“Is it really Jijoncheonma? Or not?”
A simple question.
If it is, then I can easily resolve this.
If not, then I will die.
If it’s the Jijoncheonma from her imagination, this problem is nothing.
She would solve it calmly without even changing her expression.
“How I long to see it.”
A bewitching smile.
Eyes curling beautifully.
Behind those crimson irises, tens of thousands of troops were in motion.
“Nothing has changed! Move according to plan!”
A voice shouting at the top of its lungs.
“Form up the battle lines!”
The dust clouds rapidly grew.
The ground vibrated erratically beneath their feet.
“What are you doing? Stop hesitating and move quickly to the left wing!”
Despite the situation unfolding too fast for them to tense up, the formations were taking shape.
The two forces collided head-on.
Their numbers and quality were similar, and now the tide of battle was unpredictable.
Boom—
The heavy, solid clashes of armored infantry locked in a deadly struggle.
Infantry clad in heavy armor contended at the front, long spears densely thrust through the gaps.
‘Will they push forward? Or be pushed back?’
‘Will they be wounded? Or survive?’
In an instant, screams, shouts, clanging metal, and the wet sounds of flesh being pierced filled the air.
Excitement and despair hung over the once peaceful plains.
The fresh grass was trampled beneath bloodied boots, and instead of the chirping of insects, human cries echoed.
One soldier screamed, pulling out his spear.
Bright red blood spurted, soaking his entire body. Another soldier, further fired up, raised his spear to strike again—
Puff—
This time, the spear stabbed into his own body.
Clear blood flowed again over the blood-soaked ground.
Such is war.
If you don’t kill, you will die. Even if you kill, you still might die.
Kill and be killed.
It is an intense excitement mixed with terrible despair.
Tens of thousands of soldiers lined up in long rows and fought.
If one side pushed, the other was pushed back.
Commanders strained their voices to maintain balance, but amidst the chaotic noise of battle, it was not easy.
The battle was intense.
The numbers of soldiers were not significantly different, so it was hard to determine who had the upper hand.
If one side had been clearly overwhelmed, the knights would have intervened naturally, but since the fight was so close, the knights’ appearance was delayed.
From a commander’s perspective—who views humans as pawns—it was a loss if the knights, the core fighting force, appeared even a moment earlier.
But the war had reached its peak, and when the soldiers’ numbers fell below a certain threshold—
Almost simultaneously, knights on both sides entered the battlefield.
This was the typical order of the battle’s turning point, the most crucial moment deciding victory or defeat.
The side that gained superiority in the clash of knights would seize the advantage.
Thus, the knights of both sides stepped forward.
“That is…?”
Only then did the Second Prince’s camp realize something was wrong.
“The Eastern knights!”
They had naturally assumed these were the First Prince’s troops, but something was off.
“Why are the Eastern knights here?”
“Did Yohn Torno side with the First Prince?”
Indeed, there were no visible symbols or banners of the First Prince—who was known for his pride and showiness.
No flags or emblems at all.
It was as if they were marching in secret.
“Nothing changes! Charge!”
But it was too late to turn back now.
If they tried to withdraw amidst the chaotic and heated battlefield, the losses would be incalculable.
For them or for their enemies, retreat meant the end.
Marquis Nordin, leading the Second Prince’s forces, thought so and made a rather accurate decision.
Though the situation was unclear, the Marquis remained confident.
He had a hidden ace up his sleeve.
“Now, it’s your turn.”
Skill users brought in by Sirbert’s connections.
Not just ordinary skill users, but the enlightened ones.
They didn’t just use their skills; they developed and evolved them, each one wielding power comparable to that of knights.
Moreover, all of those beside Marquis Nordin possessed area attack skills.
In short, these were abilities specialized for war.
“Heh heh heh. How did Sirbert manage to bring such people?”
Marquis Nordin vowed that if the war ended well and he firmly secured his place as the Empire’s power broker, he would reward Sirbert with a position as well, issuing his order.
“Go and turn the tide of war with your dazzling powers.”
With these secret forces, the battle could be overturned in an instant, no matter if it was the First Prince or anything else.
Yet, for some reason, these secret troops hesitated even before Marquis Nordin’s solemn order.
“Hey, what should we do?”
On top of that, they spoke among themselves in an incomprehensible language.
“No idea. Damn… something’s seriously wrong.”
“If it’s not the First Prince, then why is the Imperial Princess’s side showing up first?”
“Anyone here in contact with Taemin’s brother?”
“Doubt it. They must’ve logged out; we should ask later.”
“Ah, damn… then should we just run?”
