LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 5
Chapter 5
June 25, Year 1692 of the Common Era.
Summer arrived without warning, ruthlessly sweeping through the southern provinces of the Old Republic.
"R-Run...!"
"It’s the Uruk! The Uruk are here...!"
"Mommyyyyy!"
The first defensive line had collapsed.
People fled in tears, trampling over the corpses of their loved ones, carrying only their livestock and meager possessions.
Northward, toward the Inferno Line. Or east, toward the capital city of the Republic, Terbenopel.
With the situation so dire, the White Skull Corps continued their southward march. Even amidst the advance, Camilla had to train Kaisen.
Even if the training ground was the battlefield.
"Listen."
As the Uruk war battalion roared and charged from the front, Camilla spoke.
"Our job is to serve as reserves, plugging any gaps in the main force’s defenses."
"So we’re supposed to go on a date with the Uruk in this weather? I wouldn’t do this even for a beautiful woman."
"Jin, as if a beautiful woman would meet with trash like you, even in the rain. Be grateful the Uruk will."
"Puhahaha!"
"I remember exactly who just laughed."
"Gulp."
"Are you done?"
"Yes, ma’am."
"Then shut up. All troops, assemble."
Camilla’s corps formed an orderly line, fully equipped for battle.
2,117 riflemen.
883 spearmen.
24 beastkin soldiers, including Eltoram.
All riflemen were elite grenadiers, wielding steam grenades. In short, every soldier in the corps was a specialist.
"And Kaisen! You stick to my back. If you screw up and get someone else killed, I’ll personally end you. Got it?"
The boy who stepped forward at the call was pale.
Not from fear.
The aftereffects of having his mana gates forcibly opened still hadn’t fully subsided. Even the pounding of his own heart felt like agony, but he had no time to falter.
Wolf’s gaze was filled with concern.
"Camilla, does Kaisen really have to be in this battle?"
"It’s his choice. Are you coming or not? Are you scared? If you are, then turn back and run. No one will blame you."
At her harsh words, Eltoram nudged Kaisen in the ribs and whispered some advice.
"Courage isn’t about feeling no fear. It’s about standing your ground despite it."
No verbal response was needed. Kaisen answered by stepping into formation alongside the mercenaries.
And so, his first battle began.
The childhood of the great hero who would define the beginning and end of the Heroic Age—
***
The parched grass of early summer bent weakly under the drizzle—only to be trampled mercilessly by the Uruk.
Gunfire.
The clash of steel.
The roars of the Uruk.
The screams of men.
A cacophony of chaos mixed with the rain, saturating the air with the stench of blood.
Calm down.
Kaisen clenched his trembling hands. Please... just calm down.
"Black signal flare on the right flank! That’s a breach signal!"
"Confirmed. Moving out."
Camilla sprinted toward the source of the signal.
Following her lead, the heavily armed White Skull Corps swiftly repositioned themselves.
Camilla glanced at Eltoram, who kept pace beside her.
"Eltoram! How many?"
"Judging by the scent, at least a thousand. Hard to be exact in the rain."
"That’s enough."
She was fast.
How could she be so fast?
The soldiers were quick, but Camilla, wielding the Holy Sword, was by far the fastest at the front of the charge.
The Holy Sword is said to be so heavy that even three or four grown men can barely lift it...
Camilla glanced back at Kaisen, who was struggling to keep up, and barked.
"Is the sword too heavy? Can’t handle it? Good! Then drop it and get the hell out of here!"
Never let go of your sword—that was Camilla’s first lesson.
He hadn’t realized before.
Just how damn cumbersome a sword could be.
Especially when it’s this...
A blade as long as he was tall.
There was no need to mention how its weight crushed his entire frame, and its absurd length created endless logistical nightmares.
Right now, sprinting across the chaotic battlefield, those issues were at their worst.
Cold sweat trickled down his skin.
His heart pounded as if it would explode.
Kaisen clenched his teeth so hard they nearly cracked.
It’s not heavy.
It’s not a burden.
Mom carried both me and my sister for miles and still smiled, even until the very end.
He would learn. He had to learn.
How to wield a sword. Everything his mother had taught this foul-mouthed woman, from beginning to end.
So that one day, I can slaughter every last Uruk—
Rain and sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging. He raised a hand to wipe it away.
And in that moment—
"────El Ba shi!"
