—Igris's Perspective—
All I ever wanted was adventure. To taste freedom, to feel the rush of adrenaline, to forge friendships. When I first arrived in this world, I was tense—but that feeling, that electric thrill when I first faced a group of orcs, still echoes in my mind. And the sword training I began with my teacher Clint... that was the first time I truly felt alive. A world where I could live as I pleased, without drowning, without masks on my face!
In my previous world, the system was filth. A place where only the elite and the wealthy could truly live as they pleased, bending the system however they liked. Sure, there were fools like that here too—those who thought they stood above everything and everyone. But in that old world, justice and the system worked only for those bastards, while the rest of us were told to bow our heads, to keep silent. Speak up, and the police, the prosecutors, the judges would all come down on you. And not just you—your whole family would be ruined.
One of my friends experienced it firsthand. He slapped the arrogant, spoiled son of a corporate tycoon. And believe me, that brat got off easy. But what happened afterward? My friend's father couldn't find a job, his mother fell ill, and his sister got expelled from school. All orchestrated by that same tycoon. But it didn't stop there. The bastards tricked his father into borrowing money from a loan shark, had his mother crippled, and raped his sister. And what did the system do? Nothing. They turned a blind eye.Because while my friend's family was ordinary, the scum who destroyed them were rich.
At first, my best friend and I didn't notice. That friend of ours hid all his pain so well, we were too blind to see. And then one day, we found him dead in an alleyway. Every bone in his body was broken. His face was unrecognizable.I had never felt such rage in my life.
Later, we learned everything from his sister. We went mad with fury. My best friend and I—both trained soldiers, both killers due to a certain incident during our one-year military service—we decided to act. We hunted the loan sharks, tracked them to their boss, and left a massacre in our wake. That day, every scream from those pigs was music to my ears. Especially their boss's scream—the second most beautiful sound I've ever heard.Why second? Because the first belonged to the bastards who started all this.
We infiltrated their mansion. We took out the guards—they were so arrogant, they had no more than four! We reached the dining room door, stood still, listened. They were laughing, mocking our dead friend and his family. But they didn't know that behind that door waited two rabid, bloodthirsty wolves left behind by the one they had killed.And those wolves... they were listening.
My friend was about to charge in, but I held him back."Brother. We're not like them. Let them enjoy their last meal, because they will not leave this house alive," I said. And we waited.
Eventually, the son—the bastard who started it all—got up, said he was heading out with his friends, and approached the door with laughter still on his lips. He opened it... and found two masked men waiting.I looked at him."Had fun, scum?" I said—and smashed the club I held across his skull. Ohhh, the screams of his mother and sister... they were pure serenity. I felt like I'd taken a tranquilizer. Then I lifted my foot and stomped so hard between that bastard's legs that everything down there got crushed. He screamed so loud, the windows nearly shattered.
My friend hurled a knife straight at the father as he reached for a weapon. Bullseye. The man shrieked. That night, the two of us beat that rich family slowly and methodically—shattering their bones one by one.And finally, we doused their house in gasoline, and burned it to the ground with them inside. We covered our tracks completely.That night, I slept better than I had in my entire life.
In this world, I've run into similar scum—many times. But they all shared one thing in common:I was the last person they ever faced.
Why is my bounty so high? Because I've buried every cesspool I've come across. I've cut out the rot, and no one could stop me—because I was right. Because there was no system here to protect those monsters. That's the kind of person I am. I speak when I see wrong. I cut down those who spread filth. I say no to injustice.I am fearless, brave, and crazy.
But now?
I'M RUNNING! FROM A WOMAN! FROM A FOSSIL! FROM A GRANDMOTHER!How the hell did my life end up like this? How did I get caught up in this insanity!?
"RUN! I'LL STRANGLE THE FIRST ONE WHO STOPS!" I shouted. For the past nine hours, we've been galloping nonstop. Behind us, a very dangerous woman is closing in.If we stop, she'll toss me into bed and bury my comrades six feet under!
"Igris! We can't keep going like this—Nori and Bifur are not doing well! Their wounds are opening again!" Dori yelled.
"He's right! We need to rest. If we push on like this, two more will die!" Dwalin added.
"If we stop, all of us die! We have no choice!" Thorin barked.
"Exactly! You'll all die and go underground—and I'll be dragged into bed by a 400-year-old woman!" I shouted in panic.
