Behind the collapsing corpse, Walm hesitated for a brief moment. How large was this attack?

The Mayard territory had been forced to make do with its limited manpower and had placed a new lord in the mountain fortress watching over Refun. While a considerable number of the absorbed troops were former Felius soldiers, the core of the force was made up of Mayard soldiers. It was hard to believe that every last one of them had defected.

“Graaah!!”

As if to interrupt his thoughts, the attackers charged all at once. Walm thrust forward the halberd whose blue flames still smoldered, leaning his body to the left as he moved to circle around their flank. His short probing strike, meant to keep them from closing the distance, was met with a harsh metallic clang as it was blocked.

The distance between them closed until they were nearly pressed together. It was a range where a spear could not display its true strength, so Walm was not surprised that his first strike had been blocked. With a swift twist of his wrist, the hooked side of the blade branching from the halberd’s spearhead caught onto the enemy’s longsword. Transferring his weight into the shaft, Walm yanked the halberd back. The soldier struggled desperately to keep hold of his weapon even as his upper body was thrown off balance. In the end, he managed to keep the sword in his grip, but Walm’s pull had dragged him directly into the path of his own comrades.

“Move, damn it! Get back!!”

Although Walm’s duty was to keep the enemy from breaking into the clinic, he didn’t cling stubbornly to the doorway. He had seen on the battlefield often enough how even superior skill could be overturned once desperate men closed into grappling distance. Their positions shifted. Now the former Felius soldiers found themselves trapped between the imperial knight and the door. For a moment, hesitation flickered across their faces. Should they kill the knight blocking their way or force their way inside?

“What about the people in—”

“Focus! Kill this bastard first!”

In contrast, Walm’s thinking was extremely simple. Eliminate the enemy before they break in. That was all.

Having gained enough distance to properly wield his halberd, Walm raised the weapon high. The blue flames traced a half-circle through the air, like a guiding light leading the dead to the underworld.

“It’s coming!”

Faced with the incoming Strong Strike, the former Felius soldier folded his elbow in with his sword, lowering the blade toward the ground in a defensive stance. But the halberd’s axe head, charged with mana, ignored such defenses entirely. It smashed through, tearing the man from his flank up to his chest.

Walm felt the impact as the blow cut through ribs and severed the heart. Blood burst from the breastplate, now carved with a deep, straight groove.

“Ggh! Bwaaah!”

A choking, gurgling sound escaped the man’s throat like water struggling through a clogged drain. Witnessing their comrade’s death, the soldier behind him reacted quickly. Using the spray of blood and the shadows for cover, he thrust forward. It was an excellent strike, clever enough that Walm almost admired it, but the target was poorly chosen. The crimson blade, now stained red with fresh blood, shot straight toward Walm’s eye.

Walm’s narrowed pupils accurately tracked the trajectory of the strike. The sharp tip of the longsword slid past his eyelid, grazing it as it passed. Though his original eyes had once been clouded, they had still been something he regretted losing. Even so, the cursed eyes he now possessed, eyes that wouldn’t rot away or feel pain anymore, weren’t something he disliked. After all, they allowed him to see the world clearly.

Without halting the swing of his halberd, Walm slid his grip toward the spearhead. The blood splattered across the weapon served almost like oil, letting the motion flow smoothly. The butt spike on the opposite end of the spear rose upward, braced against his hip. There was no need for a flashy wind-up or even a Strong Strike. The enemy soldier’s own uncontrolled momentum gave Walm all the force he needed.

The butt spike drove into the exposed softness of the man’s throat, biting deep and tearing through flesh. The halberd’s blade and hook, fixed against the ground like anchors, served like a grappling hook, channeling the soldier’s full body weight into the killing point. The soldier’s arms fell limp. The longsword slipped from the fingers of its lifeless owner and clattered to the ground.

“Ugh! Aaahhh!!”

The remaining soldier had finally chosen to fight, following the example of his fallen comrades, but it was far too late.

Walm struck the man’s gauntlet with the axehead, sending both sword and fingers flying. By the time the searing pain shot through his body, the spear tip had already pierced through his ankle, punching straight through his half-boot. Having completely robbed the attacker of his ability to resist, Walm extended his arm and grabbed the man by the throat.

