"Did you find him!?" Quinn’s sharp voice cut through the morning air like a blade.

She was speaking to one of the orcs from her unit.

The poor guy froze, stumbling over his words. "N–No, ma’am. We searched the area you told us to... he isn’t there."

Before Quinn could say anything more, everyone turned toward the sound of footsteps.

Mine.

As I walked up the last few stairs, silence swallowed the place whole. Every eye was on me. Quinn just stood there, eeys wide in shock.

Lydia and Sera both froze where they were.

Tugnier, still sitting on his stone seat, looked at me, and a slow grin spread across his face.

"Now the stories are more believable..." he murmured, his tone amused.

Lydia’s voice came next, softer and uncertain. "Those are the same eyes... from back then..."

My left hand carried Blood Raven, still sheathed. The belt that once held it had torn somewhere along the way, so I just threw it aside.

My right arm rested the leather bag with etherium over my shoulder.

I could feel how much I’d changed.

All those stat points I’d poured into stamina and strength had reshaped me. My body felt heavier, stronger.

My black hair now brushed my shoulders, my beard had grown out, and I could feel raw power pulsing through every muscle.

Generally.. when people train, their stats grow overtime and their bodies grow with time too. But in certain cases, especially with the people who have mastery of Sovereign’s aura, their aging halts or rather appear halted.

Most warlords currently were above hundred, but they look like they were in their fifties. The current swordking is 318 years old when he died in my past life.

In other words, in this world, due to sudden powerups and breakthroughs, the body grows or regresses to contain that power.

The same logic can be applied for when stat points are suddenly dumped into my eighteen-year-old body.

Though that only happens to me since only I posses the warlord’s system.

Thud.

I stepped onto the final stair.

"Rune..." Sera’s voice came softly from my right. Her arms were close to her chest, worry clouding her eyes.

I turned to her. The mana inside her pulsed fiercely, bright and controlled.

Good. She can handle herself now.

"R–Rune," Quinn said, trying to steady her voice. "I was just asking for you. Are you... ready?"

I looked down at myself, shirt half torn, pants frayed at the bottom, boots cracked and scuffed from training.

My reflection would’ve looked nothing like me from a few days ago.

"I am," I said simply, then turned toward Tugnier.

"Any changes in the strategy we discussed that day?"

Tugnier shook his head. "No. Just like you told us, we kept it exactly the same."

"Good."

He stood from his seat, stretching his broad shoulders. "We should speak to the soldiers. Boost their morale before the fight."

I followed his gaze down toward the open field.

Five hundred orcs stood in ranks, shields and weapons gleaming faintly under the morning sun. They looked ready, but the tension in their eyes was clear.

Drane and Rack’s absence must’ve hit them hard. Still, it was better this way. Two traitors gone was worth any dent in morale.

They’re in the underground prison by now, and that’s where they’ll stay.

Tugnier was about to call for the speech when I spoke.

"No time," I said.

He turned to me, confused.

"She’s already here."

The words had barely left my mouth before I caught movement, something slicing through the air.

Fffsh!

An arrow.

I lifted my hand and caught it just inches before it could pierce my eye. The wooden shaft trembled between my fingers. With a quick flick of my thumb, I snapped the arrowhead clean off.

Tugnier’s voice boomed instantly, his warrior’s instinct kicking in.

"Everyone! Raise your shields!"

And then, The sky darkened.

A storm of arrows poured down on us like rain.

The arrows slammed into the shields with deafening thuds, a storm of steel clattering over iron. The orcs held firm, teeth gritted, boots digging into the dirt. The smell of metal and dust filled the air.

I looked past them, toward the horizon. The faint morning light caught on moving metal.

Dozens, no, hundreds of iron glints shimmered in the distance. Rows upon rows of armored SBV guards marched forward, their polished blades catching the sun like a creeping tide of death.

Behind them, the archers reloaded, their strings pulling back in a perfect rhythm.

"Tormund," I muttered under my breath.

Tugnier followed my gaze, his face darkening as realization struck. He was about to roar an order when I said calmly,

"Don’t."

He froze mid-breath. "What?"

"The one leading them from this side is Tormund," I said, my tone low and firm. "Which means Merin is coming from behind. Stick to the strategy. Take the soldiers. The three of you, fight the matchups we discussed. Nothing else."

