A small-scale war waged between the lords of the Kingdom of Israpan and the Empire.
The opening act of that war took place on a vast grassland lying between the Empire and the Kingdom.
The boy would not know that, nor would he care.
The war between the Kingdom of Israpan and the Empire. This grassland was where it had begun.
The Empire coveted the grassland, originally territory belonging to Israpan, and tried to seize it through a nearby lord. The Kingdom of Israpan responded with fierce opposition.
In essence, it was a struggle for interests between Israpan and the Empire.
Like all mercenaries, the boy had joined the war without even knowing its cause. But when he saw the enemy camp facing his own side, he tilted his head.
For a small city on the frontier... the other side's equipment was far too good.
Even compared with the army dispatched by Israpan, the difference in their armor and weapons was obvious at a glance.
Something stinks.
Frowning, the boy ran his hand over the sword at his waist.
He had already taken an advance payment, so running away was no longer an option.
The enemy army's vicious momentum was enough to make him think that if he let his guard down, his head might end up rolling off.
A brief silence fell, then the horns sounded from both camps.
Filling the vast grassland with the cries of soldiers, the two armies collided.
A spear pierced through a mercenary's neck, while a greatsword crushed an imperial soldier, helmet and all.
The boy too charged into the heart of the battlefield, swinging his sword in a frenzy.
A heavily armored infantryman in gleaming plate rushed at him and thrust his spear.
The boy angled his sword and deflected the spear's trajectory, then stomped hard and drove his longsword into the imperial soldier's body.
The soldier, his neck pierced through, staggered as blood sprayed from the wound before collapsing.
The boy stepped over the fallen soldier's corpse and advanced.
Before long, the sounds of battle had been replaced by screams of agony and rage.
There was no trace left of the valiant battle cries that had rung out before.
Another imperial soldier blocked the boy's way.
Again, he was unnaturally skilled in combat for a soldier guarding some small frontier city.
The boy twisted his body to evade the attack aimed precisely at his throat.
Without wasting the momentum generated by his turn, he swung his sword wide and cut the imperial soldier in two through his armor.
The torso, severed from the legs that had anchored it to the ground, dropped limply to the earth.
Screams echoed endlessly across the battlefield.
From the sounds alone, the boy could infer the emotions of those around him.
Hatred, fear, and regret.
"..."
The boy let out a low sound, ignored it all, and swung his sword again.
The soldiers who stood in his way fell with brief dying cries.
As he cut down countless enemies, the boy could not hide his doubts.
He had already faced dozens of soldiers, yet not one of them had been light infantry. Most were equipped on the level of heavily armored infantry.
There had even been one man who handled a sword with the skill of a squire.
Could there even be knights among them?
According to rumor, the Empire's knights received blessings from the gods and could wield strength beyond that of humans.
He did not know just how great that [Strength Beyond Human Limits] was... but it would at least be more than the boy could handle alone.
Clicking his tongue, the boy cut down another soldier blocking his path.
"Damn it...!"
"Die!"
An imperial soldier was rushing in to bring his sword down on a fallen mercenary.
Normally, the boy would not have cared whether the mercenary lived or died. Unfortunately for that imperial soldier, however, he was blocking the boy's path. As he passed, the boy swung his sword with all his strength at the soldier's neck.
Something snapped with a crack, and the soldier's head fell to the ground.
The boy paused for a moment and looked around.
Even when he had been a gladiator, he had never swung his sword for this long. The same was true since becoming a mercenary.
Experiencing such prolonged combat for the first time in his life, the boy's stamina had quickly run dry.
"Hey, thanks. I almost died there, you know?"
"..."
The mercenary the boy had saved—a man who looked to be in his late thirties—grinned brazenly and spoke to him.
He had almost died just moments ago, yet he can still smile like that.
The boy glared at the man and grumbled to himself.
"You're that wandering mercenary who got into a fight at the encampment before, right? You're younger than I thought..."
"Is this really the time to be asking my age? Honestly."
After snapping at him sharply, the boy dashed back into the battlefield.
Faster than an arrow.
The mercenary watched the boy sprint away and marveled inwardly.
A person can run that fast? Has he received a Falna too?
After watching the boy's bloody struggle for a while, the mercenary picked up the slender sword that had fallen to the ground and charged back into battle himself.
No matter how skilled a master swordsman might be, if he let his attention wander on a battlefield like this, his head would come off.
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