Thorin turned to me with a dark look."This is my campaign. So why are we running into your enemies?"
"How the hell should I know!? Our bounty's high—whether we want it or not, they'd come after us!" I snapped.
"True!" Thorin agreed—but then exploded:"BUT WHY IS THE CRIMSON LADY HERE!? BECAUSE OF YOU! WHY WOULD A VAMPIRE VISCOUNT'S DAUGHTER BE OUT HERE FOR MONEY!?"
"THAT WOMAN'S INSANE, THORIN! I NEVER EVEN TOUCHED HER! I DIDN'T EVEN CALL HER PRETTY! I NEVER EVEN LOOKED AT HER! I ONLY SLAPPED HER—BECAUSE SHE LICKED THE CUT ON MY CHEEK!"
Everyone around us fell into stunned silence.
"You did what...? What did you just say...? Maybe there's something wrong with my ears... must be old age," Gandalf muttered.
"Great. Just great. I brought the trouble magnet with me. Before we even get to the dragon, we're already dealing with vampires!" Thorin groaned.
"Don't, Thorin! Igris has helped us so much—and so have his comrades, Halt and Gilan," Balin said.
"Balin's right, Thorin. It was bound to happen. This isn't Igris's fault," Dwalin added.
Thorin glared at them both.
"Fine! Let it be that way! Thorin Oakenshield, you shameless bastard! You devour the stews I make like a storm, but when things get tough, you abandon me! Make your own damn stew! I'm not giving you food anymore!" I shouted angrily and marched ahead, ungrateful fool!
"Wait, Igris! It was a joke! Just a joke! I'm not afraid of a vampire woman!" Thorin said, half-panicked but trying to keep a firm tone. Gandalf burst into laughter.
"Gandalf! What's you situation? Dori's right—we need to rebandage Bifur and Nori's wounds!" I said seriously.
"I still don't have enough mana," muttered the old wizard. I gave his staff a bitter glance before moving on.
"We keep going forward! I summoned a 15-man team. All mounted archers! If we can reach them, we'll be in much better shape!" he said in a serious tone. Everyone, except Thorin, was stunned.
"How did you summon them? Why didn't we notice?" Gandalf asked.
"I used a special method. I can't explain it to you right now. Trust me, Gandalf," I said calmly.
"I already do, Igris. I've heard a lot of rumors about you. Some of my friends have worked with you. You're a bit crazy, slightly mad and totally unhinged—but you're one of the good ones," he said with a grin.
I looked at Gandalf and nodded. I think... I think he just complimented me? That was praise, right? Why does it feel like an insult?
"How far do we need to travel to meet these mounted archers?" Dwalin asked.
"A bit further—two, maybe three hours at most... I estimate," I replied.
"Lovely!" Dwalin grunted.
"GILAN! HALT! WHAT'S OUR STATUS?" I called out to the pair behind us. They had lagged a little, keeping watch on our surroundings.
Halt quickly approached me. "You were right. There's a cloud of dust a few kilometers behind us. Judging by its density and the ground structure, there are at least thirty of them," he said.
Gilan came up to my other side. "We saw red markers. Faint, but visible because they were moving as a group. Based on what I know, the only faction that moves clad entirely in red are the Blood Rose Knights! You're probably right, Igris," he said grimly.
"... I don't feel happy at all!" I muttered. I wish I had been wrong. That woman found me while I was injured!
"Gandalf! Is there no place we can retreat and defend from? Nori's wound reopened, and he's not doing well!" Gloin called out.
"Bifur isn't in good shape either! He'd already lost a lot of blood! At this rate, he won't make it!" Dori added.
Damn it! Why does this have to be so hard? If that crazy woman had stayed away from me for five more years, I'd be strong enough to fight her by now! I wish someone like Geralt of Rivia or Van Helsing had been summoned instead! Then I'd see her face when I said, "Come on then! I have your antidote right here!" But alas… luck is never on my side.
"Alright! I'll go back and draw their attention. You all run and find somewhere safe to take shelter!" I said. It seemed like the best option.
"No! Even if you go, they outnumber us! They'll just split up and hunt us down! We're better off staying together! If we lose someone as a hostage, things will only get worse! And don't even get me started on your arm—you can't even hold a shield!" Thorin said firmly.
"He's right, Igris! The enemy is the Crimson Lady—hard to beat even at your best! If you let yourself be bait in your current condition, she alone will be enough to chase you down!" Gandalf added.
