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He was unlucky. It might have been better to die from the first strike.

A giant.

He couldn’t retreat from that.

Shouldn’t the 1st Company be the ones dealing with something like this?

Or maybe the Border Guard?

The Turtle Heavy Infantry was positioned on the left flank.

The Border Guard was nowhere to be seen, as if they had all gone drinking together.

Bell felt sweat running down his back. His hands tingled with tension. His legs felt like they might give out.

The giant was just laughing and doing nothing else.

No, in reality, it had shown everything with that first hammer strike.

That blow, the overwhelming brute strength, the carnage—it would be insane to remain unaffected after seeing that.

‘Damn.’

Bell felt the presence of death.

When that hammer moved, it would be his turn to die.

The frontline broke, and somehow he found himself at the forefront.

“Damn it.”

The Squad Leader beside him spoke.

His face wasn’t any better off. Seeing his trembling pupils, it was a wonder he hadn’t shouted to run away.

Not that they could flee, with the frontline commanders behind them ready to cut down any deserters.

Seeing the Squad Leader so frightened oddly calmed Bell.

Damn, might as well die.

The moment he stepped onto the battlefield, his life was pawned to heaven.

It seemed like it was time to collect the debt, so he decided to think of it that way.

“We’re going to die anyway.”

Bell said. The Squad Leader looked at him. Bell showed a resigned smile as he stared back at the Squad Leader.

“I’d at least like to cut off one of its toes.”

The giant’s hide was said to be too tough to cut with ordinary swords.

But what if they tried?

If they stuck close and slashed away?

Even if it was as tough as dragon bone, couldn’t they cut through it with a saw-like motion?

Who knows, maybe they should try it.

“The flower of the battlefield is…”

Bell began. His tone wasn’t mournful. It was determination.

Since he had staked his life, he might as well use it fiercely.

It would be foolish to stand still when lightning struck.

Bell learned that from a man named Encrid.

A man who never knew the meaning of giving up.

How could he not have learned anything from being around such a man?

Bell learned and decided to act.

The Squad Leader responded reflexively to Bell’s words.

“It’s infantry.”

So, it was time to fight.

It meant it was time to die. Or rather, they were on their way to death.

At that moment, the giant lifted the hammer it had rested on the ground.

The sound of metal scraping against gravel.

As the mist slowly cleared, they saw the hammerhead smeared with blood and bits of flesh, like crushed bread.

It came into sharp, vivid focus. That was death. That was the collected debt.

“Khh.”

The giant, showing that dog-like grin again, lifted its hammer. Instead of swinging it down as before, this time it lifted it overhead and swung it horizontally. It seemed to want to kill more at once.

Bell was trying to figure out if there was a way to avoid it.

Could he duck low enough?

Would the giant’s hammer, swung by that massive creature, even reach the ground?

It didn’t seem likely.

The giant bent its knees. The hammerhead was enormous.

If it swung at that angle, dodging it would require jumping, or avoiding the range of the hammer.

“This is too much. Damn bastards.”

One of the allied soldiers whimpered, looking back.

“Where’s the retreat signal? They blew the whistle, didn’t they?”

It was a new recruit, still green.

“Damn it, shit, damn bastards.”

Another soldier was just cursing continuously.

The giant knew how to fight. If it had attacked immediately, it couldn’t have created this situation.

This brief lull had instilled fear in the allied troops.

The giant had killed their spirit first.

“Huh!”

Even the giant’s shout was grotesque. And with that, it unleashed its prepared strike.

Whoosh!

The air tore apart as the hammer, wielded with superhuman strength, came flying.

Whoosh!

Bell had no other option but to crouch close to his shield and brace for impact.

Maybe, just maybe, he could survive?

Of course, he would likely die. But he wanted to try and hold out.

It was the moment when death loomed in the eyes of every soldier.

Bell could hardly see the hammer moving.

Instead,

Whoosh, a shadow stepped forward.

‘What?’

Before he could even comprehend what it was.

Clang!

A deafening sound struck his ears. The impact was so intense it felt like he was being pushed back by the shockwave.

It was only then that Bell saw it.

“…What the hell.”

A curse of astonishment slipped out of his mouth. It was a continuous stream of unbelievable situations.

“Hey, you idiot, you should play with someone your own size.”

