Amidst the morning wind that began to howl with increasing fury, Knight stood as a solitary last bastion. Before him, a massive wall of dust coiled into the sky, accompanied by the earth-shaking thunder of galloping hooves. The Red Cross Army, clad in shimmering steel plate, charged through the meadow like a dark tide ready to swallow everything in its path. The glint of dozens of spearheads and blades reflected the morning sun, formidable and merciless.
The golden runes on Knight's body began to throb. They didn't just glow; they moved as if alive. Ancient patterns swirled from his spaulders down to his wrists before transferring a massive aura into the greatsword, causing the blade to hum with the vibration of overloaded energy.
He knew how to use them now. They weren't some mystical, alien thing as he once thought they were like limbs, obedient organs following his will.
[Fragment 63/1000: Boiling...]
He took a deep breath. The faint metallic scent of blood and iron from the approaching army hit his senses. Knight lowered his stance, shifting his weight firmly onto one leg. He allowed the [Eyes of Judgment] to operate at full capacity. Black rings spun within his golden irises, analyzing every trajectory, every beat of the horses' gallop, every angle of the raised spears, and every gap in the shields yet to be closed.
Red threads of life erupted from every soldier like fireworks in the dark, too many to count, but not too many to handle.
His gaze beneath the helm locked onto the general leading the vanguard on a massive warhorse. The man wore an iron mask carved into a snarling cross. The eyes peering through were filled with disdain for the look of a man accustomed to seeing obstacles, not adversaries.
He was wrong.
"Heretic! You dare stand against the Holy Army!" the general bellowed, his voice raspy and thick with practiced arrogance. He swung his sword, signaling with a roar. "Crush him! Leave nothing but dust!"
The first warhorse lunged at Knight at top speed, hooves kicking up clods of earth. A long lance thrust forward, aiming for the center of his chest with the full momentum of the horse. It was a heavy, violent strike from a man certain his target could never dodge in time.
But Knight didn't dodge.
He waited.
He waited until the tip of the lance was less than two palms away from his armor, a distance where anyone else would have panicked and lost their footing. Then, he shifted his body to the right just a hair. It was a calm, energy-efficient movement. The lance tip scraped against his pauldron with the screech of steel on steel, a single spark flying before dying out. Using the momentum of the dodge, Knight spun, transitioning the weight into a massive upward diagonal slash with his greatsword.
BOOM!
The impact didn't come from the blade alone. The golden aura packed into the edge exploded into a visible shockwave. The horse and rider were launched into the air like dry leaves caught in a gale, spinning twice in mid-air before slamming into the ground with a sickening thud. The horse flailed; the soldier did not rise again.
Knight didn't stop. He continued his spin, sweeping his blade parallel to the grass at the level of the horses' legs, releasing a crescent moon of golden energy in three directions simultaneously. Four following riders were blasted back at once, the screams of horses and the crunch of buckling armor merging into a single cacophony.
He utilized the memories of a general flowing within him, knowledge absorbed from a warrior who had spent a lifetime on the battlefield. It was still incomplete, still raw, but it was efficient. Now, controlling the golden aura in his veins required no conscious effort. If he thought it, it happened.
'Excellent... Those memories are finally syncing with my body.'
[You have obtained 2 Fragments (Total 65/1000)]
But the Red Cross Army wasn't trained to stop because of a shockwave. They were trained to adapt. Orders barked from the general, who had halted his horse at a safe distance, watching coldly. The vanguard split into two wings, flanking him systematically, while the center retreated to form a line of crossbowmen.
"Surround him! He is but one man; his power will drain!"
Knight saw the strategy before the order was even finished. The [Eyes of Judgment] showed the trajectory of the bolts about to be fired and the flanking maneuver closing in like the wings of a bird. The red threads of every soldier vibrated in unison.
'If I let them surround me, even if I win, I lose time.'
He had no time.
Knight didn't wait for the circle to close. He lunged forward first, sprinting directly at the left vanguard, a direction no one expected a surrounded target to take. The front line faltered for a split second. A split second was all he needed.
His greatsword parried three spears at once with a single sweep. Steel rang against steel, and then the golden aura exploded again not as a wave, but as a sphere of energy expanding from his center. Every soldier within a four-meter radius was repelled; some collided in mid-air before falling.
Panic rippled through the ranks.
Knight used that moment to turn and look at the general. The man didn't panic, but his eyes narrowed behind his mask. That was the first sign they were re-evaluating the situation.
'Hurry up and think so I can kill you all!'
[Fragment 65/1000: Boiling...]
The heat of the runes rose to another level, making him feel as if his blood was literally boiling. "Boiling" wasn't just a name; it was the consumption of Fragments in exchange for overwhelming power. It hurt a pain no medicine could dull but it made everything in his body ignite. The world became sharper, slower.
Knight mimicked the "flame" of that general once more. He took the boiling heat in his veins and compressed it into his blade, layering it over and over. The golden aura intensified, turning from gold to white-hot, eventually erupting into a steady golden flame that sheathed the entire blade, a flame that didn't flicker in the wind, holding all its energy inside, waiting to be unleashed.
