Back to the village of Engel

  The 15th Vulcarian day, year 2025

  Once again, Adrian was covered in blood. It clung to his skin, drying into a tacky film beneath the relentless heat of the sun. His clothes stuck to his body, stiff where the crimson had already begun to coagulate, damp where fresh splashes still oozed warmth. The scent of iron thickened the air, mingling with the dust kicked up by his weary footsteps along the uneven trail.

  After hastily crossing the border of the woods, they pushed forward for another ten minutes, both straining their limits – Adrian exhausted and Will still bleeding. Once the immediate threat of pursuing monsters faded, their pace slowed, and Adrian drifted into his thoughts.

  Aurora was just too deadly. Not killing Will had been mostly a fluke – its standard result was breaking bodies in two, decapitation, and all the worst ways of felling an enemy without pity. Reflecting on the battle, Adrian acknowledged his main mistake: lack of resolve.

  As soon as he decapitated Billy, the barbarity of it had made him recoil. The killing he had committed last evening, only hours ago, still hadn’t sunk in. Right after the battle for Engel exhaustion and nausea had numbed his thoughts, but he knew by now that rejecting his emotions wasn’t a solution. If he didn’t confront them, mistakes like this would happen again.

  Will might have moved using a skill to avoid Adrian’s attack – but if Adrian hadn’t faltered in his intent, Aurora would have killed him anyway. That hesitation hadn’t cost him his life, but it had nearly gotten him killed, forcing him to burn through his most costly magic skill.

  When Adrian fought with full intent – when he gripped Aurora with the absolute resolve to win – he never made a single wasted movement. That made him acknowledge that ducking Torin’s first strike hadn’t been Aurora’s reaction; it had been his own. Otherwise, the man would have died before completing his attack. Aurora had been ready to defend him, but in the end, resolve to kill and to survive weren’t the same.

  Adrian let out a slow, unsteady breath. The tiredness side effect of Overload debilitating his mind and body. The sun pressed down on him like a hammer, and the ground, hardened from days without rain, radiated heat back into the air.

  ‘How could I kill so mercilessly? Should I just become a heartless assassin? Would I be any better than those bandits?’ Adrian mulled over his actions.

  “Having second thoughts about keeping me alive, boy?” Will rasped. His voice was thick with spite, his bloodied teeth bared in a half-smirk.

  Adrian blinked, his thoughts snapping back to the present. ‘Fuck! Said that out loud.’ He exhaled sharply, this time making damn sure to keep his thoughts to himself.

  “If you have the energy to complain, you have the energy to walk faster,” he said, giving the sluggish man a shove forward.

  Adrian glanced at Rita. ‘But I didn’t kill her. I guess I still have a conscience.’ A line from one of his favorite comic books surfaced in his mind: “The measure of a man lies not in what he can do, but in what he chooses not to do.”

  Maybe I should find another sword and practice. If I master sword fighting – or at least sharpen my battle awareness – then maybe I can control Aurora better and choose when to be lethal. The thought settled him. Thinking rationally, finding solutions – this was how Adrian kept himself steady. Acknowledging his emotions was one thing; letting them take control was another.

  Shaking off his introspection, he turned to Rita. “Hey, girl. What was going on back there? Why were you running, and what was that weird sound?”

  Since her capture, her captor had spoken only in simple commands – orders she followed not out of obedience, but because the weight of imminent death left her numb. ‘Why is he taking two prisoners? Why am I still alive? What does he want from me?’ The questions circled relentlessly, looping like a curse in her mind.

  When Adrian addressed her directly, the coldness in his voice disrupted her thoughts like a stone thrown into still water. Her body reacted before reason could take hold – muscles tensed, feet shifted, a desperate instinct to flee. ‘Is this it? Is this when he finally decides to kill me?’ But no – she wouldn’t go down like some cornered animal. Her will to survive burned too fiercely for that.

  Adrian noticed her sudden movement, but he didn’t reach for his sword or restrain her. Instead, he only watched. He saw it – the fear.

  “Calm down,” he said, his tone firm but not threatening. “I’m not killing either of you. Just don’t try to escape or attack me. Alright?”

