The Yarkuk territory was a relay point connecting Selta and Refun. Once part of the former Kingdom of Felius, this land was treated as little more than a continuation to the Refun region. If it had any role at all, it was merely as a transport route for ore. Even among those routes, the old road guarded by Eskish fortress was considered the least valuable due to its poor convenience. Naturally, the officers assigned there were not men with bright futures ahead of them, and it was an open secret that half the worth of that post was in the fact that it served as a convenient place to sideline troublesome individuals.

The man who had spent long years warming the commander’s seat in that fortress was a 100-man commander named Ratu. He was earnest, yes, and honest to a fault, but he lacked any sense for organizational politics. As a subordinate, he was the sort of man who was tiresome and difficult to handle. To soldiers who hadn’t served under him for long, he was the kind of overbearing superior who didn’t know how to relax.

Under the pretense of training, he made his men run narrow mountain paths in full gear and frequently ordered grueling repairs to the fortress. What made it worse was that Ratu always took the lead in everything, no matter the hour. According to the men, a small group of sympathizers inspired by his behavior watched them around the clock, making it impossible to slack off. They would’ve preferred him to throw his life away gloriously on the battlefield, but both the Highserk empire and even the Great Rampage had forgotten the existence of Eskish Fortress. A clueless old giant who knew neither war nor reality. That was the general assessment of commander Ratu.

Inside his quarters, Ratu stared intently at a worn, aging map. Rare communication magic tools had been placed only at major strongholds, and Eskish Fortress had no choice but to rely on couriers on horseback and smoke signals. The last report he had received was that a Highserk knight had departed from Refun. Since then, nothing more had reached them.

“…Where? Which route will they take?”

The notes and scribbles written across the map had all been made by Ratu’s own hand. Thanks to years of surveying the area around the fortress under the pretext of training, he knew the surrounding land better than his own hometown.

“Have they already passed through? Or did another unit intercept them? Or am I to be left behind by the times again?”
Ratu was no conscripted militiaman. He had been a regular soldier who volunteered of his own will. At the root of that decision were the heroic tales he had heard from the elders of his village. His peers had found them dull, but as a boy he had begged to hear them until he memorized every word.

“…Another wrinkle, is it?”

When he lowered his gaze to his hands, he saw undeniable proof of age. It wasn’t just the wrinkles. The muscles in his arms and legs were weakening as well. Several years had passed since he entered late middle age. He still trained by running mountain paths in full armor, but it was little more than a drop in the ocean. In front of the advancing tide of old age, his body remained at a disadvantage.

As a professional soldier, his duty was to protect the lives and property of the people. The fact that the fortress had remained untouched by war should’ve been proof that he had fulfilled that duty. Even so, the fire smoldering in the depths of his heart only grew stronger with every passing year. A fortress forgotten by the times, and an old commander left behind with it. He had enlisted seeking the battlefield, yet at this rate, he would meet his end in bed, claimed by old age. What bitter irony. And to make matters worse, he found himself lamenting his circumstances, which served as proof that even his spirit had begun to weaken.

“Damn this aging body… I won’t let it steal away my longing.”

He slapped his own face to chastise himself, then headed for the command post. The soldiers waiting inside greeted him with salutes. Returning the gesture, Ratu motioned for them to sit.

“Commander Ratu, do you think the Demon Fire user will pass through here?”

The man who asked uneasily was one of the old veterans who had been with him for many years. The officers and soldiers stationed in the command post were the rare sort who still held respect for Ratu within the fortress. Though there were differences in degree, they were all men who sharpened their fangs in preparation for a battlefield they had yet to see.

“I’m certain he will come precisely because this fortress has been forgotten.”

At their commander’s firm declaration, color returned to the soldiers’ faces A commander must never voice his own doubts. “This time… this time for sure…” such resolve showed even in the armor they wore. Aside from brief moments to wash, the men stationed at the command post wore their gear constantly, even as they slept. Part of Ratu hoped that their dedication would be rewarded, yet when he thought of the village beside the fortress and the militia as fragile as newborns, peace was surely the better outcome.

He was well aware of it. To long for the battlefield was foolish, selfish, and sinful. And still, his admiration for those heroic tales had never faded. Bound to obey orders with unwavering sincerity, all Ratu could do was prepare for the threat he believed would come.

“Still, to scatter the militia after they went to the trouble of gathering… What in the world is that 1000-man commander in the main territory thinking?”

“He likely wants to find them as early as possible.”

Orders had come down from the 1000-man commander above them in the chain of command: even the animal trails were to be manned by militia. Increasing manpower would, without a doubt, increase the chances of contact. But these were men as green as newborns. Ratu feared they would be cut down before they even had time to cry out. If he were honest, concentrating their forces at the fortress would have been preferable, but as a soldier, orders were absolute.

“…We’re dealing with that Demon Fire user, after all.”

“The imperial knight who burned Sarajevo. They say he commands blue flames, but what sort of man is he?”

“Maybe a giant demon?”

“Bigger than commander Ratu?”

The soldiers looked up at Ratu as though they were gazing at a mountain. Hiding his embarrassment, the old commander shook his head.

“I am no different from an old tree hollowed out by age.”

“If you’re an old tree, commander Ratu, then we’re the new buds.”

Soft laughter spread through the command post. His longing for the battlefield ran deep, but perhaps this atmosphere wasn’t so bad either. Foolish as he was, perhaps, before he died, he might’ve come to accept a life of peace. That fleeting calm shattered, and Ratu abruptly rose at the sound of a faint, unusual noise. The soldiers followed a beat later.

“Battle sounds?!”

“No… it can’t be…”

“That’s metal striking metal!”

