Chapter 34: Breaking Down the Door

"I never expected to have the chance to storm this place so soon."

Standing once again before the magnificent architectural complex that looked as grand as an imperial palace, staring at the gleaming golden gates, Leon had assumed he would be overcome with emotion. Instead, he felt a strange sense of calm—a tranquility so profound it surprised even him.

"I truly never thought I would be this composed here."

Less than a week ago, he had gritted his teeth just to walk past this place. But now, looking at the three-meter-tall golden gates currently closed, with slaves moving in and out of the small side doors, he was actually able to watch with indifference... or so he thought!

"To hell with that!" How could he possibly just watch?

"Bang!" Leon unleashed a flying kick, slamming his boot into the metal gate and causing it to reverberate with a thunderous boom. The surrounding crowd turned, eyes wide with shock at such audacity.

*I’m not just going to kick the door; I’m going to tear it down.*

Standing before the main gate reserved for nobility, Leon raised his Sword of Courage. "Wall Breaker..." The power of his heart-soul coalesced upon the blade; since his time was running short, he had to make the most of it.

"Clang."

He leaped, delivering a downward strike, followed by a diagonal upward slash. With his masterful foundation, he executed a perfect V-shaped cut, once again delivering a strike that left him deeply satisfied. But this was an adamantine gate, not soft tofu.

"Clatter!"

To the utter disbelief of every slave and customer present, the adamantine gate—the main entrance opened only for the most esteemed guests—simply collapsed inward. On the other side, the people in the slave market’s lobby stared in shock at the chunks of iron falling from the shattered frame.

That was more than just a gate. It was the face of the slave market, its honor, its authority, its dignity.

"You bastard! How dare you swallow my cargo!" A roar echoed from outside the gate. The knight, sword in hand, strode through the ruins of the entrance with a casual air.

*My god, how does he dare?* More than one person shared this thought. Is this guy actually suicidal, or is he a legendary demigod? The transcendents in the lobby squinted to assess him. He was somewhat strong, but not terrifyingly so—roughly at the first or second tier, a level where you could find hundreds of others just like him.

"You integrity-less bastards, hand over my pension... hand over my Hero’s Blood! You run a business, yet you dare to swallow my goods!"

*Hero’s Blood?* Well, things had just escalated. By now, who hadn't heard about the Hero’s Blood? But what did he mean by accusing the slave market of swallowing his cargo? If the initial provocation could be dismissed as a madman seeking a death wish, the situation was now far more serious. The knight was challenging the very authority and integrity of the slave market—the foundation of all its trade.

It was ironic; though the slave market committed every crime imaginable, its commercial reputation was impeccable. As long as you had the money, you got the goods. After all, too many complex factions stood behind it; no one knew who they might offend by acting recklessly.

"How is this connected to Hero’s Blood... wait, is this Paladin a degenerate species?" Someone with keen eyes noticed Leon’s round ears, which he no longer bothered to hide.

"You don't even know Paladin Leon of the Oath? He’s at least a Great Knight, and one of those rarest of combinations: a Classical Oath Knight and a Law-based specialist." News of Leon had been spreading over the last two days.

"Classical Oath Knights are rare enough, but aren't Law Knights practically extinct? Is he a hero who stepped out of some ancient epic?"

"The market is in for a show now. They dared to swallow goods from someone like him... A Great Knight under thirty, and an Oath Knight at that. Who knows who stands behind him? He might actually be a mythic-level figure."

Indeed, in the eyes of many, Leon himself wasn't the greatest problem. The real trouble lay in the master or organization capable of cultivating such a young Great Oath Paladin (Tier 5 or higher).

"Some have assessed that his mentor is at least quasi-mythic, with no upper limit. And that’s not even the most troublesome part..."

"I know, I know. Paladins are never 'wild.' You provoke one, and a whole nest comes swarming. They usually have the Church and a True God backing them. Tsk, they always charge in screaming about justice and fairness, completely devoid of martial virtue! And they dare call themselves fair!" The person who said this clearly had issues of their own.

That was the leverage that allowed Paladins to "uphold justice." They were the embodiment of violence, and their forced enforcement relied on their Knight Order. Leon’s existence, and especially his recklessness, made people wary of his backers. But now...

"...But surely no backing matters now. The slave market has countless ways to make him die mysteriously, or even find a scapegoat." The nature of the conflict had changed. Before, there was no enmity, but now that he had stormed their doors, there was no point in thinking so far ahead. Even if his Knight Order was powerful, they weren't here. Could he survive until reinforcements arrived?

In everyone’s eyes, Leon, who seemed to be courting death, stood there waiting. He was emotionless—no smile, no anger, no sorrow, no joy. He stood with a cold face, as if waiting for something.

The alarm finally rang. Two thugs charged forward. A red light of judgment flared, followed by a flash of silver, and two heads went flying into the air.

