Chapter 1
Chapter 1
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: A Toothless Spear in Plow-Worn Hands
-----------------------------------------------------------------
'This is insane.'
A moment ago.
The pit next to him had been blown away entirely.
Along with the head of an allied soldier who'd been huddled there with him.
Hot blood splattered across his cheek.
"Urk...!"
Damian Winter, a drafted soldier with rare black hair on the continent, swallowed dry heaves and crawled under the shattered wagon.
'I have to survive. I can't die here.'
He hadn't been a soldier originally.
Just six weeks ago, before the mobilization order, he'd been an ordinary farmer.
A toothless spear in the hands that once held a plow.
It didn't suit him, nor did he want it.
'Who the hell throws recruits at the front lines after a measly week of training?!'
That meant they were pushed into a desperate defense.
He didn't want to die in a hopeless battle.
He was only twenty-five, after all.
"......"
How much longer did he hide?
The clamor of shouts and screams finally died down.
Only the stench of burning and the sickening reek of blood assaulted his nose.
'Is it over?'
Even after that, quite some time passed.
Damian cautiously poked his head out.
Bodies littered the ground everywhere.
He couldn't even tell friend from foe.
'Now's my chance. I have to slip away while I can.'
At this point, desertion was the least of his worries.
To survive, running was the best option.
The moment he began to creep forward carefully.
Clank!
Something gripped his ankle hard.
"Gasp!"
His heart plummeted.
'Enemy. I'm dead!'
Terrified, he looked down at his trapped ankle.
A steel gauntlet caked in dirt and red blood.
And its owner was...
"......An ally?"
Fancy silver armor.
A blue hawk embroidered on the cape.
A knight of the Coldwood Kingdom.
'He's dying.'
A broken spear was lodged in the knight's abdomen.
Every breath sent dark red blood gushing out.
A clear fatal wound. No chance of survival.
"Soldier."
The knight struggled to speak.
His voice grated like metal.
"I-I... blacked out during the fighting..."
Damian instinctively made excuses.
He couldn't admit he'd hidden the whole battle.
"That's... fine... Urk...!"
The knight winced in agony.
His face was already ashen white.
"I have... a favor to ask."
"Y-Yes?"
"Kill me."
Damian doubted his own ears.
"What? Did you just say..."
"I'm done for. No hope..."
He gasped raggedly.
"Better to go swiftly... by an ally's hand... than linger in pain."
His eyes were hazy, but the pain in them was vivid.
"Even so, how could I kill a knight with my own hands..."
Damian shook his head.
Kill a man—a kingdom knight?
"I can't do it. Find someone else..."
As Damian tried to back away.
The knight clamped down on his ankle with surprising strength for a dying man.
"Please. I'm begging you. End this pain."
A blatant plea.
"I swear it. Kill me... and take everything I have."
Damian's eyes wavered at those words.
Quality gear would definitely boost his survival odds.
"My sword, armor, helmet... all yours."
"......"
"You'll need them... to survive."
The knight gestured to the sword at his side.
A masterwork blade worlds apart from Damian's weapon.
'It really would help me stay alive.'
He was going to die anyway.
Even without Damian, death was imminent.
This wasn't murder.
Just an act of mercy.
"Arghhh!"
Then.
The knight screamed and convulsed.
His pain had reached its limit.
"Do it! Kill me now! Please...!"
His desperate cry pierced Damian's heart.
No more time to hesitate.
"Huuuh...!"
Damian seized the knight's sword with trembling hands.
Aimed its tip at the knight's unprotected nape.
"Thank you, soldier. My name is... Arger. Arger Veil... that's my name."
Arger Veil.
The moment the knight forced a smile.
Squelch!
Damian squeezed his eyes shut and swung down.
A foreign sensation of piercing flesh transmitted through his hands.
"Gurk..."
Arger's body jerked, then went limp.
The light faded completely from his blue eyes.
He was gone.
"Huff, huff, huff...!"
Damian panted heavily.
'I... I killed a man.'
A guilt ill-suited to the battlefield.
But he couldn't help it.
His heart pounded like it would burst.
'I want to get out of here right now. But.'
He'd killed to survive.
So he had to grab what he could.
'Sword, armor, essentials... everything.'
That was when it happened.
"Wha...?"
Damian rubbed his eyes in confusion.
A hallucination from the terror of war?
Or had his first kill driven him mad?
"...!"
Right then.
A torrent of massive information flooded his mind.
How to grip a sword, step forward, slash and block an enemy.
Sensations so natural and familiar, as if practiced for decades, etched into his flesh.
'What the hell is this...'
It wasn't just sword techniques.
The knight's boldness from countless battlefields.
Even his resolve toward death seeped in like mist.
The fear that had gripped his heart moments ago faded like a lie.
"......"
Damian blankly stared at his hands.
Instinctively adjusted his grip on Knight Arger's sword.
'Familiar.'
As if he'd shared decades with this blade.
'I'm not dreaming, am I?'
An utterly unreal situation, no matter how he thought about it.
Of course, he couldn't dwell on it forever.
This was a battlefield, and they were on the defensive.
'Gear first.'
But Damian couldn't grab the rest.
He barely managed to take the one sword.
"Over there! A Coldwood bastard!"
"A live kingdom dog!"
Ironpole Empire soldiers had swarmed in before he knew it.
They surrounded Damian.
'Damn it...'
He should've just run without the gear.
Now he was stuck accompanying this knight to the afterlife.
"Look at this guy?"
One empire soldier glanced between Damian.
And the dead Arger.
"Stole that sword, huh?"
"...!"
A bullseye accusation.
The other soldiers chimed in.
"Damn, stealing from a dead knight?"
"Don't Coldwood scum know camaraderie?"
"Wait, but it looks pretty good."
"Yeah, definitely dwarf-made."
Dwarf-forged sword.
And armor.
The empire soldiers' eyes gleamed with greed.
"Who gets the armor?"
"I'll take the sword over armor."
"Me too!"
"Draw straws."
"Betting game's fine too."
The empire soldiers buzzed with excitement over the loot.
No choice now. It was do or die.
'Have to trust this sensation.'
Moments ago.
The bizarre text and the rush of feelings that came with it.
That was all he could rely on now.
"Huuuuuh...!"
Damian gripped the sword with both hands.
Assumed the Kingdom Swordsmanship stance.
A technique he'd never learned, never even seen.
Yet everything felt perfectly natural.
"What, this guy's gonna fight?"
"Gonna take on all of us alone?"
Open mockery.
"Take one of us down with him, is that it?"
"Ha! The beggar who begs for mercy shows off."
Six empire soldiers encircled Damian.
Fighting six alone was near impossible.
Yet he raised his sword against them?
"Fine, if it's your last wish."
A soldier stepped forward boldly, spear at the ready.
"Don't hate me too much!"
One strike would do it.
That's what the soldier thought.
But.
Clang!
Contrary to the soldier's expectation of an easy hit.
Damian didn't allow the blatant attack.
His instinctive swing deflected the spearhead.
'...Blocked that?'
The empire soldier's eyes bulged.
The problem was Damian felt the same.
'I blocked that? Me?'
An ironic moment of mutual shock.
But the empire soldier was battle-hardened.
More accustomed to variables in combat.
"Die!"
He swung his deflected spear in an arc for another attack.
But no matter how many thrusts, no matter the target.
Clang! Clang! Claaang!
Every attack dodged or parried.
By no one else but Damian Winter.
The lifelong farmer.
And that was just the beginning.
Slash!
He didn't miss the opening.
Dove in instantly and cleaved.
The empire soldier's head.
Thud!
The bold spear-thruster's head hit the dirt.