Chapter 1

When you think of a knight, you picture a formidable warrior clad in rugged armor with an elegant mantle fluttering behind them, a prized straight sword hanging ostentatiously at their hip. They’re the type to head off to some cave to slay a dragon, or come galloping home to the rhythmic thunder of hooves in a triumphal return, earning the respect of the common folk through their kindness.

…Well, that’s a bit wordy, so to summarize: it’s basically the number one profession every young boy dreams of holding.

That was exactly why an idiot like me spent his childhood as a hot-blooded youth, earnestly aiming to become a knight until I finally crashed into the military academy. Of course, it wasn’t easy. Birds of a feather flock together, and naturally, the place was packed with idiots from all over the country who had the exact same idea.

If my parents had been wealthy or knights themselves, I could have gotten in as a scholarship student through a simple entrance exam, but a commoner like me didn’t have those kinds of connections or cash. I had to shove my way through thousands of applicants every year, enduring a grueling selection process across academics, practical skills, and interviews until the pool was narrowed down to just five slots. Wedging myself into that tiny opening was a monumental task.

Looking back, I feel like I probably used up all my “hot-bloodedness” right then and there. Idiots aren’t known for their long-term planning.

By the way, while the academy offers a direct line into the national knighthood, the class size is only twenty people per year—and fifteen of those spots are already filled by “special students” from the upper class. It’s a wonderful example of a stratified society. The rich and the privileged can go jump in a lake.

I’m getting off track, but anyway, it was around that time I started feeling in my gut that this wasn’t quite the “knighthood” I’d aimed for. During my miserable school life, eleven of the people I met on the very first day did nothing but brag about their family lineages. Five of them followed me around with condescending remarks, two tried to drag me down a path of vice and corruption, and about four others decided to ignore me entirely as if I were some lowly peasant. I only managed to make two actual friends.

Incidentally, those two were the second son of the King and the daughter of a tycoon who happened to be the most beautiful girl in the academy.

Thanks to them, the looks of pure jealousy I got from everyone else were intense. You guys kept complaining about “making connections” or “marrying into wealth,” but that’s what happens when you keep pushing me away instead of trying to be my friend, isn’t it? Besides, those two are so oblivious that they didn’t even realize I was being ostracized because of them. This is why I can’t stand silver-spoon brats. I mean, I forgive them, but still.

After this and that happened, we graduated. And after some other things happened, my best friend and I got caught up in the moment and made a ridiculous vow that “we would be the ones to lead the future of the knighthood!” But in reality, the knighthood was just as divided by class as the academy had been from the start. There was no way a commoner like me was going to get on the fast track to a promotion.

The second prince went to the Holy Vessel Knights, who handled the external defense of our island nation.

The tycoon’s daughter went to the Holy Shield Knights, the guardians of the Royal Capital.

And I was sent somewhere that wasn’t particularly “holy” at all.

“Varna-kun! A big one’s headed your way!!”

“On it. Knight Varna, beginning his charge…”

My senior’s voice echoed through the forest, where the humidity was so oppressive I felt like tearing my clothes off. Still smeared in mud and dead leaves from lying in wait, I drew my cherished sword—the only thing about me that looked like a knight’s—from the dirt and kicked off the ground into a sprint. There are plenty of reasons and circumstances as to why I was dressed so un-knightly and why I was giving my senior such half-hearted replies, but let’s set those aside for now.

Thud, thud! The ground shook as the shadow of a grotesque monster lunged into my field of vision.

“PUGYAAAAAAA!!”

Standing before me was a green colossus, a mountain of a creature a full head taller than a large man.

Its skin was covered in wart-like bumps and almost entirely hairless. Its face looked as though it had been smashed in with a rock, its nose and jaw twisted into the shape of an infuriated pig. The massive club it carried, fitting for its size, was stained with a dark red liquid, forming a mottled pattern that sent chills down my spine.

Disgusting. And honestly, it was irritating that its body odor wasn’t actually that strong.

If it smelled worse, I could have found it sooner; why did it have to be so clean in such a useless way?

Though, if it did smell terrible, I’d probably hate that too.

The creature’s name was an Orc.

As of right now, they are the most violent, crude, and primitive demi-human organisms in this kingdom. They are an invasive species of monster that occupies a very specific, annoying niche: smarter than an animal, but dumber than a human.

They look like pig-men modified to be as hideous as possible. If left alone, they kill people and horses, plunder crops, kidnap women, and have an absurdly high reproduction rate. They are essentially automated, self-replicating human-harassment machines.

Since we couldn’t just leave such a nuisance alone, the Orcs were currently in the middle of being “enthusiastically” exterminated.

The one charging at me was the boss of a pack that was currently fleeing after its comrades had been taken out. Perhaps it was exhausted from the humans’ sudden ambush, but I couldn’t feel its usual vibrant fighting spirit in that crushed face of his.

It’s the way of the world: if your will to fight is weak, you lose. Therefore, I would be the winner.

Holding my precious sword—a gift from His Majesty—low at my hip, I became a shimmering silver blade, flying like an arrow without losing a shred of my sprinting momentum.

“Kingdom Offensive Sword Style, Third Form—Flying Swallow!!”

“Bu… GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!?!?”

In an instant, the Orc’s belly was slashed open in a single horizontal line, and a piering scream rang out through the forest.

Using that momentum, I instantly stepped into the enemy’s range, horizontal-slashing as I passed to prevent any chance of a counterattack. The Third Form, “Flying Swallow,” was the most practical finishing move in the Kingdom’s Offensive Sword Style.

