Delman, known as Caliban’s Master Knight and the third of the five Great Swords, was in a very good mood. This was because, on this recent expedition, he had killed Khlkan, one of the eight chiefs, and rumored to be quite strong among them. Of course, the method he used to kill Khlkan was something that neither Caliban nor the barbarians would ever acknowledge. He had challenged Khlkan to a duel, then, when Khlkan came out alone, Delman used hidden soldiers, various traps, and poison to kill him. 

Even though Caliban and the barbarians were at war, they always respected each other’s honor in battle, making Delman’s actions outrageously dishonorable. However, instead of feeling guilty for his deceit, Delman smiled with the thought that he no longer had to give up his third position to Deus, one of the newly entered five swords. With that thought, he slaughtered all the barbarians who were present at the scene, leaving no one alive. 

This would have been impossible for him alone, but the numerous soldiers he had stationed outside, so they wouldn’t witness the duel, made it achievable. Delman had successfully earned merit, and now all that was left was to return and report his accomplishments. As he made his way back to one of Caliban’s forward bases, he saw something that stopped him.

He saw it.

A man with red hair matching the symbolic power of fire stood with a tense expression. He and his Red Flame knights were staring at the base, or what used to be the base. The place had become a wasteland. The gray earth was smeared with red blood, ruins lay scattered, and thousands of corpses littered the ground as if they were nothing. However, what drew all their attention wasn’t the ruins but the man standing in the middle of it all.

Wearing the barbarian’s signature leather clothing, he stood proudly at the center of the ruined base. As Delman turned to look at him, the man also turned his gaze towards Delman and started walking toward him. At a glance, it seemed like the man was inviting his own death, as Delman had not only a hundred knights but also countless soldiers by his side. No matter how strong this barbarian chieftain was, he couldn’t handle such a large force alone.

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Yet, despite recognizing the overwhelming odds, Delman’s expression was filled with tension. The first reason was the state of the base, now reduced to ruins, and the second was the aura.

Although Delman had committed a dishonorable act, he was still a sword master, someone who could cut off a mountain peak with a single slash and claim the lives of dozens of barbarians with one stroke. And as such, he could clearly sense the extraordinary aura emanating from this man.

And then…

“Are you Delman?”

The man’s voice echoed, a voice that didn’t sound human, and just hearing it for a moment shook Delman to his core. Delman quickly regained his composure and instinctively raised his aura blade as he responded:

“Who are you?”

“Then answer me, Delman. Why did you desecrate the sacred and honorable duel?”

“What?”

“Answer me. Why did you sully the great and holy duel, the honorable fight between two warriors?”

“……”

“Speak.”

Hearing the barbarian’s words, Delman realized that the man was talking about his duel with Khlkan, and he replied:

“Ha, this is a battlefield. Isn’t it foolish to believe in a duel in such a place?”

The barbarian stared at Delman, unfazed, and spoke again:

“How dare you speak of the great duel like that.”

His voice was filled with clear displeasure.

“I already told you, this is a battlefield.”

“This is your last chance, human, a warrior of considerable strength. Fight me in a duel. If you win, I will let you go.”

At the barbarian’s offer of a last chance, Delman did not respond—he just…

“Everyone, prepare for battle,” he commanded the knights.  

As soon as his order was given, the knights and soldiers swiftly drew their weapons in perfect unison.  

The knights of the Red Flame, who had fought alongside Delman in numerous battles in the northern war and led them to victory time and time again, all wore resolute expressions as they drew their swords and deployed their auras.  

Watching this scene, the barbarian muttered, as if in lamentation and disdain,  

“Do knights truly possess no honor?”  

With that muttering,  

Creak~ Creak~

the surrounding corpses began to rise.  

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“W-what is this!”  

The knights were startled by the sudden change, but the phenomenon continued regardless of their emotions.  

A knight with his head split in half.  

A soldier with half of his body blown away.  

A rider with his upper torso severed.  

They slowly began to awaken.  

And then—  

“It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!”  

“Kill me, kill me, please, I beg you…”  

The screams of the dead filled the gray earth.  

“You mortals, without even the honor to your name, are unnecessary in this world.”  

That presence vanished.  

“!?”  

Even Delman, who had stepped into the realm of a superhuman, couldn’t keep up with the speed.  

But then…  

“However—”  

Delman turned his gaze to the voice that had suddenly appeared, and the barbarian had already slammed his hand into the ground.  

Boom! 

The earth exploded instantly, rocks and debris shot into the sky, and simultaneously, the soldiers and knights who had been standing ready were all hurled into the air.  

And with just one swing of the barbarian’s foot through the air—  

Crack!  

The soldiers and knights flying through the sky were struck by the debris, their bodies turning into mere chunks of flesh.  

Without even time to scream, their remains splattered across the ground, creating countless red flowers of blood.  

“!”  

As Delman belatedly tried to swing his sword, he realized in that moment…  

His arm was gone.  

“Aaaargh!”  

Delman’s scream echoed, and the soldiers who hadn’t yet grasped the situation finally understood what had happened.  

In just an instant, the Master Knight and most of his knightly order had been annihilated.  

Panic spread like a plague among the soldiers, robbing them of their will.  

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“Ah, aahhh!”  

The terror rooted in their hearts quickly spread, leaving them paralyzed.  

