“What’s that group?”

While Walm had been dispatching enemy soldiers to the afterlife with impartiality, he noticed a new force approaching the neighboring corner tower. They weren’t the typical Meizenaf territory troops he had encountered so far. Their mismatched armor and weapons, uneven spears, and overall ragtag appearance might give an impression of familiarity at first glance, but Walm’s experience told him otherwise.

“They’re not amateurs, are they like me maybe?”

On the battlefield, everyone had chosen their equipment based on the combat skills they had honed, and even the uneven lengths of their spears were adjusted to suit the preferences of seasoned soldiers. If they weren’t mere foot soldiers or an elite unit from the Archipelago Countries, the answer was clear: they had to be a mercenary group. Walm had heard rumors about these groups, comprising of pure battle fanatics who thrived in warfare and profit.

“Shit.”

As the mercenaries formed a wedge formation, Walm sensed them gathering their magical energy. The purpose of this concentrated formation of valuable magic soldiers was evident.

“Hey, it’s the mercenaries! Magic is coming!”

Walm raised his voice to alert his allies, but he realized it was too late. A part of the group intensified their magical energy, and various spells rained down on the corner tower. These spells, which twisted the laws of nature, pierced the ground and wreaked destruction. The remnants of the walls danced in the air, scattering around, and the pieces of soldiers hit directly turned into a thick mist of blood, staining the surroundings.

“Even their own troops?”

The Meizenaf troops on the slopes, sticking to the side, suffered damage in small units, and the continuous earth magic spells made it impossible for them to move, leaving the stranded soldiers to be buried alive in their futile pleas.

“…Those damn mercenaries.”

Sacrifices were a part of war. Victories couldn’t be achieved with just idealism. Even if it meant using allies as expendable pawns, as long as the overall gains significantly outweighed the losses, such strategies were tolerated. Of course, whether the morale of the troops or the sacrificed soldiers themselves would accept this was another matter. Walm had also experienced being a part of such disposable strategies.

As a human bought by the state, he had thrown himself into killing for the prosperity and maintenance of the community. The earlier attack was likely a part of a strategy to gain the element of surprise. Although as a former soldier steeped in rationality and collectivism, he could acknowledge its effectiveness, but his remaining murky morals despised such actions.

“The walls?!”

“Aaah! They’re caving in!”

Mercenaries started pouring through the breached section. Even as reserves were being deployed to close the gap, the opponents were hired soldiers accustomed to the life of warfare. They moved too quickly. Even with a favorable view, it was clear that maintaining the current state was a struggle, and retaking the bridgehead was now impossible. Walm wasn’t an outsider to this situation. The impact of the reserves and the troops at the base being pulled out had even increased the momentum of the soldiers below, which he had been keeping in check.

“Don’t fall behind those mercenaries, breach the walls!”

Even the main camp, which had been waiting in the rear, seemed ready to lunge forward. Walm understood that it was an all-out attack; any slight resistance would be crushed by the difference in numbers and speed. A simple but powerful tactic when the circumstances aligned, capable of swallowing up any intricate strategies.

“Hold the front! Don’t falter!”

A regular soldier shouted, to not lose to the approaching army. Walm agreed with this approach. Now, the only option was to steadily wear down each enemy one by one.

The launched fireballs bloomed into azure flames, but the enemy, pushed by their momentum and surrounding soldiers, didn’t stop. Baron Josh’s cavalry, still intact, had yet to be deployed on the walls. Karim and Kuwen, while distracted, continued to strike down with their long spears, focusing on hindering the Meizenaf troops.

“Karim, Kuwen, don’t look down! Just stab and strike down those trying to climb up!”

Without waiting for a response, Walm shifted his focus from supporting the two to the enemies before him. He caught the ladders being thrown up with the tip of his halberd, pushing them down, and severed the wrists of soldiers trying to grab onto the wall. A fireball shot at close range grazed his skin. An old friend, the demon mask he had tucked at his waist, seemed to awaken from its slumber and started trembling.

“Still trembling as always, learn some self-control.”

