused to leave.
(End of Chapter)