Daemons.

Humanoid faceless beings made of swirling shadows that emerge from the fathomless darkness of the Tear.

I gulped. The previous Mordred had read about them and even saw illustrations of these beings. But none of them comes even close to the horror of the real ones.

Hundreds of them slowly walked out from the Tear in perfect formations. Each mirrors the other's movements perfectly as if they are controlled by a singular mind.

They carried weapons of old. Different types of bladed weapons, massive bows whose arrows are the size of spears. Some even had staffs topped with orbs that glowed an eerie purple.

But the scariest thing about them is the silence.

The daemons made no sound as they slowly approached us. No clanging of weapons, no battle cry, no chanting, not even the crunch of snow underneath their feet.

It was pure silence. An almost deafening silence.

It was as if they were ghosts.

I looked at my hands and realized they were trembling slightly.

I understand why. This is a new and unknown enemy I am facing. I had battled barbarians, knights, warriors, and even a few mythical beings.

But none of them compared to the creatures that were slowly approaching me. The hairs on my neck stood up, my skin crawled, and every cell in my body was screaming at me to get out of there.

I gulped and took deep, slow breaths. Calm down. This is a battle. Panicking will only lead to an early demise.

The daemons kept on slowly pouring out of the Tear. With each step they take, I can feel fear and uneasiness spreading through the ranks of Deathwalkers.

Even the experienced ones had grim expressions.

"Listen up, newbies!", our captain called out, "Strike the heart and immediately get away from those creatures after dealing the final blow!"

He turned to us, "Am I clear?!"

"YES, SIR !", the newbies, including me, shouted.

"Ready weapons!"

I raised my daggers and took a stance, crossing them in front of me. The daemons are still far away from us.

"I don't get it. Why do we have to ready our weapons now?", the newbie beside me scoffed.

He just waved his sword at the approaching enemy, "I mean. They are slow and are so far away. It will take some time for them to reach us.", he said with renewed confidence.

"They're not such a big deal."

Famous last words.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

A daemon knelt beside me; its greatsword cleaved the newbie in half. His confident smile, now split, was frozen on his face. That's when I noticed something else.

I was bathed in his still-warm blood.

There was a shocked silence as everyone stared at the daemon, slowly raising its head and getting up.

And then the screams shattered the silence.

The newbies scattered away, screaming in terror. The ones covered in blood, like me, were too scared to move and were frozen in place.

The captain yelled to get away, but it was too late. In a single fluid motion, the daemon sliced off their heads, spraying blood everywhere, further deepening the crimson of the bloody snow.

The experienced ones immediately went into action as more and more daemons suddenly appeared among them, killing anyone before them.

Captains shouted instructions and the sounds of strands being used quickly rose.

The roar of Ignis, the rippling of Aqua, the swirling of Aeris, the crumbling of Terra, and the sounds of other strands and sub-strands mixed with the boom of artillery and railguns as the daemons descended on the Deathwalkers.

And me?

I was frozen in my place, blood dripping from my hair. By some weird luck, I was not in the path of the daemon's sword path of bloody death.

What the heck just happened?

Ten dead before we could even move a muscle. Just what in the world is this thing?

Screams, battlecry, and the barking of orders enveloped me as I stood there, frozen in shock.

I was not bothered by the blood. I am used to brutalities like this. But it was the speed and lethality of these creatures that shook me.

How can such creatures even exist?

The daemon turned to me and tilted its head, as if curious as to why I hadn't moved an inch despite the carnage it had unleashed.

It lifted its greatsword and swung upward at me.

'MOVE YOU, DAMN FOOL!', I screamed internally as the blade came to my face. My body reacted and sucked in the cold air, and I increased my focus.

It was a technique I mastered to increase my perception of the world. For me, time would slow down, and my reaction speed would spike.

But will this body be able to move accordingly?

The greatsword was getting closer. I breathed in more air.

The cold air of the mountains entering my lungs stimulated the rest of my body into action.

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Just as the blade was about to slice me in half, I crossed my daggers and blocked it.

The next thing I knew, I was flying backward at a terrifying speed. I only got time to grit my teeth and shift my body before crashing onto the ground and sliding for a few distances before stopping.

I struggled to breathe, and my entire body ached. I'm pretty sure I may have broken a few bones.

Pain flared in my shoulder as it was out of place, and a searing pain assaulted my chest.

Wincing and groaning in pain, I got up and examined my chest. My eyes widened at the sight of a vertical gash on my sternum.

If I hadn't blocked the attack, I would've shared the same fate as the other newbie.

It was a good thing that I also coated my arms with ardor. Otherwise, I would've lost them both.

The gash on my chest burned, and it was hard for me to breathe. My daggers lay beside me, and I looked at my right shoulder, which had become dislocated.

The throbbing pain was horrible, but I refrained from screaming. The noises of war surrounded me as I grabbed my wrist and popped my shoulder back in.

I grunted in pain at the procedure, and making sure my shoulder was working correctly, I calmed down and painfully got to my feet.

Pain still ravaged my whole body, and there was no doubt that I had sustained extensive damage from just a single blow from the daemon but I was positive I would be able to function.

Suddenly I froze as something loomed over me. Something abnormally large.