He was completely fearless. He hadn't just torn down their door; he had killed their men... their dogs! Every minute he stood there, it was a severe blow to the slave market’s prestige and authority.

"What? You swallowed my cargo, and now you want to kill me to silence me?!" He spoke with a biting, acidic tongue, not at all like the honest Paladin everyone expected.

He didn't stop there. Concerned that the hatred wasn't enough, he flicked his sword after the execution, letting blood drip onto the expensive, luxurious magic-goat carpet.

"Blood dripping in perfect spheres—that luster, it’s Azeroth Steel... Rumor has it the genuine Sword of the Hero was also forged from such legendary rare steel." Someone with an eye for quality recognized the treasure.

He just stood there. He didn't need to shout insults anymore; the mere act of blocking the door and killing their people was an infinite blow to the slave market’s authority. It served only to validate his strength and his lack of fear—he was here to cause trouble.

"Doing this, the slave market won't let him go..." someone whispered loudly.

"Heh, as if they would let me go even if I hadn't stormed their doors," Leon thought, sneering inwardly. He had found a travel journal on Eugene, and one of the entries concerned himself. In the docklands, with the greedy wolves of the slave market guarding the area, how could "unowned wealth" lacking the power to defend itself not be plundered? To their greedy eyes, all the "weak" in their "territory" were just grazing "wealth."

Leon, marked as "unowned wealth," stood there. Countless eyes watched him, and he smiled quite happily. He couldn't wipe out all this filth right now, but since he had the chance to cut them deep and make them bleed, why hesitate?

Two more guards rushed over. This time, they were well-equipped and looked like seasoned professionals. Facing the provocateur, they didn't bother with words, displaying a skilled tactical combination: one holding a shield in front, the other casting spells from behind. It was the standard "tank-and-caster" combo—practical and effective. The only problem was that quality cannon fodder was consumed quickly, and mages were too rare and expensive to keep.

Facing this combination, Leon smiled happily. He loved these people who skipped the formalities.

"Judgment of the Sinful Domain."

Even now, he insisted on holding the moral high ground. Instantly, the warrior in front turned blood-red, while the caster behind turned a slight shade of red.

"Evil-Breaking." The holy power overflowing from his body was compressed back into the blade. Whether it was armor-piercing or spell-breaking, it was all just a derivation of the Evil-Breaking Slash. His familiar two-handed sword stance and high-speed movements seemed no different from the past.

But Leon, having gone through the slaughter two days ago, was completely different. Having truly understood the "Sword of Fury," he had finally mastered the powerful heart-soul known as "Wall Breaker." As he raised his greatsword, silver light radiated from it, but the moment he swung, the brilliance vanished inward, and the sword’s path became silent and invisible.

"Hah!" Leon leaped suddenly. The brute strength of his Ogre Gauntlets propelled him into the air, followed by a fierce, downward jumping slash.

*Is that it?* In the eyes of true veterans, this was just an ordinary jumping vertical slash—a reckless, overly bold attempt. A full-force aerial attack was a high-risk, high-reward tactic; once blocked, the attacker became a sitting duck in mid-air.

"Too green," the veteran shield-bearer smiled. A Paladin’s martial arts were always crude. A straightforward assault like this meant nothing to a veteran shield-guard. His double-enchanted steel shield could easily block it.

"Die!" The shield-bearer stepped forward, his eyes full of confidence. He had already planned it out: he would block for a few seconds, and his partner would reduce the knight to ashes.

"Swish."

Metal met metal, but the sound that emerged was the silky smooth sound of a blade slicing through tofu. The shield-bearer, illuminated by the red light of judgment, was still grinning, imagining he had already shredded the knight.

But then, a thin line of blood appeared across the mercenary's cheeks. His eyes, losing focus, went dull, and the stunned mercenary froze in place.

"Clatter." The great steel shield fell to the ground, sliced clean in half. The fully armored shield-bearer had been cleaved in two by that jumping slash!

Yes, a jumping slash was stupid—if you didn't break through your opponent, you were just a target in the air. But if a strike backed by one's entire soul actually connected... it only took one cut!

The shield-bearer died without closing his eyes, his split corpse hitting the floor. The gruesome scene left onlookers gasping in horror or surprise.

"Fireball!"

His partner didn't waste the sacrifice. A third-tier burst spell—an explosive fireball known for its destructive power—arrived in front of Leon.

"Get lost!" The knight’s roar echoed through the entire lobby.

"Boom!" The fireball exploded. On a battlefield of this caliber, an area-of-effect explosion was near-fatal. While fireballs appeared in many novels as minor tricks, on a real battlefield, explosions and flames were the most efficient methods. The evocation fireballs of this world were among the deadliest spells. The compressed flames, ignited by sulfur, transformed into a ring of scorching heat waves.