"Yes, Igris! Besides, abandoning a comrade is not something dwarves tolerate!" Dwalin said sternly.
"They're right, Igris. We'll get through this together," said Balin, calm and composed as always.
"...Alright," I said quietly. They were right—I stood no chance fighting like this. But with the group, I could still do something! If I do end up facing that hag, I'll make sure her precious 'collection' takes some serious losses!
"...Leave… me… behind! I'm… slowing you… down!" Nori muttered weakly.
"Never!" Thorin said, his voice absolute and sharp.
"Nori… is right… Thorin! This… journey… its purpose… is to reclaim… our home… Huff… Huff… If… we fail… because of us… we'll never forgive ourselves!" Bifur said, struggling but with fierce resolve.
"IF I'M GOING TO RECLAIM EREBOR BY SACRIFICING MY PEOPLE, THEN I'D RATHER NOT RECLAIM IT AT ALL! I AM KING OF THE DWARVES! MY DECISION IS FINAL! I WILL NEVER SIT ON THAT THRONE IF IT MEANS SACRIFICING MY PEOPLE!" roared our stern and charismatic king, Thorin! I love this guy! The embodiment of charisma! A reliable and loyal friend! If only he wasn't as stubborn as a goat, he'd be as sweet as cotton candy!
After Thorin spoke, the group fell silent, and I turned to the two injured dwarves."Nori! Bifur! I've heard that even if a dwarf loses an arm, he can survive for three days despite the blood loss! Are you already tired? Even the Elves are tougher than you!" I said mockingly, and both Nori and Bifur shivered from head to toe, their brows furrowing as they looked at me. I stared back at them, then pulled out two beer bottles and tossed them their way. The duo caught them as if they'd gained cat reflexes! I still don't understand these dwarves' love for alcohol.
Nori and Bifur opened the bottles and began to drink—but I wouldn't even call that drinking... what was that? I'm not really a drinker myself. I prefer caramel milk lattes or black tea—and if there's tiramisu to go with it? Oh! What a magnificent taste that would be! Anyway, what was I saying? Ah, right… I think it was whiskey? Or maybe tequila? Whatever—it's that stuff you pour into a tiny glass and down in one gulp! Well, they drank both bottles like that—in a single gulp! Then shoved the bottles into their packs.I gave the group a special warning: they can't toss bottles—non-recyclable and harmful to nature—on the ground! Otherwise, I won't cook for them for two days!
"NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! LET'S MOVE! A DWARF LASTS LONGER THAN THOSE LONG-EARED BASTARDS!" Nori shouted, face flushed with life.
"HELL YEAH! THREE DAYS? I COULD LAST THREE MONTHS! NO ELF CAN OUTLAST ME!" Bifur added.
The group burst out laughing, but Bilbo, Gilan, Halt, and Gandalf remained silent.What the hell did I give them? Did I accidentally hand out the elixirs from Asterix and Obelix? I took a beer out of my inventory and sniffed it… nope, still smells awful! The strong scent of alcohol made my head spin! I was about to put the bottle back, but then I paused… Would it be risky to give more to the dwarves? Oh well! They've been running around a lot because of me anyway! I joined the fun—high-speed bar service on horseback! Igris's special edition! Probably the only one of its kind in existence!
"Dwalin! Here—fir tree beer! Your favorite!" I called out and tossed it to him. He caught it with a grin and said, "Thanks, Igris!"
"Balin! Beer made with wild honey!" I called and tossed one to him too. He caught it, opened it, and sniffed. "Such a poetic scent. Thank you, Igris," he said calmly.I really like this grandpa. He's like a fluffy marshmallow.
"Gloin! Here—your favorite drink!" I threw him one too. He caught it, took a swig, and exclaimed, "Oh! Cold and refreshing taste! Igris, your stockpile is impressive! The contents never lose quality!"
I nodded and tossed bottles to the remaining dwarves—each caught theirs! We were riding at full speed, and they caught them with perfect precision! I need to take note of this reflex—it might be useful later.
"You too, Thorin! Have a drink!" I handed him a bottle as well. He opened it, drank, and relaxed. My eyebrow twitched. This is so weird. Do dwarves function on alcohol?
"...Gandalf?"
"…Yes, Igris?"
