The lush green of the plains. Above it, corpses formed a field. Yellow dandelions that had been in full bloom had turned into red spider lilies. It was a stage built by war.
It was a place where soldiers bearing emblems of red and blue threw the green plains into chaos, crossing back and forth between the gate of life and the gate of death.
"Die! You fucking bastards of Azrion!!"
"You think we'll just drop dead for you?! You cowardly crow-tits of Roden!!"
Men who had never met before belittled the symbols of each other's nations as they clashed with gleaming, razor-sharp blades.
Help me!! Aaargh!!
The sound of tearing flesh and death burst forth.
The screams of those who passed through the gate of death sang of demise, while those who passed through the gate of life were stained with blood-splattering madness as they danced a blade dance.
Before long, they too vomited blood, struck down by their opponents' blades to join the feast of death.
Perhaps it was simply the result of staying faithful to their roles on the stage called the battlefield.
'I'm going to die.'
Rian Kade thought so.
Even as he severed the windpipes of the Roden Empire soldiers who had pushed his allies through the gate of death, the word of death filled his mind.
More than anything, it was like reminding himself of what his role was on the stage of war.
Struck by an enemy's blunt weapon, his helmet had been knocked off. Save for the strands soaked in blood, his black hair fluttered in the wind, while blood trickling down from his forehead had caked onto his handsome features.
It was unmistakably an appearance that spoke of a situation where one could only think of death, and the scene reflected in his two eyes was much the same.
Was the blue armor symbolizing his allies not slowly being driven into the ground by the surging red armor of the enemy?
"I'm going to die."
Thus, the words filling his mind even leaked from his lips.
Yet his two eyes, shining as though black moons were embedded within them, somehow seemed far removed from the word death. As if he had no intention of welcoming it.
Brush—.
Wiping the blood and sweat wetting his hands onto his blue leather gambeson emblazoned with a lion emblem, he gripped his sword anew.
Then he charged toward the enemies surging in like a red wave.
Even at a glance, the number of enemies wearing red leather gambesons emblazoned with an eagle emblem was overwhelming. There had to be well over several thousand of them.
In contrast, the allies wearing blue leather gambesons emblazoned with a lion emblem numbered only three companies. Five hundred in all.
No matter how much combat experience they had within the battalion, or how many men who knew how to fight were gathered in these companies, victory was out of the question against enemies pushing in with sheer numbers. Even more so on a vast, open plain.
There was no way to flee, either.
Having already surrounded them in a circle, the enemy was narrowing their formation and whittling away at the lives of his allies bit by bit.
He was going to die.
Even as he dodged fiercely flying spears and swords, desperately stabbing and slashing at his opponents' necks, death pressed down upon his entire body all the more heavily.
He was going to die.
Allies positioned around him had their heads severed and their hearts pierced, rolling across the ground as they died. He mourned their deaths with a fleeting glance.
He was going to die.
Torn and battered, they were pushed back. There was no way out. The terror-stricken faces of the allies standing back-to-back with him proved it.
"Huff.... Heave."
His breath rose all the way to the tip of his chin. No, he was already clinging to life on shallow breaths alone. It was only now that he could hear the final, dying breaths of his lungs as they realized death was upon him.
His arms hung limp, heavy even to lift. It felt as though the souls of the enemies whose lives he had taken thus far had latched onto his blade and were dragging it down.
Of course, it only felt that way. This was nothing more than the exhaustion brought on by a grueling battle.
"Tough bastard. Huff. Huff."
"This guy's a total crazy bastard... Phew! If you're going to croak, you should croak quietly. Tch!"
The soldiers of the Roden Empire seemed quite exhausted as well, hurling curses as they caught their breath.
Still, the fact that every direction remained walled in by red had not changed. It was despair.
"You're the only one left now, you fucking bastard of Azrion. So don't expect to die an easy death......."
It was just as one of the enemies spat out.
There were no allies left around him.
He alone had survived.
No longer—
"Platoon Leader! At least you must escape, Platoon Leader!!"
"Fuck!! How are we supposed to block that?! That's basically telling us all to die!!"
"I'll slaughter every last one of those imperial scum and make it big!! Come at me, you Roden chicks!!"