The entire lobby echoed with the explosion. The third-tier King of Slaughter displayed its volatile nature. Nearby glass windows were shattered, and expensive ceiling fixtures turned to trash. The mage smiled in satisfaction. He might be reprimanded, but removing this nuisance would surely earn him a bonus... but a moment later, his smile vanished.

"How is this possible!" When the smoke cleared, Leon stood in place, looking completely unscathed!

Leon didn't respond; he simply walked toward the mage. His eyes burned with a faint, smoldering rage. Although he wasn't injured, it had actually hurt a little.

"Die!" The mage fired a barrage of quick-cast force missiles. Magic turned into bullets, and the caster fell into hysteria.

And Leon just kept walking, step by step.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" Force missiles, comparable to pistol bullets, hammered against his body... and then dissolved into bubbles!

This time, without the smoke, everyone understood how the fireball had vanished. The magic, considered supreme in the eyes of mortals, had simply dissipated!

What was this? How could such a thing exist? The onlookers felt as if they were in a dream. The soul of an ancient epic was, for the first time, showing mortals its absurdity.

*Heart-Soul 'Wall Breaker', Diamond-grade new effect: You may attempt to extend its effect to your own body and weapons. You can ignore defensive items below the third tier, and you can use your fury to expel inferior curses and evil spells. (This is still not its full extent.)*

Leon had also learned a few new things from his junior, Dimon... A roar infused with fury could also be considered part of his own body! Fury was the core of this heart-soul and its accompanying martial arts. The previous descriptions had hinted at it, but only two days ago had Leon truly understood. When does a Paladin truly feel rage? Only when facing evil!

Now, with eyes wide open, Leon was burning inside. He walked step by step toward the mage, weathering the arcane missiles. He reached out, raised his hand, and threw the mage down.

"Bang!"

The mage, whose sins didn't warrant death, was slammed to the ground, foaming at the mouth and unconscious. His sins didn't warrant death, but he couldn't escape the punishment for acting as a lackey.

"Who’s next!"

Two transcendents, gone in a single encounter? They hadn't even tested his limits! This bizarre, dreamlike scene left the world stunned. Especially the reckless act of "eating" spells alive made even the "good Samaritans" who intended to intervene pause—the most unsettling thing wasn't his strength, but the unknown.

Regardless, this was a dispute between the slave market and an outsider. Why risk one's life for the sake of the slave market? It wasn't necessary. Yes, the people here would never help Leon, who was an "outsider" and an "anomaly" from start to finish.

With the blockers dead or crippled, Leon stood there in the middle of the wolf pack, showing no intention of moving. Every second he stood there, it was a blow to the authority of this den of sin.

"Bold!"

Finally, Leon waited for the person he expected. But the result exceeded his expectations.

It was a towering figure, at least three and a half meters tall, with muscles so developed they looked ready to burst. His skin seemed to flow with magma and flames. He was grotesquely ugly, wearing a steel guard around his chin, and when he raged, flames seemed to drip from his maw. This half-man, half-beast stood on the staircase on the second floor, blocking the light. He looked like a bipedal lava hippo.

"Is this the boss, 'Volcano Howl' Kveldulf? Truly a monster..."

Leon’s Dragon Eye, which peered into reality, received no feedback. This was a qualitative crushing—the being before him was a Great Warrior of at least Tier 5!

Kveldulf didn't waste words; he attacked from afar.

"Boom!" The battle-axe thrown by the giant beast was blocked by Leon’s ancient shield. He stepped back lightly, his arm already numb. Facing the encroaching opponent, Leon was certain this was a foe too strong to handle. Leon’s hand quietly reached for the ancient book on his back, seemingly ready to use his final trump card prematurely.

Although it exceeded his expectations, Leon didn't regret it... He had been "sensible" for too long; it was time to draw his sword and let blood.

"Come on, give me a powerful Heroic Soul—preferably one that can tear down this entire slave market." Since it was a trump card, using it here was not a loss at all!

After completing two commissions, Leon had a vague feeling that the next Heroic Soul he summoned would be incredibly powerful. And the moment of possession, when the Heroic Soul’s virtual personality took control of the body, was its peak of strength.

The "Volcano" before him was close enough to strike at any moment; he wasn't a man who could be reasoned with. A deathmatch was imminent, but a hurried, sliding sound came from behind.

"Get out of the way! How dare you block my path! Move! Get out of my way!"

A familiar voice pushed through the crowd, rushing in from behind.

The beautiful snake-woman hurried into the center of the battlefield. Facing the aggressive slave market boss, she pulled Leon’s shoulder, placing him behind her. At this moment, the stunning woman stood in front of the young knight, glaring at the attackers.

"Who dares touch him! Who dares touch the fiancé of Salima Sudar!!"