The soldiers who rushed toward Einar fell one after another, each transformed into a lifeless corpse. With every life he claimed, fresh blood splattered across the prince’s uniform, painting it with irregular crimson patterns.
The Lakenian soldiers, who until moments ago had advanced without the slightest hint of fear, slowed to a halt.
By now, the prince had slaughtered dozens of men single-handedly.
Their morale crumbled.
With headless corpses and bodies severed at the waist strewn across the battlefield, who among them could still summon the courage to charge him?
The knight finally came to his senses.
The sword in Einar’s hand was enveloped in a vivid crimson aura, blazing like living flames.
As a man who had received a proper military education, the knight knew exactly what he was witnessing.
A Magic Swordsman.
Across the entire continent, there were perhaps no more than a hundred people worthy of that title.
And the prince everyone had mocked as a brainless fool…
was one of them.
What was even more astonishing was that Einar wore no armor, and the sword he wielded was little more than a ceremonial weapon.
Yet he carved through men as though it required no effort at all.
That alone proved his instinctive, unparalleled talent for wielding a blade.
The knight came to an abrupt stop, drew his own sword, and shouted,
“Stop retreating! Turn and engage the enemy at once! We have a Magic Swordsman fighting for our side!”
His thunderous voice echoed across the battlefield.
Not only the soldiers under his command, but the other knights as well halted their retreat and looked back.
What they saw was a vision from a nightmare.
Severed arms and legs flew through the air as fountains of blood erupted around them.
Wrapped around Einar’s blade was the unmistakable crimson aura of sword energy.
Radiant golden hair.
Dark crimson blood.
The overwhelming contrast left them momentarily speechless.
Then they saw the knight charging forward with a battle cry to support the prince.
That sight alone was enough to rekindle their fighting spirit.
One by one, they stopped fleeing and turned to face the enemy.
On that very day…
the Lakenian Empire suffered its first defeat.
“The Golden Demon of Debia.”
The soldiers of the Lakenian Empire gave that being a name.
The Golden Demon.
The reason was simple.
Beneath the helmet, they had caught glimpses of soft, curly golden hair.
True to that title, the figure wore gleaming golden armor over a lean, perfectly proportioned frame. Long golden hair danced in the wind as the warrior moved across the battlefield with unmatched grace and effortless speed.
Even amid the horrors of war, the sight was breathtaking enough to steal one’s gaze.
But almost no one who witnessed that figure survived.
And so, with equal parts fear and awe, the soldiers came to call him a demon.
When the nickname first spread from one soldier to another, the officers merely scoffed.
“In the end, it’s only a human being.”
But as the war dragged on, the Demon ceased to be nothing more than a superstition whispered among frightened soldiers.
Even high-ranking officers gradually came to accept it as fact.
No matter how flawless their strategy or how carefully they planned their assaults, the moment the Demon began to swing his sword, the imperial formations collapsed like houses of cards.
Even when the supreme commander grit his teeth and devised a brand-new strategy, vowing, Not this time, the Demon calmly cut through their ranks just as always.
Sword.
Spear.
Bow.
Even his bare hands.
With every weapon at his disposal, he slaughtered the imperial soldiers without discrimination.
Then came the seventh battle.
That day, the Golden Demon effortlessly shattered the crescent-shaped encirclement the imperial army had painstakingly formed.
The soldiers of Debia followed in his wake, turning the trap against their enemies.
Instead, it was the Lakenian army that found itself surrounded.
The empire suffered a crushing defeat.
The supreme commander barely escaped with his life.
Staggering back to his headquarters, he collapsed into his chair and buried his head in his hands.
His entire body trembled as he whispered in despair,
“Damn it… That thing has to be a demon. Otherwise, how could a single human being possess such strength?”
The commander had witnessed the Golden Demon snap a man’s neck with nothing but his bare hands.
That night, he was haunted by nightmares.
The following morning, the very first thing he did was submit a petition to the Emperor in the imperial capital.
Its contents were simple.
“I lack the ability to command this war. I beg Your Majesty to remove me from the position of Supreme Commander and appoint someone more capable in my place.”
The Emperor—renowned both as a conqueror and for his ruthless nature—was furious.
