What the hell is going on?

Baron Dermus felt like he was losing his mind as he faced an unbelievable reality unfolding before his eyes.

At first, he had thought that the peasant had simply gone insane, losing all sense of fear.

What?

Try to kill him if he could?

It was as if someone had smashed him in the head with a hammer.

That peasant dared to speak to him like that?

The absurdity of the response was so shocking that it made him forget even his anger—but only for a moment.

Soon, realizing that he had been insulted, Baron Dermus’s beard began to tremble with rage.

"What are you all doing?! Bring me that bastard’s head right now!!"

"B-But, my lord… His aura is no joke!"

"And the rumors, too..."

"To hell with those damned rumors!!! If you don’t move right now, I’ll execute you myself!!"

At the baron’s roar, the soldiers finally forced their frozen legs to move.

The numerical advantage was clear.

It seemed the peasant had gotten too confident leading his ragtag group, putting too much strength in his shoulders.

But that would end now.

The baron was certain the fool would soon pay for his arrogance.

"Uaaaargh!!!"

But that certainty shattered the moment a bone-chilling scream tore through the air.

What on earth was happening?

When he looked closer, he couldn’t believe his eyes—the madman had actually charged in himself.

He was slightly taken aback, but it was fine.

At this rate, the fool’s head would soon be rolling on the ground.

"Arghhh!"

"M-Monster! It’s a monster!!"

"Save me!!!"

"W-What…?!"

The screams didn’t stop.

In fact, they only grew louder.

The peasant, who should’ve been dead already, was still alive—swinging his sword and mowing down soldiers.

It hadn’t been long since he drew his blade, yet dozens of soldiers had already lost their heads.

"Shoot! Fire your arrows! If we respond with arrows, we can kill him easily!"

"They don’t work, my lord! He’s deflecting the arrows and killing our own men with them!"

"That’s nonsense!"

At the baron’s outburst, his adjutant looked on the verge of tears.

He was only reporting what he saw.

Still, the baron’s reaction wasn’t unreasonable—he had heard of men deflecting a few arrows before,

But no one had ever deflected hundreds of them and turned them into a counterattack.

‘Even the knights of the Empire couldn’t perform such absurd feats. But that damn peasant dares…?!’

The Kingdom of Arpen, due to its geography, had frequent exchanges with the Empire before the war.

Baron Dermus himself had once traveled there to broaden his knowledge.

But neither numbers nor arrows worked now.

What was he supposed to do?

…!!!

The baron stood at the center of his main force.

He was no warrior, so naturally, he commanded from behind the protection of his men.

That was only natural.

But from the moment he first saw the peasant until now—

They had never broken eye contact.

Even now, as the man cut down soldiers left and right and charged through the ranks—

‘No way… Was I his target from the beginning?!’

He was coming.

Cutting through his men one after another, drawing closer with terrifying precision.

And in the baron’s mind, one image flashed—his own severed, bleeding head.

[My old friend. I pity you.]

The final words of someone he thought he’d never hear again echoed in his ears.

At that moment, the baron’s face went pale as he instinctively turned his horse around.

"Move! Out of my way!!"

"M-My lord?!"

"Are you abandoning us?!"

Ignoring the terrified screams of his men, Baron Dermus spurred his horse and fled the way he had come, pride shattered.

But no matter how fast he rode, the chill running down his neck didn’t fade.

"Damn it! Retreat! Fall back!!!"

With their commander fleeing, the soldiers’ morale plummeted instantly.

Only the baron’s adjutant managed to hold onto his sanity,

But before he could even issue an order to retreat, the soldiers were already running away one by one.

Still, at least they managed to escape before the death toll crossed three digits.

Meanwhile, those who had trusted and followed Kain to the end witnessed it all clearly.

Kain’s overwhelming power as he charged into the enemy lines without hesitation and slaughtered them.

"We… We won!!"

"Glory to the Blackguard!!"

"Long live the Baron!!"

Before long, cries of victory echoed through the forest.

"Haa… haa…"

Panting heavily, I watched the enemy soldiers scatter in terror.

I wanted to chase them down and finish the job, but my body was at its limit.

At first, I had lost myself to anger and swung my sword wildly—only to die for it.

Rage grants explosive power.

But maintaining that power is much harder.

It’s like a flame—without fuel, it soon burns out.

And since I can’t wield magic, managing my stamina is all the more important.

‘Start over. Stay calm this time. Don’t let anger control you.’

If I’ve learned through death, I must reflect, correct my mistakes, and move forward.

There’s no reason to repeat failure.

The pain of dying again is enough to carve that lesson deep into me.

If I fall here, there’ll be no one left to protect those behind me.

Bit by bit, I learned to control my breathing.

I could feel my stamina gradually increasing.

[My old friend. I pity you.]

[Still running your mouth even in the end, I see. That proud tongue of yours just won’t stop, will it?]

[I’m serious. Can’t you see it? The miserable end that awaits you…?]

"…?"

That voice—it sounded familiar.

I was sure I’d heard it somewhere before.

Startled, I quickly looked around, but apart from my men cheering, there was no one there.

Was I going mad after dying so many times?

Or was I hearing something I shouldn’t?

"My lord! It’s our victory!!"

"It’s not over yet."

"Sir? What do you mean…?"

"We still have a castle to reclaim."

"Y-You mean… you’re going to take back the count’s fortress?"

I nodded.

Today’s victory was just a small skirmish.

Anyone else might not understand, but after fighting the Imperial Army and dying countless times, I knew.

The troops led by Baron Dermus weren’t Imperial soldiers.

The real ones were nothing like that rabble.

Imperial soldiers fought to their last breath, maintaining formation and striking until they fell.

These men didn’t even know how to swing their swords properly.

Besides, Imperial soldiers wouldn’t take orders from a noble who had surrendered.

"What we just faced was bait. A living decoy to measure our strength."

"You mean…"

"The real Imperial Army is coming. A force far beyond those amateurs."

I could already see their intent.

They wanted to weaken us by using surrendered soldiers as fodder, without wasting their own.

War was always the same—no matter how loudly people shouted about honor,

It was all about using and being used.

‘The best option is to flee. But can we really escape with the people, when the Imperial Army has cavalry?’

There were too many of us.

Not just able-bodied men, but children and the elderly too.

A forced march would be impossible.

Dozens were already sick and bedridden.

But staying here, behind these flimsy barricades, meant certain annihilation.

The Imperial Army was elite.

They had siege weapons—and worse, mages.

‘If the mages set fire to the forest… we’ll all be burned alive.’

The thought alone made my skin crawl.

The sensation of flesh melting, skin peeling, pain erasing even the will to scream.

That was what awaited everyone if we failed.

I let out a deep sigh.

The answer was obvious.

"It doesn’t matter if it’s the Imperial Army."

"That’s right. If we all fight together, we can win."

"Even if things go wrong… we’ll follow you to the end, my lord."

Using the forest’s terrain was our only chance at survival.

But that’s exactly why I chose to go alone instead.

I would walk into death myself—giving up even the small safety I had.

When I finally reached the castle gates, I found a great black sword stuck into the ground.

I knew the owner.

Count Sandwi—a loyal noble who had fought to the bitter end for the kingdom.

Why would I attack a fortress alone instead of defending?

The answer was simple.

"If I’m doomed to die anyway…"

At least I’ll choose how I die.

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