Like Swallowing Sand
The sunlight, splintering through the leaves as they danced in the wind, stung my eyes.
I had thought there was no better vantage point than this from afar, but it seemed my eye for these things was still lacking.
From quite a distance away, the snorting of horses and the clanking of armor drifted over.
Damn it. It had already been three weeks since some man-eating beast—whether a wolf or a bear—had appeared and thrown everything into chaos.
The herbalist who had ventured into the forest was still missing.
The hunter who went looking for him had returned with his entire flank torn away, only to babble incoherent nonsense before dying.
From what I gathered listening to the adults whisper, a few vagrants had vanished as well.
If only they had acted this quickly from the start.
Squinting, I glared at the procession and clicked my tongue.
Still, it was quite a spectacle.
Warhorses pressed forward without hesitation, their sleek coats glistening in the sun.
At the sight of the armored soldiers, the villagers began to trickle out of their homes one by one to watch.
It was only natural. In this day and age, such a sight was rare, evoking the grand departures of knights found only in heroic epics.
Of course, they weren't actual knights, nor was this some grand campaign.
Only two of the soldiers were actually mounted.
The other six followed diligently on foot, equipped with hunting knives and bows.
If our local hunter were still alive, they probably wouldn't have even bathered to mobilize.
To the villagers, the unfamiliar sight of soldiers was merely a fascinating novelty.
A few who happened to make eye contact with the soldiers quickly bowed their heads in respectful greeting.
“Please, slay those devilish beasts!”
“Burn them to ashes so not even their bones remain!”
It seemed some of the onlookers were relatives of the victims.
Children who had been staring blankly flinched at the shouting and shrank behind the adults.
Though some of the shouts bordered on disrespectful, the soldiers seemed to understand the villagers' grief and merely nodded as they rode past.
Before long, the soldiers disappeared over the crest of the small hill, and the crowd began to disperse, returning to their daily chores.
My nap was officially ruined. Deciding I might as well get some work done, I brushed the dirt off my pants and stood up.
My parents were merchants.
They didn't import luxury goods from neighboring territories or rake in massive profits through foreign trade. Instead, they made a modest living by stocking up on daily necessities and selling them to the villagers as needed.
Still, with only three mouths to feed—my parents and myself—we lived comfortably enough to never worry about our next meal.
The local blacksmith, herbalist, and tanner also preferred a steady, guaranteed income over trying to sell their wares directly, so our business relations had always been smooth.
The problem was that with the herbalist dead, our stock of medicinal herbs was starting to run dry.
While other tools and goods were bought once and used until they broke or tore, herbs were a constant, high-demand consumable. Without them, keeping the shop afloat would become difficult in more ways than one.
That was why my main chore lately consisted of wandering around to forage for herbs myself.
Fortunately, I had a decent eye for identifying the right plants, so I managed to harvest enough to meet our basic needs.
But doing that day after day quickly became mind-numbing.
I had tried to slack off today for the first time in this life, but even that had ended in failure.
I was about to let out a heavy sigh, but a wry chuckle escaped my lips instead.
It seemed I had finally grown accustomed to the peace of this era.
No one was supposed to keep living after exhausting their allotted lifespan.
Even the ancient beings who had tried to artificially prolong their existences had ultimately met a ruinous end.
And from the ashes of their fall, the age of humanity had begun.
In that grand transition, I, too, had burned my life to the very last ember, offering myself as kindling to light the path forward for mankind. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I had opened my eyes once more.
At first, I thought I had plunged straight into hell.
All I could perceive was a burning, bloody blur and deafening, incomprehensible noise.
Overwhelmed by terror, I had no choice but to wail with all my might.
Trapped in a state of utter helplessness, I cried until I collapsed from exhaustion, repeating the cycle until, eventually, vibrant colors began to pierce through my blurry vision.
Yet, the reality that unfolded was even harder to believe.
Giants hovered over me—a creature who couldn't even twitch a finger—feeding me and putting me to sleep as if I were a mere infant.
It was a miracle I didn't lose my mind right then and there.
It took several months of that surreal existence before I finally accepted the truth: I had been reborn as a newborn baby.
Good grief.
I thought I had died a glorious death alongside legendary heroes, slaying hordes of monstrous beasts and bringing down the evil dragon. Instead, I found myself reincarnated as a squirming, milk-drinking infant in some backwater province I had never even heard of.
My memories of those early years are hazy.
I had essentially given up, living in a daze until I was old enough to run around on my own two feet. And then...
"Finally!"
Once I grew a bit older, I learned how to calculate.
I studied vocabulary diligently, devouring whatever books I could get my hands on.
I asked questions about everything I didn't understand to piece together the state of the world. The conclusion I reached was shocking: the myths of my past life were now regarded as nothing more than fairy tales to put children to sleep.
Countless centuries had passed, and the age of humanity had reigned uninterrupted for at least several hundred years.
Even now, the emotions that knowledge stirred within me are difficult to process.
A profound sense of emptiness.
The world had finally achieved the peaceful ending we had fought so hard for, but in doing so, I had lost my purpose.
Perhaps more detailed historical records existed elsewhere, but in this small village, that fairy tale was all the information I could gather.
For the longest time, tales of terrifying, man-eating beasts or monsters that could shatter the earth and set the heavens ablaze were things I only heard in my father's playful teasing.
For a long time, I did nothing but lie on the grassy hills, watching the sun rise and set.
When night fell, I would listen to the chirping of crickets and the low calls of nocturnal birds, filling my eyes with a canopy of stars so dense it felt as though they might spill from the heavens.
