Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 108: Fear of Cassandra

Chapter 108: Fear of Cassandra

Juno’s fighting style transformed. He moved faster, his strikes sharper, each motion precise and deadly. He sprinted toward the troll, dodging a swing of its club with a spin that left the air whistling. With a single, fluid motion, he leaped high, Ebonfang blazing with some kind of dark energy that was familiar to Yenissa.

The blade arced through the air, and with a clean, resounding shing, it severed the troll’s right hand at the wrist. The massive limb fell to the ground, the strange wooden club tumbling free.

The troll howled, clutching its stump as black blood sprayed across the forest floor. The knights cheered, their morale bolstered by Juno’s feat. "That’s our Sir Juno!" Maron and other knights shouted, rallying the survivors. "Press the attack!"

But the troll wasn’t finished. Enraged, it swung its remaining arm, catching another knight and hurling him into a tree with a sickening crack. Juno cursed under his breath. "Stay back, you fools!" he yelled. "This isn’t your fight anymore!" He charged again, his movements a blur. Ebonfang slashed across the troll’s chest, carving a deep wound that oozed dark ichor. The beast staggered, but its sheer size and strength kept it upright.

It seemed as if not only his movements and power had advanced, but he himself also appeared different from the normal and calm Sir Juno everyone knew, with his behavior and words becoming more extreme.

The air thick with the stench of the troll’s black blood and the faint hum of unknown dark energy radiating from Juno’s blade, Ebonfang kept the other creatures away from this battle, else it would have been a massacre for the other knights who were at this point were just spectators.

The troll, though crippled, roared with primal fury. Its remaining arm lashed out, a desperate, sweeping blow aimed at Juno. The ground trembled as its massive fist tore through the air, but Juno was already moving. His body blurred, a streak of silver and shadow, as he sidestepped the attack with unnatural grace. The wind hissed in his wake, leaves spiraling upward.

"Too slow," Juno growled, his voice low and edged with confidence.

Ebonfang flared, its blade wreathed in swirling tendrils of black energy that seemed to drink in the light around it. Yenissa, watching from a far, felt a chill—she knew that energy, though she couldn’t place it where she knew it from. It is definitely not something humans would consider holy, but for some reason it was listening to this human.

Juno launched himself forward, his boots kicking up dirt as he closed the distance in an instant. The troll swung again, but Juno ducked low, sliding beneath the blow. With a fierce cry, he drove Ebonfang upward, the blade slicing through the troll’s thick hide like paper. A gash opened across its chest, black ichor spraying in an arc. The beast staggered, its roar turning into a gurgling snarl.

"Not yet!" Juno shouted, his voice carrying an almost feral edge. He spun, his cloak billowing like a storm, and leaped high into the air. The knights gasped as he seemed to hang there for a moment, Ebonfang raised above his head, its dark aura pulsing like a heartbeat. Then, with a cry that echoed through the forest, he brought the blade down.

Shing!

The sound was sharp and final, like the toll of a bell. Ebonfang sliced clean through the troll’s neck, severing its head in a single stroke. The massive body swayed, then collapsed with a thunderous crash, shaking the ground. The head rolled to a stop, its lifeless eyes staring blankly at the sky.

The knights erupted in cheers, their voices ringing through the clearing. "Sir Juno! Sir Juno!" they chanted, swords and shields clashing in celebration. Maron pumped his fist, grinning despite the blood trickling from a gash on his brow. "That’s our champion! None can stand against him!"

Juno stood atop the troll’s corpse, Ebonfang still drawn, its blade shimmering with that eerie, dark aura. His chest heaved, not from exhaustion but from something else—something wild and uncontained. The knights’ cheers faltered slightly as they noticed the intensity in his gaze, the way his lips curled into a faint, almost predatory smile.

Then, without warning, Juno’s head snapped to the side, his eyes locking onto a specific point in the dense forest beyond the clearing. The knights froze, their cheers dying in their throats. The air grew heavy, as if the forest itself were holding its breath.

"Sir Juno?" Maron called, his voice uncertain. "What is it?"

Juno didn’t answer. In a single, fluid motion, he hurled Ebonfang with terrifying precision. The blade spun through the air, a deadly arc of black and silver, and embedded itself with a thunk into the trunk of a gnarled tree some distance away. The knights stared, confused, as a faint splatter of blood—not the troll’s black ichor—trickled down the bark.

"What the hell was that?" one knight whispered, gripping his sword tighter.

Juno leaped down from the troll’s body, landing lightly on the ground. Without a word, he strode toward the tree, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The knights parted to let him pass, their earlier enthusiasm replaced by unease.

When Juno reached the tree, he studied the blade for a moment. Ebonfang’s edge was stained with a few drops of crimson blood, stark against the dark metal. He tilted his head, as if listening to something only he could hear, then yanked the sword free with a single pull. He sheathed it smoothly, the dark aura fading as the blade slid into its scabbard.

