CHAPTER 228: WAR [5]

The battlefield was silent now.

No clash of steel, no dying screams—only the whisper of wind brushing over scorched earth and fallen bodies.

I sank to one knee, exhaling a long, shaky breath. The scent of blood and mana hung thick in the air, making it hard to breathe. My arms felt heavy, my pulse still racing from the last exchange.

Dodging, countering, striking—it all demanded precision and focus. Even the smallest mistake could’ve ended with my head rolling in the dirt. And mana—damn it, mana didn’t just drain energy; it drained your very life.

I looked around.

No monsters left. Only corpses.

Not all of them were human, but... close enough.

Faces twisted in pain, eyes wide open in disbelief—it didn’t matter what species they were. They looked too human.

"...Still," I muttered, staring at my trembling hands, "I had no choice."

It wasn’t guilt—no, not exactly. Just the aftertaste of surviving another fight that demanded you abandon something human inside you.

Capture them alive? With my current stats?

Laughable.

Even when I gave everything, it had been a toss-up between victory and death. There was no room for mercy.

"Luxury thinking," I murmured. "Leave that for heroes."

I rose to my feet, brushing the dirt from my gloves. My gaze drifted toward the distant horizon—toward where she was.

"I wonder how our lady’s doing."

For a moment, the thought lingered, tightening something in my chest. It was her first real battle—not just training, not a spar—but actual combat. Blood, fear, death.

But then I snorted softly.

"She’ll be fine."

If anything, I was more worried for whoever stood in her way.

With the kind of talent she had, calling her a "mid-boss" in a game wasn’t even a joke—it was an understatement. She wouldn’t fall here.

And if she ever did...

I looked down at the faint traces of black mana still swirling around my fingertips.

"I’ll just have to make sure the world falls with her."

I straightened my posture, brushing off the grime clinging to my coat. The battlefield stretched before me like a graveyard painted in crimson. The smell of burnt flesh and blood clung to everything, mixing with the faint trace of ozone from lingering magic.

"...Tch." I clicked my tongue, looking down at one of the fallen Ravarn soldiers. His lifeless eyes still held a glimmer of confusion—as if he couldn’t comprehend how a single man had wiped out his squad.

"I told you not to get in my way."

It wasn’t bravado. It was exhaustion—spilling out in the form of irritation. The edge of my sword flickered faintly with mana, still humming from overuse. I sheathed it slowly, feeling the dull ache in my wrist and shoulder.

Every muscle screamed for rest. But rest wasn’t something men like me got to enjoy. Not when she might still be out there fighting.

I turned my gaze toward the distant ridge. Smoke rose faintly in the direction of the northern valley—where Alice had gone.

"...She better not be doing anything stupid."

Knowing her, that was exactly what she was doing. Charging in headfirst, refusing to retreat even when wounded, acting like pride was armor.

"Honestly," I muttered under my breath, "she’s the kind of woman who makes her allies die of stress before the enemy even gets the chance."

Still, I found myself walking. Step by step, through the corpses and ash.

Each crunch underfoot echoed too loudly in the eerie quiet. My boots left faint prints of blood on the charred ground.

I wasn’t sure what drove me forward more—duty, instinct, or something far simpler.

Maybe it was just the fact that I couldn’t stand the thought of her getting hurt.

"She’ll be fine," I said again, trying to convince myself.

But deep down, a quiet unease twisted in my gut.

Because if she wasn’t...

If she was lying somewhere among the dead—

The air around me shivered, mana leaking from my body like smoke. The faint, black haze pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat.

"I’ll burn this whole damned valley to the ground."

And for a brief second, I almost meant it.

Now that the battlefield here was cleared, my task was to quickly follow her and provide support.

"Just wait a little. I’ll be right there."

I moved towards the depths of the enemy’s stronghold, where she had gone.

----

For Alice, demons had always been the embodiment of evil—worse than the most mindless of monsters.

"They’ve coveted our lands for centuries... plundered our villages, slaughtered our people. Tell me, what mercy do such creatures deserve?"

Her words were cold and resolute, echoing the conviction she had carried since childhood.

Yet now, as she stood amidst the chaos—arrows hissing through the night air, blades clashing in an endless rhythm—something inside her began to waver.

"Argh!"

"Jack! Don’t fall back—stay with me!"