Chairs were kicked aside as officers and men rushed out of the command post, only to witness a watchtower and its archers exploding. Archers were thrown up in the air and wreckage covered in blue flames rained down to the ground. For an instant, it felt like time itself had slowed.

“Ghh… For us to allow a surprise attack, what a disgrace!”

The alarm bell within the fortress rang out, warning everyone of enemy attack. Though in truth, the heat already sweeping through the stronghold spoke louder than any bell.

“Commander! It’s the Demon Fire user, he… he’s here!”

This was what true chaos looked like. A recently assigned 10-man team leader came stumbling in, barely able to form words. Caught in the surprise attack, he hadn’t even managed to put on his armor properly. He looked like a child trying to cling to a great tree. Seizing the trembling young man by the shoulders, Ratu spoke to him at a distance close enough to feel the breath.

“Exhale, then breathe in. Gather the militia and stop the flames from spreading to the village!”

“L-Lord Ratu, then what about you?!”

“We’re going to slay the demon! Now go!”

Shoving the 10-man team leader on his way, Ratu ran straight toward the heart of the swirling blue flames. There was something almost boyish in his stride, like a child racing toward a long-awaited harvest festival. The barracks were already engulfed in fire, and soldiers who no longer knew left from right wandered in confusion. Ignoring the searing heat, Ratu drew in a great breath and yelled.

“Those who can raise a magic barrier, follow me! What are you standing army for?! You chose the battlefield yourselves! Fulfill your duty!”

“Commander Ratu, over there! I believe that is the Demon Fire user!”

“Ohhh… how grotesque… and yet, how beautiful.”

He was a head and a half shorter than Ratu. His build was average, not the towering giant the rumors had suggested. However, the way he carried himself, honed through real combat, made all who saw him instinctively think of death. Above all, there were those swirling blue flames. All alone, he had brought a battlefield to Eskish fortress.

“…Is that… Gustave?”

“That fool’s trying to steal the glory!”

One of the veterans Ratu had personally trained surged forward with his magic barrier flaring, challenging the imperial knight. Sharp spearpoints crossed competing for space. On the third clash, the axe-head of the halberd twisted sharply and knocked aside the tip of the spear.

“He read my moves in just a few exchanges?!”

Caught off guard, Gustave leaned back just in time, and the spear thrust narrowly missed. Instead, the side blade extending from the halberd sliced across his neck.

“Ghh… oh… aaaahhh!”

As blood and his very life drained, gushing out like a fountain, Gustave let out a strangled roar and lunged to grab hold of his opponent. At that range, Ratu had expected him to cling on, but the Demon Fire user moved first. He tilted his posture, twisted his waist, folded his elbow, and scooped up the halberd. The mana-infused axe-head split Ratu’s subordinate clean in two.

“H-he cut him?!”

“Gustave… you rushed in too far.”

“To unleash Strong Strike at that range… it’s unbelievable.”

It was outside the reach of a spear, but through masterful control of his body, he had made it possible. It was a technique acquired only by piling up countless corpses on the battlefield. Gustave had staked his life as the price to draw that skill out. Anyone who saw it would say the same.

That was what a true knight was.

“…Gustave, watch from the underworld!”

Brave Gustave would surely reach the underworld without losing his way, guided by the guiding flame. And precisely because of that, Ratu couldn’t allow himself to show weakness in front of the men who had crossed over safely before him.

“Sayan, Rodrigue, match your pace to mine.”

The imperial knight noticed Ratu the instant he called out to his men. The gaze turned toward them, the killing intent filling behind that demon mask, all of it told Ratu and the others that they had now thrown themselves onto the battlefield. The Demon Fire user’s mana grew, and he stretched out an arm as if asking for a handshake. But it was no gesture of goodwill. It was the stance of a magic user.

“Here it comes! Get behind meee!”

The two men instantly moved behind Ratu. The fireball unleashed a moment later was vicious. It was attack spell from a first-rate magic user. An ordinary 10-man unit lacking magic barriers would’ve stood no chance at all. The Demon Fire user had acknowledged Ratu as a worthy opponent and granted him a salute of fire.

He had no choice but to answer it.

Ratu tightened his grip on the iron-shattering club in his hands. He had swung it through empty air hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of times, because there had been nothing else to strike. And now, at last, it was meeting its first true battle.

Holding it high, mana ignited along the weapon. The steel club, forged entirely of metal from tip to the end, transmitted all of Ratu’s physical strength and mana without waste. With a single blow, Strong Strike crushed the incoming fireball. The flames split to both sides, avoiding Ratu. Through the clearing heat haze, the imperial knight still stood unchanged.

“…So this is the battlefield.”

The old tree muttered the words as though savoring them. The growing heat stole the moisture from his throat even through the magic barrier. Those blue flames were brutal, trampling everything that they should’ve protected. Still, a forbidden thrill coursed through him, sending a shiver down Ratu’s spine. The blue flames gnawing at his barrier, the killing intent pricking his skin… hard as they were to accept, he was enjoying them. Boredom was a poison far crueler than pain. And so, Ratu embraced the blue flames with joy. He had earned the right to trade blows.

He lifted the spiked end of his club from where it had bitten deep into the earth and shook off the dirt clinging to its studs. This was his long-awaited stage that had been in the making over fifty years. He wouldn’t tolerate it being dirtied by mud. Thrusting the iron club forward, Ratu made a declaration.

“Hear me, knight of the empire! My name is Ratu! I’m the commander entrusted with this fortress! Come, let us cross blades in fair combat!”

The heat made his aging body boil. Across all the northern lands, there was no better opponent to test himself against than this one. Despite his towering, aged frame, his heart had become that of a child again. Even the way he spoke shifted, drawn by the ideals he had long admired. Reciting a line fit for a tale of heroes, Ratu felt his heart race like that of a boy.

Translator – Lyxxna