The battlefield stretched to the vast fields.
The marching army had banners in their hand, it looked like as if they were covering the sky whenever they moved forward. Behind them was cavalry waiting in discipline, with their armours clanking everytime they move. War mages stood farther back, staffs already glowing, runes forming in the air.
An army.
No—an inevitability.
And standing before it, alone, was a single man with a sword in his hand.
He did not advance. He did not need to retreat.
He was standing near the edge of the castle wall's outer field, his sword was resting on his shoulder. Behind him were stone walls which towered. They looked ancient, scarred at places, and filled with people who should have been screaming with fear upon it.
They weren't, though.
From the castle walls, soldiers stared at his back.
Some gripped their weapons so tightly that their hands were bleeding. Some swallowed hard. Some trembled with fear.
Yet none looked away.
"Do you think…" one soldier whispered, voice cracking, "…he can really stop them?"
Another answered without hesitation.
"He's still there, isn't he?"
"Well, there are prolly only two people in the continent who can."
"Fortunately, he's one of them." said the Captain with his back straightened with pride.
The swordsman lifted his head.
The wind changed.
His aura expanded.
Not explosively. Not violently.
It unfolded—layer by layer—like the world itself was making room for him.
The ground beneath his boots shook by the army's marching. Air felt heavy, pressing down on lungs of the soldiers. Horses screamed and were panicking, refusing to move forward. Even veteran soldiers stopped all because of his aura.
A commander shouted, forcing confidence into his voice."Hold formation!"
No one moved.
Because they could feel it.
This wasn't killing intent.
This was presence.
The swordsman exhaled slowly, amused.
"…Huh."
He glanced at the sea of enemies before him, then at the sky above—clouds torn apart by the pressure of his aura.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Never thought my new life was gonna be this exciting."
The aura surged again—maximum output, no restraint.
Magic formations shattered mid-cast. Shields cracked before impact. The earth sank as if acknowledging something heavier than gravity itself.
From the castle walls, someone whispered in awe—
"He's not protecting the castle…"
"…He's protecting the world from his power."
The swordsman rolled his shoulders once, raised his blade, and pointed it forward.
Not at the army.
At fate.
"Well then," he said calmly, voice carrying across the entire battlefield, "let's not keep everyone waiting."
His smile widened—sharp, satisfied, complete.
"Now this is what a PERFECT REINCARNATION is all about."