Edvard too was shocked by what he had just done, yet he found that it was easy to kill. He felt no remorse for the scum of a knight, it felt no different from when he was fighting for survival against the orcs.

It felt just the same...

It didn't even feel as emotionally taxing as when he first killed the goblins. And this scared him for a moment. He had always thought it would be hard to kill another human. Yet, he found that it was easy. Too easy.

"The fuck did you just do!?" One of the other knights shouted after overcoming his shock, he too charged at Edvard in rage. The galloping hooves filled the silence. The knight ready to cut this commoner in half.

Edvard smirked as he turned to the charging knight. The sight was not intimidating to him, not even close to. What was it compared to a massive orc riding a tiger? It was nothing compared to that.

Just as the knight was about to reach him, Edvard ducked down and took out the horse's front leg.

The horse went down immediately, sending the knight flying. A sharp snap filled the silence as the man rolled a few meters. Never to stand again.

Standing up from his attack, Edvard looked at the other four knights. He showed no fear, the blood covering him made him appear like a demon to the knights and villagers alike.

"I deem you lesser than orcs and goblins," Edvard said, softly. Yet, his statement filled the air and filled the remaining knights with even more anger, and more importantly; embarrassment.

Yet, they did not rush at him immediately. The ease with which he had killed their companions instilled fear in them too. His calmness at the moment only compounded this fear.

They had never heard of something like this. They had never encountered a situation where they were the weak. Most of them simply wished to run away, to escape with their lives. Yet, they stood as the little discipline they had kept them from deserting.

Sir Josip frowned as he realized that Edvard was far too skilled for a commoner. His sword was also amazing, something not even his lord had an equal to.

"How dare you raise your blade?" Sir Josip asked, taking the lead and charging towards Edvard.

With his charge, the other knights also charged, but not toward Edvard. They charged into the villagers and started slaughtering them. Shouting that the village was corrupted by a devil as they did. Calling for a holy cleansing.

Edvard froze as he saw them starting to slaughter the innocent, filling him with all the more hatred. Yet, he could not do anything before dealing with the captain.

Sir Josip did not repeat the mistake of the other knight and as such did not charge straight at Edvard. He tried to use the range of his bastard sword to kill Edvard without giving him any chance.

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Edvard though simply rushed at him, stabbing his sword into the horse's underbelly that was not protected by armor, sliding under it and then quickly standing up again.

Sir Josip recovered quickly from his fall. His pride hurt at being dismounted, but not one to let it cloud his judgment. Standing up he stared at Edvard in hatred, charging after a few seconds.

As he charged his sword took on a peculiar shine, making Edvard warry of the blade. At the same time, Sir Josep's speed nearly doubled, bringing it close to that of an orc.

Shocked, Edvard prioritized dodging. His strength was still lacking so he dared not compare strength, instead he moved fast to get into the knight's blindspot.

Sir Josip clearly lacked training, or at the very least he lacked experience. True experience. He attacked at Edvard expecting Edvard to return the favor of a straightforward attack. Instead, Edvard continued to dodge his attacks and slip past his guard.

If not for him being nearly twice as fast, Sir Josip realized he would have long since been dead.

'Just who is this man?' He wondered as fear started growing in him too. Especially when again he felt the strange blade of Edvard hitting his armor. If not for its protection, he would have died regardless of how fast he was.

This continued for a few seconds until Edvard found that his opponent was already running out of steam. Smirking he suddenly changed direction and slipped into the opposite blind spot.

Before Sir Josep could react, he found a blade sliding in underneath his arm. With ease, the blade cut through the chainmail as Edvard put all his strength into it.

Jumping back, Edvard observed his opponent who screamed in pain and turned to him in rage. His clumsy swing out of anger was his last. Moving past it, Edvard first landed a palm strike, knocking back the knight's head and opening a gap for his sword.

The blade followed the strike, slipping into the gap between his breastplate and helmet. His sword slid through as if it was cutting the air. In one swift motion, Edvard turned the thrust into a slash, ending the fight as the blade ripped through the knight's neck. Nearly beheading him.

Sir Josep stood for a second, before falling forward.

His collapse again caused silence to fill the air. The knights stopped their slaughter and looked at Edvard in absolute horror.

Edvard did not care for their stupor, without mercy he sprang for the nearest knight, who only barely managed to block one strike. Edvard used the same sequence of strikes to end the man's life.

Seeing another of their companions fall within just a few seconds, the last two knights quickly tried to group. Naturally, Edvard would not give them the chance.

He charged the next closest, attacking with all his strength and sending the man rolling on the ground. Before he could finish his target the others charged him.

Jumping away, Edvard picked up a handful of sand and threw it at the new arrival. The dirt clogged the man's sight as Edvard ended the other who had yet to regain his footing.

Hearing the sound of his companion's last gurgling breathes, the last knight threw down his sword and begged for mercy. Edvard did not care for it. He did not even pause for a second, pushing his blade through the man's neck all the same.

Standing up, Edvard turned to look at the village. Already expecting it, but seeing it still hurt. The fear in their eyes, but he understood.

He certainly looked like a devil, covered in blood and killing a pleading knight without any remorse.

"I am sorry," He said, turning around and starting to leave. He could see it clearly, all the villagers looked at him in fear and despair. Certainly, they blamed him for the slaughter. For all the death that had happened.

As he walked away, Edvard could not help but reflect that it had been too easy. That killing was far too easy.

He didn't blame the villagers for their reaction. He hadn't done it to be praised, he had expected to be shunned. Yet, even knowing how it would end, he couldn't let the knights' cruelness stand.

He had to act, and he didn't regret it.

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