"…Why do dwarves love alcohol so much, and why do they act like they've downed a healing potion after drinking it?" I asked, baffled.
"…I have no idea, Igris. Some scholars and alchemists have researched it, but no conclusive results," he replied, and I was stunned. This had become an academic topic—well, there's no actual academy, but still.
Now I was really curious! We're already on the run—what else is there to do but chat?
"Thorin!"
"Yes?"
"Why do you dwarves love alcohol so damn much? I don't get it!"
Thorin thought for a moment and said, "I don't know! We just like. It relaxes us—makes all our troubles feel far away."
"…You're a weird race," I said calmly.
"And you're saying that?" Thorin said with a grin.
"Brother, I'm a Half-Blood! I don't even know what kind, but being weird is my birthright!" I grinned. We looked at each other and chuckled, continuing onward.
"How're you feeling, Nori? Think you can hold on?" Gloin asked.
"Fit as a fiddle! I'll knock down anyone who comes at us!" Nori replied. My eyebrow twitched. This man was on death's doorstep moments ago! Did alcohol bring him back? Or was it just hearing the word Elf? You decide.
"How about you, Bifur?" Dori asked.
"Not bad…" he said with some effort, but he, too, seemed to have improved a little!
"Shadowmane!" I called.
"Yes?"
"Take a note, my boy! When we reach Rivendell, we're buying as many barrels of alcohol as we can get! Remind me, and I'll make you a fruit salad!" I'm going to win the Battle of the Five Armies by pumping dwarves full of booze!
"Got it!" Shadowmane replied.
"Seriously?" Gandalf asked, surprised.
"Gandalf! I have a spatial inventory! Look at Nori and Bifur! This is not normal! Even Thorin went from rage-ball to cotton-candy man!"
"HEY! WHO ARE YOU CALLING COTTON-CANDY?" Thorin shouted, furious.
"Here, sweet child, you're a king—have two more," I said and handed him another bottle.
"IGRIS! YOU'RE ASKING FOR A BEATING! YOU CAN'T TRICK ME WITH ALCOHOL!" he yelled angrily.I calmly pulled out another bottle. Thorin took both without hesitation.
"You're a good friend, Igris!" he said, pocketing one and starting to drink the other.
Gandalf and I stared at him, baffled. Then I pulled out another bottle and handed it to Gandalf.
"I don't drink on duty, Igris."
"I know, old man! This one's non-alcoholic. I made it myself with cherries and some spices. It's a flavor you'll enjoy!" I said and handed it over. Gandalf took it, opened it curiously, and sniffed.
"Smells delightful," he said, then took a sip.
"Igris! You're wasting your talent being a knight! If you opened a tavern in a big city, you'd make a fortune! This is a wonderful drink!" Gandalf chuckled.
"No way, old man! I love living with adventure and excitement! I'll think about settling down when I'm too old to move!"
Well… actually, I am planning to found a kingdom. I guess I could open a tavern there that serves my special recipes.Gandalf looked content—then again, that juice did contain a few medicinal herbs and one or two special ingredients that accelerate mana recovery. It's no surprise he liked it.
"Halt! Gilan! Come over here," I called, and they approached. I pulled out two flasks. I made them with a friend who's an ice mage. We designed a special rune that cools the contents slightly, feeding off my Aura. It took my friend three years to invent that rune! Production is tough—we only managed to craft three flasks total.
"These are gifts for you two. You'll definitely love them!" I said with a grin.Halt opened his and sniffed, surprised. "Is this... coffee?" he asked, puzzled.
"Cold coffee! It tastes good," I said, and she took a curious sip—and liked it.
"If you had something like this, why didn't you give it to us earlier?! I was about to go into a coma from the lack of coffee!" Halt shouted furiously.
"If I had given you these coffees, they wouldn't have lasted three hours!" I snapped back with frustration. "If that troublemaking woman in the back wasn't after me, I wouldn't have handed these out until we got to Erebor! I need coffee too!"
Forest Rangers are coffee monsters! They drink coffee five times a day! Less during missions, but still—they drink it.
"I feel betrayed, Igris! I thought you were my friend!" cried Gilan, the overly dramatic queen of theatrics. But he immediately started drinking from the flask! I knew it! You coffee vampires!
"Halt? What do you mean there's no coffee? I gave Gilan two kilos of it!" I asked, and Gilan started choking on the coffee he was drinking... You shameless bastard! Hiding coffee from your own mentor?!
