My chipped longsword tip finally pierced the steel neck guard. A sickening crunch of cartilage was heard, followed by a spurt of thick fluid soaking both my arms.
The Red Armored Knight before me dropped his giant sword. He staggered backward. From the slit of his steel helmet, those blue eyes bulged, staring at me. Full of confusion and denial. His pride as a high-ranking noble was shattered into pieces upon realizing that his life had just been taken by a nameless trench soldier.
A second later, the knight's giant body collapsed, crashing into the blood-soaked mud.
I collapsed as well, kneeling on the ground muddied by the remnants of rain and puddles of human entrails. The air smelled of copper, rust, and burnt flesh. My calloused and stiff fingers slowly released the sword hilt that had accompanied me in cleaving through hell for the past ten years.
Breath was drawn with great difficulty from my lungs. Two arrows were lodged in my left shoulder and right thigh. My own blood continued to flow heavily, mixing with the mud beneath my knees into a dark red puddle. My body had surpassed the absolute limit a human could endure.
Suddenly, a long, piercing trumpet blast cut through the noise of war. It was the retreat trumpet from the allied forces' final line of defense. A declaration of defeat. This ten-year war ended in annihilation.
Amidst the despair gnawing at my mind, the temperature around me suddenly dropped drastically. The air became stifling, and the smell of burning flesh was replaced by the scent of volcanic ash.
Heavy footsteps were heard approaching.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I lifted my face, covered in dried blood. Standing there, blocking the light of the gray afternoon sky, was a giant figure in pitch-black armor constantly radiating smoke. Kaelzor. The Ash General. The Supreme Commander of the enemy forces.
Kaelzor's blazing red eyes looked at the Red Knight's corpse near my feet, then looked at me. There was no anger over the loss of a soldier in his eyes. There was only immense disgust.
"A knight of my order... slaughtered by a mud insect like you," Kaelzor's voice echoed, heavy and raspy like the grinding of two millstones. "This is an insult to my sword."
The Ash General raised his greatsword, blazing with black fire.
I made no attempt to reach for my weapon. What for? My body was already numb. In a matter of seconds, this pathetic life of mine would end.
Shadows of the past flashed quickly before my eyes. Elara's face turning away from me... Orvelis's cynical laughter as he destroyed my reputation and threw me out of the Academy... The days where I had to eat rotten horse meat to survive in the defense trenches...
My life's purpose to become a guardian knight had long perished. I spent ten years just delaying death, and now, that schedule had finally arrived.
"Sleep in a pile of ash, insect," Kaelzor snorted.
Black fire flashed. The giant steel swung, cleaving my neck. An overwhelming cold sensation crept in, and the world sank into absolute darkness.
I had died. Or... so it should have been.
THUD!
A sharp flash of pain exploded in my stomach. Not the cold of a steel plate, not the blaze of black fire beheading me. But the strike of a blunt object forcing the entire contents of my stomach up to my throat.
I coughed hard, vomiting acidic saliva. My eyes opened wide, trying to process the clashing realities inside my head.
Where was the smell of ash? Where was that ocean of corpses?
My sense of smell instead caught the aroma of wet earth after rain, mossy bricks, and the stinging scent of cheap lavender perfume. The sound of the death trumpet vanished, replaced by the patter of raindrops and sickening, deceitful laughter.
"Get up, trash! Orvelis was right, you are just a lump of meat that happens to breathe."
I looked up. My blurry vision slowly focused.
Before me stood a slicked-back blonde young man with an arrogant smirk on his face. He wore a white tunic uniform with a dark blue collar and silver embroidery on his chest. The Cadet Uniform of the Aethelgard Military Academy. Two other young men in similar uniforms stood behind him, joining in the condescending laughter.
Cedric Valen. The eldest son of the Baron Valen family. The loyal bootlicking dog belonging to Orvelis Nightbane, the Duke's Son.
I stared at my own hands supporting my body over a muddy puddle. These hands were clean. There were no burn scars or thick calluses from gripping a sword hilt for ten years.
Am I dreaming in the afterlife?
No. The pain from the kick to my stomach just now was too real. The back alley of this academy dormitory, the peeling brick wall to my left, and this punchable face of Cedric... This was a memory from ten years ago.
Exactly half a month after Orvelis Nightbane humiliated me in the main hall, stole Elara from my side, and reduced my status at the academy to pig manure. This was a hellish period where I was constantly bullied until my mind broke and I was finally expelled.
I had returned. The God of Death rejected my soul and threw me back into the hell of my youth.
