A man in tattered, broken armor knelt in the dirt and churned mud of a battlefield.
He was One-Eye, a name earned long ago when he lost one of his eyes in the first battle of his youth, a wound that never once slowed him.
His armor had long since lost its shape. Plates were bent inward, leather straps torn or missing entirely. Dried blood darkened the gaps where metal once met flesh. One knee pressed into the mud, as though it had grown too heavy to lift.
Around him stood knights.
Their silver armor gleamed beneath the overcast sky, polished and untouched, as if they had stepped onto the field only moments ago. Red and gold lions were etched into their pauldrons, proud and regal, unmarred by the slaughter beneath their boots.
"Why…" One-Eye's voice wavered as he drew a shallow breath. "Why have you done this, Wylen?"
Pain creased his face as he steadied himself.
"Why did you kill all my men. My friends."
A man clad in gold stepped forward, long blond hair resting neatly against pristine armor. His expression carried no discomfort, only arrogance.
"What do you mean?" Wylen said lightly. "I did not do this. It was the barbarians."
"The great Mercenary King One-Eye."
He spat into the mud as he spoke the title.
Wylen gestured casually, as though recounting a tale already set in stone. "He fought the barbarian king, that giant of a man, for what seemed like hours. A brutal battle of attrition."
"Two beasts tearing each other apart."
"Each man fought like a crazed animal. In the end, they dealt fatal wounds to one another. Succumbing to his injuries, the Mercenary King died on that battlefield."
Wylen straightened, his voice rising just enough to carry.
"Through his contract, House Samson was victorious. The gilded lion crushed the barbarian tribes."
He smiled.
"Glory to Samson."
The knights surrounding them answered in perfect unison, their voices cold and rehearsed.
"Glory to Samson."
Wylen leaned down and whispered, "So you see, you are already dead. You just don't know it yet."
"So this was the plan all along," One-Eye said quietly. "We were never meant to find peace. Never meant to have land of our own."
He lifted his head just enough to meet Wylen's gaze.
"I thought we were friends, you and I. Fifteen years. We fought for you. Bled for you. All for the promise you made about our future."
Wylen laughed.
"Friends?" His voice dripped with contempt. "With a commoner dog like you? An orphaned mongrel kept on a leash, dreaming of being let loose on land of its own?"
He shook his head slowly.
"That was never going to happen."
Wylen's gaze hardened.
"The history books will still remember you," he continued. "Every atrocity of this war. Every innocent death. Every burned village. Every act of looting."
"That will all belong to you and your people."
"That's a lie," One-Eye said, his voice breaking for the first time. "We never did those things. We fought only those who bore weapons. We never took what was not ours."
"But all those things did happen," Wylen replied calmly. "And I am a noble."
He spread his hands.
"I did not do them. Which means you must have."
Wylen's voice rose as he reveled in it.
"That is how your story will be written."
One-Eye's head sank low.
He had spent his entire life clawing for acknowledgment. For legitimacy. For proof that he and his men were more than tools to be discarded. He had believed he found that recognition when he met Wylen, heir to House Samson, a rising noble house hungry for power.
Together, they were meant to secure a future. One would elevate his house, the other would finally give his people a place to rest.
At least, that was what he believed.
Now, his name and the names of every man who followed him would be remembered as nothing more than savages. Thugs. Thieves.
A knight stepped forward, struggling beneath the weight of a massive blade he was carrying.
The sword was nearly half his width and taller than he was, its edge chipped and stained from old battles.
Wylen took it from him with ease.
"The sword of the barbarian king," he said calmly. "The weapon that killed you."
One-Eye looked up.
His remaining eye locked onto Wylen's face. In that moment, he understood. Everything he had done. Every battle. Every sacrifice.
All of it would mean nothing.
Wylen did not hesitate further. The blade drove straight through One-Eye's body.
There was no cry of pain. No gasp. No scream.
Blood poured freely, soaking into the mud beneath him, yet the Mercenary King remained silent, his jaw clenched as if refusing to grant even that satisfaction.
Wylen turned and walked away. He had no desire to watch the final breaths of a dying dog.
Once Wylen was gone from sight, One-Eye rose to his feet.
The knights reacted instantly, hands snapping to weapons, steel scraping as they moved.
They were too slow.
"I am the king of all mercenaries," One-Eye said, his voice steady despite the blade buried in his body. "No one stands against me, no one gets to watch me die."
He seized the hilt.
With a brutal wrench, he tore the great sword free from his own flesh.
Blood sprayed as he stepped forward.
King's Path: End of the Road.
The movement style he had honed through years of battle.
There was no retreat in his steps. No hesitation. Only relentless forward motion, a will that refused to stop even as life drained from his body.
Steel flashed.
Five heads rose into the air, severed so cleanly their expressions never changed.
That was his final breath.
In that single exchange, he took five lives with him.
The Mercenary King collapsed moments later, his eye closing one final time.
My life was worth nothing. To everyone, I will be remembered as a monster.
In a world of nobles and kingdoms, was it truly too much for an orphan to dream of freedom?
The weight of the battlefield faded. The mud no longer held him down.
I never put my faith in any god. Only in myself. Only in my men.
I wonder what kind of afterlife awaits me. Or if it all simply ends.
Something solid formed beneath him.
Then a sound reached his ears, gentle and impossibly clear, like a melody untouched by blood or war.
"My dearest Mercenary King," a voice said softly. "Please, open your eyes."