Chaos erupted in an instant.
His mind could only register fragments of the scene.
"PAaaaaaaaaaaaaat!"
A wagon wheel hurtled through the air.
The spearman whose chest was crushed beneath it, vomiting blood and a scream.
The scent of iron.
A desperate cry—"Enemy attack!"
And then, from all directions, monstrous roars filled the air.
Uruk.
A rifleman collapsed, blood spurting from a gaping wound where a massive axe had split his torso.
Camilla unsheathed the Holy Sword.
"Wolf, take the left!"
The battle became a chaotic melee.
The beastkin soldiers engaged the Uruk in brutal hand-to-hand combat, while the spearmen formed a circular defense around the riflemen, who fired steam-powered bullets with deadly precision.
Blood and death painted the battlefield.
Everywhere, crimson splashed across the mud.
Kaisen gasped for breath.
Why?
It had only been an instant, yet it felt like an eternity.
"S-Someone... save me..."
At the moment Kaisen turned in shock, the half-dead rifleman crawling on the ground had his skull shattered by a warhammer.
The Uruk chuckled, locking eyes with Kaisen. A bone fragment lodged into his forehead, and brain matter and flesh clung to his hair.
—Mom’s most precious treasure in the world...
A distant memory.
The guiding star he had set for himself that day.
Instead of letting him spiral into panic, his consciousness sharpened into clarity.
Kill...
Within that single, resounding echo of fate, his frenzied breaths calmed, and his heartbeat settled into stillness.
Kill. He had to kill.
Murderous intent surged within him. He drew his single-edged sword from his back.
Not one.
Not even a single one would be spared.
The next moment, the Uruk lunged at Kaisen, swinging its warhammer.
Tenfold Cross Blade, Form One: Circular Guard.
The ultimate defensive stance, crossing sword and scabbard to absorb incoming blows.
BOOM!
A deafening impact.
A searing pain shot through his wrist, threatening to break it.
'What monstrous strength...'
His stance crumbled. He was flung backward, slamming against the trunk of a withered tree.
He coughed up blood from internal trauma, his vision wavering, but he saw the Uruk approaching with its weapon raised.
Everything—the screams, the rain—blurred into a slow-motion nightmare as the creature loomed over him.
"Ro de a... Balkrush?"
Then, fortune struck twice.
First, the Uruk hesitated upon seeing the Balkrush Clan emblem scarred onto Kaisen’s left cheek.
"Kaisen!"
A piercing hum rang out.
Second, Wolf had noticed Kaisen’s predicament and sent forth a frost spell, spearing through the Uruk’s hand.
With a pained roar, the warhammer flew from its grasp.
In that instant, the Uruk’s hand was severed at the wrist, spraying blood into the air.
Whose attack was that?
It was Kaisen’s.
Tenfold Cross Blade, Form Two: Piercing Strike.
Then, almost instinctively—no, driven by sheer reflex—he leapt forward for the kill.
Yet, just before his blade reached the Uruk’s throat, a fist slammed into his abdomen.
The force should have knocked him out. He should have dropped his sword and collapsed.
Don't black out.
If it had been any other human child in his place—
I end it here.
His vision darkened, but he gritted his teeth hard enough to crack them.
His grip on the sword remained firm.
The blade extended, impaling through the Uruk’s throat, then severing its spine.
For a brief moment, time stood still.
He panted heavily. As he yanked the sword free, something burst forth, soaking him entirely.
Blood.
The Uruk’s blood was red, just like a human’s.
Did all of the Creator’s beings share the same crimson blood?
He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it.
So he stabbed again.
"Shi... Shimdi ttera..."
Shock clouded the Uruk’s dying eyes.
It reached out, clawing toward Kaisen.
Kaisen remained still.
Just before its hand touched his head, he lightly kicked it aside, and the creature crumpled to the ground, its wide eyes left forever open.
"..."
He stared at the corpse.
No, he stared at his own reflection in its dead eyes.
The rain continued to fall.
His breath felt suffocating.
Is this... over? Is this really the end?*
His first kill did not bring satisfaction.
It did not bring vengeance.
It brought only a hollow sense of loss.
An overwhelming despair that spilled out in laughter—no, in sobs disguised as laughter.
"Ha... Ahaha... Ahahahaha... Ha... Hahahahahaha... Haha... Hih... Ha..."
