Simon was not blind; he just needed to hide the fact that his eyes were different. He could see in the dark, and he noticed the bandits moving along the farmlands, their heads low as they trampled the crops.

Simon glared at them. He had endured the worst winters, lived on the mountain, and even got stuck in a cave with only cave roots. The one thing he really didn’t like was wasting food.

After two more wheat fields, they would meet. Simon didn’t want to waste more food, so he waited at a place where there were no crops. It was a straight, open ground that was not used for farming, serving as a common path—a cart-wide path.

<--->

One of the knights, following the command, detested the idea of destroying as many crops as possible. Why hadn’t the commander voiced this to the initial wave that attacked the first storage house?

In the event of failure, their directive was clear: inflict severe damage on the economy of the eastern continent. This rationale stemmed from their leader. This knight had endured hunger, having been a commoner before.

Despite their banishment to the eastern continent, he had risen through the ranks with diligence. He remained loyal to the captain, foreseeing greatness in him, having himself once been a commoner. The captain shared this background.

He gritted his teeth, resolved to follow whatever the commander ordered. The ground was hardening; they were nearing the cart-wide path. He could smell blood; the first attackers had failed because someone had attacked from behind.

But to kill that murderer, Trundle, and the field captain who was commanding—they were considered among the best. There were also a few elites among them. These enemies must be powerful.

…

“He told us to trample the fields in case we fail?” It seemed he had realized something; the commanding captain was the type to plan meticulously. They had won many battles in the past because of him.

He wouldn’t issue such an order if there was a chance of failure.

He waved off the wheat, leading the first charge from the front. There were about 40 of them, comprising what remained of the reserves and some deserters who had decided to return.

As soon as he stepped out of the wheat field, he spotted someone—or rather, heard the sound of footsteps. His eyes didn’t have a chance to follow the shadow he glimpsed. It took him a few seconds to light up a lantern, but for some strange reason, his hands disappeared even before his match touched the scratch pad.

<--->

The bandits had utterly destroyed the wheat fields. Simon was furious. 'Well, they will be good fertilizer…' he thought, determined to ensure he chopped them up well. He was acutely aware of how close the enemies were. As soon as he spotted one enemy emerging from the wheat field, he began to move.

It was an armored bandit who stepped first onto the road.

The air was still filled with the scent of blood and death. A few meters from where he waited to lay the corpses of the bandits, left behind as the thieves had not had the chance to remove them.

Drawing his sword swiftly, Simon made a quick swing. The wheat field they had destroyed would serve as their graveyard; that was Simon's decision. With one swift motion, he severed a hand. It seemed the armored bandit had been trying to light a match, but it didn’t even reach the scratchpad. Simon initiated the onslaught.

The armor didn’t matter; he broke through it and split it apart. Chaos ensued as darkness created confusion.

“Stand your ground, know your position! Use your shield!” someone commanded some of the armored bandits. Simon knew they were not common bandits. For the first time, Simon’s attack was properly parried; the shield was enchanted. He found himself surrounded.

There were twelve of them and a commander just behind. The knight was quite surprised; it was a boy holding a strange-looking sword. He could sense that the boy was not releasing any kind of magic aura, but the immense bloodlust he felt... He knew the boy was not normal.

“It’s just a kid!” one of the knights complained, but without mistake, he would kill the boy in front of him. Many of his comrades had been slain by the monster in front of them. Sebas was sure the report mentioned two. There was still a distraction he left in the mountain, and it would occupy the other monster for a while.

“A wheat field could feed a village for years... You destroyed it... Well, you will help them at least,” the boy said, seething with anger. Sebas knew it was going to be a tough fight.

“Don’t break formation! All others not in formation, switch to long range! A bow or a rock will do!” Sebas commanded.

Suddenly, the boy released a suffocating bloodlust. Sebas felt it.

“Don’t fret! We are the Bloody Axe! In battle, we thrive!” Sebas shouted it like a battle cry.

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“I can’t see Legka!” one of the armored bandits said.

“He was in front... The boy must have already butchered him,” another knight answered. The knights were instantly riled up. Sebas had set it this way to give the knights an extra boost of morale; now they would be fighting for revenge.

The boy didn’t care… he was ice cold of the cries of the knights.

Simon swiftly darted to the left, prompting the knights on that side to snap into a defensive stance. In a daring move, the boy landed his feet on the shield held by one of the knights, using it as a springboard to propel himself higher into the air. With precision, he hurled a knife directly at their commander.

“Barrier!” Sebas cast a spell. He instantly noticed that the knife was not normal just by looking at it; it resembled a monster's horn or claws. As the knife spun, it created a blade-like wind. The barrier dispersed the wind knife, but at the same time, it seemed that the boy threw two more in different directions.

The formation instantly collapsed, and two died, leaving ten more. Upon seeing this, the other bandits, who were waiting for a command, started attacking the boy. “Wait! You'll hit each other!” Sebas screamed, but the wind created by the knife numbed his voice.

And he was right. As the bandits formed a circle around the boy, they started throwing and shooting different things. The lack of light and sound instantly created a hellish scene.

