Chapter 20

“Temporary Commander…!”

Of course.

The left-wing cavalry legion, having lost its general to the Grand Young Master’s Life-Severing, hadn’t simply stood by and gawked while Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon delivered his speech and launched his charge.

“As you ordered, the Thousand-Man Commanders and Hundred-Man Commanders are regaining control of their units!”

“Good. Excellent!”

The first priority was resurrecting the chain of command. The seasoned warriors of the plains did exactly that.

“However!”

The most senior, oldest deputy of the left wing, Gantuga, who had assumed the position of Temporary Commander after the command center was annihilated, roared at his officers.

“Remind everyone again that we are pinned in this terrain, unable to advance or retreat!”

Drawing on a lifetime of battle, he shoved his voice through the chaos.

“The fact that the enemy has a massive defensive advantage and won’t easily launch an attack is our opportunity!”

The Grand Young Master could maximize a small number of elite martial artists by exploiting the terrain. There was no reason an enemy like that would rush out and volunteer to be swallowed by a massive army.

“We must use this opening to finish reorganizing immediately!”

At least—

“Only then can we…!”

That was what Temporary Commander Gantuga had believed.

“It’s the enemy!”

“……?!”

Temporary Commander Gantuga and his officers snapped their heads forward as one.

“The enemy is charging down at us!”

Gritting his teeth, Gantuga gripped the handles of his twin axes so hard it looked like he might snap them with pure strength.

“Deploy the Bators immediately!”

“Rejoice, you bastards!”

Bators.

A title reserved for the Death Squad.

“Temporary Commander Gantuga has personally granted you sinners an opportunity to atone!”

Crack!

Before the Death Squad commander, who lashed the ground with his whip like he was trying to split it open, a unit with an extraordinary aura formed up on horseback.

“……”

“……”

No pointless chatter.

The bodies visible through gaps in their clothing and light leather armor were packed with dense muscle, and their eyes gleamed with feral intensity. Anyone could tell at a glance: these were martial artists with internal energy, the Northern tribes’ warriors.

“Remember!”

Crack!

“There is only one way for tribal sinners like you to receive a pardon for your crimes!”

The commander snapped the whip down again.

“Establish merit on the battlefield and complete the half-branded mark on your faces!”

As he said, every one of them bore a criminal’s brand over half their face.

“……”

Some carried the brand for murdering a family member.

“……”

Others for thievery. Others for betrayal and fraud.

“The enemy is strong! They are undoubtedly the absolute elites of the Central Plains!”

Spit.

“……?”

As if the commander’s speech annoyed him, a Death Squad warrior spat a thick wad of saliva onto the dirt.

“However! Temporary Commander Gantuga has made a promise!”

At that, the Death Squad’s ears perked up.

“Because the enemy is so formidable, those who establish merit in this battle will be granted the special opportunity to complete their brand and be reinstated as true warriors of the tribe!”

“……!”

“……!”

The look in their eyes changed instantly.

A chance to reclaim a ruined life. What reward could be greater?

“Enemy! One vanguard approaching rapidly…!”

At the same time, a shout reached them with the force of a lion’s roar.

“The Deputy Head of the Sword Forest, Geom Gwi-hon is here!”

It was saturated with battle intent, so sharp it made hair stand on end.

Crack!

“Do not be shaken!”

The Death Squad commander cracked his whip harder, trying to stamp down agitation, but—

“Hey, Commander!”
“Stop wasting your energy on useless whipping.”

There was no need.

“Heh heh… Once I’m pardoned, the first thing I’ll do is drink all of the Tribal Chief’s kumis.”
“Any bastards lacking the confidence to survive, do us a favor and step up early so you can die fast.”

Given the chance to win everything back in a single battle, their morale was already at its peak. It couldn’t be pushed any higher.

Just then—

“Move.”

With that single word, the Death Squad warriors parted to either side.

Clip, clop. Clip, clop.

A figure rode forward, two heads taller than everyone around him.

“…The Butcher of Gamchek.”

At the name, murmurs rippled through the Death Squad.

“You mean the Great Warrior who single-handedly annihilated an entire tribe for revenge…?”

“I heard he didn’t just kill them. I heard he devoured every corpse of his enemy’s tribe.”

“…Insane.”

Receiving their stares without blinking, the Butcher of Gamchek spoke.

“You.”

When a Great Warrior—equivalent, in martial terms, to a master who had surpassed the Wall—fixed the whip-holding commander with killing intent, the commander flinched and trembled.

“W-What is it?!”

The Butcher rode past him without sparing him a glance.

“If you don’t keep your promise…”

His voice, carried by the wind, sent cold crawling up the commander’s spine.

“I will tear the raw flesh from you. And your entire family.”

“……!”

Crack, pop.

Drawing every eye as he cracked his neck, the Butcher dismounted.

Smack.

He slapped his horse’s rump, sending it running toward the rear, then hoisted his massive blade onto his shoulder.

“Killing the Deputy Head of the Sword Forest should be enough to earn my share.”

He lifted his gaze and glared straight ahead.

Even during that short exchange, Geom Gwi-hon had closed the distance at a terrifying pace.

“……”

The Butcher could see every fine hair of Geom Gwi-hon’s eyebrows, each twitch of expression.

An old man. A puny-looking physique.

Despite the appearance, the Butcher observed him with uncharacteristic calm and sharp perception.

Footwork on the tips of his toes. Scabbard on the left. Probably right-handed, but naturally uses both.

Even immense internal energy and enlightenment couldn’t halt age. Age eroded the body’s functions. When the body declined, stamina followed. When stamina dropped, internal energy was burned to compensate.

And yet, for a man that age to still hold the position of Deputy Head—

It meant the martial techniques of the old master named Geom Gwi-hon more than compensated for every physical disadvantage.

