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  The village was surrounded by towering cobblestone walls that seemed too grand for a poor village. Overall the village had the air of a fortress. The walls were of course there to defend against outside enemies such as demi-humans. They had once been mere embankments, but through much labor and expense they had become towering structures that stood as a testament to the efforts of the forefathers.

  The village was the domain of a great house, known as House Moloch.

  The head of that house was Moloch Vezin — a ferocious warrior also known throughout the borderlands as the Iron Taurus.

  He stood so tall that he had to stoop whenever he passed through a doorway, his muscular body was built like a barrel, and a stumpy neck held his head firmly in place. His stern gaze could fix an opponent in place just as well as that of any mad bull, and it had been known to make crying children instantly go quiet.

  This baron hated to sit idle and was often seen on the soldiers’ training ground. Today was not the first day that he’d scoured the training ground in search of a victim while the soldiers in training tried desperately to avoid his gaze.

  “I’ll give you some real training.”

  The Iron Taurus appeared to have chosen his partner for that day.

  It was a rule in the village that boys would become soldiers once they reached the age of 13. They’d then be expected to help protect the village until illness or injury left them unable to fight or until it was accepted that old age had robbed them of their strength. The men knew well enough how serious the situation of this village was, so when afternoon arrived and their farming work was more or less complete, they would gather in the village square without needing to be told. There they would spend their time endlessly repeating drills that taught them how to kill their enemies.

  Training was led by Basco, a mature man with a large scar on his forehead. He’d earned respect after living through countless battles. He’d earned his exceptional physical strength by killing many enemies and consuming the marrow of just as many godstones. Basco’s strength was always enough to leave his sparring partners with numb hands, he always finished first in any race despite his age, and he could jump with such power that a single wall jump could place him on the roof of a house. Needless to say, he was one of Lag’s greatest warriors, and young soldiers aiming for the top ranks considered him their ultimate rival.

  Basco took on the task of training those foot soldiers without ever seeming dissatisfied... except at times like this. As the most noticeable soldier, he had found himself the target of the baron’s “invitation.”

  The baron was the strongest guardian bearer in the village, and Basco was one of a select few capable of making the pretense of fighting against him, even in the context of training. Worthy opponent or not, Basco was always likely to be the one on the receiving end of the baron’s invitations to train.

  The baron appeared to be in a good mood as he brandished a long wooden training staff. Basco briefly tried to look pleased too in an attempt to hide his reluctance, then his face carried no expression at all as he stepped forward. His short black hair, flecked with gray, disappeared beneath a wooden helmet, and he deftly put on a well-worn breastplate made from yellowish-brown leather. Then he assumed an oblique stance with his staff projecting forward.

  “Let us enjoy a good, fair bout, my lord.”

  “Indeed. I’ll show you all myself how a fight should go. You’d all do well to watch closely. I’m going to show you what a fight against a powerful warrior looks like! If you’d avoid dying a meaningless death, you’d best never approach such a warrior unless you absolutely must... But the time may come when no one is up to the task, and you’re all forced to hold back such a warrior yourselves.”

  With a brief nod, the baron began the farcical training.

  After bowing and then lightly tapping their staffs together, Basco and the baron both began side-stepping as if their steps were tracing the same circle. This was a characteristic feature of martial arts in the borderlands, known as circle footwork. To be more precise, this footwork was part of the Zula-ryu combat system, a form of martial arts named after Zula, a famous mercenary leader who fought countless battles in the borderlands long ago.

  There was soon cheering and heckling from the men lucky enough not to have been picked as the baron’s training partner. They’d become willing spectators the moment they knew they wouldn’t be the ones in harm’s way. In an instant the training ground was alive with a festival-like atmosphere, with happy cheers flying back and forth.

  “Kai.”

  Hearing his name, the boy looked round.

  The uproar in the training ground was so great that he barely heard the voice. He saw Manso making his way towards him through the spectating soldiers and realized that it was Manso who’d called his name.

  Manso gradually made his way over, apologizing to other soldiers when he blocked their view, and once he reached Kai he sat down beside him and casually thrust something into Kai’s hands.

  Confused, Kai took hold of it before he knew what it was. It was a morango: a small fruit that grew in purplish red bunches between rocks in the grasslands.

  His stomach rumbled the moment he laid eyes on it.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Eat up. It’s just something I saw by chance and picked. I know you’re struggling because they reduced your rations. They’re brutal when they see someone can’t work.”

  “Thanks. The hunger’s really getting to me.”

  He threw the entire morango into his mouth, and the sour taste made him grimace. While the taste left a lot to be desired, this was a precious source of sustenance in the borderlands. Realizing that Manso had decided to share rather than simply eating it himself, Kai thanked him again. “Seriously, thanks.”

  Ever since losing his parents at a young age in a battle against demi-humans, Kai had been in the care of the village. Kai was still small and overly skinny, and it was clear to see that he wasn’t growing as fast as most children around him. For this reason his squad leader Manso regularly fussed over him.

  “So you’re just watching again today?”