Wilson, the 1st Squad Leader who had shouted for him to escape when they first encountered the enemy.
Hans, the 2nd Squad Leader who had barked and spewed complaints.
And Ronald, the 3rd Squad Leader who had sworn he would survive at all costs and make it big—none of them were here anymore.
'I knew it'd come to this, but I didn't think I'd be the last one standing.'
They had been fated to die anyway.
He thought that the death which had merely been postponed until now had finally arrived, and that the Grim Reaper had simply chosen him as the one to close the gate of death.
"I'll follow right behind you soon. After taking a few more of these imperial scum with me. Forgive me."
Rian murmured his final testament, hoping it would reach his subordinates who had gone ahead of him.
And just as he steadied his breathing again and resolved himself for one last stand—
Step—.
A single footstep stole his gaze.
"Tsk. Too much time has been wasted dealing with a mere five hundred men. I will clean things up here. The remaining forces are to pursue the retreating Azrion Kingdom Army."
Someone's low, resonant voice washed over the surroundings and parted the encirclement.
At his command, the soldiers turned pale and began to scatter.
The man who had suddenly appeared stared intently at the utterly exhausted Rian.
Step—.
A tall, well-built man with red hair closed the distance.
From his gauntlets to his shoulders and chest, his armor—linked with iron plates like a crustacean's shell—was starkly different from the Imperial Army armor Rian had seen thus far.
The shortsword gripped in his hand also gleamed as though it had not been forged from ordinary steel.
"I am Gerard, Commander of Marquis Bueno Arjen's Shadow Unit. You held out remarkably well. Allow me to commend you."
The resonance of his low voice carried a presence chilling enough to send a shiver down one's spine.
His sharp gaze, looking down at Rian, seemed to add even greater weight to his voice, yet—
'Why is a Shadow here?'
Rian watched Gerard with an indifferent expression. As he steadied his breathing, his eyes were fixed on missing not a single reaction from his opponent, though there was no way Gerard could know the meaning behind that gaze.
"Defect to our side. For someone of your caliber, the Marquis will gladly take you in."
And so Gerard offered to win him over. Rian tilted his head to the side.
Even now, there were no small number of Imperial Army corpses beneath his feet. It would not be an exaggeration to say that thirty percent of them were Rian's share.
Yet a man who claimed to have watched all of that was trying to recruit him, which Rian could not understand.
"Think you'll lose?"
It was an absurd question that popped out in an incomprehensible situation.
Since he had no intention of defecting anyway, it was also a provocative remark thrown out carelessly.
"......"
Gerard's eyebrow twitched as murderous intent filled his eyes. Alongside being disrespected himself, he felt that Marquis Arjen, whom he served, had also been insulted.
CRACK—!
Instead of answering, Gerard kicked off the ground and lunged toward Rian.
It was a swift, light footwork that did not match the overwhelming force capable of crushing the earth beneath him.
'Ah.'
He lost sight of Gerard. By the time Gerard re-entered his field of vision, the tip of his sword was already flying toward Rian's heart.
There was no dodging it.
That was the conclusion he reached in a split second.
So they would die together.
Resolved toward mutual destruction, Rian swung the sword in his hand and aimed for Gerard's neck.
It was the best move he could make right now. However, the angle was poor. He could not deal any meaningful damage. Even if the lower part of the blade reached Gerard's neck, it was unlikely to transfer enough force to cut through.
Of course, those were all useless thoughts.
SQUELCH—!!
The tip of Gerard's sword tore through the gambeson, pierced the flesh, and ground against bone as it skewered Rian's heart.
"Kugh!!"
He was going to die.
His beating heart burst with blood.
With no possibility of survival, death was finally becoming reality.
THUD—.
As if he had no further business here, Gerard shoved Rian away to pull his sword free.
As Rian collapsed onto the ground, blood gushed from his heart like a bubbling spring.
"Arrogance. That is the reason for your death."
Gerard bade Rian farewell in an emotionless tone and turned his steps toward where his troops had gone.
"......"
Like all the other corpses, Rian lay sprawled across the plains, staining the earth red.
It was his exit from the stage where the feast of death had unfolded.
