Xizer paused deliberately, his eyes shimmering with sorrow. "Witnessing his homeland in ruins, he vowed to rebuild it into a land of peace and prosperity."
"What happened next?" The children leaned forward, captivated.
"Arthur's courage and charisma won over heroes from all corners of the land. The most renowned knights flocked to his side, forming the legendary Round Table." Xizer's voice rose with excitement. "This fearless host followed King Arthur into battle after battle, conquering all in their path."
"If only I could roam the continent like him, protecting the people..." Bivis murmured, a fiery light igniting in his eyes.
The moment had come. Xizer raised his arm, his voice laced with enchantment. "Bivis, join my cause! Conquer this world with me!"
The youths' hearts were already ablaze with the passionate legend. Bivis took a deep breath and suddenly thrust his fist into the air. "What gives a snot-nosed kid the right to lead us? I, Bivis, am the true hero destined to save the world! Who will follow me to achieve immortal glory?"
"I'll follow you!"
"Count me in!"
All except the silent Mylon gathered behind Bivis, crowding around the strongest boy among them.
Unfazed, Xizer casually waved the dried meat. "Those who don't follow me won't get to taste this delicacy."
Bivis wrestled with the decision for a moment but ultimately found the path of a king more enticing. He puffed out his chest. "Those who pledge loyalty to me shall be well rewarded." Then, lowering his voice to Xizer, he added, "If you offer me the meat, I'll make you my chief knight."
Xizer studied him with a look of utter disbelief before deciding it wasn't worth a response.
The temptation of the jerky proved too strong to resist. One by one, the children drifted back to Xizer's side. Dreams of heroism were fine, but tangible treats were better.
"I challenge you to a duel!" Bivis suddenly leaped forward, battle blazing in his eyes. "The winner takes all! If I lose, I'll follow your command."
"Are you sure?" Xizer raised an eyebrow.
"A true king proves his worth through strength!" Bivis declared firmly.
The other children chimed in, "Beat Bivis, and we'll acknowledge you as our king!"
"I'm not sure that's a good idea..." Xizer offered a shy smile. Mylon, seeing that familiar grin, covered his eyes in secondhand embarrassment.
Bivis pointed at the dried meat and added, "If I win, that's mine!"
"If you insist..." Xizer gave a slight nod.
"Begin!" At the signal, Bivis charged like a wild bull, aiming to tackle Xizer around the waist and throw him to the ground.
But Xizer merely pressed a hand lightly against Bivis's back. With a dull thud, the sturdy boy found himself sprawled awkwardly on the ground.
It was over in an instant.
The duel ended so quickly that no one could process it. Bivis was the strongest kid in the village—his father was a seasoned hunter, and even the older boys avoided fighting him.
"You cheated! How could you possibly beat Bivis?" The older children stared in disbelief at Xizer's slender arm, then at Bivis lying face-down on the ground.
Bivis struggled to his feet, fear flickering in his eyes for the first time.
Xizer shrugged innocently and tapped the tip of his nose.
Getting no answers and seeing the terror on Bivis's face, the older boys exchanged uneasy glances and scattered. Who'd want to take orders from a three-year-old? The humiliation would be unbearable.
Years later, when these same men, now old, boasted about being the first candidates for King Xizer's Scourge Legion, their proud expressions would always carry a tinge of lingering regret.
Bivis hesitated for a moment but ultimately stayed where he was.
Xizer studied his first loyal follower, pleased with the boy's resolute face, though he thought he looked a bit too lean—lacking the robust fortune of a true leader.
"Here." Xizer tossed him the dried meat. "At your current level, you're not ready to march with me into battle."
Bivis caught the jerky in a daze, his eyes wide with disbelief. Only when his fingers registered the real texture did he accept it wasn't an illusion.
"To the warriors who follow me," Xizer declared, raising an eyebrow and sweeping his arm through the air with grand flair, "I, King Xizer, always reward loyalty."
Nestled where the northern tundra meets the mountains, Spool Village lay shrouded in perpetual frost. This land teemed with rare magical beasts, yet its treacherous terrain deterred merchant caravans—only weather-beaten adventurers ever paused here to restock their supplies.
Had anyone witnessed the scene at the village entrance, none would have guessed that the young man struggling with smoked jerky would one day become a legendary general under the throne of Xize. Watching Beavis blissfully gnaw at the dried meat, Xize sighed and massaged his temples—so this was the pure joy of ignorance.
Acquiring his first follower with nothing but a strip of jerky left Xize torn between amusement and despair. Shaking his head, he murmured, "I need a stiff drink."
As he crossed the snow-dusted cobblestones, the rhythmic clang of hammering from the smithy struck his ears like war drums. Xize froze mid-step. Beneath the apparent chaos of strikes, he detected a resonance with the natural order—this blacksmith was performing a masterful symphony.
If others could reveal their extraordinary nature through craft, why couldn't he? Suddenly, enlightenment flashed in Xize's eyes. Countless heroes from the legends had forged their destinies at the anvil—this was clearly fate offering an opportunity.
Pushing open the frost-rimed wooden door, he was met by a wave of heat carrying coal dust. A two-meter giant sweated before the forge, corded muscles rippling with each hammer swing. Beads of perspiration dripped from his golden cropped hair onto the glowing steel, hissing into steam.
Three mercenaries watched the forging process with pilgrim-like reverence. When they discerned the shape of the emerging weapon, they exchanged bewildered glances.
"Those patterns... it's a kitchen knife?"
"The curvature confirms it."
"..."
Francis the blacksmith quenched the red-hot blade in the water trough. Wreathed in steam, he snatched a towel to wipe his chest and eyed the stunned mercenaries. "You know the rules?"
