"Retreat!" roared a soldier at the front of the formation, his voice cracking under the weight of fear.
Chaos erupted instantly. Soldiers fled, colliding with one another, abandoning their posts as the monstrous creature from the lake emerged, dragging behind it a wave of death.
The stragglers never had a chance. The creature's titanic jaws snapped shut with a brutal crunch, muffling screams that mixed with the splash of blood in the water.
A few, trembling yet determined, formed a shaky semicircle around the beast. Their spears pointed unsteadily, their eyes filled more with terror than courage.
But it didn't matter how many there were. Ordinary humans could never hope to bring down an abomination of that caliber.Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately for them—among their ranks stood a human who was far from ordinary....
Propped against a rock, bleeding profusely from the stump where his arm used to be, Svend watched the massacre unfold. His wide, fear-stricken eyes reflected unimaginable terror. Yet buried deep within that gaze, there was something else: pleasure.
Half the soldiers were slaughtered. Some were devoured, others crushed under the beast's massive body, and a few more hurled like bait so their comrades could flee. Only the bravest—or the dumbest—remained to face the monster.
Then, as Svend clung to his makeshift refuge, he caught movement among the trees.
From the shadows emerged a figure: it was Bill, who had been patiently waiting for the soldiers' numbers to dwindle—whether by flight or death.
...
I landed nimbly on the grass near the lake.
Ahead of me, soldiers fell one after another, their screams drowned by the monster's roars. I braced myself, drew my sword, and lunged at a soldier who had spotted me.
The first man had no time to react. His gaze met mine, but before he could lift his blade, my sword pierced his chest in a swift, precise thrust.
Blood gushed out, hot and thick, soaking my glove. I yanked the sword free, turned, and saw a yellow window pop up before me:
[You have killed a normal human.]
I ignored the window and fixed my gaze forward.
At that moment, only a few noticed me—most were still too busy with the monster.
I positioned myself between three soldiers standing side by side, swung my sword in a horizontal arc, and decapitated one, then the next.
The last one—a bit taller—caught the sword in his shoulder, a deep, gruesome gash. He reacted, thrusting his blade at me, but before it could reach me, I shifted my sword's direction and brought it down on his head, cleaving him cleanly in two.
As I dodged, struck, and killed, something inside me stirred.
—This... isn't right... why am I reacting like this?—I thought, my breathing heavy, my mind clouded by the echoes of violence around me.I knew it already.
The traces left by Desmond Rusel—his cruelty and mercilessness—had embedded themselves in me.
But that didn't mean I had to lose all reason. All humanity.
If I lost control... what would be the point of finding my family?
If, when I found them, I was no longer the person they remembered—but a bloodthirsty beast—would they not reject me?
No. I couldn't let that happen.
I couldn't become that monster.
Yet the sword in my hand... it felt natural. As if I had been born to wield it.I had never held a sword before—and yet it was as much a part of me as my own limbs.
It was the only thing I trusted—the only link I had to this broken world.My only desire was to find my family.
For now, that meant doing whatever it took to survive—but without losing myself along the way.
With that resolution burning fresh in my mind, I charged toward another soldier who stood with his back to me, distracted by the beast.
I struck his ankles with my sword hilt, sending him sprawling.
He glanced up at me, reaching desperately for his weapon, but I was faster: I sliced off his hand and moved on, leaving him writhing in agony on the ground.
Still, too many soldiers remained...
Far more than I had anticipated.
Some had already noticed me and were charging with weapons raised.
I took a deep breath, raised my eyes to the sunset-stained sky, sighed, and steeled myself for what was about to come.
"This is going to be a long day..." I muttered, planting my feet firmly in the dirt and raising my sword to meet the oncoming tide.
...
From his refuge behind the massive rock, Svend—paler than ever—watched the scene unfold.
He saw how Bill, emerging from the woods, tore through the soldiers.First, he pierced a man's chest.
Then, in one fluid motion, decapitated two more.
The third, sturdier one, suffered a deep slash to the shoulder—but before he could counter, Bill split him in two with a downward stroke.
The grass and undergrowth, once green and clean, were now soaked deep red. Severed limbs, entrails, and blood coated the ground, mixing from the men slain by Bill and those shredded by the creature.
Svend watched, a mix of horror and disbelief on his face—as if witnessing a nightmare made real.
He had seen atrocities before, but never got used to the sight of bodies flying through the air like broken dolls.
"Madmen..." he whispered, his gaze snapping back to Bill.
Now, Bill seemed to be in dire straits: about fifty soldiers were surrounding him, closing in steadily.
But what made Svend tense even more wasn't the number of enemies...It was Bill's calmness.
He looked serene, as if accepting his fate.But Svend was wrong.
As the first soldier lunged at him, Bill sidestepped the blow with extraordinary fluidity and, in a single motion, opened a deep gash in the man's torso.
The first one fell.
Then another.
Then another.
Bill dodged attacks by mere inches, sacrificing shallow cuts to his arms, torso, or legs, avoiding fatal wounds at the cost of accumulating minor injuries.
His body weaved between the attackers like an unleashed storm.
Sometimes crippling them—sometimes ending their lives with ruthless precision.
The wounds piled up: his arms, his sides, even his feet, where desperate fallen soldiers tried to bite at him.
Svend could only watch, growing more nervous by the second, wondering how much longer the boy could hold out.
Bill gasped for breath, bleeding from every pore, yet he didn't fall.In the midst of the carnage, he let out a near-maniacal laugh and, with a crooked grin, shouted:
"Come on, you bastards! What are you waiting for?!"
The men, furious and desperate, charged at once, roaring a battle cry.
"Glory to Camelot!" one bellowed, raising his sword as if that cry could change his fate.
Bill surged forward again.
He first targeted the shield-bearers—slower but deadlier—and cut them down before they could react.
Then he went for the swordsmen: quick and agile, but vulnerable.Every move Bill made was an enormous strain.
His muscles, on the verge of tearing, kept the rhythm only by sheer willpower.He left no one standing.
By that point, he understood that mercy would only prolong his agony.So he went straight for the heads.
One by one, the soldiers fell, until only one remained.
It was a lightly-armored swordsman, drenched in blood, clutching his weapon with trembling hands.
Bill, exhausted, leaned on his sword embedded in a corpse.He was gasping for air.
Sweat streamed down his face, and blood covered every inch of his body like a second skin.
The last soldier charged, aiming for Bill's throat.
Bill, barely reacting, let himself fall to the ground, wrenched his sword free, and blocked the strike.
The blades clashed, showering sparks.
With a strangled grunt, Bill kicked the soldier in the gut, sending him flying.Before the man could rise, Bill was already on him.
He drove his sword through the soldier's throat in a single, precise thrust.The man collapsed with a sickening thud, blood bubbling from his mouth.
"Is it over...?" Bill panted, looking ahead.
That's when he saw it.
The lake monster devoured the last six soldiers still fighting.
And behind it, a man appeared—mounted on horseback.
Broad-shouldered and strong-armed, with meticulously groomed grey hair, he wore sophisticated white armor adorned with a crow emblem on his chest.A massive greatsword was strapped to his back.
Without hesitation, the man dismounted, unsheathed his sword, and with a powerful leap, cleaved the beast in two with a single blow.
Bill stared in stunned silence.
From his rock, Svend also watched, trembling.
When the knight began striding toward Svend, Bill—utterly drained—lifted his gaze toward the darkening sky.
A few stars had begun to appear.
And he thought, bitterly:
"It's only my first day here..."
With heavy but determined steps, concealing his exhaustion, Bill walked toward the knight