I can evolve everything

Renn took a deep breath, letting the blood-filled air cool his lungs:

"Disarm and execute on the spot."

"very good."

Karen slung the two-handed greatsword over her back.

"This place is yours to handle. Clean it up thoroughly, and leave no room for future trouble. This is the mercy of a knight, and also an explanation to the dead."

He pointed to the people kneeling on the ground.

"To show mercy to these scum whose hands are stained with the blood of ordinary people is to desecrate the dead and to be irresponsible with your own lives."

Renn tightened his grip on the sword; the blood on the hilt made it feel somewhat slippery.

He looked at the bandits kneeling on the ground, weeping and wailing. Just minutes before, these men had probably been discussing how to divide their loot and how to torture the women of the village.

"I'll do it."

Ella stepped forward, her expression still cold, the longsword in her hand still dripping blood.

"Me too."

Renn took a deep breath and went up.

In this world, if you don't learn to be ruthless, you'll only become a victim of someone else's knife.

He remembered the several corpses hanging from the trees, and the village chief kneeling in the mud.

As the sword light fell, the village fell completely silent.

All that remained was the crackling of the campfire and the dripping sound of blood pooling in the low-lying area.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of blood and excrement, making one want to vomit.

"Clean up the battlefield."

Renn looked at the retreating figure, then at the bandits begging for mercy on the ground.

Ella silently stepped forward, her expression calm, as if she had long been accustomed to it all.

"This half is mine," she said, pointing to the people on her left.

Raine gripped his sword tightly.

Glory is built upon bones, and justice must be watered with blood.

He walked up to the bandits who could no longer stand and watched them beg for mercy like mangy dogs.

"In the next life," Renn raised his sword, his voice low, "I don't want to meet a knight again."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Karen found a wooden box that hadn't been stained with blood, sat down, took out her water pouch, and took a swig.

Renn looked at the mess on the ground.

The corpse lay twisted in the mud and pool of blood, the air thick with the stench of entrails and blood.

Although he had rationally accepted the scene before him, his instincts as a modern person who had received a normal education since childhood still made him hesitate for a moment.

"Sir," Renn walked to Karen's side and asked in a low voice, "As... knights, are we also forced to search the pockets of the dead like those mercenaries or adventurers?"

In the original owner's memories, her father, Linus, while not extremely wealthy, would never have touched the valuables on the corpse of a robber he had personally killed.

In the Wilde family's code of conduct, such behavior is considered unclean and dishonorable.

Karen swallowed the drink in her mouth and glanced at Ryan.

"What's wrong? Do you think your hands will get dirty?"

The old knight chuckled, as if he had heard a joke.

"Listen, kid. We won't have to do this anymore when we can afford spiced roasted lamb legs and elven-brewed moondew wine every day. Now?"

He pointed to the boundless mountains and forests outside the mountain stronghold.

"Our journey is long. The horses need fodder, we need meat, and your sword needs sharpening. All of this costs money. If you don't want to run out of money to repair your armor and weapons halfway through the journey, you'll have to take some spoils of war."

Karen stood up and patted Ryan on the shoulder.

"Don't be bound by formalities. If this bag of gold coins will become a torture device for the villagers in the hands of bandits, but a blade to cut down evil in your hands, then taking it is itself a form of justice. Go, child, this is the right and the responsibility that the battlefield bestows upon the victors."

"Understood."

After hearing this, Ryan nodded and stopped worrying about it.

He turned and walked toward the headless corpse of the one-eyed leader.

Although he had mentally prepared himself, the sticky feeling when he put his hand inside the leather armor, which was still warm from his body, still gave him goosebumps.

He rummaged around in Jack's arms for a while, and his fingertips touched a leather bag.

When I took it out and opened it, there were about thirty silver coins inside.

"This is quite a windfall," Renn chuckled self-deprecatingly, carefully putting away the money pouch.

Then, his gaze fell on a tin box in the corner of the village.

The box was hidden behind a pile of rotten wood, with an iron padlock hanging on it.

But in the chaotic fight just now, the lock was deformed by someone's hammer.

Raine walked over and pried open the box lid with the tip of his sword.

There wasn't a mess of personal belongings inside: a few dried hides, some loose ore, and a longsword wrapped in layers of tarpaulin.

Raine picked up the longsword.

The one he received was lighter than the one he was currently using, but its center of gravity was excellent. He untied the oilcloth, and a cold, sharp glint flashed in the dim torchlight.

The sword is long and slender, with a forging pattern on its surface resembling flowing water, and a worn griffin emblem is engraved on the hilt.

Raine stared at the sword.

Slowly, that familiar feeling returned.

The light in his field of vision began to distort, the surrounding noise faded away, and lines of characters that only he could see floated beside the longsword.

Royal Guard Standard Longsword (Fine/Used)

[Description: A high-end item from the capital. Clearly, its former owner was an unlucky military officer who met his demise in some quagmire.]

[Special Feature: For some reason, this sword seems to possess a mysterious magnetic pull on the enemy's knees and lower body. (Note: This is just an illusion, or... not?)]

Rein was too lazy to look at the evolution branches, since he couldn't evolve anything else before he could evolve the Black Rock Breathing Technique: Heart Pump Chapter.

However, the item information alone is sufficient.

But why is the description style of this cheat system becoming more and more unserious?

It must be said that this intuitive information saved him a lot of trouble with the identification process.

The ability to acquire information simply by focusing one's gaze for a few seconds is another ingenious use of the "golden finger" (a metaphor for a powerful, intuitive ability).

"A fine sword."

Ella approached us unnoticed, carrying two quivers she had taken from the bandits.

She glanced at the sword in Renn's hand and whistled.

"Standard equipment of the Royal Guard. That one-eyed guy probably doesn't want to use it," Ella commented.

Raine then turned his gaze to a two-handed warhammer next to the box.

That thing looked quite formidable, with dried black blood even smeared on its hammerhead.

Orc-style Bonecrusher (Poor Quality)

[Description: A crudely made product of violent aesthetics. Cast from pig iron with excessively high sulfur content, the hammer handle is already corroded inside.]

[Feature: There is a 95% chance that the hammerhead will fall off when you swing it forcefully.]

Raine silently withdrew his hand from the warhammer.

After searching the area, the three of them didn't take much with them.

Those rusty iron tools and tattered leather armor were too heavy and wouldn't fetch a good price.

Ella only picked some arrows and a few usable daggers.

"That's about it."

Karen glanced at the mess on the ground, showing no remorse whatsoever.

"Throw the torches onto that pile of hay. Burn this place clean."