Chapter 11 Army

He examined the spear in his grasp. "A decent weapon," he muttered. It was good he had remembered it about this weapon; otherwise, he would have missed this opportunity.

"Should I head to Fort Haight?," he considered.

It seemed worth a try. He wouldn't face any real consequence if things went wrong. The fort was close enough, and with his horse, it would take about six to eight hours, provided he avoided any trouble on the way.

He mounted his horse, adjusted his grip on the reins, and set off.

Along the way, he heard wolves howling in the distance but paid no attention and continued. After about five hours, the fort came into view.

He slowed his horse, tying it to a nearby tree, and crouched as he made his way forward. He was skilled at moving unseen, and from the cover of the bushes, he scanned the area ahead.

"A pumpkin head and some soldiers," he muttered, assessing the scene. He was ready to take on the soldiers first before facing the pumpkin head, knowing it only reacted to sound.

He took a deep breath, tightening his grip on the spear as he moved closer. Staying low, he crept toward the nearest soldier, who stood with a crossbow at the ready but facing the other way.

Without hesitation, he lunged, driving the spear cleanly into the soldier's back. The man fell silently, and he moved on before the others noticed.

A second soldier turned, eyes widening in alarm. Before the soldier could raise his crossbow, he thrust the spear forward, but this time, something unexpected happened.

The weapon's built-in ability activated—a surge of energy ran down its length, propelling it forward with a powerful force. The Impaling Thrust shot through the soldier, piercing his armor and dropping him instantly.

The sudden motion caught the attention of the others. Crossbows were raised, bolts whistling through the air as he rolled to the side, using a stone pillar for cover.

Some drawing swords as they charged while others aimed crossbows. He took a steadying breath, peering out from behind the pillar.

The closest soldier, sword in hand, lunged at him with a yell. He sidestepped swiftly and countered, the spear slicing across the man's side before the soldier crumpled to the ground.

A crossbow bolt thudded into the pillar just inches from his head. He pivoted, driving the spear into an approaching swordsman, the weapon's edge biting through chainmail.

The soldier gasped and dropped, and before another could react, he activated the Impaling Thrust again. The force of the spear launched forward, piercing two soldiers lined up behind each other.

The few left hesitated, their confidence faltering. One attempted a reckless charge, sword raised, but he parried and delivered a swift strike that dropped the opponent. With most of the immediate threats neutralized, only the pumpkin-headed figure remained.

The pumpkin-headed figure advanced, its spiked flail swinging. He sidestepped as the flail crashed down, using the opening to thrust his spear into its side.

The creature staggered but recovered quickly, swinging again. He activated Impaling Thrust, driving the spear through its armor. With one final, precise strike to its chest, the creature fell, lifeless.

"Huff, I'm getting stronger. Maybe I should take on Margit next," he muttered, walking up the stairs toward the entrance of the fort.

He peeked inside before stepping in, spotting a few ugly dogs and large rats prowling the dimly lit space. A figure stood in the distance, eyeing the entrance cautiously.

First, he needed to deal with the dogs. He lunged forward, spear at the ready, and swiftly dispatched them before they could react.

The commotion caught the attention of the man standing guard, who tossed a flaming bomb toward him.

He dodged, feeling the heat as it exploded nearby, and rushed forward, using the momentum to take down the attacker with a single thrust.

Ahead, at the top of the stairs, stood the captain, clad in heavy armor and wielding a massive shield. He gripped his weapon, the blood-red hue of an Ash of War swirling around it as he prepared for an attack.

The captain's shield blocked the first few strikes, but with a sharp thrust, he pierced the captain's defense. The captain retaliated with a powerful Bloody Slash, dark red energy tearing through the air. He barely dodged, but the attack grazed his side, sending a sharp pain through his body.

He staggered, struggling to recover as the captain closed in for a final blow. Just as the sword descended, everything went black.

His eyes opened again at the entrance of the fort.

He gritted his teeth and adjusted his grip on the spear, knowing what was coming.

After dealing with the ugly dogs and the bomb-throwing guard, he arrived again at the top of the fort.

The captain stood there, shield raised, sword ready. The same as before. He rushed forward, spear aimed, but the shield blocked the strike. The captain retaliated with a Bloody Slash, the red energy flying toward him. He barely dodged, feeling the wind from the attack graze his skin.

Another death. But each time, he learned.

He opened his eyes once again at the fort entrance, his grip tighter on the spear. The dogs, the guard, the captain—he had done this all before. But this time, he was faster, more precise.

By the time he faced the captain again, he knew exactly when the Bloody Slash was coming.

He ducked low, avoiding the brunt of the attack, and countered with a clean thrust into the captain's side.

The captain staggered, but he didn't stop. He pressed forward, striking the captain again and again, until the shield fell, and the captain's body crumpled to the ground.

The fort was his.

"Hahahaha!!! Finally! Let's gooo!" he shouted, looking down at the fort now under his control. He could feel the rush of victory.

The fort was his—every inch of it. Now, what to do next? He thought about gathering an army. That would make things much easier, instead of fighting alone. An army would make him stronger, give him more influence.

But just as he was celebrating, he noticed something. He looked down at the entrance from the top of the fort.

"What the hell? Who's this?" he thought, spotting a middle-aged man with golden hair and a beard, wearing heavy robes.

The man spotted him and started walking up the stairs toward him.

"Tarnished, I am Kenith Height, the master of this fort," the man called out.

He raised an eyebrow. "You're the master of this fort?"

"Yes, I was. But that captain took over my fort, and now you've killed him. So it's yours... But I'd like you to be my knight," Kenith said with a slight smile, as though this offer was some great honor.

He stared at the man for a long moment, then raised his spear and thrust it directly into the chest of this Kenith Height the master of this fort , silencing the arrogant fool with a single, swift motion.