  “They tell me I should at least weed the training ground if I can’t work. But I already finished that. There’s nothing I can do.”

  “We’ve got less mouths to feed now, so just rest up and ignore anyone who’s nasty.”

  “I would, but I can’t. They all start talking about me and I can’t stand it.”

  “Just don’t overdo it. We lose you and our squad’s short one spear bearer. Word is, trouble’s brewing for a nearby village again. We’ll be in the shit if you’re not better soon.”

  “You heard some rumors?”

  “Just what I overheard, but there’s orgs making trouble for a village not far west.”

  It was a common story in the borderlands: before a demi-human raid there were always warning signs — happenings that were like bad omens. Some species liked to kidnap human women and children, and if they noticed humans with their guard down, they often couldn’t resist running ahead to satisfy their foul appetites. Orgs were the classic example, and humans felt a special kind of loathing toward them.

  “That means they’ll attack soon...”

  “Right. So get healed up.”

  Their gazes drifted back to the center of the town square where the baron and Basco were standing. They were both experienced fighters, so neither struck at the other carelessly, though every so often the ends of their weapons would come together just so they could gauge how far apart they stood. The sound of wood against wood reverberated across the training ground.

  Then the two fighters began an intense exchange of blows, and it was mostly Basco who was on the offensive. But of course, everyone knew that as powerful as Basco was, the baron was overwhelmingly stronger.

  It was likely that even a few strikes intended to keep his opponent on the defensive could result in Basco’s weapon being broken, no matter how lightly he tried to strike, so Basco qu
ickly gave up on using simple blows and focused more on his footwork as he leaped from place to place. His many years of training and powerful lower body gave Basco’s attacks versatility, and he could deliver each strike so fast that it was literally quicker than the eye.

  But the baron’s fearsome eyes seemed to track Basco perfectly; he reacted to each blow with minimal movement, knocking Basco’s staff aside each time.

  “Haah!” With a vigorous cry, Basco put his whole body into the next strike.

  His staff had consistently targeted the baron’s upper body, but now it struck downward as if trying to exploit some short-lived opening. Up to now, his attacks had been a feint, and the baron was caught off-guard.

  His target was the baron’s leg... his left leg at the center of the circle footwork key to his defense.

  He did it?! For a moment, the soldiers watching were cheering with hope for Basco, but it was short-lived.

  The reality was soon clear to everyone watching.

  The strike had indeed landed clean on the baron’s leg, and the sound had been enough to make the spectators wince... but the baron hadn’t budged an inch. When Basco chanced a glance up at his face, the baron was simply grinning back at him.

  “You can’t stop a powerful warrior with just a sweeping attack... Remember, the only attack a weakling fighting with a spear can rely on is a well-aimed thrust.”

  A sweep with Basco’s full strength behind it wasn’t even enough to put a scratch on a “powerful warrior” with greatly enhanced physical strength. The Iron Taurus had legs that looked as though they were carved from tree trunks, and there wasn’t so much as a bruise on them.

  The main reason for using a spear when fighting on foot was that the weapon’s length made it possible to stay out of reach of the enemy until they’d been knocked down. A thrust was the only way to kill an enemy, but striking and sweeping at the enemy to break their posture before the thrust was one way of making it easier to land a fatal blow, so strikes and sweeps were still incredibly useful ways of using a spear.

  But guardian bearers — those exceptional humans blessed by a god bound to their land — were on a level far beyond the reach of ordinary individuals. Much like his son Olha who’d fought during the recent battle, the baron was a guardian bearer in possession of one of the spirits passed down by House Moloch through multiple generations. This spirit was the greatest spirit in House Moloch’s possession; it belonged to a god bound to the village of Lag, and it granted the bearer with exceptional strength.

  The people of the village referred to this god as “The Great Lagdara of our village.”

  “You’re not fighting a foot soldier. Don’t sweep; thrust! Try it and you might just pierce your opponents’ hardened defenses!”

  “Hah...” Basco had decided to ignore this wisdom. He swiftly moved back, and with two skilled hands he began to spin the long staff with great energy. Though the baron had instructed him to thrust, Basco had no intention of doing as he was told.

  As the most skilled spear bearer in the village, Basco hardly needed a lecture on the nature of the spear. Basco seemed determined to attempt another sweep, now with additional power from the force of rotation. With the staff spinning in his hands, Basco’s grip gradually shifted toward the butt of the staff. As his grip shifted, the circle traced by the staff grew larger. As the tip of the staff moved further and further from the center, it accelerated dramatically with the growing of the circle.

  The baron saw what was happening. “Come at me,” he said, gesturing for Basco to approach.

  The strongest warrior in the village seemed pleased that there was someone willing to challenge him.

  When Basco judged that the rotational force had reached its peak, he chose that instant to slide his grip to the very edge of the staff, increasing the size of the circle to the maximum extent. Without hesitation, he finally directed that rotational force into the baron’s left leg.

  The baron took the hit without even trying to defend himself.

