Ruok had been staring at the leaders of the six as soon as he arrived, but mostly at Minerva.
His hands were sweating. He wiped them on his trousers, then immediately regretted it—the fabric was still damp after yesterday's battle. His grip felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. His shoulders were stiff, like someone had tied ropes around him and pulled tight.
Think.
The word kept repeating in his head, loud and useless.
Think.
How do you avoid disaster?
Think.
How do you save them?
Think—
Why am I even trying to save them?
His jaw tightened.
And why… why does this feel like it's all part of Mephyst's plan?
His eyes flicked toward the center.
Mephyst stood there like he always did—relaxed, almost bored, like the war was a stage play and he had already read the script. That faint smile never left his round face.
Ruok swallowed.
That guy… he's a walking disaster, literally and figuratively.
Minerva's voice cut across the field, steady and clear.
"Warriors of the unified army…"
Ruok barely heard the words.
His mind kept spinning.
Should I shout?
Should I call him out right now?
Should I point at Mephyst and yell, "That guy's a problem"? Yeah, and then what? Get stabbed by five different people before I finish the sentence?
He scratched his head, then stopped halfway when he noticed his hand was shaking.
Should I save them… or just save myself?
His eyes shifted.
Alan stood a few lines away, already looking at him.
Of course he was.
Alan gave a small nod.
Simple and polite.
But his eyes—
Cold and full of hatred.
Ruok frowned.
Two-faced bastard.
His gaze moved again.
Minerva.
Calm. Still. Like nothing could touch her.
He stared a second too long.
Then his hand slowly drifted down—
He winced and grabbed his groin.
"…Still hurts."
Minerva placed her hand lightly on her sword.
"This war will not end by waiting. It will end because we choose to end it."
Ruok blinked.
His thoughts suddenly sharpened.
Wait…It's starting.
His heart began to pound.
Do I… attack Mephyst?
He imagined it for half a second.
Running forward. Shouting. Swinging a dagger—
Yeah. No.
"I'll die before I even get close," he muttered under his breath.
Then—
A pause in his thoughts.
Wait.
His eyes widened slightly.
I don't need to fight him.
A small, stupid idea formed.
I just need to mess him up.
Just a little time, enough for Minerva to notice Mephyst presence.
Then—
A SHRIEK tore through the air.
Ruok flinched.
His eyes snapped forward.
And there—
Mephyst moved.
Subtle.
But Ruok saw it.
His hand shifted. His body leaned just a bit forward. His sword—ready.
He's going for her.
Ruok's breath hitched.
Now.
No more thinking.
His body moved before his brain could ruin it.
He grabbed his dagger and threw it.
Not at Minerva.
Behind her.
Where Mephyst would be.
At least… where Ruok knew he would be.
The blade spun fast, cutting through the air.
Then Ruok ran.
Straight toward Olga.
**
Minerva saw it.
She first thought it was for her, but the aim was off. Then remember, Mephyst.
Her eyes shifted—just slightly.
Behind her—
Mephyst tilted his head.
The dagger passed by his cheek, missing him by a hair.
He smiled.
"Ah," he murmured softly, almost amused, "how curious."
Minerva moved instantly.
Her sword was already out.
She twisted her body and struck—
Steel met steel.
A sharp clang rang through the field as her blade collided with Mephyst's.
"So you were there," she said coldly.
Mephyst's smile widened.
"My dear princess," he replied smoothly, "you make it sound as though I was hiding."
**
Meanwhile—
Everyone else had turned.
And they were all looking at Ruok.
Charging towards Olga, as if he had just lost his mind.
"Oi! What is that idiot doing?!" Olga shouted.
Jawhead's eyes furrowed, grip tightened on his axe.
The Goblin King had already moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
He stepped forward, raising his massive sword without hesitation.
Ruok saw it. No, he knew it.
His instinct screamed, RUN. But his mind kept telling him, he'd died either way.
He reached Olga in seconds.
No plan.
No backup.
Just panic and memory.
He shoved her with one hand.
"Move!"
At the same time, he raised his second dagger to block the incoming strike.
Bad idea.
Very bad idea.
The moment the blades met—
It felt like hitting a wall.
No.
Worse.
A moving iron wall.
The impact shot through his arm, numbing it instantly.
His dagger—
Snapped.
Clean in half.
"…Ah."
That was all he managed.
The Goblin King's blade didn't stop.
It kept coming.
Right at him.
Ruok's brain finally caught up.
I'm dead.
Just as he's about to give up. An arm wrapped around his waist.
Strong. Fast.
He was yanked backward.
It was Olga.
She pulled him just in time, jumping back with him as the massive blade slammed into the ground where he had been standing.