The shadow blocking the way spoke. It was the back of an ally.

Though they looked tiny standing before the giant, the person wielded axes in both hands and had stopped the hammer. The veins on his forearms bulged as if they might burst, and he had torn off the sleeves of his gambeson, wearing the armor like a vest.

But he blocked it.

His feet left marks on the gravel as he was slightly pushed back, but he blocked it.

What was this? The situation didn’t make sense in his head.

Then,

“…I’m alive.”

It was the new recruit speaking, his voice trembling with tears. Everyone could hear his sobs.

As Bell took in the entire situation, his chest swelled with emotion.

He almost cried himself.

The joy of being alive, combined with the sight of the back of someone who had instilled a sense of security in both allies and enemies, despite being a source of unspeakable horror.

The giant was a monster, a Red Blood Beast, worshiping violence and slaughter.

So what?

There was one here too.

A madman, a monster.

The kind that would demoralize the enemy just by stepping into the fight.

“Why are you keeping your mouth shut? Did someone put honey on your lips?”

That monster spoke, with the same crude tone as usual.

Today, however, it sounded like a heavenly orchestra.

“You damn fool!”

The giant was angry, and Rem smirked.

What’s he saying, idiot.

* * *

Rem felt good.

So good, it reminded him of his first battle.

All thanks to a sparring match with the Platoon leader.

Does it make sense to feel like this from just one sparring match?

It must be because so much had been building up inside him.

As much as he felt liberated, Rem wanted to fight properly.

He wanted to show Encrid as well.

Look, this is what you’ll be learning next.

Rem had never blinked at the sight of flying axes since he was a child.

Even so, Rem had learned, practiced, and trained in The Heart of the Beast.

If it only gave him courage and composure, why would he have learned it?

It had to be useful, otherwise, he wouldn’t have learned, practiced, and trained in it.

The reason for learning it, The Heart of the Beast, wasn’t just to give courage.

From now on, half of it could be called Rem’s unique skill.

Not something of his tribe, but his own.

Thump.

His heart beat twice as fast as usual, sending blood rushing through his body. The flow of blood sped up.

Thump thump thump thump!

As his blood vessels expanded, his muscles swelled, changing in density.

His body, enhanced by a shamanic technique starting from his heart, now possessed monstrous strength.

Rem decided to call it The Heart of the Beast.

The people of his tribe only used this technique to prevent aging.

In truth, this was a skill only Rem used.

If learned incorrectly, it could cause the heart to burst, the blood vessels to rupture, or the muscles to necrotize, resulting in death.

Well, there’s no avoiding the difficulty in learning it.

He told Encrid to watch and learn, but the choice was ultimately his.

Of course, if he decided to learn, Rem would teach him slowly, one step at a time, ensuring he didn’t die in the process.

It might be painful, but Encrid would ignore the pain and learn.

Blocking the giant’s hammer, Rem unleashed his monstrous strength and swung his axe.

Whoosh!

The hammer came crashing down at a terrifying speed, and Rem swung his axe to deflect it.

Clang! Crack! Bang!

The axe blade couldn’t withstand the impact and shattered, breaking apart as if it had exploded.

Even though he had deflected it as much as possible, this was the result.

Rem swung his left arm, throwing the broken axe blade pieces toward the giant’s wooden armor, where they embedded themselves.

‘Maybe I should have used something better?’

He could have used a club like those fanatical religious zealots.

Although Rem wasn’t picky about weapons, axes fit his hand best.

Thud.

He discarded the remaining axe handle and kicked up a spear that was lying at his feet.

Spear in his left hand, axe in his right.

Rem smiled, holding weapons in both hands. It was a satisfied smile, pleased to face a worthy opponent for the first time in a while, and his good mood carried over from his sparring match with Encrid.

“Hey, let’s have some fun.”

What followed was an intense battle between the two. It was so fierce that no one could get close.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

Rem picked up fallen spears and axes, stabbing and slashing.

When weapons broke, he picked up whatever was lying around.

As they began to run out of weapons,

“Hey, let’s throw something.”

Bell quickly tossed the weapon he was holding.

Spears, hand axes, whatever they had.

Someone even threw a dagger at the giant, aiming for its eye, but the giant just turned its head, catching the dagger with its forehead.

Thud!

What kind of skin does he have?