  The tip of the training staff shattered into small pieces with a cracking sound so great that the spectators felt an instinctive urge to close their eyes. Every man watching then fixed his gaze on the left leg of the baron. They all must have had a similar thought: he might be a guardian bearer, but surely, with a hit like that...

  But there was his leg, unchanged and unharmed, while Basco stood with his broken staff withdrawn and his head bowed.

  As for the baron, he was gazing down at Basco like nothing had happened. However, his face now looked as Olha’s had on the battlefield: it was covered by the red markings known as kumadori. It may have been that the supernatural protector that guarded the baron had sensed that its host was in crisis, automatically unleashing its power.

  “I’m impressed.”

  On hearing praise from the baron, Basco stepped back with his head still bowed. However...

  “Someone get the man a new staff.”

  With that order given, Basco’s opportunity to stand down was lost. Instead, he was given a replacement staff and forced to continue in his farcical training session with the baron. By the time Basco was set free, a quarter of a toki had passed and he was badly beaten. Guardian bearers had inexhaustible stores of energy.

  Manso cursed as he watched Basco being carried off on a stretcher. “We needed Basco for the expedition!” His words produced some awkward laughs from the men around him. They all knew it was unlikely that Basco would be fit for the looming battle with the wounds he’d just received. Lag’s combat potential had just been severely downgraded.

  The baron drank deeply from a pot of water, satisfied and seemingly oblivious to the anguish he’d caused for the commoners around him. He was in high spirits as he left the training ground. The baron was a compassionate ruler who commanded great respect from his people, but in the heat of battle, he was often quick to forget his surroundings.

  As Kai watched the baron leave, he noticed his son Olha appear and follow behind him. Kai started to think about the unfairness of the world he lived in.

  If you’re not a guardian bearer, it’s like you’re playing life on hard mode. He was confused by the words that came into his own head. Hard mode? What’s that?

  Lately, Kai often looked like he was deep in thought, and people around him had taken it as a sign that he’d become more mature after being badly wounded in battle, but that was a misunderstanding.

  As Olha fell in step with the baron and the two disappeared, several young girls, who must have been watching, came out from their hiding places and began talking loudly in shrill voices. These girls were often seen near Olha.

  Continued fighting had left the village with many more females than males. And yet, many of the men in the village were shunned by the women. The reason was simple. It was only natural for the women of the village to flock to the stronger men, and for the other men, this problem was worsened by an unreasonable rule set that left them with a vanishingly small chance of ever becoming strong.

  Monogamy had never been an important concept in this world, and harems were generally encouraged.

  The loud laughter from the girls then stopped as a pale-skinned girl appeared and dispersed the group with a wave of her hand. This was another of the baron’s children. Her eyes were red like rubies, and there was no pigment to her white hair and skin. Most people knew her as Lady White. Her real name was Jose, and she was a young girl with dreamlike beauty. To the men of the village she was a prize beyond reach, and all felt some level of admiration toward her.

  You’d call someone like that an albino, right? This new word left Kai deep in thought once again.

  4

  As a rule, all soldiers in Lag lived together in a barracks situated next to the village castle. It had always been claimed that this was for the sake of fostering solidarity between the men, but it would have been truer to say that the soldiers were kept close at hand so that they could be swiftly mobilized in times of crisis.

  For the sold
iers themselves, this arrangement meant they were guaranteed a meal in the morning and in the evening, so it wasn’t without benefits.

  “Praise be to Mother Earth!”

  “Praise be.”

  “And we give thanks to the brave spirit of the land god who resides here in the land of our forefathers.”

  “We give thanks.”

  After prayers had been said, and the baron had been given enough time to take the first bite, everyone began their meal. The baron’s table was in a special, slightly elevated position, with several other long tables arranged around it, packed with people eating dinner.

  Today’s dinner was a very watery soup with small pieces of potato, some hard bread, and prit that had simply been boiled. Naturally, before taking their seats, soldiers had to line up before the serving girls to be given their food. It was an unspoken rule that the less useful soldiers belonged at the back of the line, and that they’d be given only what was left after the fitter men had been served. As usual, Kai had been given some squashed rye bread with obvious spots of mold, and some soup with not a single piece of potato in it. Prit was currently in season, but none was given to Kai.

  “Stare all you like, I’m not sharing mine with you.”

  “No, I was just curious...”

  Kai stared at the prit given to the soldier next to him and thought, That looks just like green asparagus. He was interested, but not particularly fond of vegetables, so it wasn’t a lie to say he was just curious.

  Suddenly his thoughts were full of confusing information and terminology. Making sense of it all had been an unending task for Kai each day and night. Originally, Kai had been sorely lacking any understanding of the world, and most of these new terms that came to him just left him puzzled.

  It looks like the kind of thing that’s “nutritious”... but what are “vitamins”?

  Kai was gathering these thoughts that seemed like memories from a past life, and was trying to use them to gain some new understanding of the world he lived in. This past self with all of their knowledge felt like a completely different person, and for a clueless young boy like Kai, the flood of information he was experiencing was enough to rapidly develop his sense of the world around him.