It was an unbelievable sight.
Jared rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
As if someone had sliced it clean with a blade, the section of the Briol army’s targeted castle wall suddenly lifted into the sky. The imperial soldiers stationed atop the wall clung desperately to the battlements, screaming in terror.
Everyone watching held their breath.
“This… this is Lady Inariel’s power…”
Urgent voices echoed from all directions.
“Where’s His Highness?”
“He’s gone!”
“Damn it! Hurry and follow!”
“We should be ashamed for hesitating!”
“Who doubted him?”
“You did too!”
“Just run!”
Jared hurriedly urged the knights forward as well. By the way, he had lost the shouting match among the knights and been pushed to the rear ranks.
The entire order of knights, afraid of crashing into the wall, had slowed down—but now, spurred on, they surged forward with renewed speed.
“Protect His Highness!”
At this moment, only Yuri had penetrated the enemy lines.
Jared recalled that figure charging ahead without hesitation while everyone else faltered.
Though they bickered constantly, he had to admit it.
His lord, Yuri Briol, was truly an extraordinary man.
“Come on, move faster!”
Jared urged a middle-aged knight ahead as they passed through the castle wall’s defenses.
“Uh…”
Before them unfolded a scene that seemed to mock their fears.
No intact bodies remained. Blood and flesh were splattered across the walls like discarded scraps of food. The equipment set up to support the defense lay shattered into dozens of pieces, debris scattered across the ground.
It was as if a whirlwind of blades had swept through the interior.
Jared muttered under his breath.
“A spinning tornado…”
It was Yuri’s signature technique.
The serrated edge of his sword spun endlessly, grinding down enemies. When he first used it, it left only slashing wounds, but now it had evolved into an ultimate massacre move, pulverizing any foes who dared stand in his way.
Jared remembered the first time he met Yuri.
Back then, he had thought him just a reckless boy.
Though talented, Jared himself had been stronger at the time.
But time passed, and now?
Yuri had become a warrior of the Ten Greats, while Jared found himself trailing behind.
Jared muttered again.
“How embarrassing…”
He had never doubted his own talent.
Though he never said it aloud, he had believed that with continued training, someday—far in the future—he too would reach the ranks of the Ten Greats.
It was a naive thought.
Not someday in the distant future, but the present demanded his attention.
Right now, as a mere bodyguard knight, he was barely of any help to Yuri.
Even if he grew stronger later, Yuri would have long since left him in the dust.
“Damn it…”
Jared thought of Lorant.
The one who had always followed Yuri was gone. His fate was unknown. Yet somehow, Jared felt he would see him again.
When that time came, he vowed not to be weaker than him.
“Jared, where are you going?”
A knight beside him asked as Jared turned sideways.
He thought the man was a count from somewhere. Unlike the burly, hairy, pot-bellied knights of Briol who wielded their swords like ghosts, this one was no different.
Jared shouted back.
“I’m moving to the side!”
“Why?”
“Following His Highness is too easy!”
The middle-aged knight’s eyes widened, then he burst out laughing.
“A bodyguard knight who abandons his lord because it’s no fun!”
“So what if I do?”
“Good, very good!”
He laughed heartily and turned to follow Jared’s direction.
“Come with me! I, Macphos, will accompany this rookie today!”
The surrounding knights reacted.
“What? Where’s Sir Macphos going?”
“No idea!”
“I’m coming too!”
“Let’s follow those guys!”
One after another, the knights turned and began to branch off.
“Yeah, following a path someone else cleared is no fun!”
“Hey! Isn’t His Highness with us?”
“Let’s carve up these living, breathing imperial bastards!”
As Jared and the group of knights veered off, the knights behind them murmured.
“Should we split up too?”
“That sounds good!”
Like a river splitting into streams, Briol’s knights spread out in all directions.
With their forces dispersed, the entryway opened up, allowing the following Briol troops to pass through the castle walls without pause.
The imperial army offered no meaningful resistance.
They had only prepared to defend the walls, never imagining the enemy would breach them in such an impossible way.
“For Briol!”
Jared cut down soldiers as he advanced, soon spotting a group of knights clad in black armor blocking the path.
The Briol knights shouted in rage.
“Imperial bastards!”
“Kill them! Kill them all!”
Though Briol was known as the land of knights, these looked more like bandits than noble warriors.
Jared smirked and placed a foot in the stirrup. Stroking his horse’s mane, he said,
“See you later.”
Then he leapt onto his horse, which twisted sharply and veered off the battlefield.
Soaring into the sky, Jared could see the faces of the imperial knights looking up at him.
None showed any expression.
Yuri had often spoken of the imperial black army—war machines stripped of fear and pain.
Perhaps these were exactly those soldiers.
Jared flipped in midair, gripping his sword tightly.
He didn’t see the absence of fear or pain as an advantage.
The will to live.
The fear of death.
These were what pushed humans to surpass their limits on the battlefield.
Those who do not fear death cannot avoid it.
Jared’s battle sense flared.
At this moment, he could perceive every entity around him simultaneously.