In the chaos of the massacre, Delman, who had lost his arm, looked at the barbarian in disbelief.  

“Who… who are you?”  

The barbarian, no—the god of all barbarians and the father of duels, Ultultus, crushed Delman’s internal organs with his rough hands, finishing his task.  

He looked down at Delman, who lay beneath his hand.  

A moment later—  

“It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!”  

Though his internal organs were completely shattered, Delman rose again, spewing blood across the gray snowfield and screaming in agony like the others.  

Satisfied, Ultultus grinned as he spoke:  

“All you gathered barbarians,”  

He turned his gaze to the surviving soldiers, who were frozen in terror.  

“Prove yourselves through a duel.”  

And then,  

“Prove that you are not savages.”  

He offered them a duel,  

“If you do, I shall grant you an honorable death.”  

On the bloodstained colosseum made of the dead…  

***

Master Knight and disciple of the Fourth Sword, Vilan, couldn’t understand the current situation. 

The reason he had come here today was simply to help out his friend, Carmine, who was also a very valuable supplier, by taking care of a certain noble from the Kingdom of Asteria. 

Of course, given that the six kingdoms were united under the Union Kingdom, normally, even if the noble was from another country, he should have shown some level of courtesy. 

A misstep could quickly turn into an international issue. 

However, the reason Vilan had accepted Carmine’s request without hesitation wasn’t just because of the item Carmine had offered. After considering the circumstances, Vilan thought there was no chance the situation would escalate. 

There were three reasons for his judgment. 

The first was that, among the six kingdoms in the Union, Caliban, which constantly fended off the barbarians from the north, held the most influence. 

The second was that rumors about Count Palatio had yet to spread again, meaning his reputation remained that of a reckless noble who had only become a count by sheer luck, and he had no connections in Caliban. 

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The third was that, even if the situation did go wrong, Vilan believed that his master, Fiola, who stood at the pinnacle of Caliban, would somehow smooth things over. 

Although not as gifted as Deus, Vilan was talented with the sword and had always been under his master’s protection. 

With these three reasons in mind, Vilan thought there would be no harm to himself in dealing with Count Palatio, and, truthfully, his judgment wasn’t wrong. 

However, there was one thing Vilan didn’t know. 

And that was— 

Crack! 

“Ugh!” 

Count Palatio was, in fact, a benefactor to Deus Macallian, a Master Knight currently hailed as a hero in Caliban.  

“Guh…!”  

Deus had earned the nickname “The Swordless” after defeating Kurga of the Snowfields, one of the eight chieftains, in a duel.  

“Aagh!” 

Vilan, who was slammed into a tree, groaned with a fearful and defiant expression as he tried to speak— 

“W-wait! Lord Deus—!” 

—but he couldn’t finish.  

Deus’s foot struck his stomach before Vilan could open his mouth. 

The knights of Yuzon, who had just been showing their respect, instinctively tried to draw their swords at the sight, but—  

“The moment you draw your swords, I leave the rest to your imagination.”  

“…!”  

Just by turning his gaze and saying those words, the knights swallowed their breaths in silence, and then the one-sided beating began.  

Watching this, Alon, who stood with an outwardly expressionless face as Deus mercilessly pummeled Vilan, but inwardly, he was filled with a deep, satisfied smile. 

“You’ve grown up so well…!” 

Alon gazed at Deus as if he were a father watching his son grow up splendidly.  

…Not that any father would feel proud watching his son ruthlessly beat someone else, but Alon felt something akin to paternal pride in that moment.  

Actually, it was more than that—he even felt a strange sense of gratitude. 

Alon had been thinking all the way to Caliban that Deus likely wouldn’t be too fond of him.  

Perhaps Deus might tolerate him, but Alon had thought it would stop there, never expecting any deeper emotion.  

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After all, Alon had never had a personal conversation with Deus, and more importantly, Deus had never written him a single letter. 

So, when Deus referred to him as his benefactor earlier, Alon felt as if all the effort he had put into raising Deus had finally been rewarded, and a pleased smile spread across his face.  

“He hits well.” 

“Indeed.” 

Watching Deus break Vilan apart in real-time, Alon wore a calm smile, and after about three minutes, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his heart. 

Alon was deeply grateful to Deus for going this far. 

But five minutes later.

“Count.”

“What?”

“Isn’t he going to die?”

Alon, sensing something was wrong, watched Deus mercilessly beat Vilan, who was pathetically clinging to his legs, crying and begging for forgiveness.

“No way. Would he?”

“Well, yeah…”

Even so, Alon kept thinking, “Surely he wouldn’t kill him?” as he observed Deus’s beating for another five minutes.

After confirming that Vilan’s face was now so disfigured that it no longer resembled the cunning expression it had shown just ten minutes earlier, Alon broke into a cold sweat and suddenly remembered.

The Deus standing before him—

‘Oh…?’

—was one of the Five Great Sins.

Of course, that didn’t mean the feeling of gratitude had disappeared.

It hadn’t disappeared, but—

‘It’s nice that he went this far for me, but…’

Alon watched as Deus, leaving the half-crippled Vilan behind, walked towards him.

“I’m at your service.”

Bowing his head as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Alon noticed the soldiers and knights murmuring at the scene.

“Uh,” Alon thought, glancing at the blood-soaked Vilan.

‘Isn’t this a bit… excessive?’