Raven Valt dragged his weary feet along the wilderness, his back draped by the setting sun. Every one of his footsteps was accompanied by the dripping dark-red blood that trickled down the edges of his rusty sword.
He trudged on.
After a while, Raven paused to fix the leather strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. The bag was filled with decapitated heads, some with their tongues sticking-out, and others with their blood-dried eyeballs half out of their sockets.
Raven looked at the heads indifferently, fixed his bag, and continued forward with his footsteps.
The sight of countless tents and rising white smoke came into Ravenâs line of sight. The gigantic makeshift village in the middle of the wilderness was bustling with life.
There were half-naked drunkards with upper bodies plastered with crude tattoos, savages ripping into the morsels of unknown origins, those smirking while sharpening the blade of their stone-made axes, and soldiers forcing fair-faced recruits into their tents.
This anarchic group of soldiers were focused on their own matters at hand. They were spending this evening as usual, even though no one knew if it would be their last.
âThe scouts must have come.â
âOnly that damned Ravenâs returned.â
The group of humans stopped what they were doing and stared at Raven, who was silently walking past the tents.
Their gazes were filled with blatant hostility and fear.
âDamned Raven, surviving by himself again.â
âThat cursed Ravenâs a symbol of bad luck.â
âHe is the grim reaper, I sayâ¦â
The streets were full of whispers of the crowd, but Raven still walked towards his destination, his face seemingly devoid of any emotions.
He had no reason to give any attention to the murmurings of insects who probably wouldnât even survive tomorrowâs battle.
Raven came to a stop in front of a tent that was easily three or four times bigger than the others. The two guardsâ eyes came to rest on Ravenâs shoulder bag full of heads, and they hurriedly opened the entrance to the tent.
The tent was decorated with the hides of various animals, and bottles of liquor were lying around everywhere.
âAaah!â
âOh, oh, oh!â
The stench of alcohol permeated the room while screams and animal-like moans resounded within the walls of the tent. After looking around with a blank expression, Raven walked towards the giant, bald man in the middle of the tent, who was being served by two women at each side.
The bald manâs hands dug deep into the thighs and breasts of the women, but the women could only flinch, unable to make even a sound.
The gazes of the two women were fixed on the lifeless figure of a woman at the corner of the tent, and the many women that were struggling against the weight of men pressing down on them.
Raven overlooked the sad but heated orgy with a lack of interest and stood in front of the bald giant.
Plop.
âThe brown goblins are set as the vanguard with around ten swamp ogres. All armed and organized.â
The two women shifted back in fear as the heads dropped right in front of the bald giantâs feet.
The giant raised his reddened head displeasingly.
âFuck. What happened to your men?â
âAs you can see, Iâve had a hard time just saving myself and bringing back a couple of heads.â
âOr perhaps youâve decided to kill them all?â
Raven frowned.
âIt was a joke; take it easy. You did good work and we have valuable good intel. It is a shame for the ones we lost. This information will help us greatly in tomorrowâs battle.â
The bald giant looked back and forth between the heads and Raven, revealing his yellow teeth in a crooked smile.
Raven looked at the giant in silence, observing the sneaky, brutal man whom he knew didnât have an ounce of sincerity in him. Raven spoke.
âFrom the size of their vanguard. It is accurate to say that their main army is at least triple the size. We do not have a good chance of victory.â
âWith just âusâ that might be true. But that is why âheâ came here.â
The giant gestured with his chin.
Raven turned his head. The edge of the so-called village. No, even further away from the outskirts. He saw a tent several times larger than the one he was in.
âOgres, goblins or whatnot. Theyâre not even a close match for âthatâ.â
âThere may be more to it than just ogres in their main army. We need to be especially wary of sorcerers that may have bound griffons as their contracted creature. You know, griffons are native to the Karon Valley.â
âYou worry for nothing. Who cares if they have ten, or twenty griffons? âThatâ will take care of all of them. What are you worried for? Are you scared? The almighty Raven Valt? Hahaha!â
The giant laughed in his self-amusement then suddenly stopped his cackling.
