Rem stared at the sleeping bastard’s face and thought:

“One axe swing would do it.”

Once someone reaches knight-level, their body becomes far tougher than before.

The skin toughens, the bones grow harder, and the speed of blood flow increases to the point that their reaction speed defies common sense.

That’s why humans who become knights are called superhuman. But that doesn’t mean they can survive getting their head cut off.

In other words, if someone’s asleep, they can still be killed by an ambush—especially if they’re half-unconscious like this guy right now.

Rem, watching Ragna sleep like the dead, turned his head away.

Sometimes, he really did want to kill him.

“But not like this.”

Rem was a man of the West and a warrior. He was also Owl’s partner and the father of a child.

Killing a guy who was knocked out mid-fight with a swing of the axe? Maybe if it were a fair duel—but this?

Even if he were reborn ten times over, Rem would never stoop to that.

They’d gone into the Demon Realm, shattered a fortress wall, burned it down, and made it out. To say his body wasn’t exhausted after all that would be a lie.

Rem had killed three giant flying beasts and gotten thrown to one side of the Demon Realm, where he had a hell of a time.

The Demon Realm wasn’t called that for nothing. It had no shortage of things to prove it.

A horned gorilla-beast moved more silently than an owl, creeping up behind him.

And a ghoul with a needle-sharp snout lunged at him, trying to suck his blood.

He’d seen others too—couldn’t tell if they were cultists who’d lost their minds or just looked like that. Maybe something half-human, half-demonic?

Some had strange brandings carved into their foreheads and were leaking spell power from every inch of their body.

“Those fuckers...”

He couldn’t just walk past them. So he stepped in.

Beating, killing, breaking through—he summoned the Wolf’s Soul to find a way back to his allies.

Thanks to the Wolf’s Soul, his spatial awareness had sharpened, and his enhanced sense of smell let him track his allies. But then he’d run into a spider monster with eight legs that kept firing webs.

From a hole that looked suspiciously like an asshole, it shot webs like arrows. There weren’t just one or two, either—there were easily over a hundred.

He killed half of them.

It was too many to throw hand axes at all of them, so he had to go in with his hands. They used the terrain well too, hiding behind trees and obstacles—tricky bastards.

It hadn’t exactly been dangerous, but he hadn’t gotten through it without burning through stamina and spell power.

Fortunately, once he killed half, the rest scattered and ran.

After that, he rejoined his comrades. Tossed his hand axe to save a certain lazy bastard and came back to the village.

Eat, sleep, rest.

He’d spent his time stretching every muscle, tearing and rebuilding them with care.

Even so, his body still ached.

“Still not back to normal.”

Nothing was broken, but the overworked body had thrown off its internal balance in weird ways.

Spell power, after all, was a force that overloaded the body by its very nature.

Not that he was the only one feeling it. The fairy who couldn’t shut up about engagements was pale enough to look half-dead, and even Lua Gharne had lost an arm in the fight.

She said a skeletal dog-face had bitten it off.

Out of everyone, the lazy bastard lying in the back was the most critically injured.

That guy had overused his Will in battle and ended up half-paralyzed. He’d gotten up once, stuffed his face, and gone right back to sleep—and at this point, not even a dog-face monster dragging him off would wake him.

“Yaaaawn.”

Rem yawned for no reason and figured he might slack off a bit longer.

Outside the window, he could see two fools lost in thought. Fool Rem and fool Rophod would stay like that until evening, then come inside.

A few villagers passed by, casting glances at the two. These days, their looks weren’t fearful so much as reverent.

The village was quiet. Peaceful.

“Well, we did wipe out all the nearby monsters.”

He could see Roman off in the distance, rolling around.

“I can still go, brother! I still have energy left!”

The half-giant Teresa was helping him with his training. Audin stood beside them, smiling like a satisfied demon.

“Tormenting people while grinning—that’s a demon, alright.”

Roman clenched his jaw with several stones stacked on his shoulders. Then he barely managed to open his mouth.

“I can’t go on.”

“No, you can. And don’t speak, brother. Exhaling weakens the core.”

Demon Audin casually rejected the protest.

Looked like they were having fun.