  Rita swallowed hard. Adrian’s words were hollow to her; she knew better than to trust her life to a man’s whims. ‘I have to show strength. He can’t see me as useless,’ she reasoned. “Y… yes,” she forced out, keeping her voice even despite the tremor in her hands. Breathing deeply, she made an effort to calm her mind. She wouldn’t let him see her like this – a shaking, pitiful mess.

  Will just kept moving, not daring to trust his mouth not to defy his captor again and earn another painful shove. The pace was already hard enough, his weak, bloodied body begging for a reprieve.

  “We were attacked while resting,” she said, forcing focus into her words. “At least two types of quillrats. And a crazy-fast yellow rodent.” Her voice was steady now, though her fingers still trembled with leftover tension.

  Adrian frowned, unfamiliar with the creatures, but he assumed they were some kind of monster. “How many were in your group?” he asked again. His words were calm, but his tone carried the same coldness as before.

  She stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. “Nineteen before the raid in Engel. Twelve when we escaped. Now, I think only the two of us.” She answered, her voice quick, as if trying too hard. She cursed herself for the lack of composure. ‘I’ve met powerful men before; this is not my first struggle to survive. Don’t break, Rita. Damn it! Don’t be weak,’ her thoughts churned.

  Her pulse remained erratic as she moved forward, feeling like she was walking on the edge of a blade. Every step could be the one where her resolve finally broke. She refused to let that happen. Not yet. Survive first. Worry later.

  She wasn’t sure why, but the fact that he didn’t press her for more information or simply insult or mistreat her – like so many men tended to do – only served to build the tension inside her. The silence stretched, and her head kept spinning. ‘Why is he taking two prisoners? Why am I still alive? What does he want from me?’

  Adrian let Will drink water a few times but didn’t let him eat. He knew that wasn’t good for someone who had lost a lot of blood, something about not letting too much blood go to the digestive system. The man collapsed just half an hour after they started marching, the relentless sun adding to their burden. Adrian waited for the overload to subside before lifting the man onto his shoulders. Feeling vulnerable, he alerted them that any attempt at rebellion would be met without mercy, and the march continued.

  During the break, he checked his notifications and discovered that, following the battle, he had gained two more levels. That meant he was even stronger, and the man didn’t feel heavy – at least, not at first. Carrying a grown man for hours becomes tiring, no matter how strong you are.

  The sun was starting to lower in the sky, and Adrian guessed he had been walking with his prisoners for more than three hours. They probably had another five kilometers before reaching Engel, and the wake would start in a couple of hours. He didn’t want to miss it. So, he collected his strength and resolve and kept marching.

  As the pine trees of Engel’s western woods began to emerge, three men in similar armor to Lieutenant James appeared. One, however, wore clearly higher-quality armor and moved with a fast, yet elegant, trot.

  The man halted ten meters away, his hand resting firmly on the hilt of his sword. With a commanding presence, he declared, “By my command, Marshal Justin of Ruthy’s Barony, identify yourself.”

  Adrian hesitated for a brief moment, feeling the weight of the man’s authoritative tone. “I am Adrian,” he replied, his voice steady. Despite the man’s posture, Adrian had no intention of being intimidated, “and I bring with me two captured prisoners.”

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  Marshal Justin’s gaze captured Adrian high stature, the way he seemed to carry a man without straining himself and the expensive sword by his side, with a masterfully crafter pommel and sheath. The distance the man stopped from him showed caution and his instincts told him this was no ordinary man.

  “I see. The name ‘Adrian’ was passed along by Lieutenant James, though we’ve yet to make your acquaintance. For clarity’s sake, I must ask that you share your Status screen.” The Marshall said, his tone firm, his hand still on the hilt of his sword. His apparent politeness, only an obligatory mask of his position as Marshal.

  To Justin, the man was suspect no matter what. The sudden appearance of a powerful warrior during a bandit attack was too much of a coincidence to ignore. Unlike the villagers of Engel, who saw only a hero, Justin wasn’t blinded by gratitude. This man had secrets. And if he turned out to be another renegade, Justin would see him cut down – be he Adrian or not.

  Adrian prided himself on being an empathetic man, considerate of first impressions. At first, he had understood Justin’s caution – he was just doing his job. Now, though, all he saw was forcefulness.

