The world around him was blurry.
Kenjirou's body ached, every muscle screaming in pain.
His vision slowly adjusted, revealing the dim glow of a small lantern.
A gentle voice spoke nearby.
"Oh, don't move too much. You're still heavily injured."
Kenjirou winced, feeling bandages wrapped tightly around his wounds.
His mind was foggy.
Where… am I?
How was he still alive?
"…How did I get here?"
The figure tending to him paused.
Then, in a calm tone, they replied—
"A villager found you by the river."
Kenjirou's breath hitched.
A river?
That ant he had drifted far—very far—from Armand.
He gritted his teeth, flashes of mory stabbing into his mind.
The massacre.
The monstrous boy with lifeless eyes.
The hamr crushing his comrades.
The limitless rage, the terrifying power.
A cold sweat ford on his forehead.
His hands trembled.
Javier…
He wasn't just so noble brat.
He was a monster.
Kenjirou felt sothing he had never experienced before.
Pure, paralyzing fear.
Kenjirou slowly turned his head, his breathing shallow.
The girl treating him sat beside
She looked human— but sothing about her was different.
Her skin was light brown
But what stood out most—were the markings on her skin.
Not tattoos.
Not paint.
But intricate, natural patterns, glowing faintly
Kenjirou narrowed his eyes, his voice hoarse.
"…Who are you?"
The girl paused, tilting her head slightly.
Then—she smiled.
"You should worry about yourself before asking questions, stranger."
Kenjirou gritted his teeth, frustration flaring—but he had no strength to argue.
He glanced around, realizing sothing else.
The style of the tent.
The design of her clothing.
The sll of herbs unfamiliar to him.
This wasn't human territory.
And this place—this culture—was sothing he had never seen before.
Kenjirou forced himself to speak again.
"…Where am I?"
The girl finished tying the bandage, then leaned back, studying him.
Then, with a small smile, she replied—
"Far, far from your holand, warrior."
Kenjirou's stomach twisted.
Just how far had that river carried him?
And more importantly—what kind of land had he ended up in?
Kenjirou stared at the girl as she stood up.
She dusted off her hands, giving him a small nod.
"Look, you better not move too much. The others are preparing food for you."
Kenjirou swallowed, his throat dry.
"…O-okay… Thank you…"
The girl smiled faintly.
"Don't worry about it."
Then—she stepped outside, leaving him alone.
Silence filled the tent.
Kenjirou took a shaky breath.
His entire body ached.
His arms felt… wrong.
Slowly—he tried moving his right hand.
It twitched weakly.
Weak.
Weaker than it had ever been before.
He gritted his teeth.
"…Damn it…"
Then—he turned his focus to his left hand.
He willed it to move.
Nothing.
Not even a twitch.
His heart pounded in his chest.
Desperation kicked in.
He focused harder.
Still—nothing.
His breath grew unsteady.
His mind scread.
Why…?
Kenjirou forced himself up—
But then—his world tilted.
Sothing was missing.
Sothing felt wrong.
His eyes darted down.
And then—he finally saw it.
His left arm… ended at the shoulder.
There was nothing there.
Gone.
Kenjirou's breath caught in his throat.
His eyes widened in horror.
His mind scread.
No.
No, no, no—
This had to be a dream.
He tried to move it.
But there was nothing to move.
His vision blurred.
Tears slipped down his face.
His entire life—his very existence in this world, had revolved around his sword.
And now—he only had one hand left to hold it.
Kenjirou let out a strangled, broken gasp.
Kenjirou stared at his missing arm, his body trembling.
But even as tears slipped down his face, his mind clung to sothing else.
Sothing more painful than his missing limb.
His pride.
His mind dragged him back to the past—
Back to when he and the other summoned heroes fought alongside two of the kingdom's greatest warriors.
Cedric Armand—the strongest Paladin.
Marcellus Armand—the strongest Mage.
They had been their ntors.
The two sons of Count Garius had trained them, accompanied them into dungeons, helped them grow stronger.
Kenjirou respected them.
Admired them.
But their little brother?
Javier?
A spoiled brat. A weakling.
Or so he had always believed.
Kenjirou had never cared about him.
To him, Javier had been just another arrogant noble child.
That was why—when the church spoke of Armand's 'evil,' he didn't question it.
The Saint of Three Gods had decreed it.
The Goddess who blessed him had willed it.
Armand was a land of heretics.
Armand waged war against weaker regions.
Armand bullied the weak.
Armand was in league with the Demon King.
And he, as a chosen hero, had been sent to purge them.
Kenjirou had believed in that mission with all his heart.
But now—
His entire party was dead.
The "weak, spoiled noble brat" had annihilated them.
No.
Not just annihilated.
Slaughtered.
Without hesitation. Without rcy.
The way Javier moved.
The way he fought.
The limitless rage in his eyes.
Kenjirou felt his own blood turn cold.
Javier was no ordinary noble.
He was a monster.
A devil disguised as a human.
A demon hiding within Armand all along.
Kenjirou's breathing grew ragged.
His body was broken.
His faith was shaken.
But his hatred remained.
His purpose remained.
Kenjirou gritted his teeth, forcing himself up despite the pain.
His voice was hoarse, but filled with raw determination.
"…Just you wait…"
His fingernails dug into his palm.
"…I will…"
His vision blurred with exhaustion.
His body collapsed back onto the bed.
I will kill you.
I will cleanse this world.
And all shall bow before the Goddess who blessed .
His friends—his comrades—were dead.
The people who stood beside him, who fought for the Goddess' will, were slaughtered.
And who killed them?
A heretic. A devil.
Javier Armand.
That cursed land had to be erased.
Every soldier. Every noble. Every single person in Armand.
He would wipe them all out.
He would burn their cities.
He would bring holy judgnt upon them.
But first—he needed power.
Power beyond what the Goddess had already given him.
Javier was stronger.
Javier was faster.
Javier was sothing beyond human.
And Kenjirou couldn't accept that.
He didn't care how much he had to sacrifice.
He didn't care what he had to do.
Even if he had to abandon honor, abandon reason, abandon his very soul—
He would find a way.
And when the ti ca—
It wouldn't matter if Marcellus stood in his way.
It wouldn't matter if Cedric tried to stop him.
It wouldn't matter if all of Armand rose against him.
He would cut them down.
His lips curled into a bitter, twisted smile.
"Javier…"
His voice was barely a whisper.
"…Just you wait."
( End of Chapter )
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