Few daring individuals leaned out from the walls, and among them, Walm, who had unleashed a barrage of fireballs, received a warm welcome. When a soldier below thrust a short spear upwards, Worm twisted the trajectory with his halberd and sliced through the soldier’s throat with the axe blade.

Soon after, Walm deflected the longsword thrust up from directly below him with the pommel of his weapon. Following this, he struck the side of the head with the spear point while sliding down, involving the surroundings in his descent. There was no time to rest. His busy eyes caught several arrows. He dodged the potentially fatal arrows by tilting his head and parrying them with his spear. Others were deflected by adjusting the angle of his gauntlets and breastplate, diverting them with his armor and a magical barrier.

“What are you doing? Shoot him down quickly!”

“Even though I hit him, why isn’t he down?”

The archers weren’t bad, but their non-magical arrows were ineffective against Walm, who was protected by his armor and magical barrier. However, it would still hurt if hit, and a shot to a vital area like the eyes could be serious. Walm responded to the archers with a fireball.

“Ah!! Run away―”

The archer, who was about to shoot a second arrow, was engulfed in the explosion and shattered. However, the space he vacated was immediately filled by other soldiers.

With his remaining strength, Walm turned his thoughts. Baron Josh’s cavalry had not yet appeared. If they weren’t extinguishing fires at the frontline, they would either counterattack from somewhere around the castle gate or attempt a strike before rejoining the main force.

It wasn’t feasible to pay attention to every low-ranking soldier in the chaos of battle. Misjudging the situation could lead to being abandoned in a supporting castle. Walm was willing to work for his pay but had no intention of dying pointlessly. He planned to withdraw, coordinating with Baron Josh’s movements. As Walm finalized his thoughts, he missed a sign of attack that he would not have overlooked during his active military days, a consequence of a year lost to drinking.

“Get down―”

Walm reflexively threw himself to the ground. Before the warning cry could reach the young soldiers, the mercenary group’s magic soldiers who had been approaching within range, attacked the inner side of the fort from the corner tower. The impact brushed his back, and debris rained down. Trying to assess the situation, he was hampered by dust in the air and an unclear view, with only cries of pain and shouts echoing around him.

Getting up in a crawling position, Walm emerged from the dust. The corner tower, which had withstood the fierce attacks from the outside, crumbled weakly under the multiple magical attacks from the inside. Fortunately, he was not buried under the building, and the magic did not hit Walm directly. The slight dizziness and ringing in his ears would soon pass.

“Ugh, sending magic soldiers into a castle that’s not fully subdued?”

Rare magic soldiers were treated like precious grandchildren. In situations where chaotic battles and surprise counterattacks were more than possible, the Highserk Empire would not send magic soldiers in. It took time to train them, and their numbers were few; they were a type of soldier that must not be lost. Walm thought this far and realized his opponents were a mercenary group. Moreover, they were from the Archipelago Countries, where the common sense of the northern countries did not apply.

Perhaps he had become complacent, thinking he was battle-hardened. Walm, who had been checking his surroundings without dusting himself off, clenched his teeth. Karim was screaming. Kuwen, who had been energetically wielding his long spear against the Meizenaf troops, now lay on his back on the ground.

“The bleeding won’t stop!”

Walm rushed over to assess the wound. A spear of ice as thick as a grown man’s arm was stabbed into the thigh, with blood flowing unstoppably.

“Uarghh!”

Walm had seen various deaths. He broke out in a cold sweat at the severity of the wound. Bleeding from the limbs, especially the thigh, was often underestimated, but he had seen soldiers who were chatting energetically moments before silently passing away from blood loss. The artery was missed, but blood and life were flowing out of Kuwen’s body, which couldn’t deploy a magical barrier. Left unattended, he would die in a short time.

“Kuwen, hold on.”

By nature, Walm couldn’t offer sweet words. Encouragement was better suited to his childhood friend Karim. Walm only conveyed the facts.

“If left alone, you’ll die from blood loss.”

Arrows and bladed weapons could be carried away as they were, but the tricky thing about an ice spear was that after exerting external force on the human body, it stole body heat and melted. By the time it was shown to a healing mage, the melted ice would expose the wound, causing major bleeding. The melted water also inhibited blood clotting and the deployment of a magical barrier.

