Chapter 3

Chapter 3
## Chapter 3: The Innocent Prisoner (2)

The vast majority of the infantrymen were raw recruits who had never seen the underside of a shield in actual combat.

It was the natural order of things. The seasoned veterans with scars to prove their worth were reserved for the high-ranking Knights of Elga. A novice knight, whose celebratory oils from his swearing-in had barely been wiped away, was relegated to commanding boys fresh from the barracks or those too incompetent to be placed elsewhere.

Because of this, they were utterly helpless against the feral man who had just used his teeth to tear into a creature of darkness.

“Gah… h-help…”

“Lord Elga… holy Elga, look away…”

“Urrp, blegh! *Gack!*”

The soldiers desperately traced the sign of the cross over their chests. Far from moving in to detain the prisoner, they couldn’t even keep a steady grip on their polearms. Several men were doubled over, their breakfast hitting the grass in violent heaves.

Unperturbed, Kadim ripped through the demon’s throat, drinking deeply of the black ichor that spilled forth.

The nauseating aroma didn’t bother him at all. His previous life’s journey through hell had forged a stomach of iron. He swallowed the thick, foul fluid as if it were wine. Almost instantly, his pulse accelerated into a rhythmic thrum, and a searing vitality flooded his limbs.

Having consumed his fill, Kadim wiped the gore from his chin and rose. He shut his eyes for a moment, cataloging the transformations taking hold within.

‘Physical augmentation… just the basics, then.’

Demon blood was never consistent. The biological gifts varied wildly depending on the pedigree and power of the beast. This had been a mere bottom-feeder, yielding nothing more than a standard “strength enhancement” surge.

Still, it was sufficient for the task at hand.

The agony from the puncture wound in his shoulder evaporated. A light tremors of adrenaline remained, and his veins felt as though they were filled with boiling lead. His already formidable physique expanded, his muscles knotting and bulging further.

His innate trait, Blood Berserker, was beginning to churn.

He was now tapping into a reservoir of power that sat firmly outside the realm of normal humanity.

He started with the iron. Kadim hardened his arms, feeling the density of his biceps. With a sudden, explosive jerk, he forced his bound wrists apart.

*Creeeeak—snap, ping!*

The heavy iron rings turned pale under the stress, stretching and then popping link by link. Shards of jagged metal whistled through the air like shrapnel.

*Crack! Thud…*

The restraints fell away like dry kindling. Kadim shook the remaining metal from his skin and rolled his wrists to test his range of motion.

The soldiers watched in frozen horror. This was a display of raw, monstrous power. They stumbled backward in a disorganized wave, terrified of a man who held no weapon while they gripped spears.

Yet, leadership remained. The squad commander, a man who had actually stood before a demon in the past, found his voice. He leveled his spear and barked orders at the cowering men.

“Stand your ground! Close the gap and bring him down! He has no blade and he’s bleeding out! A few more holes and he’s just meat!”

The recruits wavered, exchanging panicked looks before shuffling forward. They pointed their spearheads at the savage, but their eyes were devoid of any real courage.

The fact that he was unarmed didn’t make them feel safer. Who would willingly trade blows with a madman who could snap iron with his bare hands? A wild troll was a simpler problem—at least a troll lacked a human’s malice.

The soldiers took up fearful postures: knees bent too low, necks stiff, bodies already angled toward the rear for a quick sprint.

Such a pathetic line could never hold against a man drowning in a blood-frenzy.

Kadim loaded the muscles in his legs like heavy springs and burst forward. His fist, carrying the full weight of his momentum, slammed into the lead soldier’s face.

*Splack!*

The bridge of the nose disintegrated; the entire facial structure collapsed inward around the point of contact, and an eye was forced from its socket. It looked like a melon meeting a sledgehammer.

“…What?”

The man standing next to the fallen soldier didn’t even have time to blink.

*Crack—*

Kadim’s fist caught the man’s jaw from below. The hinge snapped, tearing away a section of bone and teeth. As the soldier slumped, Kadim hammered a blow into the top of his skull. The man’s lights went out instantly.

“Gah, ugh, *aaaaaaagh!*”

One terrified recruit lunged with a blind spear thrust. Kadim shifted his weight a fraction, letting the point whistle past his ribs. He caught the wooden shaft and snapped it with a casual twist of his wrist.

