Chapter 1
It was a desolate land.
The land that had been ravaged by war was stained with blood, and the houses and shops once touched by human hands were all destroyed, making them unusable.
Corpses discarded like trash were scattered all along the road.
And at the center of that land of death, where there was no glory, a man stood at the bottom of a ravine.
Armor that looked nothing special.
Blood was seeping out from under the helt, obscuring his vision.
The spear he held, which seed like sothing only a common soldier would use, had lost most of its blade, and it wobbled as if it would break at any mont.
“Cough!”
Damian finally coughed up blood and dropped to one knee on the ground.
He had managed to fend off the enemy’s assault after a fierce battle, but…
‘…Damn it, I told them from the start it was a reckless plan.’
The plan had succeeded.
Not only had they stopped the enemy’s advance, but they had also annihilated a force of over two thousand enemies.
With a force of barely a hundred n. But…
“…”
Damian looked at his fallen comrades.
Every single one of them was dead, except for himself.
Grit!
Blood trickled from his tightly clenched lips.
Though they were his subordinates, to Damian, they were the first ones he had ever considered family.
“I’m sorry… If only I had been a bit stronger, I could have saved all of you.”
Damian looked at the comrades who had already beco corpses.
So of them had died with their eyes still open, and Damian slowly walked over to them and gently closed their eyes.
Thud.
And then Damian collapsed to the ground.
Before he knew it, the blood around him had pooled so much that it began to surround him.
“…Damn it.”
Damian knew it.
He knew he would die here as well.
Was it because his ti had co?
Regrets from the past flashed before his eyes.
‘If only I had been a little faster.’
Damian, who had first set foot in the army at the age of twenty-five, had grown at an incredible pace, like a dry sponge soaking up water.
In just one year, he beca a squad leader of fifty n, and in the second year, he beca a centurion.
Though his promotions had been stunted because he was from a penal unit, by the third year, he had mastered spear techniques to the point where he could toy with most knights.
But there was one regret…
“…Damn it.”
Damian recalled the grotesque scar on his lower abdon.
Back in his days in the back alleys, he had been stabbed in the wrong place, shattering the magic hole in his lower abdon, rendering him unable to use magic.
Of course, the fact that he started so late at twenty-five also played a part.
“Sigh…”
Looking back, it was a life full of regrets.
He regretted it so much that it brought him to tears, but it was all aningless.
He finally understood why people say that when soone is about to die, all that’s left is regret.
“Damn it.”
Just once.
If only I could have one more chance…
‘We would have truly dominated the battlefield together.’
He had thought about it before.
Roaming the battlefield with his n, sweeping away the enemies, becoming unstoppable.
But now, it was just…
Slump.
Finally, Damian’s head drooped, and his hand fell limply to the ground.
Damian, a centurion of the Baroque Kingdom’s penal unit.
At the age of just 30, he closed his eyes on an unnad battlefield.
* * *
“Hah!”
With a groan that sounded almost like a seizure, Damian opened his eyes.
A man standing beside him gave Damian an awkward smile and spoke.
“Hehe, Damian. How can you fall asleep at such an important mont? You need to sign here.”
“…Uncle Furker?”
Sweat was pouring down his forehead just from sitting there.
His chubby cheeks jiggled every ti he smiled, and his hairy hands rubbed together obsequiously as he approached Damian.
That sly smile, that voice. And that disgusting sll that ca from his mouth every ti he spoke.
How could this be so vivid, even after all these years?
But soon, Damian’s eyes widened in shock.
“…What?”
What kind of situation is this?
Am I dreaming?
“I… I’m sure I just…”
He rembered it clearly—the mont when he killed two thousand enemies and collapsed. But why was the face he hated the most in front of him now?
And that face…
Even if it was just in a dream, he would have wanted to punch it.
Damian, without realizing it, slapped Furker’s cheek.
Slap!
“Huh?”
“Ack!”
The crisp feeling in his palm was followed by a scream that rang in his ears.
When Furker fell to the ground, the people around them shouted in shock.
“Honey!”
“Are you okay? N-No, what are you doing?”
The middle-aged man sitting across from Damian at the table couldn’t hide his surprise.
But the most shocked of all was Damian himself.
‘This… feeling…’
It’s not a dream.
Finally, the surroundings began to co into focus.
Damian looked around the room.
‘This is…’
It was Uncle Furker’s house.
How could he ever forget?
He had lived here for over a year after his parents passed away.
And the man standing before him now was the very one who had handled his parents’ life insurance.
He couldn’t rember the man’s na, but…
Slick.
Damian’s eyes fell on the docunts laid out on the table.
There were about ten pages of complicated content, but the ssage was simple: the life insurance money from his parents would be transferred to Uncle Furker.
‘At the ti… I just thought Uncle Furker was going to hold onto it for a while.’
How foolish he was. Or perhaps, it was unavoidable.
He was only thirteen, after all, an inexperienced child with no real knowledge of the world.
He had no choice but to rely on Uncle Furker, who had taken care of him like his own son for over a year. Damian had even co to see him as more of a parent than an uncle.
‘But…’
The mont he signed those papers, Damian’s life changed completely.
Uncle Furker, upon receiving the insurance money, imdiately revealed his true colors, and Damian was thrown out, left to wander until he had no choice but to hide in the shadows.
“Haha… ha… ha…”
Was this a dream or not? His mind was a ss.
Suddenly, all the miserable mories of his past life flashed through his mind, and the bitterness and frustration began to weigh on his heart.
But Damian soon turned his cold gaze to the docunts on the table. And then…
Snatch.
Damian grabbed the papers and, without even looking at them, tore them in half.
Riiip!
“D-Damian!”
“What are you doing, Damian?!”
