Blood Calls to Blood
Kyle went straight to Volkrik. Inside the command tent on the Northern Frontline, Volkrik stood before a map dense with markings: the fortress and the orcs’ predicted lines of advance.
“What brings you here, Grand Duke Heir?” Volkrik asked, eyes never leaving the map.
“I have a request,” Kyle said, cutting straight to the point. “I would like you to transfer to me the three prisoners scheduled for execution on charges of diverting military supplies.”
“Three prisoners?” Volkrik’s thick eyebrows twitched. Diverting military supplies was, on the Northern Frontline, a crime tantamount to treason. The food the soldiers ate, the weapons they fought with, the medicine that kept the wounded alive, the cold-weather gear that held body heat in the bitter frost—every last item was a lifeline. To steal those supplies was no different from an act of sabotage that would kill countless allies.
“What do you intend to use them for?” Volkrik asked.
“The subordinate I recently took in is trying to break through a wall,” Kyle replied. A faint smile touched his lips. “As her lord, I ought to help her, shouldn’t I?”
“You need prisoners condemned to death just to help your subordinate break through a wall?”
“They happen to be perfect for a public execution,” Kyle said calmly. “It will also serve as an excellent example for establishing military discipline. My subordinate can shatter her wall right there on the spot.”
“Handing over execution rights for personal reasons would normally be difficult,” Volkrik said, voice low. Yet it was not a refusal.
Kyle nodded. “I understand. That is why I am asking for them as a reward for the merit I earned this time.”
“As a reward?”
Kyle’s achievement was far from trivial. An ordinary noble would have demanded an official record of merit to burnish his own honor. Even without that, a distinguished service allowed for any number of prizes.
Volkrik spoke as though issuing a warning. “With an accomplishment like that, you could ask for a great many things. You truly wish to settle for three prisoners and a stage for public execution?”
“I can earn more merits later,” Kyle answered evenly. “But right now, those prisoners are what my subordinate needs.”
“…….”
Volkrik studied Kyle for a long moment.
“Very well.” Volkrik gave a single nod. “I permit it. Three prisoners and the stage for their public execution—I will count that as the reward for this achievement.”
“Thank you, Commander.”
“Incidentally, who is this subordinate?”
Kyle answered at once. “Lumia Aster.”
“…Lumia?” Rare bewilderment flickered across Volkrik’s face. “You mean that silver-haired mage sent by the Tower?”
“The very same.”
“That girl is going to carry out the executions?” Volkrik stared at Kyle as if the idea defied belief. Lumia Aster—a mage of talent who would nevertheless scream and collapse at the sight of blood or corpses. A genius labeled defective. The notion that she would preside over a public execution of living people simply made no sense.
“Just how much resolve must she have gathered to say such a thing,” Volkrik muttered.
Kyle did not correct him. Though his guidance had been the catalyst, Lumia had chosen to overcome her flaw herself.
“I will hand the prisoners over tomorrow,” Volkrik said. “The public execution stage will be prepared at once.”
“My thanks.” Kyle bowed his head.
The following day, a makeshift execution platform stood in the central square of the northern fortress. Beneath a sky that was unusually clear, a cold wind swept across the open ground.
Soldiers, knights, and mages had gathered around the square. On the platform, three prisoners knelt bound in place—the logistics officer and two warehouse keepers who had diverted military supplies.
“S-spare us!”
“I didn’t take everything! It was only a portion!”
“This doesn’t warrant death!”
The prisoners wailed, tears and snot streaming down their faces. Yet the eyes fixed on them were ice-cold. On the Northern Frontline, supplies were life itself.
No northerner would spare sympathy for those who had stolen that life. Even the young knights who followed Karon kept silent on this matter; embezzlement of military goods was a crime no one could defend.
Before the platform, Supreme Commander Volkrik declared in a heavy voice, “For the crime of diverting military supplies and thereby endangering the front lines, I approve the execution of these three prisoners in accordance with Northern Army military law.”
The drums began to beat.
Wind Cutter
A silver-haired girl with amber eyes stepped onto the platform. It was Lumia Aster.
Among the mages clustered on one side of the square, murmurs erupted at once.
“Lumia?”
“She’s really performing the execution?”
“The girl who collapsed at the sight of a single dead rat?”
They could not believe their eyes. The Lumia they knew should have been trembling from the moment she climbed the steps. Merely imagining the prisoners’ blood should have made her pupils shake.
Yet the Lumia standing on the platform was different. She did not shrink. Her expression remained perfectly steady. Instead, she looked down at the bound prisoners and smiled faintly.
“…This is strange,” one mage muttered involuntarily. “There’s no way that girl would stand so boldly.”
The first prisoner screamed at her. “S-spare me! You’re a mage, aren’t you? They say you can’t kill people! Please!”