  Two prisoners were tied up, he was covered in blood, he had saved the village, captured the bandits, and yet, what did he get in return? Thinly veiled hostility. He wasn’t blind – these three were ready to strike the second a command left the Marshal’s lips.

  And, as if that wasn’t enough, he had absolutely no idea how to share a Status screen. So, while fumbling through his interface for a way to do it, he decided to buy himself time.

  “Where I come from, the law demands that people in power identify themselves first.” Adrian put Will down and turned to the Marshal, posture strait and ready to pounce, but didn’t dare touch Aurora. “Not that they always do, but the rule exists. So, I return your demand – identify yourself. Your Status screen shall do just fine.” His tone was firm, his smile easy – just a hint of defiance in his eyes.

  Justin hesitated – only for a moment. He had expected either compliance or resistance, not defiance wrapped in composure. A small, almost imperceptible smile crept onto his lips. ‘So that’s how you want to play it,’ he mused.

  “Very well, I’ll humor you,” he said, his tone still firm but carrying the faintest edge of amusement. “It is not our custom in Granada, but if you claim to be a foreigner, I will honor your traditions – out of respect for what Adrian, whoever he may be, has done for Engel.”

  He did not relax. His posture remained guarded, a silent reminder that, amusement or not, he was still in control. A moment later, Adrian saw the expected display:

  Name: Justin

  Titles: Serf of Bellator; Marshal of Ruthy’s Barony

  Adrian noticed immediately – Justin had shared only his name and titles, withholding any further details. But Adrian had already used Analysis on him and seen much more. And from what he saw, even with Aurora in hand and a full intent to kill, he suspected he had no chance of winning, not without Overload.

  Name: Justin

  Titles: Serf of Bellator; Marshal of Ruthy’s Barony; Duelist

  Species: Human

  Age: 41 years

  Class: Master Swordsman Lv. 54

  Justin’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

  “As you can see, I am indeed Marshal Justin, responsible for maintaining order and security in these lands. Now, I expect the same courtesy in return.” His muscles coiled like a drawn bowstring, his voice taut with authority. “I suggest you comply.”

  Adrian exhaled slowly. Since the beginning, managing the system had been intuitive – almost effortless. Now should be no different. He was starting to understand how closely his system was combined with his magic. He willed it, and the display appeared.

  Name: Adrian

  Titles: Freeborn Sovereign

  The reaction was immediate. Justin, his two privates, and even Rita recoiled the moment he shared his title, as if they couldn’t believe their eyes. Their hands snapped away from their weapons, and Justin, usually composed, stood frozen. Before Adrian could fully process the shift, one of the privates dropped to a knee. The other followed.

  Justin didn’t kneel, but his posture shifted – his back straightened, his hands briefly clenched before he made a small, measured bow.

  Adrian blinked, thrown off by their sudden shift in demeanor. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Justin’s calm but strained voice.

  “…Your Grace,” Justin said, his tone tight with something Adrian couldn’t quite place. “I ask forgiveness for my audacity.” He paused, carefully choosing his next words. “How may I serve you?”

  Adrian’s mind raced. The unexpected respect felt like a punch to the gut. The man had just been ordering him around a moment ago.

  He turned his gaze to Rita. She was looking at him with wide, startled eyes, her hand hovering over her weapon. Her usual defiance was gone, replaced by something more akin to disbelief. Will, on the other hand, looked utterly baffled. His mouth hung open, as if trying to process the strange turn of events.

  Adrian stood there, momentarily disoriented, before a thought flickered through his mind. They were behaving just like James. Why? He had made it clear to James he wasn’t a noble – just a man on a journey. Yet, the reaction from these men was even stronger than the one he’d gotten from the villagers of Engel.

  He furrowed his brow, the answer coming to him in a rush. ‘James thought I was a noble, especially because of Aurora, but they haven’t seen my blade. Is it my title?’ the realization dawned on him. He hadn’t fully understood the weight of his title, Freeborn Sovereign, or its implications until now.

  “Please, well… There is no need for such posture. Treat me as you would any equal,” Adrian answered, staying true to his beliefs.