The moment I confirmed the strike had landed, I pivoted. To ensure it stayed dead before it could bleed out from the stomach wound, I spun my body like a top and delivered a follow-up blow. Hurry up and die already.

“Seventh Form—Harrier!!”

“Gyah…!?”

The horizontal slash traced a beautiful semi-circle as it was sucked into the Orc’s neck, and its head took to the air without a sound.

No longer able to make a sound without a head, the Orc showered the area in a spray of blood before finally expiring.

Orcs possess incredible vitality and have a nasty habit of not dying from a simple disemboweling, so you can’t really rest easy until the head is off.

As if to confirm the job was done, the middle-aged senior who had called out to me earlier came wobbling over.

It wasn’t that he was injured; he just hadn’t slept off last night’s booze and was still drunk as a skunk.

Talk about an irreverent knight. I wish someone would offer me some sympathy for having to work in a team with a guy like this.

“Hey there, Var~na! This forest’s ground is like a sponge, it’s so fun to walk on~!”

“This is exactly why I told you to take it easy on the drinks last night… You’re going to get back-attacked by an Orc and die on duty one of these days, Senior Rock.”

“Whew♪ Spoken like a true future Commander of the Pig-Hunt Knights! Both your blade and your tongue are sharp as ever. This big brother’s eyes are getting misty just seeing such a reliable junior!”

My eyes are getting misty just thinking about the fact that this guy is my senior—and not in a good way.

Still, that should have been the last of our targets for this extermination mission. This meant I wouldn’t have to look at another damn Orc’s face for a while. It looked like I’d finally be making a triumphal return to the Royal Capital after three weeks away.

Though, for all the high difficulty of hunting Orcs, the achievement itself tended to be undervalued.

The “Pig-Hunt Knights.” That was the derogatory nickname for my unit, the Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights.

“The Pig-Hunt Knights… A hundred years ago, some monsters that had broken out in a massive surge on the continent drifted to this kingdom and went feral. When the time came to wipe them out, the high-born knights all flat-out refused, saying ‘We can’t be expected to do such lowly work!’ The Kingdom was at its wits’ end, so they made an exception and opened the gates of knighthood wide to commoners. That’s how this order was formed… It might not be something to brag about even if you move up the ranks, but the expectations they have for you, Varna-kun, are the real deal.”

“And what kind of ‘real deal’ are we talking about here…?”

“Word is, you’re being promoted to Vice-Commander starting next year.”

“Huh? Wait… are you serious?”

“Dead serious. Second year in the order and already Vice-Commander? That’s the fastest in history. It’s the Commander’s way of shaking things up, see.”

I reflexively asked for clarification at the bolt-from-the-blue news, and Rock’s face suddenly turned dead serious.

This man had a convenient constitution that allowed him to switch between “Drunk Mode” and “Serious Mode” at will. Thanks to that, I’d spent countless years in a situation where I’d try to cover for his drunken antics only to end up looking like the one causing the scene.

Thinking back on it just makes me angrier. I’ll definitely get him back for that someday.

Anyway, back to the point.

The Pig-Hunt Knights were reasonably well-loved by the citizens, but within the Royal Guard, we were seen as the newest, most vulgar, bottom-tier, low-status group—the ones to be looked down upon. Since he served as the leader of such an order, Commander Luger—the second-generation commander—had to have a thick skin. His level of sketchiness and the sheer length of his beard were truly off the charts.

For a man like that to suddenly decide to make me Vice-Commander meant he was definitely plotting something no good.

“What is that bearded geezer planning? Has he gone senile?”

“Maybe he’s thinking of retiring because he’s gone senile~♪”

“…That actually sounds plausible. I bet that old man has a plan for everything he needs to do before he retires, carved into his brain down to the year, month, and day.”

Knowing the wily Commander Luger, he was absolutely doing exactly that.

He usually put on the act of a pleasant old grandpa, but in reality, he was far too skilled at juggling public facades and private agendas, using his silver tongue to pull others into his schemes. There was no doubt that this decision was backed by some grand master plan.

“Right~? But no matter if it’s the Pig-Hunt Knights, a promotion is something to celebrate. You can treat your mom and dad to a nice meal, and above all, successful commoner knights are popular with the ladies. You’re more approachable than the nobles, after all!”

“Well, I agree that it’ll be good for my family, but…”

“With that settled, let’s go hit on some girls together when we get back to the Capital! I’ll show you my legendary pick-up techniques! You’d better watch and learn if you want to know how to win a woman’s heart, okay~?”

What is this middle-aged guy, who’s currently on a losing streak in his romantic history, even talking about?

Lost in thought, I thrust a yellow flag into the ground.

This was a marker for the order’s body recovery team to find later. Orc blood is fundamentally toxic, so once you kill them, you have to transport the corpse along with the surrounding soil to a purification plant. They’re a pain in the neck even when they’re dead.

And doing this tedious but necessary work is exactly what we, the “Pig-Hunt Knights,” do.

“I’d rather drop an Orc’s head than try to win a girl’s heart.”

“Geez, my junior is scary…”

Right now, I am an Orc-killing machine.

If an Orc enters your sight, kill it.

If it doesn’t, find it and kill it.

If you fail to kill it, keep killing it until it’s dead.

And so, today as always, I continue to exterminate the enemies of the Kingdom for my measly salary.