“Ah-ha… haaa… ghaah!”

The soldier writhed in agony from the pain in his limbs, but the wounds were not immediately fatal. Tightening his grip around the man’s throat, Walm began to question him.

“Stop gasping. If you want to keep breathing, then answer my—”

Walm had intended to extract information, but he caught the faint sound of something slicing through the air and immediately pulled his arm back. His free hand slipped around the captive’s waist, almost like a gentleman leading a woman across a ballroom floor. In truth, he was using the man as a shield against arrows.

“Ugh… ah…”

Only one struck its mark. The rest embedded themselves into the outer wall and the door. Even for an archer possessing Strong Bow, it was no easy feat to pierce completely through the composite armor of iron and flesh that was a human body.

“Archers… three of them.”

Near Walm’s ear, the man’s breath rasped like someone struck by lightning. The arrow had sunk so deeply into his spine that the arrowhead was no longer visible. The archers, having steeled themselves, fired a second volley without regard for their own man. Keeping his stance low with his hips lowered, Walm began gathering mana. The archers had likely corrected their aim by now.

As expected, three impacts struck through the corpse shielding him, but Walm had already pinpointed the archers’ positions through the body.

Up on the soot-blackened roofs of nearby houses, the bowmen were reaching for fresh arrows from their quivers. Their positions had clearly been chosen for shooting angle and visibility, but they were far too bold. The advantage of high ground and the quick communication between the men lined up on either side certainly had its merits. However, that only worked if the firing position was as solid as an arrow slit in a fortress wall, or if the target had no means to strike back.

The Felius soldiers Walm had faced in Sarajevo and Refun had been far more cunning. At the very least, they never clustered together where they could be wiped out by a single magic attack.

“Jump down!”

Mana swirled around the knight, a sure sign of spellcasting. The archers realized it too late. The fireball Walm released flew straight into the house without the slightest deviation. Their startled cries turned into screams as the explosion blasted the archers from the roof along with the structure itself, setting it ablaze.

“Run! You’ll get caught in it!”

“Why the hell is a battle breaking out in the middle of town?!”

Burning timber and fragments of flesh rained down from the sky. The richly roasted yet revolting stench clawed at his nostrils. There was no time to celebrate wiping them out in one blow. The battle had erupted without warning, and the townspeople who had gathered nearby were now fleeing in panic. Amid that tide of fleeing civilians, more attackers were pushing their way forward.

Looking closely, Walm noticed that among the bodies lying in the pools of blood were former Felius soldiers he hadn’t struck down himself.

“Friendly fire… so there were some who weren’t in on it.”

They must have been soldiers on Mayard’s side who had not taken part in the attack. The loss of allied troops was regrettable, but at the very least it suggested that the entire Refun region had not risen in rebellion. For the moment, that was a small relief. The real problem was that he could no longer tell friend from foe.

“Anyone who doesn’t want to die, stay away from the church. Miner or ally, it doesn’t matter. I’ll cut them down regardless.”

Walm shouted it as a warning line.

In truth, those without hostile intent were easy to distinguish as they were the ones trying desperately to flee the scene as quickly as possible. The attackers, on the other hand, shoved through the crowd of civilians and rushed forward.

This was a mining town. He couldn’t burn everything down with Demon Fire along with the townspeople. For whatever cursed reason, his skill was truly ill-suited for guard duty.

“Hey, can you hear this?” Walm called out toward the studded door that had been firmly shut. “Looks like a whole group of guests has arrived.”

“How many are there?!” came the shout from inside.

“More than twenty that I can see. I’ll hold the front. You protect the rest.”

“Damn it! Cavalry, secure the back door and the shutters! I’m staying with Lady Ayane!”

Though separated by the door, Justan’s answer came back immediately, laced with curses and full of resolve. Walm burned the blood caked onto his halberd away with blue flame, then put on the demon mask as though soothing a beast drunk on slaughter. Fully dressed and prepared, he straightened himself. Then, Walm invited his brazen guests to their welcoming feast.

Translator – Lyxxna