Damon remembered the cool blade against his nape. The final sensation he’d felt in his previous life—when he had lived not as King Damon but as a prince, and that life had come to its end.
Everything around him seemed to flow in slow motion. The subordinates and soldiers looking at him, and the continuous explosions stretched out slowly, tearing through his memories.
“Brother, I’m sorry. I cannot continue like this anymore.”
“Wait, just wait!”
“This is an unavoidable choice for the Kingdom of Burgos. Please close your eyes in peace.”
“You think you’re the only prince who cares for the country! I too am a prince of Burgos, how could you!”
“Everything is God’s will.”
“Don’t make me laugh! You’ve always been like this. Despite being the younger brother, you’ve taken everything from me and never been satisfied. I don’t know what more you want from me! God? Fine. Let’s go ask God. Let’s ask together what the true choice for Burgos should be!”
Damon had howled as he drew his sword. Those who supported his brother Daon stepped forward to confront him, but Damon’s brother foolishly and honorably stopped them.
Dozens of clashes occurred in the center of the palace as they fought to take each other’s lives, and ultimately, they both died—both Damon and Daon.
Damon giggled as he watched Daon’s blood soak the marble floor. What a fool—if he hadn’t interfered, he could have had a complete victory!
“Your Highness!”
While everyone rushed to Daon, Damon died alone, watching the scene as his final sight. Looking at the yellow sky caused by desertification, he made a vow. He would be reborn. In his next life, he would rebuild Burgos with the full dignity of the First Prince.
His brother’s words about God’s will weren’t entirely wrong, it seemed. Thus, he had obtained a second life and was now seeking ways to secure yet another.
I’m almost there, I can’t die like this. I can’t stop here again.
“…You asked what will happen to me?”
Damon giggled as he whispered. Since the blade was deeply threatening him, blood dripped slightly each time his Adam’s apple moved.
A laugh that didn’t match the situation. Ian looked down at him and laughed along. His golden hair, soaked in blood, fell down creating shadows.
“I won’t die. I’ll live a third life.”
A voice so small that only Ian could hear it amid the commotion. Ian’s expression changed slightly. It was the tone of someone who, after a second chance, was certain of a third. Why? What could he possibly be trusting in?
“Kill me. You’ll be there in my next life. I didn’t know before, but now I do. So next time, you’ll be dying face-down on the ground with me. I swear on everything I have. With death, I take one step forward.”
Ian’s grip on Damon’s hair tightened. The Burgos generals and soldiers flinched, paying close attention to Ian’s every move.
It was truly a precarious situation. If Ian were to twist his arm even slightly, the Burgos King’s head would roll on the ground. This meant defeat and, furthermore, their own deaths.
“A third life?”
“…!”
Crunch.
Damon winced at Ian’s rough handling. Damon living his second life, and himself who had transcended time and space to come from the past. Different in nature, but aren’t they fundamentally the same?
If he knew the secret to this, he might get clues about his own situation. About returning to Emperor Ian’s body again, going back a hundred years, becoming his Bariel once more, and reaching some point where he could grab hold of everything before failure.
“Tell me in detail.”
“Why? Do you want to live twice too? Why? You’re an imperial mage and a young minister everyone looks up to. What more could you want?”
“I don’t want to waste time with nonsense. Even as we speak, many are dying. A third life after death? Do as you wish. But it won’t be easy.”
You bastard, you cut Selena’s throat. I’ll do the same to you. However, I’ll only allow you to go to the brink of death, not the death you desire. Ian grabbed Damon’s left hand, twisted it backward, and then forcefully bent it in the opposite direction.
Crack!
“Arghhhh!”
Unlike the calm and cold Ian, Damon couldn’t withstand the sudden pain and let out a scream. Everyone flinched and took a step back. Ian, pinning Damon down with his knee on his back, nodded to them.
“Have you lost your minds? Are you still holding weapons?”
Surrender. If not, your king dies. At Ian’s warning, the general lowered his weapon slightly.
Simultaneously, swords and spears were thrown forward. The soldiers knelt, raised their hands, and then prostrated themselves, swearing surrender.
Swish!
Boom! Bang!
At that moment, an attack flew toward Ian.
An arrow that split the air with a red and dark hue, vividly filled with magical power. He thought it came from the Eripony side, but the direction was opposite. It originated from the slope where the Atan tribe had descended.
Ian reflexively created a shield with his left hand to neutralize the attack. A long-haired man was holding a bow and arrow made of light. He was one who could convert magical power into weapons, like a magic swordsman.
“You’ve brought quite decent reinforcements, Damon.”
“Damn it!”
No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t escape Ian’s grip. Attacks continued to pour in. Unlike the Burgos army, which had lost its fighting spirit, the Atan tribe was still rampaging across the battlefield.
Their purpose was singular: to cause rifts in Clifford, and “Burgos” aligned with that purpose. It led to a simple and natural conclusion.
“These bastards are cowards! What changes if the king dies?”
“Things do change.”
“There’s the next king, you know. Everyone, grab your weapons and fight! How did we come down from the north for this?!”
“They say when the enemy leader is captured, the war ends.”
“Bullshit. War ends only when everyone is dead.”