"WHAT?!" Halt shouted, glaring at his beloved student Gilan like he wanted to skin him alive.
"LISTEN TO MY EXPLANATION, HALT! COFFEE KEEPS YOU ALERT! I NEEDED IT FOR NIGHT PATROLS! I SAVED IT FOR COMPLETELY MISSION-ORIENTED USAGE!" Gilan yelled, but I wasn't buying it. And neither was Halt.
"Gilan! Once we shake off those red bastards back there, you and I are going to have a serious master-apprentice talk!" he said with an icy tone. Even I was scared. The veins on Halt's face looked like they were about to burst! These guys had become caffeine addicts! Even Thorin subtly stepped away from Halt. Halt stormed back toward the mission zone, fuming.
"…Sorry, my friend. I unknowingly betrayed you," I said quietly.
"…Igris! You have to protect me! I CAN'T LISTEN TO ANOTHER FOUR-HOUR LECTURE AGAIN!" he said, panicking hard, and ran off toward the mission area too. The two of them are now flanking us from the right and left, making sure Katarina doesn't trap us. Bilbo and Kili are assigned with them.
"I feel bad for Gilan. Even I'm afraid of Halt's wrath," said Gandalf.
"I agree," Thorin added, while I let out a sigh.
System:"Your server draw chance has been renewed!"
Yes! Just what I needed right now!
'System, I want to use my draw chance!'
System:"The wheel of fortune is spinning!"
I stared ahead intently, wishing for just one thing—Cavalry! Cavalry! PLEASE GIVE ME CAVALRY!
System:[Drawing results … 3 … 2 … 1 "Tier 4 Vaegir (Veteran) Infantry X 30" — Congratulations to the server for winning!]
Oh come on! These are infantry! What am I supposed to do with them?! Wait a minute… aren't some of these troops mounted? I don't remember clearly, but when I used to play Warband, I always joined the Vaegirs!
'System, do these troops include cavalry?'
System:"Yes, server, but you have a 1 in 5 chance."
'Can I change the reward?'
System:"No! Rewards drawn from the wheel are fixed."
'Got it. Send the mounted ones to the Khuzait tribal warrior's position—we'll meet them in two hours. Dispatch the remaining infantry to the squads already on mission.'
System:"Understood."
'System, what's the status of the unit? Have they begun the mission?'
System:"Normally, I wouldn't be able to provide this information. But since you haven't founded your kingdom yet, you're still considered in training. So, I will give you a report! 200 Swadian militia and Imperial Elit crossbowmen have rendezvoused, but they haven't started the mission yet."
That surprised me. Is it because we haven't met face-to-face? Or maybe they don't want to follow my command? But once I officially declare my kingdom and mark my location, the first wave of refugees will be the families of these soldiers. That's how the system set it up. So even if they don't obey orders, they'll still help me.
'Why, system? Is it because they're unwilling? Or is there another issue?'
System:"No, server. The veteran crossbowmen accepted the command without issue. They outrank the militia, and the militia didn't resist. But there's a 500-year gap between the Imperial and Swadian kingdoms. Their military systems and chains of command are different. Also, you won't be able to meet them for another few months, so they're not in a rush. Your unit is currently undergoing training to get accustomed to each other and the command structure. They're 48 kilometers from the target zone—some troops are scouting the area, and the rest are hunting orcs for practice."
I was surprised, but then I remembered—they're not NPCs, they're living people. Damn it, my stupid brain! I can't believe I thought otherwise! But I'm impressed. I always admire units that can think and act on their own. I trust them—and their skills.
'System! How does rank advancement work? And is anyone close to a promotion?'
System:"You're not ready for rank promotions yet! You still haven't founded your kingdom. Rank advancement happens in two ways: either you buy the equipment from the system once a soldier is ready, or you craft and give it yourself. But even if they have the gear, soldiers must undergo proper training and pass certain tests to advance."
'So experience is key. You don't just boost them instantly! You don't suddenly give them 40 years of experience! Did I understand that correctly?'
System:"Correct! As I said from the beginning, I only provide necessary resources and personnel—I don't offer direct power boosts! Training soldiers, promoting ranks, preparing for war, building cities and fortresses—all of that is your job! I don't give you prebuilt structures. I can provide refugees, legendary heroes, animals, mounts, special units, weapons, potions, and magical or legendary arms and armor."