*Snap—*

“This works as a shortspear. My thanks.”

“Wha—?”

The jagged remains of the spear were now in the savage’s hands. Kadim bridged the gap in a heartbeat. The soldier’s gasp of confusion was cut short by cold steel.

*Stab—*

The point went through his neck. When Kadim ripped it out, a fountain of red sprayed from the puncture. Sensing a shadow behind him, Kadim turned and launched the makeshift weapon with a violent snap of his arm.

*Whish—*

The wooden bolt buried itself in the gut of a soldier trying to sneak up on him. The force sent the tip out through the man’s back, dragging bits of skin and organs with it. The soldier dropped his spear and began to wail like a frightened child.

“Aaaaaagh—”

*Crack!*

The noise stopped. Kadim’s fist crushed the screaming man’s head against the earth. Fluid leaked from the shattered bone as the body went limp.

Kadim retrieved the broken spear from the corpse. He turned his dead-eyed gaze toward the survivors. Their complexions were like chalk, their limbs twitching with palsy.

Four men had been slaughtered in the time it took to draw a breath. To them, this wasn’t a skirmish; it was a harvest.

The last of their discipline evaporated. Men near the front collapsed as their legs gave out. Those in the back threw down their shields and ran, screaming for their lives.

“Please, no, have mercy…”

“Aaaagh, help me!”

“He’s a monster! A demon in disguise!”

“Shut up! He’s a man! Fight back!” the squad leader screamed, his words falling on deaf ears. Even he didn’t seem to believe it.

He realized then that even doubling their numbers wouldn’t have mattered. Quantity meant nothing against this level of predatory force. You could send a hundred lambs against a lion, and you would only end up with a hundred dead lambs.

To kill a lion, you needed a predator of equal caliber.

“What is this madness, heathen…? To slaughter my men like this…”

The young lion of Elga finally stepped into the fray.

The surviving soldiers and the squad leader scrambled behind the knight, abandoning all pretense of military honor. The knight looked over the mangled bodies of his subordinates, and a holy fire lit up in his gaze.

“Wicked creature! You have traded your humanity for the filth of the abyss! By the grace of the Radiant Guide, Elga, I shall strike you down, heretic!”

Kadim scrutinized the knight’s form.

Lead foot planted, rear heel up, holding the very spear that had wounded Kadim earlier. He was using a single-hand grip for now, though Kadim knew he’d go for a two-handed strike when the killing blow was near.

His equipment was superior and his training was evident, but he was green. Compared to the titan-like paladins Kadim had fought in his first life, this boy was a puppet.

Still, Kadim couldn’t be reckless. He was no longer the legendary warlord of Atala who could fell high demons with a single swing of an axe.

‘…I’m just a desperate prisoner riding a temporary high.’

The blood he’d drunk didn’t offer protection or healing. One well-placed strike to a vital organ would end this journey.

Kadim picked up a discarded longspear, intent on a swift conclusion.

*Whish—!*

He threw it with the velocity of a heavy ballista bolt. The soldiers couldn’t even see the projectile.

*Thud—!*

Surprisingly, the knight moved. He swayed out of the path, the spear merely tilling the earth behind him. Despite the heavy plate armor, his movements were fluid and fast.

Kadim clicked his tongue in annoyance.

‘He didn’t get that armor just for his looks, I suppose.’

However, Kadim saw the flicker in the knight’s eyes. Had that spear connected, he’d be dead. The knight had survived on instinct, but the sheer lethality of the throw had shaken his soul.

Angry at his own fear, the knight raised his weapon to the sky.

“Lord of the Eternal Sun, Elga! Grant your servant the strength to purge this darkness!”

A beam of white light descended from the clouds, shimmering down the spear and into the knight’s frame. The divine art of Elga burned away his hesitation and sharpened his senses. The fear in his eyes was replaced by a cold, artificial calm.

With his god “beside” him, the knight felt invincible. He lunged forward like a bolt of lightning.

“For Elga!”

The two crashed together. Kadim met the charge head-on.

The knight’s spear darted toward his chest like a viper; Kadim parried with a sideways step, looking for a gap; the spear returned, relentless and biting.

*Whoosh, thrust, thrust!*

The steel tip left trails of frost in the air, carving dangerous patterns. The knight pulled the spear back just enough to launch lightning-fast jabs at Kadim’s openings. The blade grazed Kadim’s cheek, leaving a thin line of frozen blood.