âRaven, I know you do good work even without me worrying. But you do not have to do anything tomorrow. Youâre allowed to take it easy in tomorrowâs battle.â
âWhat do youâ¦. mean?â
âOther than the ones who got themselves killed today, youâre the only one whoâs useful from your company anyways. Give the rest of your men to another company. Right, that damned Isaac offered thirty men to the ogres as fucking nutrients a while ago. His company could probably use some men.â
Raven observed the bald giant, still maintaining his silence.
If anyone else had said those words, they wouldâve already been dead on the ground.
But the giant had every right to say those words. This bald giant was Baltai, the leader of the demonic army. It was infamous, composed of all sorts of garbage not fit to be called human.
âWhat. You do not want to? You just have to last one more month until you complete your 10-year quota and take your freedom. This will likely be your last battle. You should take care of yourself until then. Your bitches will have to find another company after you leave anyways. Might as well send âem off now. It is good to get things done, is it not?
Ravenâs forehead creased.
It didnât make sense for Baltai, known for his vicious actions and shamelessness, to care for someone elseâs well being. He must have something else planned.
âWell, the rules state that youâre not allowed to avoid battle unless severely injured⦠But it seems like you only got off with small scratches today as well?â
Baltai scanned Ravenâs body, his eyes resembling a snake scanning its prey.
âThis bastard⦠Does heâ¦â
Raven was inwardly startled, but he tried not to show it.
He had hidden it carefully for so long. Baltai did have good awareness and thinking, unlike his ugly appearance, but he could not possibly know Ravenâs secret. No, it didnât really matter even if he did.
Only one month. Only one more month in this filth. Then he would finally taste the freedom that heâd been yearning for.
After ten years, he would finally become a free man, free from his title of traitorship.
âSo anyways⦠I want you to be a guard for His Grace over there.â
Baltaiâs eyes looked to the gigantic tent.
Raven knew that Baltai wasnât referring to the being of âthat,â which would supposedly turn the tides of tomorrowâs battle.
âHeâs a damned Duke. Well, not yet at least, but he is going to receive the title officially after this battle. Maybe if you catch his eye, he might just make you a knight of his duchy!â
ââ¦â¦.â
Baltaiâs bullshit didnât even catch Ravenâs ears.
Baltai had practically sent Ravenâs men to die, sending them on a mission to scout the enemy.
But Raven could only stay curious as to what made Baltai spout this nonsense.
He had no right to decline.
No matter the circumstance, Baltai was the leader of the demonic army, and Raven had just lost all his experienced subordinates. He was now left with thirty or so inept soldiers that would probably not make it past tomorrowâs battle.
And there was no guarantee that they would even listen to the commands of Raven, since he would be leaving shortly.
âSo, I just have to guard him?â
âYeah. Stay by his side the whole time.â
Baltaiâs yellow teeth seemed rather more chill inducing today, yet Raven had no choice but to nod his head.
âGood, good. Then go and report to the future duke. It will make life easier for you to build up a relationship earlier on.
Raven stepped out of the tent, barely bothering to register Baltaiâs words.
âAh, one more thing. Give my regards to our guardian. I hope he takes good care of the enemy and me tomorrow. Kuhahahaha. Now come here you bitches!â
Following Baltaiâs bellowing, the tent was once again filled with the cries of animals.
* * *
The tent was even bigger up close.
It was hard to believe that one contracted creature residing within that tent could decide the fate of tomorrowâs battle. Raven was filled with a sinking feeling of anxiousness.
Maybe it was due to the countless flags decorated with the Pendragon coat of arms that surrounded the tent.
For Raven, the illegitimate child of a common noble family, the duke of the empire was like the Sun to him. More so, since Ravenâs family name was dishonored and eliminated by false accusations of treason.
âSo, whatâ¦â
Raven muttered to himself. Ten years had already passed, but the sense of inferiority and reverence towards the imperial family still burned in Ravenâs unconsciousness. Raven walked past the Pendragon familyâs white crested flag without reservation. Then as he was about to call out the name of the future Duke, whom he would guard tomorrowâ¦
âWho is itâ¦?â
A hoarse voice called out from within the tent. It was almost hard to believe the voice belonged to a human.