That peaceful, ordinary life continued, and before I knew it, I had turned nineteen.
I ate delicious, warm meals, listened to my mother's gentle lullabies, and studied subjects that had absolutely nothing to do with survival.
It was in this peaceful era that I had been granted a second life.
A blessing from the gods. How else could I possibly interpret it?
Believing that my comrades who fell alongside me in my past life must have received a similar reward, I resolved to fully cherish and enjoy the life I had been given.
As the son of a modest merchant couple in a peaceful, quiet village.
Keeping my training to a bare minimum—just enough to protect myself from the rowdier local boys.
With a light, leisurely heart, I began to forage for herbs in the outskirts of the forest.
Having no desire to meet an untimely end, I avoided the deep woods entirely, sticking to the shallow outskirts where I could easily sprint back to the village if anything went wrong.
In a day or two, once the soldiers dragged back the beast's carcass, my job would become much easier.
I could just harvest the wild herbs growing in the deceased herbalist's untended garden, and that would keep us stocked for a while.
It would be even better if a new herbalist moved in during that time.
Since a lucrative livelihood had just opened up, someone was bound to swoop in and claim it soon.
In any case, there weren't that many herbs to be found along the forest boundary, so my task was barely distinguishable from a leisurely stroll to pick wildflowers.
My parents had likely assigned me this chore knowing how safe it was, but my muscles were itching for some real movement.
I had to stretch my limbs properly every now and then.
Stepping over a rotting, fallen log, I arrived at a hidden clearing.
I immediately retrieved the wooden sword I had hidden in the brush and began to swing it with practiced ease.
I had traded a set of writing utensils I received for my last birthday to get this sword, and it was of decent quality.
Drawing upon the muscle memory of my past life, I swung the blade, constantly adjusting my form to accommodate a body that had yet to reach its full physical peak.
Even though it was made of wood, it carried a significant weight for my current frame. By the time I finished my routine, I was usually drenched in sweat.
Just as I was about to begin my warm-up today, a frantic voice called out to me from the distance.
"Haa... haa... Kamil!"
He had shaggy brown hair and a scrawny build. I had seen him around the village, but I didn't know his name.
His legs seemed to have given out entirely. Seeing him gasp for air, unable to form proper words, a sudden wave of unease washed over me. I walked toward the boy, who looked slightly younger than myself.
Then, he managed to squeeze out:
"Th-the soldiers...! The village... quickly!"
The soldiers? What about them?
The boy clutched my collar, his face pale as if his entire world had just collapsed. His arms were shaking violently.
Something was terribly wrong.
I wanted to press him for details, but he was hyperventilating so badly it looked like he might pass out.
It would be faster to just run back and see for myself.
The boy watched me, growing increasingly frantic when I didn't immediately respond.
I pointed toward the fallen log and the thick brush nearby.
"Hide over there for now. I'm going to the village."
At that, he found a sudden burst of strength, tugging at my collar even harder as he shook his head frantically.
"No, don't go! We have to run to the... the castle!"
To the castle?
My mind went blank for a second. Why would anyone need to flee to the castle in a peaceful, backwater fiefdom like this?
The wild beasts never ventured out of the deep forest, and our village was far too large for a mere band of brigands to raid.
Once that realization hit me, I couldn't afford to waste another second.
"Go on ahead!"
"Wait!"
I wrenched my arm free from his grip and sprinted toward the village.
My parents. I had to find my parents.
At this hour, they would definitely be at the shop.
The shop wasn't far from the castle walls, so perhaps they had already evacuated.
As my mind spiraled into a chaotic mess of worst-case scenarios, the village finally came into view through the parting trees.
The first thing that hit me was the frantic, clanging toll of the alarm bell. Then came the screams of terrified villagers and the desperate wailing of children.
In the distance, the hunter's isolated cabin was already engulfed in roaring flames, casting dancing shadows against the smoke. Livestock had broken free from their pens, while others lay crushed beneath collapsed structures, their dark red blood pooling on the dirt.
It was absolute pandemonium.
Pushing past the stampede of fleeing villagers, I ran toward our shop. Along the way, I spotted a knight bearing a shield emblazoned with a blue hawk crest.
The soldiers who had marched out so proudly earlier were right behind him.
But they weren't fighting. They were fleeing, swept up in the crowd of panicked civilians, running for their lives toward the castle gates.
"Close the gates! It's too dangerous to keep them open! Protect the Lord and the castle!"
The knight bellowed the order as he crossed the drawbridge. The crowd behind him descended into utter madness, shoving and trampling one another in a desperate bid to squeeze through the narrowing gap.
With a deafening groan of iron and wood, the drawbridge began to rise, and the massive castle gates slammed shut.
"No! Open the gates!"
"Please, have mercy on us!"
Those left outside clawed at the wood, begging desperately for entry.
One man tried to leap across the rising gap of the drawbridge, only to lose his footing and plunge into the churning waters of the moat below.
A few sympathetic guards on the ramparts threw down ropes, but those left behind were the elderly, the sick, and the weak—people who lacked the strength to even grasp a lifeline.
Watching the tragedy unfold from atop the wall, the guard captain closed his eyes in grim resignation and turned away.
I ignored them all, running until I finally reached our shop. The front doors were thrown wide open.
"...No."
What greeted me inside was—
A beast with bloodshot, crazed eyes staring into space,
its jaws dripping with a sickening mixture of yellow froth and fresh crimson blood,
as it tore into my father's lifeless body, ripping his limbs apart and shredding his stomach.
It was a monster.