The Grim Reaper of the First Line
“Enemy! Enemy!”
In an instant, the First Company’s formation dissolved into utter chaos.
This was the heart of the camp—where the commander was. That the enemy had slipped this deep without anyone noticing was a failure that demanded serious reflection. But there was no time for that now.
“Stop them!”
“You bastards! Do you even know where you are?!”
Soldiers of the First Company burst from their tents and charged the Kar warriors without a moment’s hesitation. There were only a handful of them. Surround them, press the attack, and they would be finished soon enough.
But the instant the First Company spearmen thrust their weapons forward—
Whir! Thwip!
The Kar warriors shot forward like streaks of light, blades already in motion. Their speed was so extreme that no one could even react. Something flashed—
Slash!
“Ghk—!”
“Aaaagh!”
One soldier went down without even managing a proper scream, his throat cut open. The man beside him took a deep gash across the leg.
“Ignore the small fry! Eliminate the target first!”
“Ou!”
At their comrade’s shout, the three Kar warriors answered as one and spun toward the tent where Pierland was. They had been split off from the rest of the group because of some strange brat along the way, but that changed nothing.
Thwip!
With the Kar Tribe’s distinctive, fluid agility, they raced for Pierland’s tent—or rather, they were about to.
Screeeeeech!
A sudden shriek of air being torn apart, and something came flying straight at one of them.
Clang!
The Kar warrior swung his sword in desperation, then turned with a twisted expression toward the source.
“You already got spotted, so where do you think you’re going? Clean up starts right here.”
As the man spoke, roughly twenty soldiers locked into a solid wall across the path the warriors had meant to take. Caught in the encirclement in that single heartbeat, the Kar fighters looked toward the man who had thrown the spear.
He stood bare-chested in the bitter northern cold as if it were nothing. His red hair was striking enough—but what truly caught the eye were the scars covering his body. They were so severe it was hard to believe he was still human. Marks of honor earned through long years on these battlefields.
And that was how they knew.
“So you’re the Imperial dog they call Tertian.”
“Heh. Guess I am pretty famous, huh?”
The man grinned with lazy insolence and pulled free the spear he’d planted beside him. It was an ordinary spear, the kind any common soldier carried—yet the moment it settled in his grip, it seemed to radiate an entirely different presence.
Tertian. To the Kar Tribe, he was something of a celebrity. They called him the Grim Reaper of the First Line, a man who had already killed hundreds of their warriors.
But looking at the scars on his body, one of them was certain.
Just… a lucky bastard.
His skill was real enough. Surviving wounds like those, though—that was nothing but a string of miracles.
The Kar warrior’s eyes flashed.
“Bring that one’s head back and the Taman will be more than satisfied! Kill him!”
Lokudam, captain of the Jireun, would handle the actual target. Lokudam was a middle warrior, far above any of them—no pack of Imperial dogs here could stop him. Which meant they could focus on Tertian without a second thought.
If they killed him…
“Hrah!”
“Die, Imperial dog!”
“Uaaaaah!”
All three Kar warriors charged Tertian at once. The soldiers were holding the opposite side of the line and couldn’t come to his aid. Not that it mattered. He had never needed their help anyway.
“…Ha. Unbelievable.”
Tertian watched the three Kar fighters rushing him. There was no denying the Kar were strong. Man for man, they outclassed ordinary soldiers by a wide margin. But charging in with this much swagger when there were only three of them?
“You must really think I’m a damn joke.”
His grip tightened on the spear. In that instant, a fierce presence rose from his body—not mere fighting spirit. Heat dense enough to punch straight through the northern cold. Mana poured from his hands and coiled around the entire length of the spear.
And then—
Thuk!
“Ghk—!”
Tertian’s spear punched clean through the chest of the lead Kar warrior. There had been no time to block or dodge. Something flashed, and the man was already run through.
“You monster! Die!”
“Hyaaaaah!”
The remaining two howled and swung at him from both sides. If he were only human, there was no way he could stop simultaneous attacks from left and right.
Tertian dropped hard to one side and whipped his spear toward the fighter on his right.
CRACK!
“Gah!”
The range should have been too tight for a proper spear swing. The Kar warrior went tumbling across the ground with a scream. He had barely managed to block—and the impact had shattered his wrist.
But—
Slash!
His companion’s blade carved across Tertian’s back from the opposite side. It had gone deep. Surely—
Grab.
“Gurk!”
Tertian reached back as if nothing had happened and seized the Kar warrior’s skull in his left hand.
“Close. A little deeper and that would’ve been fatal.”
The cut he’d thought was deep had been shallower than expected. Who would have guessed that exaggerated drop to one side had minimized the damage?
“You—!”
The Kar warrior’s eyes bulged. He never got another word out.
Thud!
Tertian jammed the shortened spear blade straight into the man’s mouth. A dull, wet sound, and the Kar warrior went limp.
The last one left clutched his broken wrist and stumbled backward without thinking.
