Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Transfer
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Rumble. Rumble.
Regular shaking.
He was on horseback.
'Amazing.'
Damian blankly looked down at his own thigh.
He'd never had the chance to ride a warhorse while living as a farmer.
At most, he'd borrowed the back of a mule.
But right now...
'It's familiar.'
This was clearly his first time.
Yet his body reacted naturally.
Maintaining his balance wasn't difficult at all.
'Riding Skill.'
The ability he'd stolen from an Imperial Army elite soldier.
It was proving itself real.
"We're almost there. Just a bit further to the garrison."
Aaron Holt, leading the way on horseback, spoke up.
Thanks to their consideration, the journey had been comfortable.
Treated like a hero who'd guarded Arger Veil's final moments.
'Feels needlessly sorry.'
Damian glanced at the corpse strapped to the horse ahead.
Knight Arger Veil.
'In a way, he's my benefactor.'
Thanks to him, he'd realized this bizarre ability.
'Kill people, and absorb their abilities.'
When he'd slaughtered those six Imperial elite soldiers.
When he'd spoken with the knights afterward.
And even now, as he rode the horse.
All of it proved this was reality.
Not a hallucination born of war's terror.
Not madness.
'In that case.'
Damian's eyes darkened.
'What happens if I kill a stronger opponent?'
So far, he'd only killed regular soldiers.
And luckily snagged one knight—that was it.
But what if he could kill someone stronger than them?
And make their abilities his own?
'Survival might not even be an issue anymore.'
Until just a short while ago.
Damian's goal had been mere survival.
Somehow escaping this hell alive.
But now it was different.
With this unrealistic ability.
If he kept "devouring" stronger opponents...
'I could become anything.'
A war hero. A noble.
Of course, it still sounded like a pipe dream.
'At the very least, I won't stay a farmer, right?'
Damian clenched his fist tight.
He needed to prepare himself to become a predator.
Of course, it wouldn't be easy.
Killing people and all.
'No idea where this ability came from. But.'
Now that things had come to this.
He'd use it thoroughly.
Something told him he could.
"Main force arrived! Slow down!"
His thoughts reached that point.
When Aaron's shout came from the lead.
Thud thud thud...
The hoofbeats slowed.
A wooden palisade and watchtowers came into view in the distance.
The Coldwood Kingdom 6th Legion's garrison.
The closer they got, the stranger the atmosphere felt.
'Defeated troops.'
Wounded soldiers groaned here and there.
Gloomy mood. Morale stabbed into the dirt.
'Well, yeah.'
They'd suffered a crushing defeat.
Perfectly natural.
Damian himself was one of those routed soldiers.
"Open the gates! It's Knight Aaron Holt!"
But something was off.
From the garrison entrance, crowds of people were visible.
Not regular soldiers—knights and officers.
And even...
'The overall commander?'
Silver armor with a refined design.
An emblem embroidered with six stars.
'Six stars.'
That signified a legion commander.
'No way, the 6th Legion commander?'
The supreme commander responsible for Coldwood Kingdom's northern front.
Why would someone that important come out personally?
"......"
Then.
The elderly commander walked forward slowly.
Each step carried weight.
An overwhelming presence.
"......Arger."
Finally, his gaze stopped.
On Arger Veil's corpse.
A crack appeared in his iron-like expression.
"Aaron."
The legion commander called to Aaron Holt.
"Yes, Legion Commander."
"Explain."
Aaron stepped forward.
And opened his mouth without the slightest hesitation.
"While carrying out reconnaissance per orders, we discovered Sir Veil's body on the battlefield. Traces of combat with numerous Imperial elite soldiers remained, and beside him was the sole survivor, soldier Damian Winter."
As Aaron pointed at Damian.
All eyes turned to him.
The legion commander's gaze joined them.
'This is burdensome.'
The man was a legion commander.
A wielder of power over tens of thousands of lives.
Lying before such a figure.
And Damian had been an AWOL hopeful to boot.
"According to this soldier's testimony, Sir Veil fought valiantly to the very end, as a knight of the kingdom."
The legion commander approached Damian.
His footsteps felt like they were squeezing Damian's heart.
"Soldier."
"Damian Winter, 5th Spear Unit, 6th Legion. Awaiting your orders, Legion Commander."
He answered as calmly as possible.
"Yes, Damian Winter."
The legion commander placed a hand on Damian's shoulder.
A heavy pressure settled in.
"Thank you for watching over my son's final moments."
What? Son?
The legion commander's son?
'This is insane.'
Cold sweat trickled down his back.
He'd ended the life of the man's son without even knowing.
Sure, it had been at the son's request, but that hardly mattered as an excuse.
'If the truth comes out...'
Ten heads wouldn't be enough.
"My son."
The legion commander caressed Arger's corpse.
He stroked his son's cold cheek.
"Forgive this worthless father. I... I was too late."
His voice trembled.
Not the cold legion commander, but a father who'd lost his child.
The surrounding officers bowed their heads with somber expressions.
"......"
The legion commander stayed by his son's side for a moment.
Then he turned and addressed Damian.
"Damian Winter."
"Yes, Legion Commander."
"Did Arger leave any last words?"
The question he'd feared most.
Which was why he'd prepared an answer.
"Sir Arger Veil..."
Damian paused for a moment.
Then spoke in a solemn tone.
