Eastern pathway,
The Inner Swamp,
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Swamp serpents emerged from many directions one after the other—massive things, each one big enough to swallow a grown man whole.
Three on the left. Three on the right.
They moved fast, striking the central ranks. The formation was shattered in an instant.
Men screamed and splashes of water as more and more men fell into the swamp.
Luckily, this area wasn’t deep enough to drown them.
They quickly stood up. The water was around the depth of their hips.
Screams tore through the air as one serpent bit a lupin soldier.
A few Ursaborns managed to pin another in place—barely.
Its slimy scales made it impossible to hold for long.
Arthur’s drake steed leapt, biting the serpent so hard as it tried to eat the lupin.
Meanwhile, Arthur leapt forward, greatsword trailing behind him, crackling with building lightning.
He was ready to blast.
But his men.
They’d be fried alive.
Calm down. Calm down.
Then the voice surged again, flooding his right eye with Tenha’s scene.
“How about this one, Captain? hihihi”
It looked bad, real bad. His men also got pushed back by the serpents. At the same time
Overwhelmed by the double vision, Arthur dropped to his knees—and vomited.
“Captain, Berserker mode?” someone shouted from the ranks.
“NO, FOCUS MODE, FAST!”
Every soldier reached into the hidden compartment in their chestplate, pulling out a small vial of glowing blue liquid.
They downed it without hesitation, some even bit straight through the glass.
Within minutes, their behavior changed. Their movements sharpened.
Spears and swords flew off saddle racks.
There was no hesitation even in the absence of commands, hust fluid, precise violence—fighting back with twice the clarity and speed.
In no time, two serpents were brought down. The soldiers didn’t flinch—even as their comrades were swallowed whole.
They used it, turning tragedy into an opening.
One serpent, too greedy, tried to gulp down an Ursaborn soldier.
It was a bad move.
The beastfolk jammed halfway down its throat, wedging it open. Then, calmly, he rammed his ultra-long spear straight into the roof of the beast’s mouth.
The tip punched through its skull. The serpent wailed, thrashed, and crashed dead.
Arthur saw it—saw the tide turning. He wiped his mouth and swung back onto his drake.
“Everyone, wipe out these bastards. When you’re done, follow my trail—I’ll clear the path!” Arthur shouted, raising his greatsword high. A lightning beam shot into the sky.
“YES SIR!”
Unified roar.
But instead of following the marked trail, Arthur veered west.
Toward Tenha’s unit. Toward the mess.
His drake didn’t run—just leapt, again and again, like it couldn’t stand the swamp touching its claws.
“Good boy. Faster.” Arthur gave its head a quick tap.
Alone in his track, he could cut loose. Lightning beams. Thunderclaps with every swing. Nothing held him back as he carved a path toward his second-in-command.
Dead creatures littered the swamp behind him—chunks, scraps, scorched remains. Still, he held off from drinking the blue vial. No enhancements needed yet.
His double vision no longer overwhelmed him. He focused through his left eye—just enough to track movement, enough to fight.
“Hahaha. Captain, you’re so cool.”
The voice kept messing with his head. But most of the time, he didn’t bother to reply.
Mile after mile, the slaughter continued.
But something changed.
The beasts… they weren’t aiming at him anymore.
Instead, they went in the same direction as him. As if they were hypnotized by something.
But it didn’t matter.
He cut them down all the same—green, gooey Canabysts; swamp serpents; swamp worms longer than wagons.
Nothing got a pass.
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Finally, Tenha’s crew, barely visible through the swamp mist.
A swarm of monsters, all converging on a single point. A living tide, more packed than anything his own unit had faced so far.
It was even more crowded than the ones his men had to deal with.
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Holy hell. Why are they all piling up here?
“TENHA!” He shouted, but no answers, just screams and shrieks of beasts all around.
Not far ahead, a soldier was being dragged through the sludge by two Canabysts. Their slick tentacles coiled around his limbs, nibbling like rats on a corpse.
But the man didn’t scream, nor did he beg.
He just kept stabbing—over and over—his spear punching holes into their mushy heads.
Berserker, eh.
Arthur leapt off his drake.
With one downward swing, he buried his slab of a sword into the first Canabyst’s skull. It didn’t shriek—its head just collapsed.
He yanked the blade free and crushed the second one’s face with another blow, then caught the falling soldier in his arms.
“Captain, you’re here.”
The soldier’s voice was dry, shaky. He was barely able to move as the berserker’s draught effect had worn off.
Arthur grunted, easing him onto the saddle. “Don’t worry, son. You’re safe. We’re getting out.”
A faint smile crept onto the man’s lips. Arthur strapped him in tight.
“Hang on and no fighting. That’s an order.”
The soldier nodded.
The drake steed shrieked as though he was excited at what was going to happen.
Arthur reached into the hidden compartment in his chest plate, fingers brushing two vials—one red, one blue.
Focus is enough.
He crunched the blue vial between his teeth. The glass shattered, bitter liquid hitting his tongue.
The effect was instant, as if time itself slowed down and all the details within his vision sharpened.
Every motion, every twitch, and every threat were outlined in clarity.
He spurred the drake forward.
Ahead, a lone Lupin soldier stood, heaving, but no enemies were in sight.
Arthur whistled and tossed the half-conscious man from earlier toward him. The Lupin caught him—clumsy but solid—and gave a tight nod.
