Game of the Monarch

“Is this what you would call fanaticism?”

Milton frowned as he watched the Republic’s foolhardy charge.

“How frightening. And beyond that… it’s simply unpleasant.”

People who gave their lives for an ideal were considered noble. But if that ideology was nothing more than a lie, the sacrifice would be in vain for what amounted to a farce.

‘Utopia? Have a load of these guys.’

Whether it was Republicanism or Royalism, or even the democracy that Milton experienced in his previous life…

In the world of humans, one well thought-out idea was not going to materialize as a utopia.

An idea was just that: an idea. Complications were bound to arise if it was applied to reality.

To that end, it irritated and unsettled Milton to watch these men give their lives in the name of a utopia that would never exist. It was becoming difficult to watch if he was to be honest.

“Jerome.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Take the knights and make a sortie. Smash straight through the enemy’s center.”

“Yes, understood.”

Jerome prepared the knight’s order at once. All the knights of the South gathered, having already garnered many remarkable contributions on the battlefield in this war. 

The Southern knights now consisted of not only Milton and Jerome’s knights, but the additional knights sent by the nobles of the Southern region. With Princess Leila’s knights also added for support, this current rendition of the knight order was Milton’s trump card for frontal matches.

“Are we ready?”

“You only need to give us the word.”

Milton tightly put on and secured his helmet.

“Charge!!”

And so the knight’s charge began.

“For the Repub- GAH!”

“Stop… stop them!”

They were reminiscent of a wild shark gnashing through a great wave. With Milton personally at the forefront, they cut through the Republican soldiers with their terrifying momentum. Though they were fanatics that were marching forth with no regard for their own lives, there was a difference in strength which could not be overcome through morale alone.

Including Milton and Jerome, the knight’s order of the Southern army had over ten Experts alone. As they wreaked havoc amongst the enemy line using their aura, forty knights who were yet to be Experts but were certainly not lacking followed up from behind. 

It was a force that simply could not be handled by run-of-the-mill soldiers.

The battle lines collapsed, and the knights did not find the disorganized troops to be threatening no matter how high their morale was.

“Our lord has created a golden opportunity for us. Fire!”

Right on cue, Trike commanded his archer unit with a bellow. There was no need to be sparing with their arrows. This was the time to pile it on to maximize their results.

“AAAAGH!”

“KAAAH!”

Even these troops who had been advancing relentlessly like zombies could only be daunted by the arrows showering upon them.

This battle was already as good as decided.

Though there stood a chance for the Republican army’s peculiar and frantic charge to cause some serious damage, the knights’ charge and Trike’s rear support nullified it.

There was only one thing left now: to take the head of the enemy commander.

“Where is Milton Forrest!?”

Alfred thundered as he fought in the fray. One knight answered his call and rushed to him.

“I shall be your opponent!”

Alfred narrowed his eyes at the knight who approached him with a pompous shout.

“Are you Milton Forrest?”

“Why should our lord meddle with the likes of you? I am Rick Storie. Remember it well when I send you on your way to the next world.”

It was one of Milton’s close men, Rick. Alfred’s eyebrow twitched.

‘How dare he…’

With the battle already lost, he was braced to fight until his death. Despite this resolve, a man much below his rank was coming at him, seeing him as easy pickings. 

There were few conditions more apt for pissing someone off on the battlefield.

“This brat!!”

Alfred imbued his sword with a healthy amount of aura and swung.

KLANG!!

“Urgh…”

For the first time in his life, Rick Storie experienced the attack of an Expert with a sincere intent to kill. Of course, he had been bent over backwards countless times when sparring with Jerome and Milton, but actual combat was different from practice.

At the least, his training experience allowed him to avoid being cut clean by this single blow – but his resultant state was unsightly nonetheless.

With merely a single blow, Rick was knocked off his horse, his sword broken and his armor cut open. 

He barely managed to keep down the blood that was forcing its way through his esophagus and stood back up, albeit with trembling legs.

Despite his sorry state, Alfred’s merciless swing came flying once more.

“Die!”

Rick figured this was where he would meet his end.

A thought rushed through his head questioning whether this was really how he was going to die, after having lived his whole life without fear.

Thankfully however, it seemed that day would not be today.

Klang!

One man appeared in front of Rick and blocked Alfred’s attack. Without a hint of wavering from defending the strike, he confidently faced Alfred.

“Mm….”

Realizing this opponent would not be as easy, Alfred drew back with his horse and shouted.

“And who may you be?”

His adversary responded with a smile.

“I am Milton Forrest.”

“Hoh… So you are Count Forrest?”

“Indeed I am.”

Milton nodded at his surroundings.

“As you can see, the battle has completely tipped in our favor. Would you not like to surrender and save your men’s lives, at the least?”

As an answer, Alfred readied his sword.

“You jest! Every last one of us will fight valiantly to become a cornerstone of a utopia to be realized one day.”

Milton stormily muttered under his breath.

“F**k me, what a load of bullshit…”

“What did the likes of you just…”

A fire lit inside Alfred’s eyes with his righteousness stained, and he was about to object. But Milton no longer felt the need to exchange words.

“Enough. If you truly have no intention of surrendering, taking your head will be the fastest path to ending this battle.”

Alfred clenched his teeth and roared with fury.

“Let’s see you try!!”

The two men collided with each other head-on.

KLANG!!
“Ow… my ears!”

“Shit, let’s back off. It’s a duel between Experts. Back off if you don’t want to get caught up.”

The shockwave of the two’s clash emanated throughout their surroundings. The clang was so deafening that the nearby soldiers were left with ringing ears.