"Let’s move," Juno said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that brooked no argument. "There’s more to this forest. We explore deeper."

The knights exchanged uneasy glances. Maron opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, his usual bravado faltering under Juno’s piercing gaze. No one dared ask what he’d seen—or what he’d struck. Instead, they fell into step behind him, their footsteps muffled by the forest floor.

As they ventured deeper into the dungeon-like forest, Juno walked alone at the head of the group. His posture was rigid, his hand resting on Ebonfang’s hilt, and his eyes scanned the shadows with an intensity that kept even Maron at a distance. The other knights whispered among themselves, their voices hushed and nervous.

"Did you see his eyes?" one muttered. "Like he wasn’t even him back there."

"He’s always been strong," another replied, "but this... this is something else."

***

"Ten knights lost," Cedric rasped, his voice heavy with grief. "Most of the survivors are injured, Sir Juno. This dungeon... it’s a beast."

Juno’s gaze shifted to his own squad, their numbers dwindled by more than ten. The cost was steep, yet the haul was undeniable. Piles of glittering monster cores, rare minerals, and ancient treasures lay strewn across the ground, drawing the greedy eyes of the capital’s officials. Clad in gaudy, pompous robes, they muttered among themselves, their voices a mix of awe and calculation.

"This... this is an insane amount of loot for a single expedition," one official whispered, fingering a glowing crystal. "The guilds will be ecstatic."

Juno turned to them, his expression unreadable. "What’s your verdict, then? Is this dungeon a threat to be sealed, or a resource to be tapped?"

The head official, a wiry man with a curling mustache, smirked and adjusted his velvet cap. "Oh, Sir Juno, surely you should decide. You’re the Order One Commander, the hero who led these knights into the abyss and returned with this... fortune."

Juno’s jaw tightened. He glanced at his wounded knights, their faces etched with pain, then back at the shimmering spoils. "Open it to the public," he said firmly. "But with a warning. The creatures in there are no joke. Anyone who enters must know the consequences."

The officials exchanged gleeful looks, rubbing their hands. "Yes, of course, Sir Juno," the mustached one said, bowing slightly. "Of course."

Far away in the Percival Barony, Lady Cassandra paced her opulent mansion, her silk gown swishing against the polished marble floor. Her heart raced as she wrung her hands, her mind a storm of worry. Was it a mistake to send Sir Juno into that dungeon? she thought. The best knight of Sturgon, their shining blade, risked in a gamble for glory and resources. Yet Shennong, the mysterious young advisor, hadn’t objected. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

Hours ago, word had reached her of Juno’s success—a triumphant haul from the dungeon. But where was he? Why hadn’t he returned to report? She stopped by a window, peering out at the darkening streets, her anxiety mounting.

A sharp knock at the door jolted her. A servant’s voice called through, "My lady! Sir Juno and Sir Maron, the Barony Commander, are here!"

Cassandra’s breath caught. "Already? How did I not hear of their arrival?" She smoothed her gown, suspicion prickling. Maron’s doing, no doubt. That man moves like a shadow.

In the guest room, Juno and Maron awaited her. Juno stood tall, his armor still bearing the scars of battle, his expression calm but intense. Maron, however, looked pale, his eyes wide as if he’d seen a specter. Cassandra’s heart sank. Something was wrong.

"Lady Cassandra," Juno began, bowing slightly. "It’s an honor to see you again."

She forced a smile, her composure a fragile mask. "Sir Juno, Sir Maron, welcome. I heard of your success in the dungeon. Tell me, how was the haul?"

"Remarkable," Juno said, his voice steady. "Monster materials, rare minerals, treasures beyond what we expected. The guilds and the capital are buzzing with excitement."

"That’s... wonderful," Cassandra replied, her eyes flicking to Maron. He hadn’t spoken, his gaze fixed on the floor. Her stomach twisted. "And the knights? Are they...?"

"We lost many," Juno admitted, his tone somber. "But those who survived brought back enough to make Sturgon wealthy for years."

Cassandra nodded, trying to focus on the victory. "That’s a relief. You’ve done Sturgon proud, Sir Juno."

Juno’s smile was polite but brief. He leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting. "There’s something else, my lady. Sir Maron shared something... intriguing with me on the way here."

Cassandra’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced at Maron, who flinched under her gaze. "Oh?" she said, keeping her voice light. "What might that be?"

Juno’s eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unyielding. "A young boy in your service. Shennong, I believe? Maron mentioned he’s... unusual. I’d like to meet him. Where is he?"

Cassandra’s composure cracked, a bead of sweat trailing down her temple. She laughed, too quickly, too brightly. "Shennong? Oh, he’s just a servant boy, nothing special. Why the interest, Sir Juno?"

Juno didn’t smile. "I think you know why, Lady Cassandra. I’d like to speak with him. Now."

Her mask slipped, fear flickering in her eyes. "I... I’ll see if he’s available," she stammered, her mind racing. What does Juno know? And how much did Maron tell him about what happened in this barony?

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