The mercenary captain hastily presented supplies. "We seek your bladesmithing."
As materials melted into molten gold within the forge, the hammering resumed. When the second kitchen knife came flying toward him, the captain fumbled to catch it. The lingering warmth in the steel left him speechless.
"Ninety percent of the materials remain..." His hand trembled around the kitchen knife. "Could you forge a real combat blade?" He gestured to the sword at his hip.
Francis tightened his grip on the hammer. "Looking for a fight?"
"How did you know I was about to make a move?" The mercenary captain was inwardly shaken. Was human interaction really this hard to decipher?
He took a deep breath, forcing the surging energy back into his chest. After a long silence, this battle-hardened mercenary leader finally recomposed himself, using every ounce of his self-control to maintain his dignity.
"Honored Master..."
His words were cut off before he could finish.
"Just a country blacksmith. Don't call me master." Francis waved dismissively, the forge flames dancing behind him.
The mercenary captain pondered for a moment before cautiously proposing: "In that case... let's pretend we never came here today. We'll leave this blade with you, and just take the materials."
"No." Francis shook his head firmly. "Take the kitchen knife with you. The materials stay." He sighed inwardly - business was getting harder these days. Once an order was accepted, there was no backing out.
"You yourself call it a kitchen knife. How can I possibly take it back?" The captain's address had subtly changed, the honorifics gone.
"Can you deny that a kitchen knife is still a knife?" Francis asked with complete seriousness.
"..."
"Are you determined to be unreasonable?" The mercenary captain's expression turned cold. "What if I insist on taking everything?"
Francis replied calmly: "Feel free to try."
Somehow, the mercenaries eventually left empty-handed, taking neither the materials nor the knife.
"Why did we back down like that?" Mercenary A grumbled, feeling the retreat was too cowardly.
"Wouldn't bringing it back still count as completing the mission? After all, a kitchen knife... is still a kind of knife, right?" Mercenary B chimed in.
The captain looked at them as if they were fools. He suddenly realized he hadn't been teaching his subordinates properly - how had he never noticed they were this stupid?
As their leader, improving his men's wisdom was part of his job. So he asked: "Do you really think that noble who posted the S-rank mission just wanted a knife?"
Without waiting for their response, he continued: "If it's not about the knife, then it's about the man. Either they value him and are using this as an excuse to send resources - that's not someone we can afford to offend. Or..." his voice dropped, "...they're purely looking for an excuse to deal with him - and that's even worse. Think about it - if someone at that level needs to use schemes just to pick a fight with him, who knows what powerful backer he might have? In this world, the most dangerous people are those who play the fool."
His tone carried a hint of pride: "And now..."
Mercenary A's eyes lit up with understanding as he quickly caught on: "Now we can report back first. If the client is satisfied, we can always come back for the goods later. If he's not satisfied..."
"Heh heh..." The captain gave an approving look, chuckling darkly before his tone turned sharp: "Then we'll get to watch the show!"
"You just let them leave like that?" Xize entered the workshop after the mercenaries had gone, asking a similar question.
"What else? Force the kitchen knife into his hands? How would that be different from banditry?" Francis replied lazily.
"So you do recognize this as banditry."
Francis was momentarily speechless, then his eyes widened in realization: "Xize! You dare show your face here!"
"Uncle Francis, don't be angry. I'm here to solve your problem." Seeing the man about to strike, Xize quickly explained. When you meet someone even children want to hit, what can you do but flee quickly?
But Xize didn't want to leave. For that kitchen knife, he had to stay.
That very kitchen knife the mercenary captain would rather return empty-handed than accept!
What the mercenary captain failed to see, Xize had spotted immediately.
This was no ordinary treasure!
In Xize's words, this kitchen knife was incredibly sturdy - but exactly how sturdy? He needed to test it himself to know.
Just think - between a dragon-slaying greatsword and an ordinary kitchen knife, which seems more impressive? Any fool would choose the former.
But this world always has people with... unusual perspectives. Like Xize.
Sure, a dragon-slaying blade is imposing, but if a kitchen knife could achieve the same quality, aside from lacking visual flair, what are the drawbacks? The benefits are numerous!
Imagine two masters facing off. The enemy solemnly draws their legendary dragon-slaying blade, while you casually pull a kitchen knife from your belt - wouldn't that make them pause? Wouldn't fighting such an opponent feel... undignified? In such a situation, wouldn't the enemy feel winning was meaningless? Wouldn't they underestimate you? Could they still fight at full strength? My friend, details often decide battles!
Then consider when the blades meet: the kitchen knife is short and efficient, the dragon-slaying blade long and cumbersome. As they say, good things come in small packages. With equal materials, when they clash, which one would break? Another detail that wins battles!
The psychological impact of seeing your lifetime treasure defeated by a kitchen knife - how could anyone endure that? To destroy someone, first make them mad - yet another detail that wins battles!
Moreover, when two masters duel and one's weapon suffers such humiliation, isn't this more than just insulting the weapon? No, this is trampling on their dignity! Such a blow would surely shake their concentration, creating a moment of distraction. And the prepared party could seize that opening. With so many detailed advantages, how could the enemy not lose?
Tsk tsk, just imagining it was thrilling.
When the duel ended with kitchen knife defeating dragon-slaying blade - the kitchen knife victorious! Then all the sarcastic comments would be unnecessary. Defeated by a kitchen knife - doesn't that just make you... pathetic?
Absolutely pathetic!
And was it really the weapon's difference? No, it's the user's difference!
The deadliest flex is the subtle one!
"What trouble could I possibly have?" Francis asked indifferently.
"Think about it - why didn't he want to take the kitchen knife?" Xize guided him patiently.