“Tch. It’s a waste of reputation points, but they’re not much anyway. Let’s just go.”
“Shouldn’t we help the Imperial Princess’s side at least?”
“No, if we get involved needlessly, we’ll only have to clean up the mess later.”
“Yeah. It’s better to get scolded for doing nothing than to ruin everything and get our heads cracked.”
Such was the conversation among the Second Prince’s secret forces.
Marquis Nordin felt a creeping unease.
He couldn’t understand their language, but their expressions, tone, and the overall atmosphere instinctively told him something was wrong.
The Marquis thought they didn’t properly respect his authority.
He, the Supreme Commander of this army, was treated with disrespect by those not even of noble birth.
“Do you take my kindness as mockery? My command is the imperial decree of His Royal Highness the Prince! Move out and show the greatness of Lord Belloke!”
At this solemn command, the enlightened ones all gave the Marquis a sidelong glance.
“What the hell is this idiot saying?”
“Hey, leave him. He’s trying his best.”
“Enough, let’s go. We need to inform the Guild Master quickly.”
“Ah… my points.”
They continued their incomprehensible chatter before suddenly disappearing from the spot as if swallowed by the air.
“Ahem! I’ve seen your powers, now stop showing off.”
The Marquis forced a calm facade, speaking into the void as if he knew everything.
No answer came back.
“Ha ha. Stop showing off and get out there.”
For a while, he repeated the same words into the emptiness.
***
“Hah… the overwhelming aura of death. How delightful. As a Necromancer, this environment is irresistible.”
Ignoring Furnel’s words, Jason quietly stared.
“The problem is—”
“Ah.”
Jason responded swiftly.
“It’s the First Prince. Not only has information leaked to his side, but there seems to be some unknown variable involved.”
“A problem within the Information Guild?”
“No. I can assure you that’s not the case. Only a few within the guild know anything about the Imperial Princess, and the secret remains intact.”
“Then the leak must be on the other side…”
“Likely the Professor’s camp.”
Jason added.
“Moreover, there’s another unknown variable on the First Prince’s side. It seems to be a skilled individual we haven’t identified.”
Jason and Hio’s eyes met.
What followed needed no words.
“Bingija.”
An entity beyond Sirbert’s prediction—something uncontrollable, either a Bingija or an organization they belonged to—was involved.
Hio’s expression stiffened and would not relax.
The cause was understood.
‘But what would the outcome be?’
‘What would that thing or those things do with manipulated information?’
Jason and Hio’s gazes shifted simultaneously.
Not to the battlefield filled with blood and screams, but the opposite side.
Their relatively vulnerable rear.
Another army was approaching in the distance.
The First Prince’s army, advancing to pierce through the Imperial Princess’s exposed heart.
They were trapped.
***
A single carriage, incongruous with the brutal war.
Silence surrounded the carriage, but it was actually the most intense place of all.
This was a war where each fought to protect their lord.
A war that could only end by killing the king the other side supports.
A cruel war in which only one surviving bloodline could become emperor.
The life of the Imperial Princess was such—no one who fled in fear survived, only those who fought with all their might.
The life of one living as her guardian knight was the same.
That was their fate.
The knight staring blankly at the carriage suddenly drew his sword.
He quietly looked down at the blade gleaming in the sunlight.
‘When had he first grasped a sword?’
He thought deeply, but it did not come to mind.
‘Why did he hold the sword the first time?’
He mindlessly searched his memories, but nothing surfaced.
Only the image of a very small hand.
A tiny hand wrapping around his finger.
The faint smile and babbling voice.
Remembering that, the knight drove the sword into the ground.
He knelt toward the carriage, bowing his head, and spoke words that would never reach their destination.
“Please be well.”
Please be happy.
The future of the girl who had been unhappy her whole life—may it be filled with luck.
With this earnest wish, the knight rose.
He drew his sword and turned his back to the carriage.
A black tidal wave writhed at the horizon.
A wave of death armed with swords and spears, rushing to take the Imperial Princess’s life.
In the knight’s hand was only one sword…
But what was there to fear?
Had he not swung his sword countless times for this moment?
Knight.
***
Rank 1.
A sword novice who feels the qi (氣) within themselves.
Rank 2.
One who can harness inner qi to strengthen the body.
Rank 3.
A realm where one can separate aura from qi.
Rank 4.
The realm where aura can be stably channeled into the sword to manifest sword energy—this is the limit of an ordinary knight.
Most knights become frustrated, unable to overcome this barrier.
Rank 5.
A realm impossible to reach by mere effort.