He landed among the rear ranks of the imperial knights.
They all turned at once, swinging their swords.
The blades came at him.
In that instant, Jared’s senses transcended time itself.
The trajectory of the deadly blades slowed to a crawl.
If he failed to dodge, death would be immediate—and he had no desire to die.
His mind overheated, calculating the optimal path for survival.
His heart pumped fiercely.
Mana surged through his veins like a raging storm.
Jared’s eyes snapped open.
As the blade neared, he understood what he had to do.
He twisted his neck, spun once, and swung his sword in a sweeping arc.
The sword’s energy sliced through the imperial knights, blood spraying and clouding his vision.
Then a voice called out.
“Hey, hey! Going alone?”
Jared grinned.
Macphos and some of the knights had followed him into the rear ranks. He was not alone.
His tense body relaxed slightly.
The newly recalculated attack path was easier.
If before he had been walking on a razor’s edge, now it was like crawling along a thick rope.
By the way, Jared had completed owl guerrilla training.
It was very easy.
The knights, led by Macphos, crashed into the scattered imperial rear guard.
Their momentum overwhelmed the enemy.
“For Briol!”
“For Briol!”
Jared reset his survival path and recalculated his route for slaughter.
It didn’t take long. There were so many ways to take down the pushed-back enemies that choosing the best option was almost a problem.
Jared circled wide, striking at enemy gaps.
Rather than facing foes head-on, he struck suddenly from outside their line of sight, snatching lives in an instant. He had learned this from the way ronin fought.
They didn’t duel with swords—they mastered the art of taking lives.
“Sir Jared! That’s so dirty but efficient!”
“I learned it from His Highness!”
“Now you’re blaming him too?”
“I’m serious!”
The imperial knights didn’t scream even as they died.
Jared felt a chill and pulled his leg back just in time.
An imperial knight, whom he thought dead, had swung his sword at Jared’s ankle.
Though Jared’s chest burst with blood from the forced effort, the knight’s face remained expressionless.
Disgusted by the black magic, Jared crushed the knight’s head beneath his boot.
“Repulsive…”
Jared looked up. The Briol knights, riding their momentum, continued cutting down the enemy.
Macphos even glanced back at Jared and spoke.
“Easier than you thought, right?”
“Yeah.”
“There are no black knights, but I heard several knight commanders are still around.”
“They’re probably hiding in the back.”
“Maybe so…”
As they talked, Jared suddenly stepped forward and swung his sword.
An imperial knight aimed for Macphos’s back.
Though Briol held the advantage, the enemy was no pushover.
“Uh…”
“You owe me one.”
“Looks like it.”
Macphos grinned.
“Debts must be paid promptly. Today, I’ll stick by you and protect you!”
“No need!”
Jared gasped for breath.
Though the start had gone smoothly, the imperial forces were formidable.
Not only were they numerous, but each knight was highly skilled.
Where did they train so many knights? No matter how many he killed, more appeared, dulling his blade.
“Hoo…”
Looking back, even Macforce was soaked in blood.
The knights who had moved alongside Jared were now fewer in number. Some had died, others were wounded and had retreated to the rear.
It was unfortunate, but this was war.
“Everyone looks terrible.”
“Did you think war was easy?”
“Still…”
Jared spat blood-tinged saliva, recalling the comrades who had died right before his eyes.
“How many more have to die before this war ends…?”
“It’s only just begun, young friend. Already getting sentimental? Wait until you hit menopause—that’ll be a sight.”
“There’s still a long way to go.”
“Life really starts then.”
Exchanging such trivial banter, they pressed deeper into Bezos Castle.
The Briol army had effectively taken control of the fortress. There was no longer any fierce resistance.
The occasional imperial soldiers who appeared quickly surrendered, and the knights, bewitched by that cursed black magic, met their end after futile charges.
Soon, they reached the heart of Bezos Castle.
A massive fortress towered before them—the very center of Bezos Castle.
And at its entrance—
“Ah…”
Jared, at the front, was the first to fall silent. Macforce, who had been chattering nonstop, also stopped in his tracks, closing his mouth.
Silence fell.
There he was.
A young man with black hair, sitting atop the shattered remains of the gate, head bowed.
Around him lay countless bodies of imperial knights, their blood staining the ground a deep red.
Only now did Jared understand why no formidable imperial knight commander had appeared.
They had all been slain by this one man.
The helmets and armor that once symbolized the imperial knight commander—the very objects that inspired fear—were all crushed and strewn across the floor like trash.
The perpetrator of this massacre lifted his head.
His face was splattered with blood, blotchy and grimy. But when he smiled, his white teeth showed.
“Hey, you’re late.”
He staggered to his feet. At first, he wobbled, but soon stood firm on both legs.
Then, forcing his uncooperative arm up, he slung his beloved sword—engraved with words symbolizing guilt—over his shoulder.
Yuri Briol.
Battered and broken, he smiled as if nothing had happened, lifting the corners of his mouth.
“That was a pretty dull fight, wasn’t it?”