I looked up and saw a ten-foot-tall daemon looking down at me as if intrigued by how something small and weak like me wasn't dead yet.

It raised its hammer to smash me into a rather handsome paste. I closed my eyes.

Is this how I die?

A second death on the very first day of my second chance?

...

No fucking way.

Just as the massive hammer dropped down rage blossomed within me.

I am Sir Mordred! Even if it was for a short time, I was a king!

How dare you look down on me, you vile creature!

Ardor coursed into my legs, and I jumped away just as the hammer obliterated the place where I was standing a mere second ago.

It turned to me and took a step forward before a glint of metal caught my eye. It was followed by a blue flash and an explosion, completely obliterating the daemon in front of me.

I was blown away for the second time in five minutes.

But this time, instead of crashing on the ground, I landed on something soft and slightly wet. A mound of snow? I hope so.

I opened my eyes and immediately wished I hadn't.

What I landed on was the dead body of a Deathwalker. It was a woman, and it appears that she was stabbed in the abdomen. My hand rested on the entrails that spilled out of her wound.

Ew. Gross.

But it seemed she got the least gruesome way to the afterlife.

I can't say the same for the other bodies around me. There are about fifty fallen Deahwalkers around, many of them unrecognizable from the horrendous injuries that killed them. Blood flowed from their mutilated bodies and mixed with the snow to create a small lake of death.

And I have landed right in the middle of it.

Although morbid, my situation seems a little better. The daemons do not seem to even approach this area of death for the moment.

But it doesn't mean everything is fine. My weak body was being ravaged by pain, and the gash on my chest felt like molten metal.

Suppose you are wondering how I am not screaming my throat out. The answer is simple. I have become quite used to pain.

I had broken every bone in my body and suffered hundreds of injuries in my past life so much so that my pain tolerance reached the realms of the supernatural.

But only my mind is used to the pain. I can't say the same for my new body. It was shuddering, and tears flowed from my eyes unconsciously.

I sat up, using the fallen Deathwalker's face to support myself.

"Sorry.", I muttered and looked at the battle's progress.

Carnage. Absolute carnage.

Daemons were slaughtering Deathwalkers one after another. Blood splattered and flowed like rivers. Most of the newbies appear to be dead.

The veterans fought with determination and utter savagery. They kept on fighting even when their limbs were ripped out or sliced off. Some even resorted to biting the daemons like animals.

The screaming became less and was replaced by the sounds of clashing weapons, explosions, the howl of winds, the roar of flames, the crackling of lightning, and the cracking of ice.

These were accompanied by the sound of blood flowing from wounds, the tearing of flesh, and the breaking of bones.

Orders were given, and orders were received. When one Deathwalker falls, another one takes their place.

Among ten Deathwalkers that go against a daemon, about two bring it down. These were the average Deathwalkers.

The story was different from the powerful ones like the captains.

They plowed through the daemon forces and decimated them like how that single daemon decimated the squad of newbies.

Daemons exploded into balls of darkness and a crimson smoke swirled around when they were brought down.

Among the many Deathwalkers decimating the daemons, I noticed one in particular.

She looked about my age. I couldn't make her out in the distance except for one thing. Her raven black hair stood out among the crimson snow and her blue eyes glowed with power.

She weaved around the battlefield, and what appeared to be black smoke trailed off her as she swiftly climbed a 15-foot daemon and plunged her black daggers into its heart before launching herself from its chest.

She twisted in midair before slicing another daemon's head off and making a hole in its chest with what appeared to be a bolt of pure darkness. The daemon shuddered and exploded into darkness.

She landed a good distance away and appeared to catch her breath.

I watched her in awe. No way she is the same age as me. She's too strong!

But why is she here? The minimum age to become a Deathwalker is fifteen and I thought I was the only exception for that.

I kept on watching her when we suddenly locked eyes. Despite the distance between us, her gaze penetrated me.

She tilted her head to the side and gave me a curious look before turning around to kill more daemons.

I looked back at her retreating form until I heard a crackle in my ear.

"Hey, Mordred! Are you alright?", a familiar voice spoke in my ear. It was the communication device.

"Felix?", I croaked.

"Thank the Incarni, you're alright!"

"Where are you?", I asked.

"I'm manning a railgun and just saved you from that daemon."

The blue flash and explosion came to my mind.

"That was you?"

"Yes! Now listen, Mordred. You must focus on surviving. Do not engage the daemons in combat. You're currently too weak for that. The weakest daemon is a master D rank."

"Oh.", I replied. There is no way I will be able to even scratch a daemon in my current state. I am just a weak F-rank.

"What should I do?"

"I'll cover you as much as I can! You do whatever it takes to survive! Run around and avoid the attacks of the daemons or even hide under the dead bodies. Just survive! The commander would be very cross with me if you die on the first day.", Felix instructed.

A faint smile appeared on my lips, "Very well. I'll survive. Thanks!"

"Don't thank me yet! Do that after you come out alive!"

Fueled by his words, I slowly got up. My boots squelched and were splattered with blood as I stood on the bodies of the fallen Deathwalkers surrounding me.

I started thinking of a way to not die brutally and came up with a good plan.

That's when a black arrow the length of a spear pierced through my body.