As the barrier faded, the whole battlefield was already in chaos. But Sebas didn’t give up; he started creating order by controlling those who were close to him.

<--->

For the many years of serving as a knight, Themenos felt pride. He would carry out any orders without question, the once-celebrated knights of the central, known as the Golden Axe, took pride in him.

Now, as his most trusted commander asked him to fight someone, it seemed just like any other day. Following the command and fulfilling it, he didn’t think too much—thinking was not a part of his skills.

The name of the order derived from the axe he carried behind him, passed down by the strongest axe wielder of the order. “The Golden Axe, passed down from his honorable retired brothers”—repeating it gave him confidence.

He stood ready as a man emerged from the woods, a man larger than him, carrying an axe. Sebas had already foreseen this scene, knowing that the monster the reports spoke of would safely reach him.

“This is the reason I’m here,” he kept telling himself. The big man approached slowly. Themenos finally saw him properly, and his knees began to shake. The man wore a fur cape, blood staining his hands—his very appearance inspired fear in Themenos.

For the first time in his life, he felt afraid.

Without a word, Percival delivered a deadly blow to the armored bandit, who retaliated with the golden axe strapped to his back.

Themenos immediately activated the magic edge on his axe, causing it to glow slightly, but...

Themenos experienced a sensation unlike any he had felt before—it seemed he had broken his wrist. “A golden axe... You know that gold is softer than iron... Fool,” the big man mocked, delivering a straight punch to Themenos's face.

“You are not the leader,” he added.

Themenos lay on the ground with a broken jaw, slipping in and out of consciousness due to the excruciating pain.

<--->

Dying screams... the sound of metal ripping apart... the voice of the commander trying to handle the chaos. Hours passed, and lives were taken. Simon continued almost like a machine, butchering the thieves.

“Snake Eyes... Who are you, kid? Who the hell are you?” Sebas was frustrated. There were many of them, but now they were down to the last ten bandits and six from his knight’s order, including himself. The boy was a cold-hearted murderer; even when his enemies pleaded, he would still kill them. The boy didn’t show any signs of weakness.

Sebas was both in awe and fear, pondering what the boy would become in the future.

“Boy! Boy! We are here... Huh?!” It had only been a few hours when Peron, the noble guarding behind, arrived for the boy with reinforcements. Sebas saw the noble, his face bloody but still alive.

“You pussy! You couldn’t even take on your brother!” Sebas taunted the noble.

“I will pay for my crimes... That’s all I could say,” the noble looked down after speaking.

“Fucking central nobles!!!” Sebas was completely losing control. All his life, his family... he lost it to the empire... the injustice... “I cannot let you win. My justice will prevail. I will struggle with everything I have!!!” Sebas started shouting.

“If you are weak, you die. Violence is stronger than words.” It was the boy who said it, but it didn’t come from his mouth; it was from the old man who taught him everything he knew, how he saw the world.

“Please... Let’s stop this bloodshed!!! Just give up!! I will try to at least prevent your execution!!!” Peron pleaded. He seemed to be a different kind of noble; even Sebas's eyes widened.

There was then a great silence in the field. Sebas was never a risk-taker in the first place; he would only take risks if he was cornered or forced. He always cared about the order of the knights.

“My friends... at least let them go. You can do anything to me,” Sebas said after thinking for a while.

The bandits who heard him dropped their swords, but those who didn’t understand their cause started running away. “Captain, are you sure... What about Trundle and Legka... Themenos? If he defeats the other monster, then we can turn everything around! He is our ace!” a knight tried to talk Sebas out of his decision.

“I can guarantee their lives if I pin the blame on you,” Peron suddenly spoke.

“It's impossible... The man that went to the hills is probably one of the strongest warriors I have seen after my master... He's probably taking his time going down,” Simon said.

Sebas slumped down. He started grabbing his head... He had lost. The sanity of his plans going down into the drains.

<--->

Two days later...

The carriage where they left their sack and things had already departed as soon as possible after the incident, leaving them with no supplies.

Simon and Percival decided to spend a few days recuperating, gathering supplies, and finding allies to aid the northern wall.

Simon wanted to acquire more swords, and the noblemen they assisted allowed him to choose from the armory or smithy. However, the weapons were not up to his standards, and he didn’t find any appealing.

Peron’s brother was sentenced to be Simon's slave. The bloody knights would wait until Elford emerged from the dungeon.

On the morning of the second day, Percival decided to head further south, where the hero Paramour suggested they seek help.

“I promise you, I will return before winter arrives, and I'll bring supplies!” Peron chatted with Percival while Simon waited on the main road, attempting to secure a cart or carriage for their journey.

“I'll see you there... If we survive the siege, I'd be happy to show you outside the wall,” Percival replied. “During winter, the fields may look like heaven, but it's total hell,” he added scoping his hands to draw the picture.

“Percival! He said he's heading directly to the fisherman’s village!” Simon called out, each of them now equipped with a new sack of supplies on their backs.

“Then let's go now,” Percival replied, pleased to have encountered another good nobleman. Peron and Percival shook hands, and the two departed. Peron felt saddened by his brother's fate, but he still did his part.