Chapter 1
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: A Second Chance
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It was a desolate land.
The ground, ravaged by war, was stained with blood. Homes and shops, once touched by human hands, were all destroyed, rendered useless.
Corpses lay discarded like trash along the roads.
And at the end of it all, in a canyon below, a man stood at the heart of this inglorious land of death.
His armor was unremarkable.
Blood flowed from beneath his helmet, obscuring his vision.
The blade of his spear, the kind a common soldier might use, was chipped and wobbled as if it would soon break.
“*Cough!*”
Demian finally spat blood and dropped to one knee.
He had managed to fend off the enemy's assault after a fierce battle, but…
‘…Fuck, I told them it was a reckless plan from the start.’
The mission was a success.
Not only had they halted the enemy’s advance, but they had also annihilated a force of over two thousand.
With a unit of just one hundred men. But…
“…”
Demian looked at his fallen comrades.
Every single one of them was dead, except for him.
*Grit!*
Blood trickled from his tightly bitten lip.
They were his subordinates, but to Demian, they were the first people he had ever considered family.
“I’m sorry… If only I had been a little stronger, I could have protected you all.”
Demian gazed at the bodies of his unit.
Seeing some of them dead with their eyes still open, he slowly walked over and gently closed them.
*Thump.*
Then Demian collapsed to the ground.
By now, so much blood had poured from him that it had started to pool around him.
“…Damn it.”
Demian knew it too.
He was going to die here.
But maybe it was because his time had come.
A lifetime of regrets flashed before his eyes.
‘If only I had been a little faster.’
Demian, who had first joined the army at twenty-five, grew at an astonishing rate, like a dry sponge soaking up water.
In just one year, he was leading fifty men, and by his second, he was a centurion.
His promotions were stalled only because he was from the Punishment Squad, but by his third year, his skill with a spear was great enough to toy with most knights.
The only thing he regretted was…
“…Fuck.”
Demian thought of the hideous scar on his lower abdomen.
A poorly-taken knife wound from his back-alley days had shattered the mana hall there, rendering him unable to use mana.
Of course, his late start at twenty-five had also played a part.
“Haa…”
Looking back, his life was filled with nothing but regret.
He regretted it enough to cry, but it was all a futile exercise.
He finally understood why people say that when you’re about to die, all you have left is regret.
“Damn it.”
Just one more time.
If only I were given just one more chance…
‘I would have truly dominated the battlefield with these guys.’
He had thought about it before.
He imagined rampaging across the battlefield with his men, cutting down enemies in an unstoppable swath.
But now, it was just…
*Slump.*
At last, Demian’s head fell forward, and his hand dropped limply to the ground.
Demian, a centurion of the Baroque Kingdom’s Punishment Squad.
At the young age of thirty, he closed his eyes on a nameless battlefield.
* * *
“Hagh!”
With a cry that sounded more like a choked gasp, Demian’s eyes shot open.
A man sitting next to him offered an awkward smile and spoke to him.
“Heh heh, Demian. How can you fall asleep at such an important moment? Quick, you need to sign here.”
“…Uncle Parker?”
Sweat beaded on the man’s forehead, though he was merely sitting.
His plump cheeks jiggled whenever he smiled, and his hairy hands were clasped together, rubbing sycophantically in Demian’s direction.
That sly smile, that voice. And the repulsive smell every time he opened his mouth.
How could it still be so vivid after more than a decade?
But then, Demian’s eyes widened.
“…Huh?”
What is this situation?
Am I dreaming?
“I, I was just…”
He vividly remembered killing over two thousand enemies and collapsing, so why was the face he despised most right in front of him?
And this face.
He had always wanted to beat it to a pulp if it ever appeared, even in a dream…
Without thinking, Demian slapped Parker across the face.
*CRACK!*
“Huh?”
“Aargh!”
The solid impact on his palm was followed by a scream that pierced his eardrums.
As Parker fell to the floor, the people around them cried out in shock.
“D-darling!”
“Are you alright? Hey, you. What do you think you’re doing?”
The middle-aged man sitting across the table from Demian couldn’t hide his shocked expression.
But the most surprised person was Demian himself.
‘This… feeling…’
This wasn’t a dream.
The surroundings were finally starting to register.
Demian glanced around the room.
‘This is…’
Uncle Parker’s house.
How could he ever forget?
He had lived here for over a year after his parents passed away.
And the man before him.
He was the one who handled his parents’ life insurance.
He couldn’t remember his name, though.
*Rustle.*
Demian looked at the documents on the table.
It was a rather complex document, about ten pages long, but the content was simple.
It was an agreement to transfer his parents’ life insurance payout to Uncle Parker.
‘Back then… I just thought Uncle Parker was holding it for me for a little while.’
He had been a fool. Or perhaps it was unavoidable?
He was only thirteen, a greenhorn with no experience in the world.
He had no choice but to rely on Uncle Parker, who had cared for him like his own son for over a year. Demian, too, had come to think of him not as an uncle, but as a father.
‘But…’
The moment he signed this document, Demian’s life was turned upside down.
Once Parker received the insurance money, he immediately showed his true colors. Demian was kicked out, and after wandering aimlessly, he was forced to retreat into the criminal underworld.
“Haha… ha… ha…”
His mind was a mess, unable to tell if this was a dream or reality.
Suddenly, the memories of his wretched past life flashed through his mind, and a feeling of injustice and rage began to weigh on his chest.
But soon, Demian’s gaze turned cold as he looked at the documents on the table. And then…
*Grip.*
Grabbing the papers, Demian tore them in half without a second glance.
*Riiiiip!*
“D-Demian!”
“What is the meaning of this, Demian!”