Uncle Furker, who had been sprawled on the floor, jumped to his feet and shouted at Damian.
But Damian paid him no mind and instead looked at the insurance agent in front of him.
“What’s your na?”
“Hm?”
“Your na.”
“…It’s Bilson.”
Bilson, his expression stiff, answered the question from the young boy in front of him.
He couldn’t afford to ignore him since, after all, Damian was the one receiving the insurance payout.
But more than that, there was sothing about Damian’s gaze—it was deep and sharp, not sothing one would expect from a thirteen-year-old.
‘Can a person… change so suddenly?’
How long had he dozed off before signing? Fifteen seconds?
He thought he had just closed his eyes for a brief mont, but when he opened them again, Damian had changed.
It was like he had beco a completely different person.
Damian spoke to Bilson.
“The insurance payout will go directly to my account at the Imperial Bank. Make sure to note it as a special condition. No one can claim it without my identification, signature, or docunts. Only I, Damian, can collect it.”
“D-Damian! What are you saying?!”
“Damian, you’re still young! Your aunt and uncle will take care of it, rember?”
Uncle Furker and his wife, alard by Damian’s sudden change in behavior, hurried to speak.
But Damian shook his head. Bilson then pulled out a new set of docunts from his bag.
“Adding special conditions is no problem at all.”
He quickly wrote down the terms Damian had specified, then handed over the new docunts.
“If you sign here, the insurance money will be deposited into your Imperial Bank account. You can then go at your convenience to complete the identification process and receive the funds.”
“Good.”
“Now, for identification, I’ll need a small sample.”
Bilson took out a needle and pricked Damian’s fingertip, collecting a few drops of blood in a vial containing a magical reagent.
The blood and the reagent reacts chemically, and this would later be used to verify Damian’s identity at the Imperial Bank.
Once the procedure was completed, Bilson stood up.
“That concludes everything. Thank you for your ti.”
“W-Wait! Hey, wait a minute!”
Uncle Furker, realizing too late what had just happened, tried to stop Bilson, but the agent left without even looking back.
Uncle Furker, left standing there dumbfounded, suddenly turned on Damian.
His plan had fallen apart in an instant, and rage filled his eyes.
“You little bastard! What have you done?!”
“Phew… What a relief.”
Damian smiled faintly at Furker’s outburst.
Furker scowled deeply.
“What did you say?”
“I was worried I might just let it slide, but…”
“You little… What the hell are you talking about—”
But before Furker could finish, Damian walked over to the wall, grabbed a broomstick, and pulled off the handle.
“Thanks for staying the sa rotten bastard as I rember.”
Snatch.
Though only thirteen, Damian was unusually well-developed for his age.
He was as tall as most adults, and his well-fed upbringing had given him a solid build.
And more than anything, Damian had spent over ten years in back alleys and battlefields, where beating people up was a daily occurrence.
This bloated pig of a man was no match for him…
“This is going to hurt. I’ve got a lot to settle.”
“What?”
That day, the sound of a pig being slaughtered echoed throughout Uncle Furker’s house.
* * *
As you might expect, Damian left Uncle Furker’s house.
Of course, he took a few valuables with him, so he didn’t have to worry about living expenses for the next few days.
He wanted to leave for another city imdiately. But…
‘I need to finish up the insurance business properly before I go.’
He couldn’t be sure what kind of sche Uncle Furker might try next.
“…”
Damian, now in a remote location, rented a room and locked himself inside, trying to make sense of the situation.
“Hooo…”
But no matter how much he thought about it, there was no way to explain what had happened.
“Back in ti… Seventeen years…”
Damian looked at his hands, which were still soft and smooth.
They were nothing like the rough, calloused hands he once had.
And…
Slide.
Damian lifted his shirt and looked at his abdon.
Unlike in the past, where a hideous scar had marred his lower belly, it was now completely unblemished.
“…The magic hole is intact.”
Which ans…
‘I can… learn magic now.’
A wave of indescribable emotions swept over Damian.
It was only natural.
The magic hole located in the lower abdon was incredibly important for anyone who trained in magic.
In his past life, Damian had been an exceptional spearman, even without magic.
But the lack of magic had always been a clear limitation.
Now, however, there were no limits.
Damian pinched his cheek multiple tis, staring at his reflection in the mirror, trying to convince himself that this was real.
It seed he had no choice but to accept it.
For reasons unknown…
‘I’ve co back.’
Back to the ti before his life went off the rails.
Damian’s previous life had been nothing short of miserable.
After being thrown out by Furker, Damian had no choice but to hide in the back alleys, where he grew up doing odd jobs for gangsters.
A thirteen-year-old boy without parents or a guardian was an easy target for them.
For over ten years, Damian wandered the alleys, working as a lackey for the thugs until he was frad for a cri committed by a gang leader and sent to prison.
‘…Damn bastard.’
They had promised him a big position in the organization when he got out, but the cri he was frad for was far too serious for him to be released.
Eventually, Damian was forced into military service and sent to the front lines.
Ironically, it was in the army that Damian’s life took a turn for the better.
His talent with the spear was exceptional, and he quickly mastered everything the army taught him.
In the end, he was recognized for his abilities and promoted to centurion.
‘Well, I still ended up dead.’
But looking back, Damian realized the ti he spent in the army was the happiest part of his life.
―You’re truly a regretful case. If only you had started ten years… No, even five years earlier… Things would have been so different.
Why did the words of his old instructor, who had trained him as a recruit, keep coming back to him?
The instructor, known as the Demon Instructor for his brutal training, had those words ringing in Damian’s head.
But then…
“…?”
Damian’s eyes suddenly sharpened.
So this is why he had chosen such a remote place…
“Uninvited guests?”
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