CHAPTER 55: MY MERCY

I gazed upon the towers of corpses, and a thought crossed my mind: What would someone from the modern world think of me if they stood here now?

Would they call me a butcher?

A merciless psychopath?

Or perhaps a tyrant?

Such judgments would be foolish. After all, this was no modern world. This was a medieval fantasy realm, more perilous than even the darkest ages of my former world.

Especially after my encounter with that High Vampire, I understood this truth more clearly than ever. This world had its own laws. And to ignore them was to court death.

So if I wished to seize what I desired here, if I truly sought power, then I had to cast aside the moral doctrines of the modern age. Even if it meant slaughtering enemy soldiers who had already surrendered, then so be it.

Not that I had shed all sense of morality. I still carried certain red lines. I could never take a child for myself, nor kill men and women for sheer amusement. Those lines remained inviolable.

But what proof was there that these corpse-towers I built were not an act of wanton cruelty?

In truth, they were my mercy.

For the terror these towers inspired would burrow deep into the hearts of my enemies.

When they beheld such sights, their courage would shatter, their will to fight extinguished. They would flee. They would surrender their castles without a battle. And in the end, less blood would be spilled. Fewer men would die.

So if their fear saved the lives of hundreds, perhaps thousands of soldiers, could this truly be called savagery? Or was it mercy written in blood?

I knew well the victors write that history. Perhaps one day I would be branded a tyrant. Perhaps another would call me a savior. But one truth remained unshaken: the only reality that mattered was the lives of the living. The dead were silent. Their towers merely served as warnings to those who remained.

Ironheart Mike strode toward me. His face betrayed nothing, though the scar across his face lent him that ever-grim look he bore.

"We won so easily," he said, his tone edged with disbelief. "Easiest battle of my life, I’d say. We hardly lost a man. Sometimes I lose more men on a hunting trip in the forest. I’ll admit it, lad, what you’ve done here is incredible."

I listened with a bitter smile tugging at my lips. In Mike’s eyes, admiration glimmered, but beneath it lay a faint shadow of unease. A man forged of blood and steel such as he was, even he could not look upon the towers without discomfort.

"Perhaps," I murmured. "But take heed, Mike. The battles ahead won’t be so simple. This was our first strike, and we caught them off guard. Next time, they will be ready. In fact, because of how easily we triumphed, they may prepare all the more furiously against us."

Mike gave a short laugh, though his eyes remained hard.

"Aye, I know. I’ve fought long enough to see it. The enemy won’t make the same mistake twice. Now their eyes will be on us. Perhaps they’ll even try to mimic your towers, fight fear with fear."

I nodded. "If they do, then that is when the true war begins. Fear only works in the first strike. After that, it either dulls... or transforms into a far deadlier rage. Our task will be to keep that fear alive."

Mike narrowed his eyes. "The way you say that, it’s unsettling. Wasn’t raising towers of corpses enough? How much further will you go?"

I turned my gaze to the smoke rising over the horizon. I drew a deep breath before answering.

"As far as I must. This world does not reward mercy, Mike. Mercy here only digs more graves. If I must become a monster, then let me be one so long as we live."

Ironheart was silent for a long moment. Then, faintly, the corners of his cracked lips curved upward.

"Fighting beside you may prove harder than fighting any enemy."

I only smiled. To me, his words carried the weight of jest, yet I knew they hid a sliver of truth. Perhaps one day, it would not be our enemies Mike opposed, but my methods.

---

*A week later*

The moment word reached us that the Baron’s city lay defenseless, we marched. Along the road, peasants shrank back as we passed, eyes lowered. Some did so out of fear. Others because whispers of the corpse-towers had already reached their ears.

The rumors spread swiftly.

"They build towers from the dead."

"They spare not even those who surrender."

"They drown the enemy in blood to shield their own."

One tale even made me laugh outright:

"Lord Argenholt slew the High Vampire and drank its blood. Now he too is a vampire and kills only to sate his hunger."

At first, I smiled at the absurdity. Yet soon the weight of it sank in. People filled what they did not understand with fear. To them, I was no longer a man. I had become half-human, half-monster.

Danger lay in this. For if my enemies stripped me of my humanity, they would feel justified in any atrocity committed against me. If I were a "vampire," then denying me mercy became righteous.

But at the same time, the rumor was a weapon. If men trembled before an imagined vampire, then how much easier to make them quake before a very real lord vampire? In their eyes, I was no longer flesh and blood. I was a shadow made flesh.

Mike roared with laughter atop his horse. "So they’ve made you a vampire, eh? Suits you well enough! Anyone who sees your face in the dark would swear they’d glimpsed a devil."

I turned my gaze upon him, my face devoid of any mirth.

"Mike, these whispers are no jest. Imagination can kill more surely than any sword. If even my own men start to doubt me, then even victory will rot from within. We won’t ignore these rumors. If need be, we’ll turn them to our advantage."

Mike’s grin faded. He studied me closely. "So even this vampire tale, you’d use it as a weapon?"

I inclined my head slowly. "Yes. I will feed their fear. But enough of that, let us turn to the matter at hand."

I raised my hand toward the city ahead.

The gates were shut, though smoke coiled above the walls. Silence reigned heavily in the air. Within that silence lay a choice: surrender... or defiance to the death.

And if they chose defiance, then perhaps new towers would rise.