Tugnier looked torn, his jaw tight. But after a long breath, he nodded once.

"No way!" Quinn barked, stepping forward. Her eyes blazed with disbelief. Sera and Lydia flanked her, faces just as fierce.

"We can’t leave you alone against hundreds of soldiers!" Quinn protested. "You’ll be surrounded!"

Lydia added, "We understand we can’t divide the army by not sending everyone to face Merin, but what about you ?!" Her eyes, once filled with fear, now burned with defiance.

I sighed. "What are you all blabbering about? Can’t even follow a simple plan?"

My voice came out harsher than I intended, but maybe they needed that.

I dropped the leather bag of etherium at my feet and drew Blood Raven in one clean motion.

The dark blade hummed in my hand, its edge faintly glowing from the residue of mana that still lived within it.

"Rune, you can’t use Aura Blade!" Lydia shouted, her voice cracking.

But I ignored her. I wasn’t going to anyway.

I crouched down and drove Blood Raven’s point into the etherium inside the bag. The air around me distorted instantly.

A hole, small, black, and pulsing, formed in front of me like a tear in space itself.

A thin stream of dark smoke leaked from my left eye.

And then.

Crack.

The sky split.

Dozens of holes appeared, scattered all across the horizon, above, below, around the marching SBV army. Each shimmered with a dark, spiraling glow.

A low hum filled the air as I raised my hand, my palm glowing with condensed mana. Then a beam, deep, black, and sharp, shot out from my hand into the portal before me.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then the world screamed.

Every hole unleashed its fury. Beams burst out from above the SBV army, carving through steel and flesh alike.

Men were sliced in half before they even realized what was happening. The marching formation turned into chaos, screams drowned beneath the sound of tearing air and cracking ground.

Arms, legs, heads... the earth painted itself red as if the world itself rejected their existence.

It didn’t even take twelve seconds.

And then there was nothing but silence... and the faint sound of steel clinking as it fell to the ground.

"Why would I waste Aura Blade on these ants?" I said quietly, turning back to them.

Quinn, Lydia, and Sera just stood there. Their faces pale, eyes wide, staring at the glow of scattered iron from the bodies that once formed an army.

"...What...?" Quinn finally breathed, voice barely audible.

The orcs who had just moments ago been gripping their shields in fear suddenly erupted into cheers.

"WOOOOAAAAHHHH!" Their roars shook the very ground.

The remaining soldiers, no more than thirty archers, stood frozen in the distance. Among them, one familiar face remained calm, stepping forward through the smoke.

Tormund. The second in command, after Merin herself.

I let out a slow breath, rolling my shoulders as I lifted Blood Raven once more.

"The ones left are thirty archers and Tormund," I said. "He’s my matchup. I’m sticking to the plan. Don’t mess things up on your end."

Quinn stared for a moment, then sighed and looked at Tugnier. He barked new orders immediately.

"Men! Follow me!"

The orcs’ morale surged, their roars echoing across the valley.

"YEEAAAHHHH!"

Before he could leave, I called out, "Tugnier."

He stopped, glancing back.

"Remember, your job is only to tire Merin out. Don’t get overconfident and go for the kill."

I paused, my voice dropping lower. "She might not be stronger than you... but she’s far more dangerous. If you slip even a little..."

I looked him straight in the eyes. "...it won’t be you who ends up dead."

His eyes widened in understanding. He nodded once, firmly, then turned and charged with the others to the other side of the settlement.

Lydia and Sera lingered for a heartbeat longer, their eyes meeting mine. I gave a small nod.

They finally smiled, albeit faintly, as if finding a strange comfort in it, and followed Quinn down the ridge.

Their fights should go smoothly. Once they finished their matchups, they’d regroup and hit Merin. That was the plan. And I was the key, after they tired her out.

I took one last breath, then jumped down. The air beneath my feet pulsed as I landed, kicking up a blast of dust.

Across the field, through the haze of blood and smoke, a familiar figure walked forward.

"Long time no see, Tormund."

The hulking man stopped, his golden armor streaked with dust and blood.

In my past life, Quinn faught him and killed him but at the expense of tiring herself out so much that she died from the stab to heart by a regular foot soldier, a nobody.

Things changed, so will fate.