"Why are you staying silent, huh? Already gone mute because Elara dumped you?" Cedric took a step forward, grabbing my uniform collar and pulling me to my feet roughly.
His sickening face was only inches from mine. "Young Master Orvelis said you do not deserve to breathe the same air as nobles. And my job is to ensure you understand your place!"
Cedric pulled his right hand back. His fist hardened with a coating of yellow light. It was Mana. He was preparing to smash my nose until it bent.
In my past life, at this very second, I squeezed my eyes shut. I let that punch destroy my nose, fell crying bemoaning my fate, and begged them to stop.
The eighteen-year-old youth named Kael Draven at that time was merely a naive, weeping boy.
But now, the soul inhabiting this boy's body was a monster forged by ten years of slaughter.
As Cedric's fist hurled toward my face, time seemed to slow down. My eyes, accustomed to reading the trajectory of veteran knights' sword slashes, easily read the trajectory of this amateur punch. Too slow and too many openings.
At the same time, an anomaly occurred within my chest.
My heart beat fast, driven not by fear, but by an incredibly wild burst of energy. A searing hot sensation flowed from my heart, spreading through all my blood vessels like molten iron.
This sensation... this was the exact same sensation when I managed to sever the Red Knight's neck at the end of my life!
In the past, I thought the sudden power that gave me the strength to kill the Red Knight was merely a momentary adrenaline rush. But I was completely wrong.
It was something boiling within my veins. A curse. Or... a blessing. My blood responded to the killing intent around me.
My veteran soldier instincts took control. Instead of dodging completely, I tilted my head slightly to the left. Letting Cedric's knuckles graze my cheekbone.
Slash.
The Mana-powered punch tore my skin. A drop of warm blood flowed down to my jaw.
As soon as that blood dripped, the intense heat in my veins exploded like a volcano. The pain from the previous kick to my stomach evaporated without a trace. My weak adolescent muscles tightened, pumped by a ferocious circulation of Mana.
Cedric's punch missed past my ear, causing his balance to falter forward.
Without wasting a single millisecond, my left hand shot upward, grabbing Cedric's wrist still hanging in the air. I twisted his wrist at an impossible anatomical angle.
CRACK!
The sound of breaking bones and tearing tendons echoed in the narrow alley.
The shrill scream exiting Cedric's mouth was cut off in his throat as I pulled his body down and simultaneously raised my right knee with full force.
THUD! CRASH!
My knee struck right in the center of his face. The sound of nasal bones crushing was heard. Cedric was thrown backward, hit the brick wall, then slumped down into the mud puddle.
Fresh blood spurted from Cedric's nose and mouth, staining his white uniform deep red. He groaned with a hoarse voice, his body convulsing in pain holding his broken hand.
The alley atmosphere instantly became deathly silent. Only the sound of raindrops falling on the tin roof could be heard.
Cedric's two lackeys froze with their mouths agape. Their arrogant faces completely eroded, replaced by a corpse-like pallor. Their eyes trembled staring at me, as if disbelieving that the weak youth who usually could only cower had just destroyed their comrade in two deadly moves.
I rolled my shoulders slowly, ignoring them for a moment. I stared at my still clean palms.
Time magic, divine miracle, or demonic curse. I did not care what brought me back to this time. All I knew was the universe had given me a second chance.
I would never again allow myself to be trampled. I would never again lose the people precious to me because I was too weak to fight back. Orvelis who had ruined my youth... Kaelzor the Ash General who had beheaded me... I would mince them all.
If this academy world was built upon the foundation of noble power and arrogance, then I would destroy its foundation using blood and steel.
My eyes now shifted to stare at Cedric's two errands who began stepping back tremblingly. However, I ignored them. I walked slowly toward Cedric who was coughing up blood on the ground.
I crouched beside him. My hand reached out, grabbing his muddy blonde hair, then pulled his head back until he was forced to meet my eyes.
"Y-You... you are crazy..." moaned Cedric with trembling lips.
I smiled. Not a teenager's smile, but the cold grin of a man who had seen thousands of rotting corpses on the battlefield.
"Listen closely, Cedric," I whispered right in front of his face. My voice was calm, as cold as the winter wind. "Deliver this message to your young master, the great Orvelis. Tell him... the dog he usually kicks has just learned how to tear out throats."
I released my grip, letting his head hit the mud again.
I stood tall, turned around, and walked away through the increasingly heavy rain. Leaving Cedric moaning in his ruin, and his two lackeys who were too terrified even to draw a breath.
This is just the beginning. The time for playing around as an obedient academy student was over. The old Kael Draven had died on the continent of Astra, and the new Kael Draven... would turn this place into his own battlefield.