Chapter 1

Chapter 1: This Contempt Feels Familiar (1)

“What happens to people after they die?”

“I wouldn’t know since I’ve never died.”

I casually answered my friend, who suddenly asked me a question while we were drinking.

It was never a topic I had given much thought. After all, sharpening my sword a bit more seemed like a better use of time than pondering such things.

“They say some people are reborn.”

“Well, then, I hope I’m born into an ordinary family next time. I’d like to live quietly.”

He laughed briefly at my words about wanting a peaceful life, then asked again.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Many are already suffering from the disaster. If you make a move, even more people will die.”

“I don’t care.”

“I didn’t realize my cheerful friend had so much pain.”

“Everyone has a painful past or two.”

He nodded in agreement, then raised his glass.

“Let’s go monster hunting again when this is all over.”

“Find me a worthy opponent, then.”

He chuckled, drained his drink in one go, and set the glass down.

“Good luck. Should I say a prayer for you?”

“I don’t believe in gods. I only trust this.”

I shook my sword and laughed, making him shake his head as he stood up.

“Farewell. I won’t go far.”

“As if you ever would.”

Sssswwwish.

A black vortex appeared, and his body was sucked into it, disappearing from sight.

“What a convenient skill.”

Left alone, I raised my glass.

One drink, two drinks, three drinks.

Memories from the past surfaced again.

‘I regret it.’

The Ferdium Territory is in the northern part of the Ritania Kingdom.

It was a poor and desolate land located on the kingdom’s border, constantly battling barbarians.

I was born the heir to that territory.

‘I was pathetic.’

I lived my life entirely of complaints, constantly comparing my circumstances with those of other noble children.

Comparisons bred inferiority.

Inferiority spilled out in reckless actions, leading to accidents; others constantly pointed at me and mocked me.

A scoundrel, a madman, a shut-in swordmaster...

I lived through all sorts of insulting titles until. Eventually, I fled my family in disgrace.

Years passed as I wandered as a mercenary.

Maybe I was lucky, but I managed to survive despite rolling through countless battlefields.

As I gained skills, brushing up against death time and again, my fame grew—and so did my longing for home.

‘I thought everything would be fine if I returned to the family back then.’

With regret and guilt over my foolish younger days, I thought I could return home and greatly help my family.

But...

By the time I returned, my family and estate were already reduced to ashes.

I couldn’t do anything. All I did was run.

I had to hide, discarding even my noble name, fearing the potential harm I could face.

‘I had to become stronger.’

A new goal emerged within me.

I endured years of agonizing pain, sharpening myself like a blade. I fought relentlessly against countless calamities that ravaged the continent.

At some point, people began calling me by a new name.

The King of Mercenaries.

And eventually, I stood among the seven most powerful people in the world, in the glorious position known as the Continent’s Seven Strongest.

By then, I lacked nothing in life, with countless subordinates, unmatched fame, and the skills to back it all up.

‘But it still wasn’t enough.’

However, I always felt an insatiable thirst.

The downfall of my family, the regrets of my youth, and the realizations that came too late.

Every night, my past tormented me, and I couldn’t sleep without a drink.

My long-gone family and friends, the people of my land... they would never return.

‘I regret it.’

The wars weren’t over yet.

That’s why Ghislain had no choice but to consider the kingdom itself as his target for revenge.

But to think that even figures from other nations were involved in that affair!

Unable to comprehend the situation, Ghislain’s body stiffened. He shouted urgently, his expression full of confusion.

“‘We’? Are you saying someone was backing the Duchy?”

“Backing... That’s not really a word I like. I’d rather say... No, explaining it to someone like you would be pointless. Just think of it as everyone being on the same side.”

Aiden, arrogant and obnoxious as ever, was a man who constantly preached about justice. That’s why he was called the ‘Noble Knight’.

It was simply unbelievable to think that someone like him was involved in the conspiracy to destroy Ferdium.

“Why the hell would someone like you interfere with our family...! It’s not even a fiefdom in your country!”

“The world doesn’t work that simply. But, I suppose a lowly mercenary like you couldn’t possibly understand such sophisticated reasoning.”

“Then, you getting involved in this war as well...?”

“That’s right, to clean things up neatly. After all, I can’t let any stains tarnish my name.”

As soon as Aiden finished speaking, he raised his sword. The moment that sword fell, Ghislain’s head would roll.

“You bastard! I will never forgive you!”

Ghislain struggled to rise, but his already broken body couldn’t even summon mana properly.

“You fool, this is the end. You should’ve just lived your life as a mercenary, knowing your place.”

With a cold sneer, Aiden swiftly swung his sword.

Fwoosh!

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

A chilling sensation brushed against his neck.

His vision began to spin.

In the blooming blood, Ghislain felt all the emotions that had tormented him thus far surge once more.

Regret, emptiness, longing, sorrow...

But in the end, the only thing that remained was a boundless, burning rage.

—There’s talk about being reborn, isn’t there?

Why was it that the last words of a friend came to his mind?

‘If I really were to be reborn! I would tear you all to pieces!’

Thud.

His severed head rolled to the ground.

With his eyes wide open in bitterness, the King of Mercenaries, Ghislain, met his end in vain.

* * *

‘I’m alive?’

He was sure his head had been cut off. Could it have been an illusion?

Ghislain cautiously opened his eyes without moving his body.

‘A tent?’

What he saw was a simple military tent, the kind typically used in camps.

‘Was I captured?’

Judging from the lack of presence around him, it seemed he was the only one inside the tent.

Moreover, he wasn’t tied up.

‘How arrogant of them. To just leave me like this?’

It seemed they had underestimated him greatly. Leaving him here without even tying him up.

He cautiously tried to gather his mana, but the immense mana he once wielded, like a vast ocean, couldn’t be felt at all.

‘Did they do something to me after all?’

He slowly lifted his upper body and surveyed his surroundings.

‘A sword?’

A sword was leaning against the side of the simple bed.

“Heh, they really must think I’m a joke.”

Even if he couldn’t use his mana, the swordsmanship he had honed over the years hadn’t disappeared. With just a single sword, he could kill hundreds of regular soldiers.

‘I don’t know what they’re thinking, but I’ll make them regret it.’

Mana was something he could recover after escaping this place.

Rustle.

Just then, he sensed someone approaching the entrance of the tent.

Ghislain quickly lay back down and closed his eyes.

A soldier entered, carrying something. Judging by the savory smell of soup, it seemed they were bringing him a meal.

The smell of food made him a bit hungry but now wasn’t the time to be distracted by such things.

As the soldier turned his back to prepare the meal, Ghislain swiftly drew the sword and moved like lightning.

“Shh, if you answer my questions obediently, I’ll let you live.”

After a brief hesitation, he added softly,

“Maybe.”

The soldier, startled by the sword at his throat, soon slumped as if resigned.

Just as Ghislain was about to ask his question, the soldier let out a sigh, sounding annoyed, and muttered:

“Sigh, Young Master. Why are you doing this again? Are you bored? Can’t you just return to the castle?”

“...Huh?”

Ghislain was at a loss for words, completely bewildered. Even if he were a prisoner, how could a mere soldier dare speak like this to the King of Mercenaries?

But then...

This annoyance... felt strangely familiar.