“Ah, aah… Mr. Walm, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die…”

The corner tower, having lost much of its function as a defensive structure, was breached by enemies who had scaled the castle walls.

“Listen carefully,” Walm said.

Viscount Barnes from the enemy’s side was approaching from the front of the walls, while a band of mercenaries was closing in from the side. Walm was preoccupied with the two of them, and the noisy magic soldiers, thinking they were dead, were gaining momentum. There was no more time to spare.

“Now, I’ll pull out the ice spear… and burn you, Kuwen.”

Kuwen, his face pale, understood the situation and nodded, gripping Walm’s hand with his now cold fingers. Even the most robust soldiers could die of shock. Whether his immature body could withstand it or not, there was no way to clear Walm’s trembling hand from the heavy pressure.

The image of a girl he had parted with in death during the battle in Dandurg came to mind. Walm was doing his utmost to hide his agitation just to save one boy. In the midst of the rapidly changing battle situation and the great rampage, the girl who had healed thousands was indeed noble.

“What good is it to think only of those who are lost?” Walm chastised himself. The boy believed in him. Walm had to believe that he himself could save people.

“You can endure this. Hang in there.”

He poured the distilled alcohol, which had often tempted Walm during the march, over the wound. The stimulation from the alcohol made Kuwen’s legs twitch slightly. Walm held the lifeless soldier from nearby in his arms, cut off his cloak with a pulled-out dagger, and stuffed a piece into Kuwen’s mouth.

“Here we go.”

As he pulled out the ice spear, blood spilled from the now barrier-less wound. When the manifested blue flame touched the wound, Kuwen’s body arched back and convulsed violently. Walm and Karim, holding down his upper body, prevented any movement, and Kuwen let out cries of agony. Despite being accustomed to the smell of burning flesh, Walm felt a sour taste in his mouth due to his disgust. It was pitiful. Despite having burned dozens, hundreds of people, his stomach rejected the reality that he had just burned a single boy.

“UUUUUUUUGGGHHHHHHH!”

The blood boiled instantly, burning the wound and the surrounding tissues. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils, and the sounds of the boy’s agony and the sizzling of moisture were vividly captured in his ears. Holding the boy’s hand, who was gasping for air, Walm implored.

“Hang on. Please endure.”

It was a genuine wish from Walm’s heart. Kuwen with his consciousness fading, continued to breathe. Walm applied an ointment mixed with herbs and covered the surface with alcohol-soaked cloth.

After all, Walm was only capable of killing. That was all the first aid he could offer. He needed to keep Kuwen still to prevent infection and have a healing mage examine him.

But someone was there to interfere. Walm looked over the castle walls at the soldiers rushing in. A group drunk on victory and blood. The corner tower had killed too many enemies. It craved numerous sacrifices and would only be appeased by the blessing of blood.

“Karim, listen. Take Kuwen to the rear of the fort. It’s still safe there, and Baron Josh’s retainers are there too.”

“What about you, Mr. Walm?”

“They’re just looking for a playmate. I’ll be fine. I’m used to playing and being played with.”

“Let’s escape together. Now’s our chance.”

Tempting words. The best option for their survival. But Walm wasn’t one to abandon a task halfway. Foolishly, in his previous life, he had worked himself to death, succumbing to fatigue and stress-induced myocardial infarction. His stupidity hadn’t been cured by death. Moreover, fleeing now would betray his struggling compatriots striving for a comeback. Walm couldn’t commit such an act of disloyalty.

The situation had already progressed beyond the point of Walm’s withdrawal. With three people bunched up for medical attention, they were easy targets, and no enemy would miss the opportunity. An enemy soldier lunged at him with a short spear.

Walm grabbed the halberd he had thrown on the ground, diverted the spear with the hook claw side of the blade, and plunged the stone butt into the enemy’s eye socket. The enemy soldier collapsed without a scream. Walm then faced the next wave of enemies.

“Go now!!”

His resolve unshakable, he said with widened eyes and a commanding tone.

“Good luck!”

The shouting boy dragged his friend and retreated. The once immature boy was now becoming a soldier. Walm watched his back, baring his fangs at the rude intruders.

Translator – Lyxxna