Arthur and the drake shot forward. Five soldiers with lots of beasts around. The numbers weren’t in their favor.
He picked his mark and vaulted off the drake. Lightning Step.
His weapon flared, and the enchantment was activated.
He moved faster than the surroundings, blade trailing sparks, feet barely touching water.
He dashed towards the beasts in between the soldiers. The monsters’ flesh parted like wet cloth.
But he did not use too much voltage; his men were too close.
His drake wasn't idle. It lunged past him, landing between soldiers and beasts.
Jaws clamped down on one monster, then another, hurling them into Arthur’s path like offerings.
The rhythm set in. Slash, assist, move.
Each time, more soldiers were freed.
Those still on their feet didn’t wait for orders. They grabbed their injured comrade and pulled them back. Some also covered Arthur’s blind spots.
In the thick of the bloodbath, a volley of mana arrows sliced through the air, raining down on the beasts and tearing gaps in their ranks.
His men had arrived, charging from the trail he carved open.
“Hey cap, can we take the berserker now?” Some of them asked, loud.
“Sure, you do you.”
With that confirmation, Red vials were popped, shattered, and swallowed.
Moments later, the change hit.
Their movements turned jagged and savage. Screams from men, howls from Lupins, and roars from Ursaborns decorated the battlefield.
Some dove headlong into the fray, bashing the heads of those monsters, while others provided ranged support with their arcane bows and arrows with deadly precision.
Arthur dashed in between arrows to ensure no monster was left alive.
Finally, he caught a glimpse of Tenha and Vorkin. His vision returned to normal at once.
He quick-stepped in tight circles around them, sweeping the monsters clean.
Tenha clutched his belly. Blood streamed between his fingers—bad, but not fatal.
Vorkin, however, was driving his blade into a soldier’s throat, and he caught a glimpse of Arthur approaching.
“Captain, I…”
“No need to explain yourself. I know it all. Good job Vorkin.”
He took the body of the dying soldier, and looked him in the eye for the last time.
The soldier’s eyes searched for something—maybe forgiveness, maybe nothing at all. He died before he could speak.
Arthur laid the body down, drowning in the water. Then he turned to Tenha, letting out a dry chuckle. “You alright? Didn’t expect your own boys to stab you in the gut, huh?”
Tenha blinked, wide-eyed. Not at the pain—but that Arthur knew.
Thank goodness I made it in time.
Arthur gave Vorkin a nod. “Thank you again, Vorkin. Now stay with him. I’ll mop up the rest.”
But something wasn’t right.
He paused.
Most of the beasts—they weren’t just attacking at random. They were charging Tenha’s way. Not him, not Vorkin, just Tenha and his mount.
“Convenient,” Arthur muttered. “Makes 'em easier to clean up.”
He shifted to leap back into the fight—then his drake let out a low growl.
The water split.
Three serpent-like heads emerged from the water, even bigger than before, plated in thick armor-like scales.
Two heads lunged straight for Tenha.
Arthur moved to intercept.
The third head whipped toward him and snapped its jaws shut around his torso. His feet left the ground.
The serpent lifted him high into the air.
He roared, swinging his greatsword up into its jaw.
But it had no effect.
The blade bounced uselessly off its plated hide.
These scales weren’t like the others. This thing was close to a real drake.
"Alright, bastard. Let's see who cracks first."
He almost got swallowed whole.
The serpent’s jaws stretched wide—breath hot and reeking. He jammed his greatsword sideways, wedging it between its fangs.
He kicked and writhed as he was stuck. But at least he wasn’t eaten.
Panic surged. He fumbled at his chest plate, yanked out the red vial, and crushed it between his teeth.
Everything blurred.
The beast’s jaw snapped shut just as he tore the sword free.
The blade sparked in his grip.
With a roar, he drove it upward—this time not slicing, but blasting, a big one. A thunderous wave of force erupted from the steel.
The top of the serpent’s head peeled off, scalped clean in a flash of light. The beast went limp and crashed into the swamp below.
But there was still no time to breathe.
The other two heads barrelled toward Tenha and Vorkin. He had scooped Tenha over his shoulder and was running—but he was not fast enough.
Too close.
Arthur raised his sword again. One deep breath. One final shot.
Lightning surged through his body as he launched the attack.
The blast struck both heads mid-lunge—perfect timing. Their armored necks snapped like twigs. The heads hit the mud seconds before their bodies collapsed behind them.
…
…
...
At last, Arthur jolted awake. He could barely move his body. He struggled, and finally able to get up.
There was no longer deep water around.
His men were still talking, panic and distress decorated their faces.
What? Why? We won right?
“Good job captain. It was such a great show.”
The voice came back one more time, almost too playful.
“Where are we?” He asked his men, his vision still blurry.
But none of them gave a straight answer. They instead took him with them somewhere.
There, under a tree, Arthur's body dropped when he witnessed the reality.
Vorkin was lying down, but his left arm was missing. His shoulder was burnt and scorched.
And Tenha.
Lying next to Vorkin, it was clear the men tried to do their best.
But it was too apparent, his body got split in two. Same wounds as those in Vorkin’s body.
Arthur's eyes stared blankly.
His deepest heart still hoped that Tenha would get up and offered him some snacks, as always.
But no.
He was lifeless.
I'm sorry, partner.
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