"Hold the line! Don’t give them the high ground!"

The battlefield was drenched in blood, human and demon alike. Their cries of agony and desperation were indistinguishable.

And as she watched them fall—those once called monsters—she found herself hesitating for the first time.

"...Foolish," she murmured under her breath, forcing her hand to steady. "If death frightens you so, why invade our lands?"

No reply came, only the sound of steel scraping against the frozen ground.

Her sword trembled slightly as she looked down at its reflection. The faces captured in the silver gleam weren’t that of ferocious beasts, but of terrified men—no older than the young knights she’d trained beside.

"Pfft... what am I thinking?" She shook her head, as if to drive away a dangerous thought. "They’re still demons. Always have been."

But then the ground shook with a heavy step.

—Crash!

A giant in black steel armor emerged from the smoke, crushing corpses beneath his boots. His crimson plume swayed like a flame as his voice rumbled through his helm.

"Do not falter," he commanded his soldiers. "Offer your blood to the True Dragon."

The name alone made Alice’s blood run cold.

She raised her sword, her gaze locking onto his. "So, you’re their commander."

The demon’s armor glinted faintly with red light, etched with runes that pulsed in rhythm with his breath. He stared back, a living wall of iron.

"We fight because we must," he said. "The will of the True Dragon is absolute."

Alice frowned. "That’s your reason? Blind devotion? Even as your comrades die around you?"

Ravarn tilted his head slightly, unbothered by her accusation. "Their deaths are a return to his flame. To doubt is to defy the dragon’s will. You wouldn’t understand."

"Try me," she spat.

He let out a sound that might’ve been a laugh—or a growl. Then he raised his massive greatsword, the edge still dripping with blood.

"My duty is simple, human. None shall pass beyond this tent. If you wish to reach what lies within... then die trying."

The tent behind him was crimson—its color marking it as different from the rest. Alice knew what that meant.

—According to the scout’s report, prisoners were being held in the red tent at the center of the demon encampment.

If she wanted to save them, she would have to cut her way through this monster.

Her grip tightened around her blade. "Then I’ll ask once more," she said, voice low and cold. "What do you plan to do with those prisoners?"

Ravarn’s eyes burned like embers beneath his visor.

"I have no obligation to answer you."

Alice’s jaw clenched. Her sword angled slightly lower, ready—not for a rash swing, but for a measured, killing strike.

"You’ll answer me one way or another," she said coldly. "If you’ve harmed even one of them—"

"Harmed?" Ravarn interrupted, his deep voice carrying across the battlefield like thunder. "You think we need to harm them? Humans harm themselves just fine."

Her brows furrowed. "...What?"

"You fight for glory. For family crests. For power. You slaughter your own for the chance to sit closer to your king’s table. And yet you dare call us monsters?"

His words, calm and even, struck her harder than the gust of heat that followed his every step.

Alice scoffed, masking the small flicker of doubt that crept into her heart. "Don’t twist this. You invaded our lands first. You burned our homes, killed our soldiers—"

"—Because your kind did the same, long before you were born." The demons tone deepened, his helm lowering as he met her glare. "History begins where your arrogance allows it to. You call us evil because you cannot bear to face what your forefathers did."

Alice bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. "Even if that were true, I’m not them. I fight to protect my people."

"Then we are not so different."

His reply came so easily it infuriated her. The air between them grew colder, their breaths visible in the frigid air.

"Don’t compare us," she snapped. "You fight for some mad god—an overgrown lizard who treats you like pawns."

Ravarn demon tilted his head again, just slightly, and Alice could feel his smirk through the mask. "And you fight for nobles who treat you the same. Tell me, Lady Draken... if your Duke ordered you to burn a village to save a city, would you obey?"

Her mouth opened—then closed again.

He chuckled, low and harsh. "That silence is your answer."

"...You talk too much." Alice’s voice trembled, but her hands were steady as she raised her sword again. "If you think words can shake me, you’ll be disappointed."

"Words?" Ravarn’s greatsword lifted, its crimson edge humming with power. "No. I’ll shake you with steel."

Their eyes locked—human frost against demonic flame.

Then, with a roar that cracked the air, the demon charged forward.

The earth quaked beneath his steps, snow exploding in all directions.

Alice met him head-on, steel flashing under the moonlight.