One must govern spirit, body, and energy as one and, through enlightenment, reconstruct their body to some degree.
Rank 6.
The density of sword energy noticeably thickens, and the quality of aura rapidly improves.
Even with the same aura, the strength and purity become incomparable, making one a strong warrior known across the continent.
Rank 7.
A superhuman beyond human limits, capable of manifesting sword strength that transcends sword energy.
They can shape their will using this sword strength.
Knights who reach Rank 7 undergo “opening of the eyes” (開眼), changing how they perceive the world.
Rank 8.
A superhuman above superhumans.
The realm of legendary heroes recorded in history, said to be the ultimate rank attainable by humans.
If Rank 7 is a superhuman leaping over mountains, Rank 8 is one who splits mountains apart and strolls through the gap.
Teordo is a Rank 6 knight.
A knight on the verge of becoming a superhuman.
Even on this vast battlefield, opponents are hard to find.
But naturally, he cannot face tens of thousands of soldiers alone.
He cannot defeat dozens of knights by himself.
The Second Prince’s army advances in front, and the First Prince’s troops press from behind—there is only one choice for a knight.
To draw his sword and fight.
So he pushes forward, cutting through a rain of arrows.
He wraps himself in deep blue aura and swings to block attacks.
Elite soldiers and knights, Yohn Torno and nobles joined forces beside him, but Teordo waited a step ahead.
He made sure all eyes were on him.
So they could hold out as long as possible.
Before long, he saw soldiers clutching spears.
“You shall not pass.”
He could not allow them through, so he swung his sword.
Blue aura blossomed more vibrantly than ever, asserting his presence.
“A knight! A high-ranking knight!”
They tried to retreat, but there was nowhere to run.
Behind them were more soldiers advancing in waves.
They were swept away like fallen leaves.
How many had he cut down?
Soon, the ground before Teordo was littered with bodies, leaving no room to step.
He himself was soaked in blood.
“Truly a monstrous warrior.”
The First Prince’s knights appeared.
“An enemy, but I salute you. I am Durand Epke, serving Marquis Norton. What is your name?”
The knight introduced himself with flair.
Ridiculous.
He lived in a different world from Teordo.
The weight he bore and the resolve he carried on the battlefield were different.
So Teordo silently raised his sword without answering.
“You are blunt. As a final courtesy, I will personally face you.”
Durand lifted his sword to meet Teordo.
A pale sky-blue aura bloomed from his blade.
“Whose sword is sharper will be decided in a match without regrets!”
Durand’s aura clashed against the deep blue aura.
Kwang—!
The explosion of aura meeting aura.
A scream born only of destruction as the opposing forces repelled each other.
And in a single clash, the advantage quickly became clear.
“This… is impossible!”
Durand’s arms were raised by force, stepping back not one, but six steps.
His eyes wide with disbelief.
Meanwhile, Teordo’s bloodied expression remained unchanged.
Kwang—!
By the second clash, the sky-blue aura flickered.
Kwang—!
By the third, a crack appeared in Durand’s blade.
The knight’s once exemplary face and casual manner vanished, replaced by a grimacing demon’s scowl.
Kwang!
Only after the fourth clash—
“Stop! All of you, charge and stop him!”
Durand shouted pitifully as he retreated like a fleeing dog.
Teordo pursued to finish him off but—
Kwang!
Two swords blocked Teordo’s blade.
Five swords in total, from both sides, stabbed toward Teordo.
‘Cowardly?’
He didn’t even think about that.
In a battlefield where life was on the line—
In a battlefield where even more was at stake—
‘What is cowardice? What is justice?’
He only found the pretense of nobility, which reveals itself at the end, somewhat laughable.
Puh—
…
‘Had he thought too much?’
A sword passed deeply through his side.
“Gyaaaah!”
The knight who achieved a great feat paid the price of having his throat sliced by Teordo’s blade, but there were plenty of knights nearby ready to replace him.
Cut off an arm, and the shoulder gets cut.
Stab the shoulder, and the thigh gets pierced.
The elite knights focused solely on Teordo meant less pressure on others.
“Die!”
Teordo caught a sword thrust at him with his shoulder.
He deliberately took the hit on a non-fatal part, twisting the opponent’s sword with his other hand.
“Uh… huh?”
The opposing knight, apparently shocked that Teordo actually got stabbed, lost his balance, and Teordo cut his neck.
Puff! Blood shot up before his eyes.
To avoid it, he briefly closed his eyes, but six swords grazed, pierced, and passed through his body.
His flesh was torn and blood sprayed.
His mind grew hazy, limbs dizzy—
It felt as though the end was near.