But as the fight continued, Kadim felt his heart rate steady.

The knight’s style was too textbook.

Without the foundation of a hundred battles, even the most divine technique was predictable. Especially to a man who had spent a lifetime studying the anatomy of death.

His body was weak, but his mind remembered every rhythm. Kadim predicted every lunge. After that first graze on his cheek, the knight couldn’t find him again.

The opening appeared.

‘A side-thrust. Here it comes.’

Kadim purposefully left his flank exposed. The knight, blinded by his own momentum, took the bait and drove the spear toward the opening.

*Thrust!*

Kadim pirouetted away with room to spare. Then he closed the distance instantly.

The knight gasped, trying to pull the spear back for a short-range strike, but it was trapped. Kadim had clamped the spear shaft tightly under his arm.

“What… let go!”

The spear was freezing to the touch, the divine energy trying to bite into Kadim’s skin, but he ignored the pain. The weapon was locked in place.

If the knight had abandoned the weapon then and there, he might have survived. But panic took over. His youthful face drained of color. Kadim spoke with the weight of a final judgment.

“Go find your god in the dirt, pup of Elga.”

“No… wait—”

*Thud—!*

Kadim’s fist hammered into the knight’s temple. Blood erupted from his facial orifices. Despite his holy blessing and master-crafted armor, his skull broke just as easily as the recruits’.

Kadim wasn’t finished. He looked at the cooling body with a dark intensity. The knight still owed a debt.

He grabbed the holy spear. *Sizzle*—the weapon rejected him, freezing his palm instantly. Gritting his teeth against the cold, Kadim drove the spear deep into the knight’s shoulder—in the exact same spot he had been stabbed earlier.

*Crunch! Stab—*

The blade tore through the expensive plate and the muscle beneath. It was the same wound. The knight’s body gave one final, icy shiver and then went still. Kadim let go before his hand could suffer permanent frostbite.

The debt was paid.

A heavy silence fell over the field.

Their champion, their holy light, was dead in the mud. The remaining soldiers began to shake as if caught in a winter storm. Their sense of duty had been replaced by primal terror.

“It can’t be… Sir Linton is dead…”

“Run! *Run!*”

“Help me!”

The soldiers scattered like cockroaches, some crawling on all-fours, others sprinting for the tree line.

*Whish, whish—*

Kadim didn’t believe in survivors. He picked up the spears left on the ground and sent them flying. The weapons found their marks in the backs of the fleeing men; they tumbled into the grass after a few more desperate steps.

“What are you…? Some kind of devil…? Where does this power come from…?”

*Splack!*

He didn’t spare the squad leader either. Not one man was left breathing.

Kadim stood still, closing his eyes to listen to the fading echoes of his own heart.

The artificial strength was receding; his muscles were shrinking back to their normal size, and the dull throb of his shoulder returned. The blood of a low-grade demon didn’t last long. But he was looking for something else.

‘The madness… it hasn’t taken root yet.’

He was relieved to find that his mind was still his own. In his previous life, the mental rot had only set in after he had gorged himself on the blood of high-ranking demons. One minor beast wouldn’t break him—not yet.

Kadim opened his eyes and surveyed the carnage.

The peaceful plain was now a graveyard of steel and red. He had opened this second life with a massacre.

“…”

He felt no remorse.

In his past life, blood was the only currency he knew. It was a simple binary: kill or be killed. To waste energy on guilt in a world this cruel was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

*Clank, clank—*

Movement caught his eye. The other prisoners were emerging from the tall grass. They had used the chaos to hide and watch.

They had seen Kadim’s terrifying display. They were shaken, but they didn’t run. They didn’t see him as a monster to fear, but as a golden opportunity.

They saw a man who could slaughter an armored knight as a meal ticket or a leader who could help them disappear. Some were already imagining the gold they could steal with him at their side.

One prisoner, a man with a greedy glint in his eye, walked toward Kadim, already planning how to use this “savage.”

“Hey, friend! That was some fine work! Listen, I’ve got an idea that’ll make us both rich—how about you break these chains off me first?”

The man’s ambitions ended when his skull met Kadim’s fist.

*Crack—*

Kadim looked down at the man with the ruined face and gave his answer.

“No.”