The sharp dagger didn’t even leave a scratch, just bouncing off.

So, what is Rem, who is fighting this giant?

No one knew, but it was certain that this monster was protecting them.

Encrid watched Rem’s fight.

His combat style was intense, brutal. Above all,

‘Is he matching the giant in strength?’

Does that mean he has more strength than Frog?

Is this what I’m supposed to learn next? Is this what he told me to watch closely?

Thump.

His heart raced at the prospect of learning something new.

For Encrid, the desire to learn was a fundamental part of his being.

“Now we can go. Seeing him playing around like that.”

Beside him, Ragna spoke.

Rem, who was fighting the giant, looked like he was having fun. Yes, seeing that, it was clear.

He could win and kill the giant, but he was toying with it.

Why?

‘Is he doing it for me to watch?’

For a moment, Encrid thought that, but then he dismissed it as too far-fetched.

It seemed like Rem was just enjoying himself.

“Let’s get back to our task.”

Ragna also seemed eager. Why? Why was he so eager to fight?

He usually lacked motivation.

“Alright.”

Given the insistence, Encrid started moving. He felt he had seen everything Rem wanted him to.

Ragna needed to head to the right, but kept moving in the wrong direction.

Encrid had to grab him and guide him.

“If we clear this side, things should be okay.”

Krais said from behind, sticking close.

Was that so?

Encrid couldn’t see the overall situation, only the present mattered.

As they moved to the right, they saw a group of enemies gathered there.

Ten of them, looking relaxed.

What is this?

Is it a twist of fate?

As they got closer and could see the faces, Encrid realized that the person standing in the center was someone he knew.

Why was he here?

The person also recognized Encrid’s face.

Encrid’s strikingly handsome features were hard to forget.

“You, you’re still alive?”

The person recognized Encrid, blinked a few times in surprise, and then smiled, asking the question. His smile reached his eyes, though they were slanted, giving a somewhat unsettling impression.

“Yes, I am.”

Encrid replied calmly, and Ragna looked at him, silently asking.

Do you know him?

“During my mercenary days…”

Encrid began to explain but shortened it, thinking the story would be too long.

“A bastard I met.”

Yes, that’s enough to describe the scum.

A bastard who betrayed his comrades, raped women, and then killed them.

He should have been killed back then.

He had heard that this guy had run away after getting into trouble with a noble. So, he ended up here?

“Hey, is that what you say to an old friend after so long?”

“Friend?”

Encrid felt a rare moment of disgust.

With someone like him?

Ragna looked at him again, questioning with his eyes.

“No, that bastard.”

He said curtly, and Ragna nodded in understanding.

“Hah, you always were good with words. But how did you manage to survive? Did you have to suck up to someone?”

Such insults were common during his mercenary days, often aimed at him because of his appearance.

He had heard them even after joining the military.

It had been a long time since he last heard someone mock him in this way. No one had dared to taunt him recently, likely because he had proven himself through his skills.

Thus, Encrid brushed off the provocation with indifference.

Ragna seemed to think the same. It didn’t matter, the man was as good as dead.

“You can take care of that one, then.”

Ragna stepped aside, signaling that the remaining nine were his to handle.

“Just the three of you against all ten of us?”

“I won’t be fighting. Just aim for these two.”

Krais said from behind.

Encrid glanced around.

What had these ten done?

Clearly, the allies were hesitant to engage them.

Corpses were scattered around, riddled with holes.

It was a familiar sign of the weapons that these bastards are using.

Encrid took a moment to inspect the other bodies.

They bore slashes and stabs from swords, spears, and daggers.

But there was something unsettlingly dirty about the wounds.

Even the holes—they seemed almost like they had been tortured.

“They’re obsessed with bloodshed. They seek to improve their skills through murder. It’s fine. Didn’t I tell you before? If you don’t walk the right path, you’ll hit a clear limit.”

Ragna said beside him.

Yes, that was right. He had warned that clinging to the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique would lead to a limit.

So, Encrid had rebuilt his basics and moved forward.

It was a path with a clear direction.

Encrid drew his sword.

“That one is mine.”

As Ragna had suggested, whether it was out of old grudges or a scene from a revenge drama, Encrid decided to honor his fallen comrades.

He would do so by beheading this twisted, trashy scoundrel.

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