Parker, who had been on the floor, shot up and yelled at Demian.
Demian ignored him and looked at the insurance agent.
“What’s your name?”
“Hm?”
“Your name.”
“…It’s Bilson.”
At the young boy’s words, Bilson replied with a stiff expression.
He couldn’t just ignore him; after all, he was the insurance beneficiary.
But more than that, the boy's eyes were deeper and sharper than he would ever expect from a thirteen-year-old.
‘Can a person… change so suddenly?’
Had he dozed off for about fifteen seconds before signing?
He’d thought the boy was just closing his eyes and spacing out for a moment, but when Demian opened them again, he was different.
It was as if he had become a completely different person.
Demian spoke to Bilson.
“The insurance money is to be deposited only into an Imperial Bank account under my name. Make sure to add a special clause. State that the funds cannot be withdrawn without Demian himself present, regardless of any token, signature, or document.”
“D-Demian! What are you talking about!”
“Demian, you’re still young. Your aunt and I told you we’d look after it for you.”
Parker and his wife spoke urgently, flustered by Demian’s sudden change in behavior.
But Demian shook his head. At that, Bilson took a new set of documents from his bag.
“The special clause can be added immediately.”
He then scribbled the clause Demian had stated onto the document and held it out.
“If you just sign here, the insurance payout will be deposited into an Imperial Bank account under Mr. Demian’s name. You can then visit at your convenience to complete the identity verification process and collect the funds.”
“Good.”
“Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll need to verify your identity.”
Bilson took out a needle, pricked the tip of Demian’s finger, and collected a few drops of blood in a vial containing a magical reagent.
The reagent and blood would react chemically, which would later be used by the Imperial Bank to confirm Demian’s identity.
Once all the procedures were complete, Bilson stood up.
“Thank you for your time.”
“W-wait! Hey, just a moment!”
Parker belatedly tried to stop Bilson, but the agent left without a backward glance.
Parker, who had been staring blankly at where Bilson had left, whirled around to face Demian.
His plan had been completely ruined in an instant, and he was furious.
“You son of a bitch! What the hell was that!”
“Whew… What a relief.”
A faint smile played on Demian’s lips at Parker’s curse.
Parker’s brow furrowed deeply.
“What did you say?”
“I was worried you might have changed your ways.”
“You little shit, what are you talking ab—”
But Demian stepped aside, grabbing the handle of a mop that was leaning against the wall.
“Thanks for still being a son of a bitch, just like I remember.”
*Grip.*
Although he was only thirteen, Demian was quite well-developed for his age.
He was nearly as tall as an adult, and having been well-fed, he had a decent build.
More importantly, Demian had spent over a decade beating people up in the back alleys and on the battlefield.
A fat pig like this was nothing…
“This is going to hurt a little. I have a lot of pent-up anger.”
“What?”
That day, the sound of a pig being slaughtered echoed through Parker’s house.
* * *
Naturally, Demian left Parker’s house.
Of course, he had taken a few things from the house on his way out, so he wouldn’t have to worry about his living expenses for a few days.
If he had his way, he would leave for another city immediately. But…
‘I need to make sure the insurance business is completely settled before I go.’
There was no telling what Parker might try to pull behind his back.
“…”
Having found lodging in a more secluded area, Demian holed up in his room and tried to make sense of his current situation.
“Hooo…”
But no matter how much he thought about it, there was no way to explain what was happening.
“The past… and seventeen years ago at that…”
Demian looked at his own hands, still covered in soft, downy hair.
Unlike his original calloused, rough hands, these had smooth, fair skin like a child's.
Moreover…
*Lift.*
Demian lifted his shirt and looked at his stomach.
Unlike in his past, where a hideous scar had marred his lower abdomen, his skin was now clear.
“…My mana hall is intact.”
Which meant…
‘I can… learn to use mana now.’
In that moment, an indescribable wave of emotion washed over Demian.
It was only natural.
The mana hall, located in the lower abdomen, was incredibly important for any warrior who trained with mana.
In his past life, Demian had possessed skill superior to most knights even without being able to use mana.
But because he couldn’t, his limits were clear.
Now, however, Demian had no such limits.
In his disbelief, Demian lost count of how many times he looked in the mirror and pinched his cheeks.
He had to accept it now.
For reasons he couldn’t understand…
‘I’m back.’
Back to the time before his life had been twisted out of shape.
Demian’s past life had been nothing short of miserable.
After being kicked out by Parker, he was forced into the back alleys, where he grew up doing odd jobs for gangsters.
A thirteen-year-old boy with no parents or guardians was all-too-tempting prey for them.
After spending more than a decade drifting through the underworld as a lackey for thugs, he ended up taking the fall for a crime committed by one of the higher-ups and was sent to prison.
‘…That bastard.’
They had promised him a high-ranking position in the organization when he got out, but the crime wasn’t something you could just get out of prison for.
Ultimately, Demian was conscripted from prison and sent to the battlefield.
Ironically, however, it was in the army where his life was completely transformed.
Demian’s talent for wielding a spear was beyond imagination, and he absorbed everything the army taught him at an incredible speed.
Eventually, his skills were recognized, and he rose to the rank of centurion.
‘Well, I ended up dead anyway.’
But of the thirty years of his life, his time in the army seemed to have been the happiest.
—It’s a real shame about you. If you had started just ten years… no, even five years earlier… things would have been very different.
Why did the words of his old drill instructor come to mind now?
The words of the man they called the Demon Instructor, who trained the recruits, kept replaying in his head.
But just then…
“…?”
Demian’s eyes suddenly sharpened.
He’d fled to a secluded place for this very reason…
“An uninvited guest.”