Episode 06
June 25, 1692 of the Era of Origin.
Summer had begun without any clear warning, and it mercilessly swept through the southern regions of the Old Republic.
“R-run…!”
“It’s the Uruk! The Uruk are coming…!”
“Mommyyyy…!”
The first line of defense had collapsed.
People fled in tears, stepping over the corpses of their own kin, carrying only livestock and a few household belongings.
They ran north toward the Inferno Line, or east toward the capital of the Republic, Tervenope.
Because the situation was so dire, the advance of the White Skull Legion continued. In the midst of that advance, Camilla had to teach Kaisen.
Even if the battlefield was the classroom.
“Listen up.”
As the Uruk battle units charged from the front, shouting war cries, Camilla spoke.
“This mission is about being the reserve unit. We move around and plug the holes in the main formation wherever they appear.”
“Oh man, are you telling me I gotta go on a date with the Uruk in this kind of weather? I wouldn’t even meet a hot girl in this rain.”
“Jin, you think a pretty girl would meet trash like you in the rain? The Uruk will—because they’re monsters.”
“Puhahahahaha!”
“I just memorized the voices of every single one of you who laughed.”
“Gasp.”
“Everyone done chatting?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then shut your traps. All units, assemble.”
Camilla’s legion, fully armed and armored, lined up in perfect order.
2,117 riflemen
883 spearmen
24 beastkin soldiers, including Eltoram
All riflemen were elite grenadiers, equipped with steam grenades. In short, every single soldier in the legion was from a specialized combat unit.
“And Kaisen! You stick to me like glue. If you get in the way and cause someone else to die, I’ll kill you myself. Got it?”
At her call, a pale-faced boy stepped forward.
But it wasn’t fear that drained the color from his face.
The aftereffects of having his mana core forcibly opened hadn’t yet fully subsided. Even the thudding of his heartbeat felt painful, but he couldn’t afford to collapse.
Wulf spoke with worried eyes.
“Camilla, are you really going to drag Kaisen into this battle?”
“He makes the decision himself. So? You going or not? You scared? Intimidated? If you’re scared, turn around and run. No one’s going to blame you.”
At Camilla’s harsh words, Eltoram nudged the boy’s side and offered a quiet piece of advice.
“Courage doesn’t mean you feel no fear. It means you face your fear—and don’t run from it.”
No verbal response was needed.
The boy answered with action—by standing next to the line of mercenaries.
Yes. That was his first deployment.
The first step in the legend of the great hero who would mark both the beginning and the end of the Age of Heroes—
The Holy Knight Sharillion.
Childhood,
Prelude to Summer (5)
The wild grass, dried out by the early summer heat, creaked helplessly in the drizzle, only to be mercilessly trampled by the Uruk.
Gunfire…
Clashing metal…
The Uruk’s war cries…
Human screams…
The noise of the battlefield mingled with the sound of rain in a gory, chaotic mess, thick with the stench of blood.
‘Calm down.’
Kaisen clenched his violently trembling hands. Please… just calm down.
“Black flare from the right wing! It’s a signal that the line has collapsed!”
“Confirmed. Moving out!”
Camilla took off in the direction of the flare.
Following her, the heavily armed White Bone Legion crossed the line in formation with practiced speed.
Camilla shouted to Eltoram, who was right on her heels.
“Eltoram! How many?”
“Judging by the smell, around a thousand. Hard to tell exactly in the rain.”
“That’s plenty.”
They were fast.
How could they be so fast?
The soldiers were fast—but none as fast as Camilla, charging ahead with the sacred sword.
‘I heard the holy sword is so heavy it takes three or four grown men to lift it…’
Camilla glanced back at Kaisen, who was panting as he tried to keep up, and shouted.
“Is the sword too heavy for you? Can’t handle it? Great! Then drop it all and fall back!”
No matter what, don’t let go of your sword. That was Camilla’s first lesson.
He hadn’t known then.
Hadn’t realized just how much of a burden a sword could be.
‘Besides, this isn’t just any sword…’
It wasn’t just a sword—it was a tachi with a blade as long as he was tall.
The weight threatened to crush his entire body, and its ridiculous length made everything ten times harder.
And now, in this chaotic battlefield, that difficulty reached its peak.
Sticky cold sweat.
His heart pounding so hard it felt like it would explode.
Kaisen clenched his teeth so tightly he thought they’d shatter.
It’s not heavy.
It’s not a burden.
Mom carried both me and my sister for miles—and she was always smiling, even at the very end.