Laughter? Or weeping? Perhaps it was self-mockery.
Even if he slaughtered thousands, even if he built a river of blood with the corpses of his enemies—
His mother would never return.
"Hah, that kid’s incredible. He took down an Uruk with a single blade."
Eltoram raised an eyebrow.
As the veteran mercenaries whistled, Camilla, who had just cleaved through five Uruk in one sweep, strode over and smacked Kaisen across the face.
"Why the hell are you crying? What are you bawling about? You think crying on the battlefield does anything? Are you asking to die?"
"..."
"Didn’t you say you wanted to kill the Uruk? You think this mindset will get you there? How many people have to die protecting you before you finally toughen up?"
"...!"
"In the world of the sword, no one will come to save you! Not a single person! You survive alone with nothing but your blade!"
That loneliness was the weight of destiny.
It was the fate of a boy who had stepped onto the path of the sword.
Camilla, who had walked—and continued to walk—that very path of pain, sorrow, and hardship, wanted to make sure he understood.
"Camilla, that’s enough. Kaisen knows."
That day, in the pouring rain, Kaisen’s hysterical laughter had turned into quiet sobs only after Wolf held him close and patted his back for a long, long time.
Grief-stricken, agonized weeping.
[Perhaps that was the day... when the boy’s childhood truly ended.]
Johann concluded Kaisen’s childhood in his journal with those words.
That day, the childhood of a hero came to an end.
Afterward, Kaisen officially became part of the corps, and every battlefield saw him grow as a warrior.
"Urgent message from the left flank! One hundred and fifty Blashwolf cavalry are ravaging the front line!"
"Hey. Slacker, you handle it. If you mess up like last time, you’re dead."
"Not happening."
Kaisen killed and killed again.
With every kill, he mastered another Tenfold Cross Blade technique.
With every battle, he grew more precise, more ruthless.
"Is that really the same kid Camilla used to beat like a dog?"
"I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified..."
"At this rate, 'Uruk Slayer' won’t just be a joke—it’ll be a reality."
He cut, again and again.
Every Uruk that crossed his path, he slew without hesitation.
War had replaced his life. The stench of blood and leather clung to him like a second skin.
"Kaisen."
"Kaisen, you take care of this."
"Kaisen, you go."
Four years passed.
In those four years, the boy became a swordsman.
Summer had turned into the peak of midsummer.
And then came the retreat.
"We’re pulling back?"
The griffins—humanity’s fastest messengers—brought the inevitable news of defeat.
The first act of a godless war was reaching its conclusion.
"Hey, slacker."
Camilla called out to the boy sharpening his sword while perched on a distant boulder. The boy silently lifted his head.
He had become a veteran of the corps.
The very same Kaisen who, four years ago, had recklessly challenged Camilla to a duel without a thought for his own life.
"?"
His appearance had changed in many ways beyond just his height.
His unruly hair fell messily over his brows, his once-new quilted armor now faded and yellowed with wear.
The sword he was sharpening with a whetstone—a long-bladed tachi nearly his own height—was a weapon modeled after the Supreme Holy Sword, Aradamantel.
"Got a new assignment for you."
Four years had been more than enough.
More than enough to turn a once-cheerful and mischievous boy into a hardened, emotionless swordsman.
"Uruk forces are moving toward Fortress No. 7 on the Inferno Line. You’ll go ahead and defend the battery."
"Enemy numbers?"
"How should I know? If the vanguard lands, probably around a thousand."
"And what do I get?"
"I’ll teach you one more technique."
"A single technique for a thousand enemies? Three."
"Three? That’s more than you’ve got balls for. Where’s your sense of fairness?"
"?"
"One. But it’s a secret technique of Tenfold Cross Blade, one that specializes in mass slaughter."
Kaisen sheathed his tachi.
He secured it to the scabbard on his lower back and stood. The mercenaries watching let out a cheer.
"Damn, it’s Kaisen again!"
"Lady Camilla, you’re always giving him important jobs these days."
"That’s because the rest of you are useless garbage. He’s the only one I can use."
The one at the center of their cheers, however, remained cold, his face set in a chilling expression beyond mere indifference.
"Don’t screw around and die before you even earn your pay. Just hold the line. I’ll handle the main force."
Kaisen shot Camilla a challenging glare, his lips curling in a mocking smirk.
"You should worry about the Uruk’s survival instead."