  Justin seemed to take a moment before responding, his lips tightening ever so slightly, as though still trying to process the gravity of Adrian’s title. The weight of his words hung in the air, and Adrian could see the Marshal struggling to reconcile his respect for the title with his desire to maintain authority.

  “You are gracious, Your Grace,” Justin said finally, though there was still a layer of caution in his voice. “But I cannot disregard the customs of my land. As Marshal, it is my duty to uphold order and security. Would you care for assistance in dealing with the prisoners?”

  Adrian’s thoughts shifted quickly – this was a good opportunity. He hadn’t planned on staying out for so long. Honestly, when he left that morning, all he had in mind was some time alone to process his transmigration, but one thing had led to another, and now here he was.

  He glanced toward the horizon, the sun low on his left, blurring his vision. The sunset would be upon them in two hours, maybe a bit more. He still wished to participate in the wake, out of respect for the men he fought beside last night, and he couldn’t afford to show up to the ceremony bloodied and battered.

  “Would you take them from my hands, Marshal? If so, it would really help me, as I would like to reach the village as soon as possible,” Adrian said lightly.

  “Very well,” Justin replied, “That would be easy enough. Would you mind if I ask that we chat a bit later this evening, Your Grace?”

  “Thank you, Marshal Justin. And no, not at all. We shall meet at Engel.” Adrian’s tone was light, though something about his simple comment seemed to raise the tension in the air.

  “My gratitude, Your Grace,” Justin responded politely.

  “One last thing, Marshal Justin. I want to bring up something we might prioritize this evening. When I captured these renegades, they were fleeing from a horde of monsters, about twelve kilometers south of here,” Adrian said, his voice steady but carrying an underlying weight.

  “Your Grace, those are very grave and serious news,” Justin replied, his expression sharpening as his brow furrowed. “Now I understand why you brought prisoners. I will interrogate them for further information.” His voice had taken on a tense edge, even though he had misunderstood Adrian's reasons for bringing prisoners.

  Adrian paused, letting the gravity of his words hang in the air for a moment. “It’s not just about the fugitives now. We may have much bigger concerns, especially considering the horde proximity to Dinoco.” His gaze hardened as he thought of the monsters.

  Justin nodded, his face set in a serious expression. “We’ll handle this. The horde... That changes everything.” His mind was already racing with possible measures. This news, however, also gave him broader authority – he could now push for one of his squadrons to be recalled.

  Adrian gave a curt nod, then turned away. “Then, that’s farewell. See you soon.”

  As he walked away, Adrian cast one last glance at Will, still seated in the grass where Adrian had left him. Will looked even paler now, his expression more dejected. Adrian’s gaze shifted to Rita. There was something unreadable in her expression, but she seemed less afraid, more... subdued. He couldn’t tell whether that was a good or bad thing.

  As he walked away, Adrian’s mind drifted to the countless stories of prisoner torture and mistreatment in the medieval era on Earth, especially when it came to women accused of being witches. That’s probably how they see Rita here, he thought. During their long march, Adrian had learned a bit about prisoner ownership from Will’s ramblings and provocations – Will had mostly stated he wouldn’t make a penny selling either of them. But to Adrian, a literal newborn in this world, information was more valuable than gold.

  He looked back at Justin one last time and said, “She is mine. Treat her well.” His voice now had the tone of a command.

  Rita looked up sharply, her brows furrowing in confusion and disbelief. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. She was visibly taken aback, and for the briefest of moments, Adrian could almost see the gears turning in her head. She had no idea what he meant by that.

  But Adrian wasn’t speaking from a place of ownership or dominance. He despised slavery and would never hold one himself. That was a societal problem he had promised himself to engage in when he was more established. For now, he was simply voicing his desire to offer her a second chance – just as he had been granted a second chance by coming to this world.

  This was part of Adrian’s effort to preserve his humanity after the violence he had committed. It was the same reason he had felt the need to say goodbye to those who died the night before. If he allowed himself to suppress his emotions as he had done back on Earth, in his old life, he would become someone very different from the person he aspired to be.

  Adrian set out running toward Engel. Rita stood still, her mind racing with new questions: ‘I am his? What kind of pervert would want a woman like me? What does he want to do with me?’ She was glad to be alive and to still have a prospect for the near future, but her thoughts were darker than ever before.