Rem turned away from the window and toward the room. He raised his right foot to head for the bed—but froze.

His hand went to the throwing axe always strapped to his hip.

The axe had sensed a presence dripping with murderous intent and responded.

“When—?”

A brief question rose in his mind, but there was no time to seek the answer.

Creaaaak.

The only door in the room opened.

And from beyond it came something like pitch-black darkness—not metaphorically, but literally, black smoke clumped and flowed in across the floor.

It was midday. Clear skies. Not a cloud in sight.

But the moment the door opened, darkness fell as if it were night. The air grew heavy—like they’d suddenly been dropped into the middle of the Demon Realm.

“If you’re a guest, you should at least knock first.”

Rem said as he pulled his throwing axe and hurled it.

The movement of his arm left no afterimage. It was a blur.

BOOM—a sharp burst of air rang out as the axe flew in a perfect circle.

He moved too fast—before the last syllable of his sentence had left his lips, the disc-shaped axe was already tearing toward the intruder’s skull.

The one cloaked in black smoke raised something on their left arm, catching the spinning axe with an upward motion.

It was a shield—specifically, a kite shield, wide at the top and tapering to a point—tightly strapped to the left forearm.

CRACK! KRRRRRRRRRRK!

Rem’s thrown axe smashed against it, bouncing off at a sharp upward angle and flying far into the distance. A long gouge was left on the shield’s surface, and the axe vanished into the sky like a shooting star.

A massive hole was also left above the doorframe.

“That one was a favorite...”

Rem thought, eyes forward. It didn’t look like he’d be recovering that axe.

Black smoke still filled the room, except for the part around the left arm and shield.

As the smoke slowly thinned, a helmet came into view—its visor pressed tightly down. But the inside of the visor couldn’t be seen.

Clink.

The figure was clad entirely in armor. There was no sense of life to him—he could’ve been a suit of ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) armor moving on its own.

Down to every fingertip, the plates were flawlessly crafted and joined. The craftsmanship was unmistakable.

The sword remained sheathed. The shield was still forward.

Then, the figure slowly raised his right hand—and lifted the visor.

Thunk.

With the clang of metal locking into place, a face appeared that Rem hadn’t expected.

“Phew, so stuffy. You’re not even wearing a helmet, so I’ll raise my visor too. But I can’t take the helmet off—it’s pretty much part of my body now. Well, I’ll let you choose. Should I fight with the visor down? Or up?”

Rem narrowed his eyes and stared at the man.

What the hell is this bastard?

Pell and Rophod, who had just been outside, were nowhere to be seen. The window was now blocked off with some rough, uneven wall. Inside the house, it was just the two of them—himself and the lazy bastard.

In other words, this was not a normal situation.

Through the raised visor, a tangle of curly blond hair spilled out. The face was rather handsome. Not quite on Enkrid’s level, but wherever he went, people would probably call him good-looking.

“Do as you like,”

Rem replied with a detached tone. If he couldn’t get answers, then all he could do was focus on what he could do.

“Then I’ll keep it up.”

The man smiled. The corners of his mouth curved upward with unmistakable confidence.

Thunk.

He lowered his massive shield until its pointed bottom struck the floor. The stone tiles, made of lime plaster, cracked beneath it.

Clearly, the shield wasn’t ordinary in weight.

Keeping that posture, he craned his neck upward, pretending to look behind Rem. It wasn’t necessary, given the layout, so it was just a habit—an exaggerated, theatrical gesture.

Smiling, the blond man asked in a smooth, friendly tone:

“I only need to kill one guy. So if you just leave the one behind you, I’ll let you go. What do you say?”

Rem’s condition wasn’t normal. And the man standing in front of him looked more dangerous than any monster he’d met in the Demon Realm.

What was that Lord or Apostle of Red Foot like, anyway?

He’d landed the final blow himself, but he hadn’t seen every part of the fight, so he couldn’t be sure.

In any case, what mattered now was that he was in bad shape, and the opponent’s true strength was impossible to gauge.

Rem might look like some hothead who ditched emotion control to throw himself into battle, but in reality, he knew how to assess a situation with cold logic.