Lumia slowly raised her hand. Deep in her amber eyes, a blood-red light flickered. Mana gathered at her fingertips without the slightest tremor. Her lips parted.
The invisible blades struck. A wet schlick sounded as the prisoner’s shoulder tore open. His scream ripped across the square. Blood sprayed. Flesh split. Yet Lumia’s eyes never wavered. A second blade carved through his thigh. A third ripped open his side.
Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.
This was no merciful strike to the neck. The prisoner’s body crumpled slowly, his screams stretching long. And the louder those screams grew, the deeper the smile on Lumia’s lips became.
“Aah…” Lumia let out a small, satisfied breath. The metallic stench of blood, the agonized shrieks, the ragged meat—things that only yesterday had filled her with terror now felt refreshingly vivid. Her mind sharpened, focused.
When the first prisoner finally died atop his own pooling blood, Lumia’s white robe was speckled with crimson droplets. She gazed at the stains and smiled once more.
“What a pleasant feeling.”
Her voice was calm. The mages in the square stiffened, faces hardening.
Fire
The second prisoner thrashed. “Stay back! Stay back, you devil woman!”
Lumia extended her hand. Crimson flames roared to life. The blaze swallowed the prisoner whole. His scream as he burned alive echoed in every direction. The stench of roasting flesh rode the wind.
Even the knights loyal to Karon retched. The man twisted against his bonds, trying to roll across the platform, but the flames refused to release him. When they finally subsided, only a blackened corpse remained.
Lumia tilted her head slightly as she studied the charred remains. “The screams were excellent,” she murmured, “but it is a shame I could not see the blood.”
Though her voice was soft, those near the platform heard every word. Color drained from the mages’ faces.
“That… is Lumia?”
“Impossible.”
“Just what… happened to her?”
The third prisoner was already half-mad with terror. “S-spare me… please…”
Lumia looked down at him, then slowly wove her final spell. The frozen earth and stone beside the platform rose, compacted by mana into a massive boulder that floated in the air.
“I’ll kill you,” she said with a bright smile. Blood-red light flashed in her eyes. The boulder began to descend—slowly, deliberately.
The visual horror of the rock’s gradual approach tore a scream from the prisoner’s throat. That scream soon became one of pure agony as bones shattered and flesh pulped beneath the crushing weight. The platform groaned. Lumia stood motionless, staff in hand, the crimson glow in her eyes only deepening.
With a final, wet crunch, the third prisoner’s voice was silenced forever.
The platform was now littered with blood, ash, and mangled meat. Lumia gazed at the carnage, then drew a deep, satisfied breath.
“Haaa…”
An ecstatic smile bloomed across her face. The sensation of being freed from her defect was nothing short of euphoric.
The square had fallen utterly silent. Every eye was fixed on the silver-haired girl. The genius once called defective, the mage who could not fight because she could not endure blood or screams—now she reveled in both.
Those who had witnessed the brutal spectacle would never dare divert military supplies again.
On one side of the square, Kyle watched the scene with Leina and Wulfran standing silently beside him. A satisfied smile curved his lips.
Not bad.
Lumia slowly turned toward him. She straightened her blood-spattered robe, then knelt on one knee atop the execution platform.
“My lord.”
Her voice was calm, yet beneath that calm burned a heat drenched in blood.
“Thanks to my lord’s teachings, I have broken free of my defect. Thank you!”
Kyle gave a small nod. “Not bad at all.”
At the brief praise, Lumia’s face lit up like the sun. Her blood-tinged eyes curved with pure delight. The mages who saw that expression instinctively retreated a step.
That expression?
She’s insane!
She… she won’t take revenge on us, will she?
Fear bloomed on the faces of those mages who knew they had wronged her.
Meanwhile, Karon observed the scene in silence. His blue eyes had chilled to ice.
Lumia Aster.
He, too, had heard the stories. The defective product discarded by the Tower. A mage with talent yet useless in battle. He had considered her worthless.
Yet Kyle had transformed her in a single day.
First Wulfran Gecht, now Lumia.
The blind, retired knight had become a usable blade. And now the defective mage had been made useful as well.
I do not know what method he used… but giving him more time would be dangerous.
If left alone, the number of monsters around Kyle would only grow. Karon’s hand settled quietly on his sword hilt.
I must act quickly. A perfect opportunity has arrived.
The war against the main orc horde would begin soon. Many would die on the castle walls amid the chaos of battle. In such confusion, the death of an ally was commonplace.
Whether a stray arrow or an orc ambush—any excuse will do.
Reasons could always be manufactured. The bodies could be doused in oil and burned until nothing remained.
Killing intent pooled silently in Karon’s blue eyes.
During this war, they must die without fail.
He glanced between Lumia on the platform and Kyle at the edge of the square.
Kyle. Laugh while you still can. You and your subordinates will all die in the coming battle.