“If that’s the case…”

Ruuuuuumble…

Under countless gazes, the Butcher straightened his upper body, a perfect inverted triangle, and lifted his blade high into a downward-strike posture.

I absolutely will not give him the leeway to pull any cheap tricks…!

And then.

Before anyone watching could finish a single breath, the distance between the two masters collapsed into lethal range.

“Huuup!”

No thoughts. No worldly desire.

Before his brain could process what his senses delivered, his body moved, not consciously, but from the realm beneath thought itself.

Slaaaash!

The perfected downward strike tore the air, as if cleaving space.

KABOOOOOOOM!

If an armored carriage had charged toward him, that single blow would have split horse, driver, and carriage cleanly in two.

However—

“What…?!”

As the earth overturned like it had been plowed by a giant—

“Goodness me…!”

The Butcher stared behind him, dumbfounded.

“Holy shit…!”

The shocked voice came from an old man.

There.

Geom Gwi-hon had drifted into lethal range for a split second, then slipped past him like smoke and kept running.

“If I’d been hit by an attack like that, I wouldn’t have even left a corpse behind. I’d be buried in an empty coffin.”

Already a distance away, Geom Gwi-hon fled while dramatically sweeping a hand over his chest.

“Phew… Wondering what kind of monstrous bastard was blocking the road nearly shrank my balls.”

And then—

Wasn’t Geom Gwi-hon sprinting straight toward the Death Squad?

“……!”

What kind of shameless, pride-lacking old man was this?

“Youuuuuu baaaaastaaaaard!”

Exploding with fury, the Butcher of Gamchek let out a bizarre screech and launched himself after Geom Gwi-hon.

However.

Chills skated down his spine.

“……!”

In that split second, the only reason the Butcher didn’t lose his head was because of transcendent instincts backed by a body just as transcendent.

Swoosh-swoosh-swoosh!

His severed hair scattered into the air. The Butcher swung his massive blade backward.

Clang!

It was too deafening to be “just” steel meeting steel.

Damn it… Because of that old man, I forgot about the bastards right behind him…!

In the moment he’d been baited and distracted, the rest of the Sword Forest had arrived.

And—

“Charge!”

“Kill them all!”

With a collective roar, the Death Squad surged forward, slamming into the Sword Forest martial artists.

Bang!

Heavy greatswords crashed consecutively against the Butcher of Gamchek, whose balance had already been compromised by the forced defense. The blows carried monstrous physical strength, like being battered by his own power turned against him.

Bang! Crash! Kaboom!

Before he knew it, the onslaught drove him into the dirt.

The Butcher, who had been holding his breath, finally let out a groan.

“Kuugh…!”

A small opening.

A decisive one.

And his opponent was a master who would never waste it.

“Die.”

The word came in stiff Central Plains speech, the meaning unmistakable even without understanding every syllable.

Whack.

A sword, rendered as threatening as exposed breath, dropped toward the Butcher’s throat.

But then—

“……”

Something pierced through the space where the Sword Forest master’s head had been an instant before, forcing her to throw her body backward on reflex.

A hidden weapon, shot from the mouth of the fallen Butcher of Gamchek.

And the moment the Sword Forest master dodged, proving herself worthy of her rank—

The Butcher seized the opening, springing up and swinging his massive blade with everything he had.

Clang!

The impact bordered on an explosion. Both weapons were knocked free at once, violently torn from their grips.

“Ugh…!”

“Kuugh…!”

Weaponless, they lunged at each other bare-handed.

Smack!

The Butcher’s right punch was caught by her left hand, and her right punch slammed into his left block. Muscles swelled to the verge of tearing as their intertwined hands locked in midair, a contest of raw power.

Only then did the Butcher truly see her.

A bastard as huge as me…!

The height, two heads taller than the average person. The muscles trained to their absolute limit.

And the most astonishing fact of all—

She was a woman.

“You bastard…!”

Grind, crunch.

As their feet dug into the ground under crushing pressure, the Butcher forced out the words.

“You’re a proper Great Warrior… What is your name?”

Was it true that even without a shared language, there were moments when intent translated perfectly?

The dark-skinned female strongman poured in even more strength and answered.

“I am—!”

Right then—

“The thing is…”

A whisper slid into the Butcher’s ear.

“No matter how much I thought about it, I felt bad for not giving you a proper fight…”

It was the folksy voice of an old man.

“……?!”

There was no time to react.

Squelch!

Because the instant the whisper arrived, crimson blood was already geysering from the Butcher’s cleanly severed neck.

“K-Keheugh…!”

Clutching his throat as he collapsed, the last thing his eyes saw was Geom Gwi-hon.

“It is not the strong who survive, but the one who survives to the end who is strong.”

Smirk.

Geom Gwi-hon wore a highly unpleasant smile on that old face.

“Keheugh, cough…!”

The Butcher wanted to curse him, wanted to spit something vile with his last breath, but the only thing that poured from ruined vocal cords was blood.

In the fading fog of his consciousness, Geom Gwi-hon’s voice echoed one last time.

“We call it wisdom, young man.”

“Deputy Head…!”

When the massive female Sword Forest master called to him, resentful, Geom Gwi-hon glanced back.

“Pull yourself together.”

“Excuse me…?”

Swoosh.

Geom Gwi-hon flicked his sword once.

Death Squad warriors rushing in from every direction clutched their throats and collapsed at the same time.

It was neither excessive nor lacking.

A single strike, carrying exactly enough power to kill.

“Kill the maximum number of enemies using your minimum amount of strength.”

She had never heard Geom Gwi-hon’s voice sound so chillingly cold.

“This is not a ranking match. This is a battlefield.”