“We’ll consider those without weapons as enemies and cut them down too! Did we warn you?”
“We called you here to fight, and you finish like this? That’s disheartening! Let’s taste some real blood!”
Slash!
The Atan tribesmen scowled as they swung their swords. Their warning about considering those who didn’t advance as enemies wasn’t a lie. Several Burgos soldiers, along with Clifford soldiers, rolled under their attacks.
As Ian turned his head toward the commotion, the general noticed that Damon kept reaching out with one hand. What was he doing? Looking closer, a small Idgal pendant lay at the end of his reach. The general quickly picked it up and threw it toward Damon.
“Your Majesty!”
Thwap!
What is this? Damon stretched out his hand with all his might, but Ian was faster. Ian caught the pendant with the string in one hand, and the Idgal that made contact with him began to glow.
Zing. Zing!
Numerous concentric magical circles leaked through the gaps in his fingers. The intertwined formations with formulas enveloped Ian. Though surprised, he soon realized that the magical energy felt familiar.
‘…It’s Ian’s.’
More precisely, it belonged to the bastard Ian. Some kind of magic that originated from the bastard Ian.
The mages in the sky were startled and tried to approach, but Ian raised his hand to stop them. He felt his strength draining. It was like sand he didn’t know existed in his body was tilting and pouring out to one side.
Thwap!
Ian quickly threw away the pendant, but the magical formation surrounding him didn’t disappear. Rather, as if it had been waiting for the seal to be broken, it brightly enveloped Ian. Everything around him was surrounded by light. His golden hair appeared white in the bright light.
As Ian frowned at the bright light, the mages in the sky shouted.
“Lord Ian! Are you alright?!”
“What’s happening?”
“Please tell us! Please!”
“Tommy, Yen, and Kanchi have all been safely moved. Currently, three of us are ready. We can do anything! Please give us orders!”
Damon watched closely from under Ian’s knee.
The pendant given by Rutherford. He had said it would indicate the criteria for rifts and would provide some help in case of problems, but he didn’t know such a device was hidden. To be precise, even now, seeing it before his eyes, he doesn’t know what’s happening.
Ian, gripping Damon’s left arm, asked,
“Damon, did you have direct contact with Rutherford?”
“Why? Curious? Something seems to be going a bit strangely, huh?”
“Answering a question with a question is not wise.”
Crack!
Damon’s already-bent left arm twisted in the opposite direction again. Even as this happened, Ian’s magical power continued to drain. It was as if an invisible hole had formed.
Ian, sweating coldly, looked at the pendant he had thrown away. The Idgal shining gold as if it would burst into flames.
Zing!
It soon shattered, unable to withstand the heat. Only Damon knew what this meant. It indicated that enough force had been applied to cause a rift.
A faint smile appeared on Damon’s face as he writhed in pain, and Ian felt dizzy and staggered for a moment.
‘Is this an opportunity?’
The general and soldiers tried to grab their weapons again, but the mages didn’t allow it.
Bang! Boom!
“Everyone stay still.”
Despite Ian’s order not to come close, they cautiously descended, remaining vigilant. Ian pressed the ground with his pale face.
With the leaders of both forces entangled and fallen, it was unclear how the situation would unfold. Damon tried to crawl away from Ian with his unharmed right arm, but—
Thwack!
“Arghhhh!”
Ian’s dagger pierced through his Achilles tendon. Apart from the activation of the Idgal pendant and his own magical power leaking out, war was war. Blood had been drawn from the enemy leader, so the outcome was as good as decided.
“Lord Ian!”
“Secure Damon first.”
“Are you alright? You look terrible.”
“…I’m fine. Just, just a bit dizzy.”
Ian, staggering to regain his composure, noticed something flowing down. It was blood. In war, he couldn’t afford to bleed, but fortunately, it wasn’t noticeable as it mixed with others’ blood.
“Shall we give you some magical power? If this happens again, we really…”
“No. It would be like pouring water into a bottomless vessel right now.”
“Pardon? What do you mean?”
“I’ll explain when we return to the camp. First, accept Burgos’s white flag and hang it high where Ruswena can see it easily.”
“Well, Ruswena aside, what about the Atan tribe? Those guys look completely unreasonable. Their actions seem oddly familiar.”
“It’s Beric. Beric.”
“Ah!”
Two mages bound King Damon and rose into the sky, while the rest supported Ian. Although the battle was entering a lull, the Atan tribe was still causing a commotion, seemingly wanting a war that wouldn’t end.
Ian, pressing his throbbing forehead, instructed,
“Send a message to the chieftain named Efdiram.”
“They don’t seem to understand that when a leader is captured, the war ends.”
“Tell him that regarding the rifts, or rather, the supply of monsters, we now have control instead of Damon, so let’s discuss over a meal. Also, announce Damon’s capture loudly so everyone nearby can hear.”
“Yes, understood. Uh, Lord Ian. Can you walk?”
“I’ll need a horse…”
“Horse! Bring a horse!”
That meant he couldn’t fly.
Ian closed his eyes, looking at the completely shattered Idgal pendant. It felt as if the bastard Ian’s shackles were tightening around his neck across time and space.