"......Gave me his sword and told me to survive no matter what, and fight for the kingdom."
A complete lie, of course.
The man had only begged for an end to his pain.
But that falsehood was enough to strike the legion commander's heart.
"I see. So Arger said that."
Christian smiled hollowly.
Dew gathered at the corners of his eyes.
"He fought like a true knight to the end."
He patted Damian's shoulder once more.
"Thank you, soldier. Thanks to you, my son was able to die as a knight."
Sincere gratitude.
"I only did what any soldier of the kingdom should."
Damian bowed his head.
The moment Eloquent Speech shone.
"Splendid. I won't forget your courage and loyalty."
Murmuring that, the legion commander handed Arger's sword to Damian.
"Take it."
"Y-Yes, but..."
"A true master sword is one where the previous owner chooses the next. Arger permitted this sword, Dawn, to you. From that moment, Dawn's owner becomes soldier Damian Winter—you."
"......"
"Please become a pillar that protects the kingdom with this sword."
He'd suddenly become the owner of a sword.
A famed blade with an impressive name, no less.
An unexpected turn of events in every way.
"Come to think of it, you said 5th Spear Unit?"
"Yes, Legion Commander."
"Conscripted recently, I take it."
The 5th Spear Unit was mostly filled with green recruits.
Essentially no different from meat shields.
"The owner of a master sword can't stay in a spear unit."
Murmuring that, the legion commander gave an order to his adjutant.
"Transfer soldier Damian Winter to the 1st Infantry Division."
The 1st Infantry Division.
The most elite unit among regular infantry.
"Assign him a proper swordsmanship instructor as well, so he doesn't shame my son's blade."
"Yes, Legion Commander. Your orders shall be carried out."
Damian Winter, a mere farmer just six weeks prior.
A man who might have died as a meat shield today.
A massive storm began to rage through his life.
The 1st Infantry Division's barracks were different.
From the very air compared to the ragged tents of the spear unit.
No despair or resignation—instead, a cool tension hung in the air.
'Everyone's eyes are alive.'
Veterans who'd rolled on battlefields for years or more.
That was the 1st Infantry Division.
"Newbie?"
Someone spoke to Damian as he entered the barracks.
A man with a thick scar on his forearm.
Solid build, sharp gaze.
"Damian Winter, transferred from the 5th Spear Unit to the 1st Infantry Division per orders."
"5th Spear Unit?"
The man furrowed his brow.
A unit that was basically just meat shields.
And someone from there had come to the 1st Infantry?
"......Heard the story. Legion Commander gave the direct order. But I didn't expect someone from the 5th Spear. How long have you been conscripted?"
"A little over six weeks."
"Basically a rookie, then."
The man sighed deeply.
And he had every reason to.
A greenhorn in the elite unit.
What were they supposed to do, teach him from scratch?
"Well, whatever..."
He glanced at Damian's waist.
More precisely, the sword hanging there.
'Dawn.'
Arger Veil's sword.
It gave off the subtle glow unique to dwarven make.
A master sword any sword-user would covet.
"That sword—Sir Arger Veil's, right?"
"Yes."
"Lucky bastard. Picked up a master sword, saved your neck, and escaped meat-shield duty."
Open contempt.
The gazes of the surrounding soldiers were the same.
"Anyway, I'm Ben, 3rd Squad Leader. You're under my squad now."
"Please take care of me, Squad Leader Ben."
"Follow me."
Ben spat gruffly.
"Orders are orders, but act green around here and you die fast. How long do you think your luck will hold?"
He jerked his chin toward an empty bunk.
The corner of the barracks—the coldest, dampest spot.
'As expected.'
Damian headed there without a word.
Every organization had its hazing.
Especially the military.
'But I've got abilities.'
Knight Arger Veil's swordsmanship.
The skills stolen from Imperial soldiers.
'Time to prove it.'
And the opportunity came quickly.
He was summoned to the training grounds shortly after.
"Legion Commander ordered a sword instructor for you."
Ben said, arms crossed.
His expression wasn't great.
"And it's me."
"......You're doing it personally, Squad Leader?"
"No one in the 6th Legion infantry handles a sword better than me."
Not wrong.
With a bit more backing in status, he could've aimed for knighthood.
Maybe that's why—pride and ambition laced his voice.
Rack up merits in this war, leap the status wall.
Become a proper knight.
That was Ben's ambition.
"And now I have to teach some spear-unit punk."
Ben ground his teeth.
A chance he'd struggle a lifetime for.
Damian had snatched it in a single day.
"I don't teach the unskilled. I'll check myself if you're worthy of that sword."
He picked up a training sword.
"Let's see if that luck of yours works on me too."
A sudden duel proposal.
No—more like an order.
"You use that sword. Survive three exchanges against me, and I'll acknowledge you. Fail... and you'll be doing grunt work for the 1st Infantry till you drop dead. Got it?"
In other words, make him a laborer.
Damian drew Dawn in lieu of a reply.
'Any need to hide it?'
This was a place where skill proved everything.
Acting half-baked would just earn more disdain.
'Time to show them.'
Right now, in this moment.
There was only one thing to trust.
'Proficient Kingdom Swordsmanship.'
He recalled Arger Veil's experiences.
The sword's arc, breathing, footwork.
All of it felt vivid.
"Begin."