There was no more blood left to spill.
He felt the burning agony slowly dulling away as well.
Only the faintest shred of remaining consciousness was registering his death.
That was rather laughable.
Whether it was consciousness, ego, or soul.
Even though death was immutable, it felt as though some formless mind was desperately clinging to his flesh and refusing to let go.
'Is it lingering attachment?'
Perhaps it was.
After all, he had failed to achieve his dream in the end.
"Allen... Father......."
Did they not say that at the moment of death, the years of one's life faintly flash through one's mind?
Rian thought of his father.
He was not a father related by blood.
"Rian. The truth is, you were the only child who survived the witch's cabin. I picked you up and brought you home."
Had that been on the day celebrating his eighth birthday?
An infamous witch said to have driven a thousand newborns to their deaths.
It had been a confession that Allen had birthed in his heart and raised the sole survivor of that witch's dwelling.
"You're definitely going to become the most handsome man in Azrion. That's also why I picked you up and raised you! Haha!"
Perhaps feeling rather sheepish about it, he had ended his confession before the modest birthday table with such playful words.
'Well, we didn't look alike in the slightest, so I'd expected it. Though it was still quite a shock.'
Had it been since then?
"Take up the sword. That is the only way you will survive."
Allen began teaching him the sword in earnest.
Though born a commoner, he had shown talent in swordsmanship, been granted the surname Kade, and even joined a knight order.
Yet in the process of rescuing Rian, he had suffered damage to his Aura and been forced into retirement—an ill-fated knight. No, an aspiring knight.
The year Rian turned fifteen.
"How about trying to become a knight? Well... with your current skills, I don't think it'll go too well, but I figured it'd still be good for you to have a dream."
He had tossed out his wish for Rian to inherit his dream as casually as throwing a pebble.
He had a sturdy build and a rugged face, yet he was caring, honest, and knew how to look after those around him.
Because he still dreamed of being a knight even while leading a humble farming life, his wish was by no means a light pebble.
"I will."
Rian had joined in that dream.
He had enlisted in the army and was following in his father's footsteps, yet it had come to this.
"Cough—!"
Now, it truly felt like he was going to die.
Losing his sight, a world of white veiled the sky. All of his senses grew numb.
This was the end.
He had survived by a miracle and lived chasing a dream, but this was as far as he went.
His consciousness snapped.
However.
He had thought that was the end, yet—
[You shall be freed from the time in which death was permitted.......]
What in the world did that mean?
A whispering voice brushed past his ears as swiftly as the wind.
Was it a prank by the Grim Reaper? Or had it merely been an auditory hallucination?
'Then why.......'
His threadbare consciousness remained intact.
Following that came a sound tickling his ears.
Squirm, squirm—.
Squelch—. Crunch—.
It was a bizarre sound.
Because his vision was still blocked by darkness, it was downright terrifying.
He even imagined that perhaps maggots had to eat away his entire body down to white bone before his soul could finally leave his flesh, yet—
Following the sound, sensation returned.
His pierced heart.
And the stab and slash wounds covering his entire body felt as though someone were tickling them.
He had no idea why senses that had died were coming back to life and making him feel so vivid.
Before long.
The veil of darkness slowly lifted.
As if heralding his entrance onto a new stage, his vision brightened.
Even a flock of crows circling in the clear blue sky came into view.
"I'm alive?"
He was breathing, and his heart was beating.
All of his senses had come back to life.
That was why those words burst from his lips.
Rustle—.
He raised himself up.
The torn leather and iron plates had not mended themselves, yet his flesh, muscles, and nerves were attached to his body without a single wound.
It was closer to the bizarre than a miracle.
Just as he was wondering if this was even real—
"Huh?! Over there!! A survivor!"
"Fuck! It's an Azrion maggot. Looks like he was playing dead?!"
"Bug-like bastards! Seriously, honorless bastards like them should all be wiped out, whether they're from the Empire or the Kingdom!"
With shouts like those ringing out right away—
'I don't know what's going on, but...'
First, he had to survive.
Making up his mind, Rian picked up his sword lying on the ground and gripped it tightly once more.
His thirst for life remained unchanged.