'…Should I be sad? Or happy? I don't know... Either way, I've always trusted my own abilities! Instant power boosts have never been my thing. Thanks for the report, System.'
System:"You're welcome."
"You've drifted into your thoughts again, Igris," said Thorin.
"I'm just thinking about how we're going to get out of here."
"Let's just keep moving forward! If we can reach the borders of Rivendell, we'll be safe," said Gandalf.
"I hope so..."
"My loooove!"
I trembled like a building shaken in a 9.8 magnitude earthquake! It felt like my soul wanted to escape my body! That voice! That beautiful, velvety voice that, to me, sounded more like nails screeching across a chalkboard! I turned around—and saw her. Not even the last person I wanted to see… Red-haired, clad in crimson armor, strikingly beautiful... but still a grandmother!
"It's the crazy woman, Katarina! Hurry up, someone worse than death is coming!" I shouted in panic.
"My sweet and strong Shadow!" said a neighing voice.
"It's the mad mare, Rosa!" Shadowmane trembled as he said it.
"Shadowmane! I heard Rosa too," I said, my voice shaking.
"NO! I ABSOLUTELY REFUSE! WE CANNOT BE CONNECTED TO HER!" Shadowmane cried in panic, though to outsiders it probably just sounded like a horse neighing in fear.
"Time to oil those heels, kids! MOVE IT!" Thorin shouted.
"Igris! That woman is totally in love with you! She's already calling you 'my love'! As a wizard, I suggest you stay and confront her," said Annoying Gandalf in a mocking tone.
"Gandalf! If you bring this up one more time..." I said calmly, then exploded:"I'LL SPREAD RUMORS ACROSS MIDDLE-EARTH THAT YOU'RE SLEEPING WITH LADY GALADRIEL, I SWEAR TO MY SWORD! DON'T PUSH ME!"
"YOU WOULDN'T DARE!"
"TRY ME! I'M A CERTIFIED LUNATIC!"
The two of us started bickering as the rest of the group burst into laughter—meanwhile, a crazy woman was still approaching from behind!
—From the Perspective of Senior Imperial Crossbowman Leon—
My name is Leon. I was born on a continent called Calradia. I was just a blacksmith's son. We were a modestly happy family—my mother, father, four brothers, and three sisters. I was the eldest. My two younger brothers and I helped our father at the forge. We made swords, armor, and farming tools. The other two brothers chose different paths: one became a merchant, the other a carpenter—an excellent one, especially in wood carving.
I fell in love with a woman, married her, and our family grew. Business was good. The Empire always needed weapons and armor. Back then, the Calradian Empire spanned nearly half the continent—peaceful and secure, but also cruel. My family and I were blacksmiths, a profession the Empire valued. But not everyone was so lucky. I saw many crushed under taxes, turned into toys for the pleasure of nobles. But my merchant brother said it wasn't like that everywhere.
When the civil war began, everything got worse. Yes, business boomed for a blacksmith—but only a fool or a tyrant loves the profits of war. I lost everything because of it. EVERYTHING!I wanted to serve my country and earn better wages. I wanted to climb the ranks, become a noble, elevate my family to a new status. But I was naïve.
I joined the army at 29 as a crossbowman. I was skilled in hunting and crossbow use. But killing a human wasn't as easy as I thought. And war… it's nothing like the epics and tales describe. Those stories only talk about heroism—never the pain.
My village was under Queen Rhagaea's rule. She was fair and cared for her people—certainly better than the previous Emperor. I served her and rose quickly through the ranks. Killing was hard at first, but you get used to it. And as you do, something inside you dies.
A year and a half passed. Then came the terrible news—my village had been raided! My home was plundered! My brothers in the village were slaughtered, my friends butchered. My wife and sisters were raped—some killed, some taken as slaves. I'll never forget what I saw when I returned.
Bodies impaled on stakes, others hanged, some used as target practice. The horrific torture marks on my sister's body… and the bastard who did this was a northern imperial lord!In just 1.5 years, everyone had become each other's sworn enemy. And worse, these horrors became more common as time passed. Calradia turned into hell. Everyone hated everyone.