Nevertheless, he granted the request.
One week later, the empire’s new Supreme Commander arrived at the front lines, accompanied by an elite guard.
Her name was Elizabeth Yonette Lakenia.
An Imperial Princess widely regarded as the strongest candidate to become the next Emperor…
and, above all,
a Magic Swordsman, just like the Golden Demon.
Along the forest road of Kiberos, which bordered both the quiet plains and the frontier between the Kingdom of Debia and the Lakenian Empire, a small group of travelers leisurely slowed their pace as they neared their destination.
It was obvious at a glance that they were no ordinary people.
The three figures at the center of the group all wore expensive-looking suits of armor, while the soldiers escorting them were elite warriors equipped from head to toe.
The man walking at the rear glanced around at the barren landscape, where nothing but rocks and withered grass could be seen.
Then he let out a whistle.
“Well, now… You really do live long enough to see everything. I never imagined I’d find myself all the way out in the backwater of such a tiny kingdom.”
At those words, the elderly man riding in the center cast the younger man a disapproving glance. His expression seemed to say, You’ve hardly lived long enough to speak so confidently.
Adjusting the reins in his hand, the old man replied curtly,
“Quiet yourself. If you remain so careless after we arrive, you may well end up like Commander Charlode.”
“The former commander,” the young man corrected with a grin.
Then he turned toward the rider leading the group.
“Wouldn’t you agree, Your Highness? Commander Charlode was hardly incompetent… but I wouldn’t exactly call him exceptional either.”
“He wasn’t a commander who suffered nothing but defeat.”
The youngest voice among the three answered flatly.
It was a young woman’s voice, yet with her face concealed beneath a helmet, there was little to reveal her gender.
She could at least remove her helmet until the real battle begins. Doesn’t it get uncomfortable?
The young man thought so to himself, but the helmeted figure continued looking straight ahead without so much as turning her head.
“The fact that Charlode relinquished his command of his own accord tells us only one thing,” she continued. “The situation is worse than it appears.”
“Charlode has always been overly dramatic,” the young man replied lightly. “I’m sure he simply lost his nerve.”
His tone remained as easygoing as ever, attempting to soften the conversation.
The woman, however, cut him off with icy finality.
“There is a Magic Swordsman in the enemy ranks.”
“One ruthless enough to be called a demon.”
“The Golden Demon?”
“Hm.”
The young man stroked his chin with genuine interest.
“I wonder just how powerful someone has to be to earn a title like that. Personally, I’d like to meet him.”
“Sir Pavel.”
This time, it wasn’t the woman who answered.
The dignified old man beside her fixed Pavel with a sharp stare, his green eyes making it abundantly clear that he had spoken enough.
The existence of a Magic Swordsman was hardly something to joke about.
Especially not during wartime.
Pavel merely shrugged.
“Very well, very well. I’ll be quiet.”
“But, Sir Zenold…”
“Surely you can’t blame me if Her Highness herself has taken an interest in this so-called demon.”
“If she feels the urge to test herself against him… that’s hardly my fault.”
At those words, the old man silently turned his gaze forward once more.
The helmeted woman still hadn’t moved.
Yet after serving her for well over a decade, Zenold could easily recognize the spark of anticipation flickering deep within her golden eyes.
I know Her Highness isn’t the type to act recklessly…
And yet…
There was always the possibility.
His lady possessed a competitive spirit every bit as strong as her pride.
Even Zenold couldn’t predict how she would react upon meeting the beautiful warrior known as the Golden Demon—the savior and guardian of the Kingdom of Debia.
“Even so…”
“How could he possibly compare to Your Highness?”
The old man’s expression became even sterner.
Yet beneath it lay unmistakable pride.
After all, Pavel’s words were not mere flattery.
The old man’s name was Zenold.
The young man was called Pavel.
Both were imperial nobles.
And both served the young woman leading them from the front.
Though they rarely addressed her by name, she was Elizabeth Yonette Lakenia—
the Imperial Princess appointed to succeed Commander Charlode, dispatched by the Emperor himself to resolve the crisis.
And she, too…
was a Magic Swordsman of the Empire.