Raven hesitated, startled by the unexpected promptness. He immediately brought up business.
âI am the leader of the 12th company, Raven Valt, Your Grace. I have been ordered to serve as your guard for tomorrowâs battle. I am here to report in.
Raven words carried some etiquette, unlike the others in the demonic army.
There was no answer.
Feeling that the silence had run its course, Raven was about to open his mouth once again to repeat himself. Then, the voice spoke.
âNo need for formalities. I will see you tomorrow when we head out. You may go restâ¦â
The more Raven heard the voice, the eerier he felt at the strangeness of it. He had been through quite a few life-or-death experiences over the last ten years, but even so, the voice gave him chills.
Oddly enough, Raven felt a certain âemotionâ from itâs tone. He could not quite put a name to what it was, but it was certainly something he had felt before. Pondering for a moment, he shook his head. There was no need to concern himself over someone whom he would have nothing to do with after the battle.
Regardless of the outcome of the battle, Raven would live to taste freedom, and the soon-to-be Duke of Pendragon would return to his own place.
âOf course. Then I will set up my tent beside Your Graceâs. If you have any orders, please let me know.â
âSureâ¦â
The short conversation ended, and no presence could be felt from the giant tent anymore.
An eerie stillness.
The tent was quiet. One would even think that it was empty. It was definitely too quiet to be accompanying an heir of a duchy and his vicious contracted creature.
Raven felt like he was standing in front of a mortuary of sorts. Death reeked here.
âHmm?â
Ravenâs forehead creased with confusion. Inside the giant tent, there was only one âhuman.â One of the most important people in the empire, the sole heir to the Pendragon duchy, coming to aid the demonic army which was full of human scum. He had come all âalone.â
Even if he did have a powerful contracted beast, there was something odd about it.
But Raven quickly threw that thought away.
âWell⦠they did say that he was unconscious for ten years as a cripple. And the Pendragon family didnât fare well either during that time.â
He knew that it wasnât his business. Rather, he turned his attention to setting up his tent. Hopefully, this would be the last day he fell asleep chewing on dirt in this damned desert.
* * *
It was morning.
The soldiers, who had enjoyed themselves with drinks the night before, groggily crawled out of their tents, knowing fully well that last nightâs feast could be their last.
âFucking 6th company bastards, hurry your ass!â
âThe artillery will lead the rear! Check our carts and equipment one more time!â
âBoss! The girls we bought yesterday ran off.â
âWhat the fuck does that matter, you retard? Theyâre gonna die anyway if we lose.â
The shouting and the noise were reminiscent of a marketplace, and Raven gathered his equipment, not heeding the noise any mind.
After packing some water and salt, Raven put his rusty seven-year-old scimitar on his waist and decided to wear a cloak that would help block the sandy winds.
Compared to the other soldiers, it was a plain outfit, but it was enough for him.
The morning routines started to quiet down and the hundreds of tents that filled the desert were gradually taken down.
All sorts of soldiers stood beneath their respective flags, and Raven stood far from them, lost in thought.
Baltai walked with heavy footsteps, his steps adorned with a strange silence mixed with anxiety and fear. On his head was a helmet made from carved out ogre bones.
Three thousand pairs of eyes followed Baltaiâs footstep.
There was one tent still standing in its place after all the preparations were finished â the being that would decide the battle and their fate was set to reveal itself.
âAhem!â
Baltai was unlike his usual self. He had a habit of swearing with every second word he spoke, but today he was silent, only coughing to clear his throat.
âYour Grace Pendragon. Itâs time to set off.â
The tent was motionless, devoid of any presence.
The 3000 men-strong army stood still amidst the curiosity and anticipation.
âFucking hellâ¦â
Baltai became a little impatient, and his face scrunched up even more.
âPendrâ¦â
Boom!
A massive eruption interrupted the silence and Baltaiâs voice, attacking Ravenâs eardrums.