'It worked!!'
Knight roared in his mind before lunging like a bullet into the heart of the Red Cross formation.
The army had finished re-forming. This time, they didn't charge; they advanced in a parallel wall of steel, slow and steady, while the infantry held massive tower shields in a semi-circle. It was a formation designed to trap a lone warrior leaving no room to vent, no room to run, forcing them to fight until exhausted.
But Knight went straight for the center.
He moved with such speed his image blurred. Dust trailed behind him like a long ribbon. He stopped abruptly two paces before the shield wall, spun a full circle at maximum velocity, and as the greatsword swept through the air, the stored flames exploded all at once.
Golden fire erupted in massive crescents not one, but three layers stacked like a tidal wave, each larger than the last. The first wave ripped shields from hands. The second scorched armor red-hot. The third hit their bodies directly with enough force to send armored men flying like straw dolls.
The explosion of energy thundered across the meadow, shaking the earth.
The golden flames incinerated over ten Red Cross soldiers in a single swing. Some were thrown into their own mounts; others were blasted so far they became tiny dots before hitting the ground. A wall of smoke rose high in the center of the field.
[You have obtained 20 Fragments (Total 85/1000)]
But Knight didn't stop.
Before the dust from the first swing could settle, he leapt into the heart of the remaining cluster. The golden flame on his blade was compressed even tighter, turning white-hot again.
Upon landing, he drove the sword violently into the ground.
The compressed flame was channeled into the earth and detonated with the force of C4. The ground fractured in a five-meter radius instantly, and golden fire erupted from every crack, as if the earth itself were vomiting fire. The remaining Red Cross soldiers were scattered by the blast and charred by the flames. Only a handful remained.
[You have obtained 34 Fragments (Total 119/1000)]
Knight didn't stop.
He drew his longsword from its scabbard with his left hand while keeping the greatsword in his right. He lunged at the general. The man raised his sword by instinct honed over decades, but it was too late.
The longsword in Knight's left hand severed the general's neck in a single clean slice. Using the momentum, Knight spun and hurled both swords, skewering the heads of the last two remaining soldiers with lethal precision.
Silence fell over the meadow.
The fifty-man extermination unit was gone. Wiped out by one man in mere minutes.
Knight stood amidst the dust and wreckage. He let out a long breath. The heat in his body began to subside. The runes dimmed, and the fire on his blade went out.
He turned toward the direction of the villagers. The silver mist was close now.
At this moment, Knight was equivalent to a Welder possessing two Boxes. To defeat him now, one would need an army of ten thousand or a being like the old man in the black robe.
"Hey, boy! Come on, we have to catch up!" Knight called out to his horse before leaping into the saddle and racing toward the villagers.
Inside the Red Cross Army Camp:
"...So, they escaped..."
A quiet voice emerged from behind a pitch-black curtain at the heart of the camp. It wasn't loud, but it was heavier than any shout the Supreme Commander had ever heard. It held no emotion, no anger, no disappointment. Only a coldness deeper than ice.
"We beg your forgiveness, but the heretic is stronger than we anticipated," the Supreme Commander stammered, his voice thick with terror. He knelt on the dirt before the black curtain, his head bowed so low it nearly touched the ground.
The ensuing silence was heavier than any words.
The Commander didn't dare look up. He could hear his own heartbeat, the pulse in his temples, the flickering of a nearby candle but he heard nothing from behind the curtain. No breathing, no movement. It was as if whatever lived behind that black cloth had no need for breath.
"The entire fifty-man unit was wiped out. No survivors," the Commander added, his voice trailing off. "Fifty men, in minutes. He used a power we've never seen, a golden aura that turns to flame. It explodes; it melts plate armor as if it were nothing. If we send more without preparation..."
"Enough."
One word cut the Commander off perfectly, like a blade so sharp you don't feel the pain until the blood starts to flow.
"...Advance the main army at full strength. Soon, the silver mist will vanish..."
The voice behind the curtain was icy, reeking of death. But scarier than the tone was the truth hidden in that sentence: the being behind the curtain already knew exactly when the mist would disappear. It knew how much time remained. It knew everything.
And it remained calm.
"Understood," the Commander nodded again. He rose slowly, not daring to turn his back to the curtain, backing away step by step until he reached the tent exit.
The air outside was colder than inside, yet somehow, he felt much warmer.
The other soldiers waiting outside looked at him, their eyes full of questions they didn't dare ask. The Supreme Commander scanned them, trying to make his voice steady and failing.
"Call every unit commander for a briefing immediately. Prepare all forces. We march before dawn."
The soldiers nodded and dispersed quickly, seemingly relieved to get away from the tent.
The Supreme Commander stood alone for a moment, looking out toward the distant meadow where faint smoke still lingered. That was where fifty of his men had fallen in minutes.
He thought he knew war. He thought he knew death. He thought he knew the most terrifying things in the world.
Now, he realized he was wrong.
Because the most terrifying thing wasn't the demon who slaughtered his men.
It was the voice behind that black curtain, a voice so cold that the loss of nearly a hundred men was nothing more than the loss of a single pawn on a board.
And it had many pawns left.