As the soldiers instinctively drew back and formed a natural clearing…

“Die, dog of kingdoms!”

“You first!”

The two began exchanging blows in full swing. 

Klang! Kakakaka… KLANG!

Sparks flew with an ear-splitting boom whenever their auras collided. The horses were not able to withstand the force of the blows and were pushed backwards with every exchange.

The swings were so fast that they only flashed with trails of light to the ordinary human eye, yet the subjects of these strikes somehow dodged or deflected them with skill. With the fire of combat lit, the men around them could not intervene even if they wanted to. In fact, the exchange was so tight that rashly jumping in could actually be disadvantageous for their side.

***

Rick blankly watched the unfolding spectacle from a relative distance.

“Rick, you old bear. Are you alright?”

“……”

“Rick Storie, I ask you – are you alright?”

Instead of answering the approaching Tommy, Rick vacantly murmured to himself.

“Was the lord always that strong?”

“……”

Tommy seemed to relate to him, for he simply did not say anything.

***

Rick and Tommy.

As knights under the direct command of House Forrest, these two were being treated beyond their abilities inside the Southern army. It was only to be expected, as the two were not only knights directly under the army’s head Count Forrest, but were also his close entourage – and friends. Not only did the other knights show the requisite respect, but the nobles of the Southern army could not treat them mindlessly.

Rick and Tommy believed they knew Milton better than anyone in the world, having watched him for as much as they were close to him.

However, the Milton Forrest before them now was not the person they knew.

When did he get so strong before they knew it?

His opponent looked to be a mid-level Expert at the minimum, yet Milton was standing toe-to-toe with such a strong enemy. No, it wasn’t just that – as time went on, it seemed he was slowly grasping at a prospect of victory. The number of Milton’s attacks was increasing, while the enemy began to be pushed backwards inch by inch.

He was strong. Rick and Tommy already knew Milton was strong, but not to this extent.

The talent that Milton originally possessed, along with the grit he developed upon awakening his past self as Park Moon-Soo, on top of his commitment and having a brilliant teacher in Jerome Taker at his side – all of this culminated in Milton’s current strength of a mid-level Expert.

Purely based off his swordsmanship, he had reached the level where he could likely compete with upper-level Experts without a particular area of lacking.

Rick and Tommy resolved as they witnessed Milton’s skill.

‘I’m not leaving…’

‘…things like this.’

At that moment, Rick and Tommy desperately wished to become stronger.

***

KLANG!!

“Ugh…”

Alfred narrowly deflected Milton’s powerful swing and backed off with a frown.

‘He’s strong.’

At first, Alfred merely thought that this would not be an easy opponent, but now he clearly sensed their difference in ability. Their auras were of a similar strength, but there was a noticeable gap in the sophistication of their swordsmanship as well as their ability to read the other’s movements.

He was going to lose at this rate.

If he could not slay the enemy commander at the least, this battle would go down in the records as a miserable and complete defeat.

‘I can’t let that be.’

Alfred resolved.

‘This is the last fight of my life anyhow.’

Milton watched Alfred seem to resign himself to his fate.

“This is your last chance to surrender. I promise that I shall spare your lives at the least.”

Alfred did not answer.

Instead, he took out a small vial within his armor and downed it in a single gulp.

‘What’s that?’

For a second, Milton suspected that Alfred was committing suicide by poisoning himself.

Instead…

“Hmph!”

The aura lingering on Alfred’s blade suddenly surged forth with increased intensity.

“What is this? …What have you done?”

Milton was taken aback, but there was no time to process it as Alfred rushed at him once again with a roar.

“None of your business. DIE!!”

He wildly charged.

***

As Siegfried entrusted the Western army to Alfred, he handed him a small vial. 

As he did so, he said…

[This is a special brew recently developed at the weapons department. There’s room left for improvement, but as it is, it will temporarily enhance one’s strength beyond their usual abilities by bringing out their latent potential.]

Alfred was astonished. He had no idea that the military would consider developing such a concoction in his wildest dreams. He was worried on one hand, as a potion with such a powerful effect would certainly have an equally significant downside.

When he asked about this, Siegfried did not deny him and told him the truth.

[The side effect is simple. The user will die.]

Alfred found this ludicrous.

You died when you drank it? Was this not more like a poison than a potion?

Siegfried continued as he saw Alfred’s expression of incredulity.

[There’s nothing much we can do about it at present, as the potion is still in development. I suppose it will improve one day.]

As Alfred took the steroid from Siegfried for now, he thought to himself that he would never end up using this concoction.

Yet…

‘You never know what can happen.’

Alfred had taken the potion to go out blazing with a last, desperate struggle.

“Urgh… What on earth did you just drink, you bastard?”

“Not something that you need to know!”

Any calmness that was evident on Milton’s face was wiped clean. The speed and destructive power behind Alfred’s attacks were unrecognizably strong.

Never minding skill, the power of Alfred’s aura equaled an upper-level or even a top-grade Expert. Every time Milton received a strike, it felt like his sword was going to rip out of his hands.

‘I can’t believe this is the state of things even when I’m trying my best to deflect it…’

Whatever the unidentified drink was, his enemy had suddenly become stronger. Milton could not escape Alfred’s attempts at engagement in this situation that was completely outside his expectations.

‘Wouldn’t it all be for naught if my head goes flying when we’ve won the battle?’

 Milton ground his teeth. All that had become stronger was the enemy’s aura and not his combat prowess. He had to endure the blows with whatever techniques at his disposal and find an opening in the meantime.

‘Focus… Let’s focus.’

Everything in his peripheral disappeared as Milton solely focused all his concentration on his blade.

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