The… Grim Reaper of the First Line.
Tertian, the death that lived on this front. He’d assumed the stories were exaggerated.
I—I have to run.
Warriors never showed their backs. But before the killing dread rolling off the Grim Reaper, everyone was equal.
“Uaaaaaaaah!”
He tore through a tent flap like a berserker and bolted the other way. Soldiers shouted “Get him!” and started to move—
“A warrior turning his back… tch.”
Tertian clicked his tongue and reversed his grip on the spear. Then—
“Hup!”
He hurled it after the fleeing Kar warrior.
Swoooooosh!
The spear flew in a perfect line and caught him almost at once.
Thuk!
A heavy impact, and the shaft punched clean through his body and out the other side. The Kar warrior staggered, then crumpled lifelessly to the ground, the blood-soaked spear still protruding from him.
Tertian looked at a nearby soldier.
“Spear.”
“Sir? Ah—yes, sir!”
The indicated soldier handed over his weapon. Tertian turned his head toward the densest knot of fighting.
“Looks like their captain’s over that way.”
He had killed these three without breaking a sweat. Still—
They put real effort into this one.
The Kar warriors who’d come tonight were a cut above the ordinary. If he didn’t hurry, the company commander could be in genuine danger.
Tertian yanked the helmet off the soldier who’d given him the spear and jammed it onto his own head.
“Borrowing this.”
“I—it’s an honor, sir!”
With that brief remark, Tertian sprinted toward wherever the captain of this guerrilla strike force was. The one mercy was that they still hadn’t reached the company commander’s tent.
But when Tertian arrived—
“…?”
All that remained were Kar warriors who had already become corpses.
“Become my offerings right here.”
“You crazy little brat!”
“Arrogant whelp!”
At Arteon’s words, two Kar warriors charged him. They fought with slightly curved blades—favoring speed and technique over raw crushing power.
Arteon let out a short breath as they closed in. They would think the advantage was theirs once they got in tight.
Whoosh!
Clang! Crack!
“……!”
Arteon’s spear lashed out at blistering speed and flung both charging warriors backward, as if he had stabbed both of them at once.
That speed…
Lokudam’s pupils flickered. He had assumed the deaths of their warriors earlier had been pure luck.
It wasn’t luck?
But that face was far too young. He couldn’t judge Imperial ages with precision, yet even at a generous estimate the boy was only in his late teens. The two warriors who had just been thrown back knew it too—which only deepened their shock.
How could someone this young…
“We attack together. Finish this fast and complete the mission.”
The comrades who had split off earlier had pushed deeper into the camp. The lack of any signal meant—
They’ve been stopped somewhere else…
Had they run into the Grim Reaper of the First Line? If so, their odds of success on that side had just plummeted. He needed to end this quickly and kill the First Line’s commander.
Lokudam tightened his grip on his sword. The two warriors flanking him nodded. It was humiliating to have their leader step in against a mere brat—but the mission came first.
Thwip!
“Hup!”
The two Kar warriors rushed Arteon again—but their movements were different this time. Cautious, designed to pin him down and limit his options. Their intent was clear: create an opening with their attacks so Lokudam could finish it.
But—
“I can see right through you, you bastards.”
He had spent more than ten years grinding through this northern front. He knew the Kar Tribe’s basic combat patterns so thoroughly he could read them with his eyes closed.
Tap!
Arteon drove his spear at the warrior coming from the left. It was a blow heavy enough that dodging was impossible.
In that case—
Clang!
Sparks flew as blade met spearhead. The warrior flinched and hesitated for a fraction of a second under the force of the strike.
“Hrah!”
The one on the right roared and raised his sword. The distance was too close for a proper spear swing—or so the Kar warrior believed. The brat would have no choice but to backpedal to avoid the cut.
And that will be the moment you die.
Lokudam was already moving, waiting for the Imperial whelp to retreat from the blow. So the Kar warrior swung without a shred of hesitation.
But—
CRACK!
“……?!”
A sudden jolt of pain lanced through his wrist as the downward stroke was slammed back toward the sky.
“How…?”
The Kar warrior muttered, left completely exposed by the boy’s spear. How could anyone generate that kind of power with a spear at such close range?
Except it hadn’t been a swing at all. Arteon had hooked the spear across his shoulder and spun his body on a diagonal, deflecting the attack with the full torque of his frame. This was the spearmanship Vargas had used—spear technique and body technique fused into one.
Thrown off by the unexpected counter, the Kar warrior couldn’t hide his shock. And into that fleeting opening—
Thud!
A dull impact, and Arteon’s spear punched through the man’s throat.
“……!”
Lokudam jerked to a halt mid-charge. In the space of a heartbeat, one of his warriors had died for nothing. And that was only the beginning.
“My turn.”
The eyes of this boy who looked so insignificant…
How can they be this savage?
There was no time to dwell on it. The crouched figure exploded forward like a beast of prey.