As the cavalry and the beasts clashed in a violent charge, chaos swept through the village.
Some villagers scrambled to grab whatever weapons they could find, desperate to help, while others bolted in panic, stumbling over each other in their rush to escape.
Aura, however, ignored the villagers completely. Victory or defeat, she knew one thing—after today, they wouldn't be able to stay here. Her golden eyes narrowed as she watched the cavalry surge closer, then frowned at the puppets under her command that moved to engage.
"Hey, Ash," she called coldly, "why should I risk my life fighting humans just to protect them? Wouldn't it be smarter to run?"
"Don't bother me, Aura—I'm thinking about the same thing," Ash muttered with a weary sigh.
All he had ever wanted was to live quietly, to develop his power at a steady pace. Yet somehow, he'd been dragged into a human war. The absurdity of the situation made him press one hand to his forehead. Life had a way of throwing trouble at him, no matter what path he chose.
And yet—even if Aura was right—he couldn't just walk away. This village had been their home for several years. Abandoning it without even lifting a hand felt wrong, no matter how much he tried to rationalize it.
All around them, screams, wails, and guttural war cries filled the air. The coppery tang of blood seeped into the wind, staining the village with the suffocating atmosphere of a battlefield.
Ash raised one hand silently. The air seemed to tighten, as if the world itself paused for a heartbeat. The blood that had been spraying in chaotic arcs suddenly changed its path midair, falling in straight lines as though gravity itself had been rewritten.
The cavalry had been pressing the advantage, their enchanted armor making them nearly unstoppable against the beasts. But in the next instant, every horse buckled beneath its rider, crashing into the dirt in clouds of dust. The altered gravity didn't need to be overwhelming—just enough to ruin a cavalry charge.
It worked perfectly.
Villagers seized the opening, charging forward with hoes and crude spears, jabbing frantically at the gaps in armor. Smaller beasts, also empowered by Ash's spell, leapt onto the fallen soldiers and tore at their helmets.
In an instant, the clash of battle turned into a chorus of human screams.
But one man remained steady. Maynard, captain of the cavalry and elite among elites, rolled smoothly from his fallen horse and landed in a half-kneeling stance. He steadied himself, blood-stained sword in hand, his presence towering over the chaos.
"W-woah!" a villager stammered as he swung his hoe in terror.
Maynard didn't even flinch. With a single upward slash, he shattered the hoe like kindling, then swung backhand, cleaving the man clean in half.
Ash narrowed his eyes. "Strong… but still, he has to fall."
Even as blood pooled across the dirt, Ash stepped forward, calm and unshaken. He gripped the village's finest sword and advanced quickly.
Maynard shifted into a combat stance, blade gleaming. His armor, designed to resist both arrows and blades, gleamed beneath the late autumn sun.
The mage who had accompanied him struggled against the crushing gravity, ripping off his helmet with trembling hands, trying to free himself from his gauntlets.
Ash stopped suddenly. His body twisted, waist snapping as he hurled his sword.
The magic-assisted throw turned the blade into a missile, propelled faster than the eye could follow. Maynard instinctively raised his arm to block—but froze mid-motion.
The sword didn't strike him at all. Instead, it spun past his head with a whistle and buried itself deep in the forehead of the struggling mage behind him.
The man's eyes widened blankly, as if he couldn't comprehend his death. Blood gushed down his face as he collapsed, head lolling grotesquely.
Maynard turned, mask splattered crimson. His face twisted in a snarl.
"—You bastard!!"
Ash's voice was calm, almost indifferent. "You're wearing heavy armor. That works against you here. Gravity's my advantage."
He pressed down with his hand. The invisible weight intensified, slamming Maynard's boots into the ground. The commander's knees buckled, forcing him to jam his sword into the earth just to stay upright.
Ash nodded in quiet satisfaction and drew a slender armor-piercing spike from his waist. Human soldiers favored heavy armor, and this was the perfect tool against it. He rarely had reason to use it before—but today, it would serve its purpose.
"Don't worry," Ash said softly. "I'll make this quick."
He raised the weapon and aimed for the neck. The move was clean, precise—his usual routine of binding an enemy with magic and ending the fight with one killing blow.
But before the spike struck, his hand was suddenly empty.
In a blur, Maynard had wrenched it from his grasp. In the same breath, the weapon reversed course and plunged into Ash's neck.
The strike was so fast, so unnatural, Ash didn't even process what had happened until he felt blood flooding his throat. Aura, watching from nearby, gasped in shock.
This wasn't normal. No human could move like that—not under crushing gravity, not in suffocating armor.
Ash realized too late—he'd been tricked. His lack of real combat experience against humans had left him vulnerable.
He staggered, choking, blood bubbling from his lips. His vision blurred as Maynard ripped his sword free from the earth. Through the visor, the commander's eyes glared at him with cold triumph.
"You're far too young to think you can bind me so easily." His voice was venomous, mocking.
The blade rose high. Ash stared up at it in frozen disbelief.
For the first time since his reincarnation, true helplessness gripped him. As a demon child, he was still little more than an infant. Too undeveloped, too untested. And now—he was staring death in the face.
But just as the killing stroke fell, salvation came with a thunderous crash.
A massive demon bull slammed into Maynard's side with earth-shaking force.
Caught off guard, he was flung through the air like a ragdoll and smashed into the side of a house, stone exploding around him.
"Graaahhh!! …A mere beast dares to lay a hand on me?!" Maynard roared furiously, dragging himself up. His stance dropped, arms braced to meet the bull's charge head-on.
But at that exact moment, Ash released the gravity spell. Maynard's balance wavered.
The demon bull's horns slammed into his chest with unstoppable momentum, shattering stone and flesh alike. The commander was driven through the wall, disappearing into rubble with a deafening crash.
The battlefield erupted once more. Without Ash's magic, the wounded cavalry rallied for a desperate fight, clashing with villagers and beasts in brutal melee.
For long moments, the air was filled with bloodcurdling screams and steel striking steel.
But gradually… the chaos subsided. The cries of battle grew fewer, until silence once again crept back over the village.