I’ll learn. I swear I’ll learn everything.
The way to fight. The way Mom taught this foul-mouthed woman. From beginning to end.
‘And one day, I’ll wipe out all the Uruk—’
Rain and sweat stung his eyes, and just as he reached to wipe them—
“────El Ba shi!”
Everything descended into chaos in an instant.
He could only grasp fragments of what was happening.
“PAaaaaaaaaaaaaat!”
A wagon wheel flew in out of nowhere.
A spear soldier’s chest was crushed, his screams and blood bursting out, someone shouting “It’s the enemy!” in a panic…
And then they came, roaring in from all sides—
Uruk.
An infantryman took a massive axe to the chest and collapsed, vomiting blood. Camilla drew her sacred sword.
“Wolf, take the left.”
The battle turned into a brawl.
Beastmen soldiers wrestled the Uruk in hand-to-hand combat, and spear-wielding soldiers formed defensive circles just as the steam rifles began firing bursts of iron pellets.
Blood and death were everywhere, splattering the field.
Kaisen gasped for air.
Why…?
It happened in a flash… so why does it feel like it’s been going on for thousands of years…?
“P-please… help…”
A dying man’s faint last breath.
Kaisen turned toward the sound—just in time to see a half-dead soldier crawling on the ground get his head smashed by a mace.
An Uruk let out a raspy laugh and stared at Kaisen.
Bone fragments struck his forehead, brain matter and flesh clung to his hair.
Mom’s most precious treasure in the world…
A distant memory.
A vow made that day.
The memory pulled his panicking mind back into clarity.
Kill…
The rapid, panicked breathing calmed as the beat of his heart grew still in the echo of fate’s call.
Kill them all. You must.
Murderous intent surged through his body. He drew his single-edged blade from his back.
One.
Not a single one shall be left.
An Uruk charged at him, swinging a mace.
Crossblade Technique – Form One: Circle (圓).
He crossed sword and sheath into a circular defensive stance—the ultimate guard.
CLAAANG─────!
A deafening impact.
Agony surged up his arm like it would shatter his wrist.
‘This strength is insane…’
His stance broke. He was sent flying, slammed back-first into the trunk of a withered tree.
Coughing up blood, he saw the Uruk approaching through hazy vision.
Everything—shouts, screams, rain—slowed to a crawl as the mace lifted above him.
“Ro de a… Balkrush?”
Then came two strokes of luck.
First: the Uruk hesitated when he saw the Balkrush Clan crest on Kaisen’s left cheek.
“Kaisen!”
KIIIIING───!
Second: Wolf noticed Kaisen’s peril and shot an ice spell, piercing the Uruk’s hand.
As the mace flew from its grasp, the Uruk’s arm exploded in blood.
Then suddenly—its head flew off.
Whose attack was that?
Kaisen’s. A clean, decisive strike.
Crossblade Technique – Form Two: Impact (衝).
Almost instinctively—maybe even purely by reflex—Kaisen leapt for a killing blow.
But just before the blade reached the Uruk’s neck, a punch slammed into his gut.
Pain blacked out his mind. He probably passed out, dropped his sword.
Don’t lose consciousness.
If it had been any other child…
I’ll end this now.
Darkness clouded his vision—but he gritted his teeth hard enough to splinter them.
His grip stayed firm.
His sword continued forward. The blade pierced through the neck and crushed the cervical spine.
Murderous sensation rippled down the steel.
For a moment, the world fell silent.
Gasping for breath, Kaisen pulled the sword free.
Something burst out—warm, wet, sticky.
Blood. Red.
Uruk blood was red too. Like humans. All of the Creator’s children had red blood.
He didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t like it. So he stabbed again.
“Shi… Shimdi ttera…”
The Uruk’s eyes filled with confusion.
It reached for Kaisen.
He stood still.
Just before it could grab his head, he gently kicked it over.
It crumpled—eyes wide, unable to even blink.
“…”
Kaisen stared for a long time.
Not at the dead Uruk, but at his reflection in its eyes.
Rain fell.
His breath caught—his head spun from the stench of blood.
‘Is this it? This is the end?’
That first kill—the feeling that pierced his whole body—wasn’t triumph or revenge.
It was loss.
A crushing hopelessness.
He laughed.
From deep, deep inside, the laughter burst out uncontrollably.
“Ha… ahahaha… ahahahahaha… ha, hahahahahahahaha… haha… hee… ha…”
Was it laughter, or was it sobbing?