If not, he wouldn’t have chosen to become a noble killer.

Even that time he’d killed a noble and ended up with a bounty—it had been a calculated decision.

And now, that same brain reached its conclusion: fighting here would be extremely disadvantageous.

Cramped room. Dead weight behind me.

The bastard’s relaxed posture only added to the pressure.

He’d even raised his visor before the fight. Definitely not someone to underestimate.

But then, should he choose to survive by handing over his subordinate? Should he leave behind a weak, barely breathing comrade and run for his own life?

That kind of bullshit wasn’t even on the table.

“Tch. That lazy bastard. Sleeps like the dead.”

Rem muttered, then raised his axe slightly and held it in front of his face as he raised his voice and asked:

“Hey. Do you even know who I am?”

The man, still smiling, replied:

“Beats me.”

Rem smiled back and said:

“Then open those ears and listen up. I am none other than Rem, the Vice-Captain of the Mad Order of Knights.”

Behind him, Ragna flinched slightly in his sleep. He was still recovering from the fight with the Apostle of Red Foot, where he had forced his exhausted Will into Sunrise just to deliver a final blow.

He looked like he was sleeping peacefully, but in reality, it was the kind of sleep that only came when everything was drained.

He could force himself awake—but he couldn’t fight. So he rested.

In a way, throwing everything he had and collapsing like that showed how little he worried about the aftermath. Ragna trusted Enkrid. ...Maybe not Rem.

The corner of Rem’s mouth lifted.

“A vice-captain doesn’t just hand over a subordinate, you goddamn wraith.”

Rem was a warrior and a shaman of the West. He picked up on a faint, sour stench coming from the man. This one—he wasn’t human. At least, that was Rem’s judgment.

“Vice-captain? Mad Order?”

The so-called wraith seemed unfamiliar with the Mad Order of Knights. Still smiling, he tilted his head and lifted the shield that had just struck the floor.

And drew his sword.

Srrrrk.

The slowly drawn blade gleamed silver, blending with the surrounding darkness—not repelling it, but merging with it.

That was how it looked to Rem.

The blade was shorter and thicker than a standard longsword. Its shape resembled Gladius, the sword Enkrid had once used, though the edge was straighter.

Good for thrusting, usable as a shield, and even suitable for bludgeoning with the flat of the blade.

“So that’s your choice, huh? Both of you are going to die?”

The man asked.

“No. I’m saying I’ll kill you.”

Rem answered without even drawing breath.

“Ah, that I understand.”

The blond man raised his shield and took control of the narrow space. The force he radiated whipped the room into a storm.

His pressure took shape.

Accompanied by smoke, that pressure solidified—the smoke forming a shape that revealed the force within him.

It was like a massive chunk of metal, a perfect cube that could not be cut or cracked by anything. That overwhelming metallic force filled the village hall.

The cube of smoke pressed down like gravity.

Rem gripped his axe tighter.

Dead weight behind him. Cramped space.

No advantages. Only disadvantages.

Then the answer was simple: reduce the disadvantages, create an advantage.

So that’s what he did.

Just as Enkrid had influenced Rem, the Mad Order of Knights always influenced one another.

Rem had always had a keen tactical mind. Now, he borrowed a bit of Enkrid’s orthodox swordsmanship—derived from Lua Gharne’s tactical sword style.

“Person behind you!”

He shouted loudly, as if someone had really appeared behind the man.

“...You think I’d fall for that?”

The curly blond wraith scoffed and shook his head.

Rem’s goal wasn’t to trick him. It was to throw him off—even just a little.

In that brief instant, Rem hurled his axe into the air.

BOOM!

The rising axe shattered the village hall’s ceiling. Debris rained down.

Heavy, thick, blackened timbers. Stones fixed with plaster. Dust so old it had turned to stone.

It all crashed down like a hailstorm. He’d aimed precisely for the ceiling’s center—causing the entire thing to collapse.

As debris poured like hail, Rem dashed forward, grabbed Ragna, and carried him on his back. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

“Tsk, damn...”

The man muttered, watching Rem’s nimble movement.

Then slowly began walking.

After all, there was nowhere for them to run.