Why? Kevin, why?

Sparks fluttered down like butterflies in the snow as the two lashed out at one another in close proximity.

Kevin for one felt great and pressured at the same time. Finding someone to grind this youthful body into shape while fighting on edge wasn't something to ask for, it must be an encounter of an opportunity.

No one would engage in a meaningless life-or-death struggle. Even now, Kyle was reluctant to go all out off the bat as he was worried about fighting Jean after getting through with Kevin, while Kevin was worried a misstep of coordinating his instincts with the muscle memory of this new body might cost him a limb or a life.

While both of them held back, it didn't appear quite so in the eyes of the observers.

Steel daggers and curved swords flashed like shadows on the walls while the noise sent a chill down the ordinary soldier's spine. So absorbed in the fight they were that by the time four small shadows darted out from the heavy exchange, it was too late for the Solace soldiers to react when four of their brothers fell.

Throwing knives wedged between their brows and into their throats.

They died with eyes wide open, oblivious to the fact of their sudden demise.

"Bold!"

Kyle snarled, veins wiggling across his skin as a trickle of blood oozed from his lips. He feigned a down cross slash, released the blades from his grip, and punched while maintaining a horse stance.

Kevin attempted to block the cross slash, yet his body froze rigidly in surprise, unable to keep up with his reflexes.

A heavy thud followed as Kevin's chest caved in, two glaring indentations, and his body was launched flying back with a spurt of blood shooting past his lips.

Hateful. Painful.

Exhilarating.

Kevin's body pulsed with mana converted from the five pitiful souls as his body spun in the air with the inertia, a dozen or so throwing knives shooting out like falling stars, two specifically aimed at Kyle's right knee and left eye.

The man paused; he had to block. While he did, another eight of his men departed this world, stunning him furious. These games.

"What are you all waiting for?!" He shouted at his men who stared at the fresh bodies bleeding on the ground. "Kill them all! Stop standing there like practice dummies!"

He knew that as long as these people didn't move, they were easy targets for Kevin to assassinate periodically. Damnable thing, as if one Rögger bastard wasn't enough, another showed up the moment one of them was gone.

Chaos erupted once more as the dormant battlefield suddenly erupted with frenzy. However, the moral was obviously tipped in Jean's favor as she clenched her rapier and rushed within close proximity of Kevin's fight.

She didn't want to take her chances; she knew that Kevin's existence was a pivotal turning point in the outcome of this war.

Unlike her, Kevin actually smiled.

A bright smile from the bottom of his heart.

A smile that caused Kyle's heart to shudder as he finally understood something. Eyes red, he glared at this sixteen-year-old baron with incredulity in his aged eyes.

"You… Your aim is mutual destruction?"

He couldn't believe his conjecture and thus he had to ask.

Unbelievable this was.

Kevin spat blood on the ground, his smile a tacit agreement to the horrendous truth.

"Where were we now?" Kevin cracked his neck, ready to drag the fight for as long as necessary. Let the children fight among themselves while he would occasionally harvest a soul or two for nutrients.

He didn't believe that a prolonged battle with Kyle wouldn't stabilize his foundation and lacking muscle memory. Afterward, he would dispose of this man and carry out slaughter on whoever remained— indiscriminately.

He couldn't help but give Jean a look from the corner of his eye.

Bathed in blood. Exhausted. Depressed.

Still fighting on.

Cute it was.

"You're crazier than your father— sigh, whatever, I'm not very good when it comes to hatching these devious plots and schemes. Gotta say though, your appetite is quite big; 10,000 men." Kyle swung his swords around, grinned, and rushed at Kevin with bloodlust in his eyes.

The two began to dance once more to the macabre beat of wrung necks and fumbling heads. Try as he might, Kyle could not for the love of gods prevent Kevin from striking dead a soldier or two as the fight dragged on.

Dawn… Midday… Afternoon…Dusk…

It was hard to tell really, especially with that overcast winter sky.

Nonetheless, Kyle started to feel fatigued and the occasional number of heads tumbling to the ground fluctuated greatly based on Kevin's mood.

Kevin no longer gave Kyle his undivided attention.

Despite the cuts and bruises that riddled the former's body, the latter felt no sense of accomplishment whatsoever.

He only felt despair as the thousands dwindled into mere hundreds overnight.

One can't take two steps without stepping on a face no longer recognizable from the footmarks that mashed the countenance into oblivion.

Kyle spared his last two capable fighters a glance as they grouped up two-on-one against Jean, their eyes red with indignant grief from their commander's helplessness. Everyone thought of his fight as the most intense, only he knew that it was all but a farce devised by the son of Issac Rögger, the young baron.

"Bold!"

A sinister whisper chilled Kyle to the bones as he suddenly came to realize one thing— he was dead.

Seven throwing knives lined up like the big dipper on his back; bone-deep penetration and beyond. There was no Kevin in front of him, he was distracted for three seconds too long.

How bothersome, Kyle thought as he coughed up crimson blood.

No one was of the mindset to keep up with the fight on this end anymore.

Everyone was desperate and angry.

Everyone was grieving.

Everyone was dying…

Kevin heaved a deep sigh and tugged at the tip of his hoodie, concealing his expression in layers of shadows as deep as the night on the western horizon.

On this fine evening, a commendable commander got killed in action.

A cold wind whistled past and carried a set of flying daggers wherever it went, striking enemy and comrade alike. Six knives, in particular, struck home the heads of the two combatants mounting an unfair advantage against Jean.

She was surprised as a splash of blood washed her face red. Then, she noticed Kevin and the motionless Kyle to the side.

She felt relieved for a second, horrified the next as she witnessed Kevin carry an indiscriminate slaughter. Enraged, she rushed in his direction.

"What are you doing?!" She yelled, voice hoarse and barely audible in the thick snow.

He heard it. He ignored it.

She couldn't keep up with his pace— not with her beat stamina and weary body. She could only chase in the wake of miserable cries of agony.

Face stricken in grief, washed with tears that mixed in blood. To her knees, she plopped. Powerless to stop it.

Why? She blankly asked in her mind.

Something deep told her that he must have his reasons.

Something deep told her to worry for herself instead.

What if he killed her as well? What if he was bedeviled?

What if?

The last soldier on the battlefield quickly fell silent on the ground, unresigned.

Then, with a pair of long daggers more crimson than black, Kevin walked over to Jean.