The War Hero's Resolve
This battle was meant to subjugate the wild monsters that had been harassing a frontier village.
Though small in scale, it was a genuine fight where lives hung in the balance.
The first time he saw a monster with his own eyes, the memories of his past life stirring in his blood produced a sudden, jarring sense of unreality. It was a chilling sight, as if an illustration from a novel had stepped into the living world.
From here on, it is a contest of wits. Know the enemy and take stock of everything you possess.
Yet he mastered his fear and issued his orders with calm precision.
"Dispatch a portion of the troops toward the canyon on the right to draw the enemy in. Monsters have little grasp of terrain; if we lure them into the narrow path, we can encircle them with ease."
Even the senior officers wore expressions of astonishment. The command was so exact, its consequences so clear, that success seemed inevitable.
In the end the operation concluded triumphantly. The unit crushed the monsters while suffering only the lightest of losses. Through this battle the young officer candidate earned his first merit within the empire.
As word of the victory spread, the imperial court and noble society began to hail him as "the war hero who will lead the next generation."
Yet more than any of that, upon his return from the field he discovered a vast emptiness within himself. Even though he now possessed the certainty that victory would follow if events unfolded as he anticipated, his heart remained hollow. Rather than savor the joy of triumph, he fretted over the far greater catastrophe that would one day arrive.
"A battle this small... is woefully insufficient to prepare for the disaster that lies ahead."
He muttered the words to himself. A soldier conversing nearby tilted his head in mild confusion, yet chose not to inquire further.
Time passed. He fought in ever more battles, and his rank rose by degrees. Along the way he weathered countless hardships, intrigues, and political conflicts, yet he surmounted them all and became one of the most prominent young figures in the empire. By the time he passed his nineteenth year, his name was already known even among the enemy nations.
"My lord, Lord Kareha has taken the fortress in only three days."
The elder noble who received the report could not conceal his astonishment. Whenever Adolf commanded, he was always precise and coldly lucid, planting absolute trust in the hearts of his soldiers. On the front lines they called him the "young hero," and the common folk never stinted in their blessings toward him.
Yet within him a chill resolve remained firmly seated.
"All of this, in the end, is preparation for the Demon King's appearance."
In an empty room where no one could hear, he murmured the words quietly. With every victory his standing within the empire grew more solid, and he earned the emperor's trust as well. Once power had concentrated in his hands, he finally felt it: he had climbed high enough that his voice could now carry weight.
Only one purpose occupied his mind. When the day came that the Demon King revived, or when some critical event connected to the hero's bloodline unfolded, he would intervene personally and prevent the worst.
"For that, I will also have to keep an eye on the opposing empire—the one that will produce the future hero's mother."
One evening, after returning from the battlefield, he was granted a brief stay in a detached palace within the imperial capital. The place was used by the imperial family only for parties and ceremonies; countless golden ornaments and splendid paintings adorned its walls. He took no interest whatsoever in the luxurious furniture or decorations. He merely recalled the novel he had read in his previous life and felt a small flicker of surprise at how closely the history and architecture of this place matched what he remembered.
Even immediately after returning from the front he had been reading the empire's newspapers; now he stepped outside.
That night he sat alone in the silent garden and gazed up at the moon. It was not a crimson moon, yet a faintly bluish, mysterious light hung above his head. A cool wind brushed through his hair. He spoke as if whispering to himself.
"The future I know has already begun to unravel. It may have changed from the very moment I intervened in this world."
Yet there was no room left for regret. Had he done nothing and simply let events run their course, the world would have hurtled toward ruin under the Demon King in any case. Even if the story diverged from the novel, he believed he must still prepare the best countermeasures within his power.
After long solitary deliberation he reached his conclusion.
"The Demon King's appearance is inevitable. I cannot alter that. Therefore I must find another way to stop him."
The memories of his past life never faded; whenever he needed them they rose like instinct. He used those memories to craft meticulous plans and, at times, to shape his strategies in war.
"To snatch victory so easily even in a naval engagement... the gods themselves must favor you."
"I merely employed the strategy of a famous general."
Kareha had drawn upon the crane-wing formation of Admiral Yi Sun-sin, a tactic learned in his previous life; the enemy, thrown into confusion, collapsed with almost no resistance. Those around him praised him as if he had received divine blessing, yet every word of it grated on his nerves.
