Chapter 36

The approach isn't necessary. Your body trembles beside the sword, completely static, your heart races, and the beads of sweat on your neck bead, receiving small cuts in the process.

Slowly and gradually, mana continues to gather around the blade, creating, even though its edge remains distant, a growing cut mark on the commander's neck.

His fear is obvious and is reflected in his face, but he couldn't falter, he couldn't. Doing so would be admitting that the demons were right, that his subordinates, his comrades, died because of a decision they themselves made, something that killed thousands.

He may not be a leader, and he knows it, but since they followed him, he couldn't, after their deaths obeying his orders, allow their honors to be tarnished.

"...Kill me..." said the commander, his voice infused with a confidence he himself wouldn't recognize, let alone the rest of his body. "It won't make a difference... You doing this won't change the fact that we were merely defending ourselves amidst your senseless invasions!"

The blade approached, slashing his throat even without touching it, but even with the warm blood being expelled and running down his skin, he didn't stop;

"Furthermore, think for a moment. Unlike you, who would have much land to gain, what would we gain by starting this damned war? A damn territory that can't be invaded!?"

There was no turning back, he knew. And as he briefly looked into Carlos's eyes, the commander saw that he too had already decided what to do next.

Pulling the blade back to gain momentum is unnecessary, as not even air would pass unscathed by that sword at that moment. And putting more force into his grip, without any sign of hesitation or doubt, Carlos began his slow and straight movement, without blinking or moving his eyes for even a single second, so that he could see the one his blade is being pointed at feeling every time his flesh is being cleaved.

The knights watch, horrified, feeling completely powerless in the midst of this situation. The thought of drawing their swords crossed the minds of all of them, but none of them could even touch their sheaths, let alone the hilt.

Not Elizabeth's or even Ethan's, who didn't move at all, but Clovis's hand came to his shoulder, stopping Carlos from continuing.

"Enough..." he said. "... this won't lead anywhere."

Mana fluctuated on a large scale, not distinguishing between those around, making even the allies tremble and feel threatened.

"Is that an order...?!" questioned Carlos.

"No.., it's a request..." removing his hand from his shoulder, Clovis pointed behind. "Look at them, you're scaring them."

His eyes briefly wandered over the scared faces of his subordinates, and Carlos's vision widened. Again, without realizing it, he had been consumed by his anger.

The gathered mana dispersed, and after sheathing his sword, without saying a single word, Carlos returned to his seat.

"At ease!" said Clovis, causing the demonic knights to sigh in relief.

The knights of Camelot watch incredulously. Was this such a recurrent event that it became normal?

And as he holds the cut with one hand, the commander continues to look at Ethan, the only one who remained completely still even when the situation reached its climax.

"Were your words truly lies...? Is the peace proposal just a joke to him? No..."

For a moment, his eyes followed the same path Ethan was looking, first to Carlos and moments later, then, to the demons trying to calm down.

"The words were true... perhaps too true... Peace truly is only his first 'idealized' option... However, if it doesn't work out, without a doubt... there will be no hesitation when he has to kill to keep them alive."

Drawing her sword, Elizabeth approached the commander and said;

"Hold this. According to what I've been told, it might help you."

The man's eyes ran over the shiny edge of the silver sword and returned again towards the heroine.

"How could I, miss?!" spoke the commander, quickly stepping away from the sword in front of him.

"Hold it." ordered Elizabeth. "That's an order."

His hand trembles in hesitation, and not even the knights of Camelot who watch believe in that scene. The sacred sword, even in dreams, would be an unforgivable crime if mere knights like them touched something so grandiose.

When the hilt rested on his fingers, the commander finally felt alive again after a long time. His mind cleared in an instant, and, as the legends say, his wounds began to heal slowly.

"The sacred sword of heroes..." said Ethan, watching the wound being healed. "So it has another power besides disappearing and abandoning its former owner...?"

"Watch your words," said the commander, his voice fearless and his demeanor brimming with confidence and seriousness. "I may not be able to stand against you, but I won't allow the sword of the first king, King Kay, to be treated like this in my presence."

Ethan watched him for a moment and wondered, "Could this be one of the sword's other abilities...? His fear has completely disappeared... is it because of that gleam on the blade?"

Ethan sighed.

"Okay," he said, looking at Elizabeth and the commander. "Setting that aside, I presume you don't have enough authority to decide on this, right?"

"Decision-making power? I'm just a commander unable to fulfill my duties."

"And what about you?" his eyes turned fully to Elizabeth.

"I...?" her body trembled as she found herself being scrutinized by those dark purple eyes. "I also have no power over this."

An obvious answer, after all, Ethan already knew.

What to expect from someone who was about to be discarded by the same people who took her from her own home and forcibly brought her to this world?

In the end, those questions had been asked just for him to be minimally polite; after all, from the beginning, his decision had already been made.

"So I have no other options left..." Ethan sighed. "Take me to your king."

The knights exchanged glances, idle, and the commander hesitated to give him an answer.

"Ah, of course, don't worry." said Ethan, after observing the reaction of the knights and the man in front of him. "Only I will go there, the others will stay here."

"This is madness...!" thought the commander. "Saying he'll go alone into enemy territory in the midst of a war... doesn't he know how dangerous that is..?"

His eyes wandered over Ethan's carefree face, analyzing each of his expressions.

"No... he just doesn't see us as potential dangers... he's just confident in his own abilities..."

"I'm sorry, but..." said the commander. "...this is not something that's under my control. I can't decide on something so important."

Calling for one of the knights, whose steps overflowed with hesitation as he approached, the commander personally wrote a letter and handed it to him.

"It may take a while for the response to come, but that's the most I can do." he said. "I hope you understand..."

With the letter sent to the king of Camelot, the demons got up and returned to their base.

Tension remained, as not everyone was satisfied with that decision. Many had tasted the blood of their own comrades during the battles, seen many of them being slaughtered and burned before their eyes. How could they be satisfied with something like this?

Peace is certainly a good thing, a goal they all carry in mind. But these scenes and this taste that keeps coming back to their mouths they can never forget.

"Are you sure about this..?" Clovis questioned, sitting at a small table under a large tent.

"Peace is the best answer currently..." Ethan replied, watching the demons through the tent's entrance. "And although I don't want to keep seeing those scenes repeating... that's not the only reason."

"The drop in temperature in the kingdom, right? That also seems to be happening here. Maybe everything is interconnected? They might also be causing this..."

"Maybe that's true, but we'll only know when Riley returns. Until then, I'll solve this problem first."

Ethan turned to the darkest corner of the tent, where not even the torchlight reached.

"And you...?" he asked. "Are you sure you're okay now?"

The torches in that corner cannot stay lit because the mana used to create the fire magic oscillates constantly and keeps gathering in one place.

For the vast majority of people, mana is useless unless it's shaped, whether in spells or aura. However, for someone who can't use either of those, it's their only means of strengthening.

A deep sigh echoed through the tent.

"Yes..."

His steps make no sound, making it seem like he's just gliding his feet over the ground.

"But if what he said is really true... if they really are behind what you've told me, this time I won't stop..."

The ambient mana keeps gathering around his body, and Carlos seems to be enveloped in a silvery glow that interferes with the torches' flames around.

"...not even for you."