Chapter 1 – The First Step into War
The first thing I noticed was the dust.
It clung to my skin, my clothes, even the back of my throat with every breath. The sun was high, beating down on the endless line of recruits marching toward the Dakan Plains. To anyone watching from afar, we probably looked like a river of mismatched metal and worn-out cloth winding its way through the hills.
I shifted the strap of my spear across my shoulder, the wood creaking faintly. My other hand rested on the hilt of the sword strapped to my hip. Both had belonged to my father — a retired soldier who'd raised me alone after my mother died giving birth to me. He'd taught me how to hold a weapon before I could even lift one properly, but that training had ended two years ago when illness claimed him.
The armor I wore was his as well. It was a little loose in the chest, worn down at the edges, and bore scratches from battles fought long before I was born. The old leather straps groaned when I moved. Most men here didn't even have armor — some wore nothing but thick tunics and borrowed helmets — so my gear drew a few stares.
But it wasn't the proud kind of attention. It was curiosity mixed with suspicion.
I kept my eyes forward and matched the steady pace of the column. The rhythm of boots in dirt and the occasional bark of an officer kept us moving.
We weren't being sent on a patrol. We all knew it. The rumors had been impossible to ignore: a massive clash was brewing between Qin and Wei. The Dakan Plains would be the site of it.
Men whispered behind me about their chances of surviving. Others spoke of promotions and glory as if they could taste it already. I didn't join in. I wasn't here for idle talk.
That's when I felt it — a presence at my side.
I turned my head slightly and saw a young man sliding into step beside me. His clothes were those of a common recruit, and his gear wasn't anything special — a short spear, a small round shield strapped to his back, and a plain sword at his hip. But his eyes… his eyes locked on me the moment I looked at him, and there was no mistaking what I saw there.
Recognition. Not of my face, not of my name, but of me.
"Gi Ken-sama," he said softly, his tone careful enough not to carry to the others.
The hairs on my neck stood up. Even though I'd been expecting it — even though I'd known this would happen — hearing it here, now, on the road to war, made my chest tighten.
I didn't reply right away. Instead, I gave a small nod, as if we were just two strangers acknowledging each other. "You from this province?" I asked, keeping my voice casual.
"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "Born in a village east of here. Farmer's son." His eyes never left mine. "I've been looking for you."
The imprint was working. This man wasn't a stranger — he was one of the ten given to me by that bored god who'd pulled me from my old world. A blank soul shaped into a loyal companion, bound by a mission only he and I understood. He didn't remember a past life because he'd never had one. His life began the moment he was placed into this world with that one purpose: to serve me.
"What's your name?" I asked, though I already knew I'd remember it.
"Kuro Jun," he said firmly. "And I am yours to command."
I looked ahead, making sure no one else was paying attention. "Not here," I muttered under my breath. "For now, we're just soldiers. Keep it that way."
He gave the faintest smile. "As you wish."
We marched in silence for a while after that, but it wasn't the awkward kind. It was steady, solid. I could feel the weight of his presence at my side like an anchor.
Hours passed before the road began to widen. We saw supply carts creaking along, pulled by tired oxen. Some carried barrels of water and stacks of arrows. Others… carried men. Wounded soldiers from another battle, some groaning, some silent. The smell hit us before the sight did — a mix of blood, sweat, and rot.
The chatter in the ranks died. Even the cocky ones who'd been boasting about their skills went quiet. We all understood without being told: this was real.
A squad of older soldiers passed us going the opposite way. Their armor was dented, their clothes torn, their weapons nicked and stained. One of them caught my eye and shook his head. "Keep your heads down, boys," he muttered as he passed.
Jun's hand tightened slightly on his spear. Mine did the same.
By the time we set up camp that evening, the horizon ahead was glowing faintly orange from countless fires. The Dakan Plains weren't far now.
As I sat by the low flames, repairing a loose strap on my armor, Jun sat opposite me, his gaze never wandering far. He didn't need to say anything — the fact that he'd found me meant the others would follow. Not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but soon.
And when we were together… we would be ready.