When the Demon King finally appeared, the empire and the entire continent would be swept up in that dreadful catastrophe. He already knew, from the novel of his past life, that only a hero could truly destroy the Demon King.
"...Why has this person not even become engaged?"
Yet still there was no trace of any "hero."
Aisia Lil Shuhain. By Kareha's calculations, the princess of the Liberia Empire ought by now to have been engaged or married, her union trumpeted far and wide. The change he sensed, however, carried an ominous certainty: like a butterfly's wingbeat, everything would accelerate or twist far beyond his expectations.
"Did something shift because of me? Because the pressure I placed upon the Liberia Empire grew too great...?"
Every night he secretly leafed through ancient records and treatises on magic, searching for a method. If no hero appeared, was there another way to stop the Demon King? All of it might prove a vain hope, yet he never abandoned the search.
The empire's nobles believed he studied and researched so fervently in order to preserve the peace of the continent, and they praised him for it. They regarded him as an eccentric figure, yet one who nonetheless brought great benefit to the empire—a true hero. In truth he kept his secret hidden and prepared for the future quietly, with the utmost stealth.
In the spring of his twentieth year he at last established himself as the empire's undisputed war hero. In a large-scale battle along the border he displayed his command ability without reserve and neutralized the enemy invasion in a single stroke. That victory raised him to the status of an idol among the people, and the emperor himself commended his achievements.
"You are the empire's steadfast shield and spear."
When the emperor conferred a high rank upon him in a formal ceremony, the court erupted in cheers. Yet amid that acclaim what rose in his mind was the final memory of his past life. While humanity had been drunk on peace, the Demon King had revived; the unprepared continent had been helpless. The hero of the novel had appeared as if by miracle, yet countless sacrifices had followed. Because he already knew that terrible ending, he could never allow himself arrogance or complacency.
Now that he held such vast power and trust, he had to ready himself to confront a harsh destiny. The "preparation" he envisioned went far beyond mere troop training or the development of weapons. He needed a plan capable of standing against the Demon King's arrival, and he had to research methods of protecting the world even if no hero was ever born.
As the night deepened, moonlight streaming through the great window gently illuminated the palace garden. It was an ordinary moon, neither crimson nor blue, yet to him even that light felt like an omen of upheaval. He rested his head against the pillow and released a long breath.
"The Demon King... will certainly come. I, and this world... must change before that day."
The next morning he rose with the same quiet, unyielding expression as always. Because he was at court, several young ladies—seeing in him an excellent prospective husband—began casting inviting glances from the first light of day.
"I have no interest."
His wooden demeanor sent the ladies scurrying away in fright more often than not. The glorious life of the court was, to him, nothing more than a brief respite. Soon he immersed himself once more in war preparations, reforms of national defense, and the crafting of diplomatic strategy, building countermeasures so that he could move the instant the Demon King's shadow fell.
His gaze remained resolute. As if he had defined the very reason for his existence as preparation against the Demon King's coming, he lived each day with an unbreakable will. And somewhere deep within he sensed that at the end of that path a terrible price might await—one that could shake even the destiny written in the novel. Yet he felt no fear. The road he had already walked allowed no return, and the stones strewn across the path ahead he would have to clear with his own hands.
Not long afterward he allowed himself a faint smile.
"It is still all right. Roughly ten years remain before the Demon King appears."
Yet even he did not believe the words. The world was already swirling. From the moment he had intervened in this realm with the knowledge of his past life, every gear had begun to shift. Striving to cast off that awareness, the only choice left to him was to move with still greater ferocity.
"Hurry up and bear any child at all... ha—"
Aisia, the hero's mother, still had no news of marriage. Yet when the Demon King's full-scale invasion began and the damage grew exponential, the hero had been revealed to the public; by the timeline there was still a margin of time remaining.
At the heart of the empire stood the magnificent imperial palace. Its outer walls and towers of golden marble caught the afternoon sunlight and shone with dazzling brilliance. Within its halls countless nobles and officials gathered to debate the empire's policies, military operations, and matters of diplomacy. Adolf Kareha now came and went from that palace with increasing frequency.