Dirt exploded upward.
Ruok blinked.
Still alive.
"…Huh."
Olga dropped him roughly.
"You trying to die?!" she snapped, breathing hard. "You almost got us both killed!"
Ruok lay there for a second, staring at the sky.
"…You're welcome," he said weakly. "Your head still intact."
A pause.
Then he turned his head toward her.
"Also—uh—thanks."
**
Chaos broke fast.
One moment, the army stood in formation—tense, waiting, holding its breath.
The next—
Everything shattered.
Shouts turned into screams. Steel clashed from every direction. Lines broke apart as traitors revealed themselves—humans turning on humans, goblins striking from within, demons swarmed both the ground and the sky.
Ruok looked around as if he had already witnessed it before.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Jurbert leap—no, launch—into the sky, sword surrounded him as he met the descending demons.
Jawhead roared somewhere to his left, his axe cleaving through something large and angry. Ozbull stood near him, already locked in with another enemy.
"Stay on your feet, kid!" Ozbull barked, smashing his weapon into a horned figure. "These aren't weaklings!"
"I'm not a kid, old man!" Jawhead snapped back. "Better watch your back!"
Ozbull wasn't wrong.
The demons they faced were different—faster, smarter. High-ranking demons. The kind that didn't die just because you hit them hard.
At the center—
Minerva and Aeltharion fought Mephyst.
Ruok saw it only in glimpses between bodies and flashes of steel.
Mephyst moved with unsettling ease. His heavy frame should have slowed him—but it didn't. He twisted, stepped, and parried with unnatural grace, his demonic blade meeting Aeltharion's silver lance and Minerva's flame-covered sword without losing ground.
"Impressive," Mephyst said lightly, his tone almost conversational. "To press me so earnestly—how delightful."
Aeltharion's expression did not change. "Your theatrics are inefficient," he replied calmly. "You expose too many openings."
"Do I?" Mephyst smiled wider.
Minerva said nothing.
But her sword burned brighter.
Ruok didn't stay to watch.
Because right in front of him—
The Goblin King.
And beside him—
Olga.
"Focus!" Olga snapped, cracking her knuckles. "Don't just stand there!"
"I'm not standing," Ruok said quickly. "I'm—uh—evaluating."
"You're panicking!"
"That too!"
The Goblin King moved.
Fast.
Way too fast for someone that size.
Ruok barely reacted in time, throwing himself to the side as the blade came down. The ground split where he had been.
Olga charged in, her fist slamming into the Goblin King's side with a heavy thud. The impact echoed, but the Goblin King barely staggered.
"Come on!" Olga growled. "Fall already!"
"Not that easy!" Ruok shouted, ducking another swing.
He couldn't match strength. That much was obvious.
So he moved.
Dodged. Slipped. Ran.
At first, it worked.
Barely.
He avoided one strike, then another. His boots slid in the mud, but he kept his balance. His breathing got faster, sharper.
I can do this.
Just don't get hit.
Just—
A kick slammed into his stomach.
Clean and hard, like being hit by a truck.
All the air left his lungs in a single, broken sound.
"Ghk—!"
He flew back and hit the ground, sliding through wet dirt. Mud soaked into his clothes instantly.
Ruok curled up, clutching his stomach.
"…Okay," he wheezed. "That… that was bad."
He forced himself up slowly.
His legs shook as he stood.
Then—
He saw it.
An orc.
No—
A corpse.
The body stood upright, arms wrapped around a demon like it refused to let go even in death.
The demon's sword had pierced straight through the orc's chest.
But the demon—
The demon was worse.
Blood poured from everywhere—eyes, nose, mouth, ears. Like something inside him had been crushed and forced out all at once.
His face was twisted in horror.
Frozen and dead.
The orc's eyes were wide.
Mouth open as if caught mid-roar.
Ruok's breath caught.
"…Bignum."
His voice came out small.
"No… no, no, no…"
He took a step back.
This wasn't how Bignum was supposed to go.
Bignum was loud. Annoying. Always laughing. Always eating.
Not—
This.
"This can't be happening…"
Behind him—
"Ruok! Move!" Olga shouted.
But Ruok didn't hear it.
The battlefield faded for a second.
Just enough.
A shadow moved.
A blade flashed.
There was no pain.
Just—
A sudden lightness.
The world tilted.
Spun.
Ruok blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…Huh."
The ground looked… far away.
He tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
His body—standing in front of him.
His vision dimmed at the edges as he watched his body fall to the ground.
He thought about something simple.
A quiet place.
No war.
No shouting.
Just—
Peace.
"…That'd be nice," he thought.
Then he closed his eyes.
And died.
Again.