More likely, it was self-mockery.
No matter how many he killed.
No matter how many rivers he made from their blood.
His mother would never come back.
That was the cruel truth he had just realized.
“Whoa, that kid’s something else. Took down an Uruk with just a sword.”
Eltoram raised his brows.
As the veteran mercenaries whistled, Camilla strode over—having just cut down five Uruk—and slapped Kaisen across the face.
“Why are you crying? What the hell did you do that’s worth crying over?!
Crying like a damn baby on the battlefield? What, begging them to kill you?!”
“…”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to kill Uruk? You think you can do that crying like this?
How many people have to die protecting your sniveling ass before you grow up?!”
“…!”
“In the world of swords, no one helps you because you cry!
No one comes! You have to survive with nothing but this sword!”
That solitude was the weight of fate.
Now that he had stepped onto the path of the sword, the boy would have to bear it.
Camilla wanted him to understand—on this path of pain, sorrow, and grief that she had walked before him, there was no time to cry.
“Camilla, that’s enough. Kaisen gets it.”
That day, as Kaisen cried through laughter in the rain…
Wolf hugged him, patted his back for a long time—and only then did the boy quietly begin to sob.
So bitterly. So painfully.
[Maybe that day… that was when the child’s childhood truly ended.]
So writes Johan, who documented the end of Kaisen’s childhood.
That day, the youth of a future hero came to a complete close.
After that, Kaisen became part of the legion and fought bravely with his sword in every battle.
“Urgent message from the left flank!
150 Blashurph cavalry are overwhelming the front lines!”
“Hey, Slacker. Go handle it.
If you screw up again like last time, you’re dead.”
“No.”
Kaisen killed and killed again.
With every kill, he learned more Crossblade techniques.
Each time—cleaner, deadlier.
“Is that the same brat Camilla used to beat like a dog?”
“Should we be proud… or terrified…”
“At this rate, ‘Uruk Slayer’ won’t be a joke anymore…”
He kept cutting.
Every Uruk he saw—he killed.
As battle became his life, the smell of blood and leather clung to him like perfume.
“Kaisen.”
“Kaisen, your turn.”
“Kaisen, go handle it.”
War. Battle. Slaughter.
He fought alongside mercenaries, hunted Uruk raiders, even handled reserve duties in Camilla’s place.
Four years passed.
In that time, the boy became a swordsman.
Summer had gone from early to full.
“Retreat?”
Griffins.
The fastest messengers of humankind.
They brought yet another report of defeat.
“Yes. It seems they’ve judged the front unsustainable.”
“Damn it. We’re retreating without reclaiming any land?”
“All forces are ordered to withdraw to the Inferno Line for reorganization.
That’s a direct order from Grand Marshal Crowzan.”
And so, after four years, the curtain began to fall on the first act of the war without gods.
“Hey, Slacker.”
Camilla called to the boy who was sharpening his sword on a distant boulder. He looked up silently.
Now a veteran of the legion.
The very same Kaisen who, four years ago, had challenged Camilla, clueless about death.
“?”
The boy had changed—taller, yes—but more than that.
His worn padded armor was yellowed and frayed. His hair wild and unkempt.
The tachi he sharpened matched his height—modeled after the Supreme Sacred Sword Aradamanthel.
“Got an assignment for you.”
Four years had been more than enough.
Enough to turn a once-playful, smiling boy into a merciless killer.
“The Uruk are heading for Fortress 7 of the Inferno Line.
You’ll go ahead and defend the battery.”
“How many enemies?”
“What am I, a prophet? If the vanguard lands, maybe a thousand.”
“What’s my pay?”
“I’ll teach you one more technique.”
“Just one? Against a thousand? Make it three.”
“Three? That’s more than you’ve got balls, kid. You made your conscience out of firewood?”
“?”
“Just one. But it’s the secret Crossblade kill move. Famous for killing a lot.”
Kaisen sheathed his tachi.
Fastened it to his back and stood up.
The mercenaries cheered.
“Hah, Kaisen again!”
“Camilla gives all the big jobs to Kaisen these days.”
“That’s because the rest of you suck and he’s the only one worth using.”
But the boy they cheered for showed no emotion.
Not even a smirk. Just cold detachment.
“Don’t get cocky and die before you finish the job. Just hold the line.
I’ll take care of the main force.”
Kaisen stared at Camilla with a look that said, “Are you kidding me?” Then, with a smirk:
“You should worry about the Uruk’s lives instead.”