The most tragic part? Sometimes, the enemy forces included people or families you once knew.In one battle, I killed a knight. His sword and armor looked familiar. A cold dread filled my gut. After the battle, I walked over to the body. His armor, his sword, his shield—I recognized them all. My hands trembled as I removed his helmet…
He was my cousin. My uncle's eldest son. The one I called my brother. I had carefully crafted that armor myself and gifted it to him to keep him safe. And I had killed him.
Ironic, isn't it? Maybe even funny. But something inside me died with him that day.
I held his body for hours. My comrades asked why I was holding an enemy soldier.
And I told them: "Because I shot him."
They congratulated me. And I lost it.
"I SHOT MY OWN COUSIN WITH A FUCKING BOLT, YOU IDIOTS! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU CONGRATULATING ME FOR?! I KILLED THE MAN I CALLED MY BROTHER!"
They went quiet. But what good did that do me?
That day, I left the army.
I stayed behind to bury every single body. It took me days.
At night, I slept beside my cousin's grave.
And every day, I apologized to him.
Every. Single. Day.
I buried the bodies within a week and visited my cousin's grave. After saying my goodbyes, I moved to the farthest village of the Khuzait kingdom. But every night, my cousin haunted my dreams—I never found peace. I blamed myself constantly, relentlessly...
Then one day, words appeared before me. I thought I had gone insane, thought I was losing my mind. But those words claimed they could bring my family back—my cousin, my siblings. All they asked in return was for me to help a man. And I agreed.
Were they demons? Angels? Djinn? I didn't care. My life was already hell every single day. No one who hasn't lived through war can understand me—but even those who have... they can't understand either. How ironic, isn't it?
Now I'm in this world. When I first arrived, I wasn't alone. There were other crossbowmen like me—more than ten of us. Each from a different empire, yet our lives were all the same: ruined, steeped in tragedy. We went to the location we were told about and met a militia force of 200 people. They had been through similar things, received the same offer. But I learned something shocking—they were also from the continent of Calradia, but 500 years after my time!
Five hundred years! Civil war had never ceased. These militiamen were between 14 and 16 years old. My heart ached for them, but they were stronger than the militia of my time—proof that they had grown up in nothing but endless war. In terms of rank, we crossbowmen were placed above them. Each of us was assigned a group of militiamen to lead. And since I held a noble title back in Calradia, I was chosen as the supreme commander.
But I hadn't started Igris's mission yet. The man we were serving now was named Igris. They told us a little about him, and if it was true, he was a good and just man. But I didn't understand why he would order us to execute the mayor and deputy of a town - until I observed it myself. Then I understood - that pig mayor was exploiting his own people.
Finally, we were given a detailed plan, and then it all made sense. We were told to kill the prime minister and replace him with a raftsman. Finally, I understood why: if this town and its people will be the biggest obstacles in the region that will one day become the capital of our new kingdom, Igris wants to take precautions and stabilize this town so that the townspeople will stay in their own homes and not interfere with us.
"Commander Leon! A new unit has arrived—24 soldiers! From our own time! Infantry from the Kingdom of Vaegir!" a young Swadian militiaman shouted.
"Thank you, Sam," I said and went to greet them. I stepped forward and shook hands with the older man who appeared to be their leader.
"My name is Jerus, from the Kingdom of Vaegir. Lord Igris sent us here. You must be the supreme commander," he said.
"Pleasure to meet you, Jerus. I'm Leon, a crossbowman. I was temporarily appointed as commander. It's an honor to meet you," I replied and took a good look at them. They were far stronger than the militia. They wore leather armor, and underneath it, chainmail of steel. On their backs they carried shields and massive axes, with smaller axes at their waists. They resembled standard infantry—but clearly far superior, at least compared to the ones from my era.
"Come, my friends. Warm yourselves by the fire and eat. We've got fish from the nearby lake and venison from the woods," I said and led them to the camp.
I sighed deeply. Just as we'd begun to establish unity with the Swadians, now the Vaegirs had arrived. Our systems, our chains of command—they were all different. Igris' greatest challenge will be commanding an army filled with cultural contradictions and divided traditions. That's why we haven't started the mission yet. Igris is expected to join us in three to six months. We're not in a hurry, but we mustn't delay too long either.
After purging the corrupt prime minister in the town, Igris gave us an unexpected directive: to train the men of the town and form them into a local army. That shocked me. Why not take them under his direct command? Why leave them to their own devices? What if they grow strong and turn against us?
Well... not my concern for now. My priorities lie elsewhere. I'll ask him when I finally meet him.