It was a time of numerous calamities. The land was ravaged by war, famine, and disease. People were killed and slaughtered with terrifying regularity, food was scarce, and acts of cannibalism were not uncommon. In this grim world, hope was a rare commodity, and the future seemed bleak.
This was the world when we found him.
Our mission was clear: eliminate those we deemed responsible for the chaos. We, the elite Sword Squad, moved through the shadows, executing the targets with lethal precision. Each kill brought us closer to our final destination: the last stronghold of "The Nation." It was here that we expected to face our greatest challenge, a fierce resistance that would test our mettle and resolve.
But what we found was something entirely different.
The Fortress of Death
The final fortress of The Nation stood before us, a grim testament to the horrors that had unfolded. As we approached, it became shockingly clear that there was no opposition left to face us. The gates were wide open, and the silence was deafening. The air was thick with the stench of death, and the ground was littered with corpses.
Among the sea of bodies, there was one figure that stood out: a young boy, no older than 7 or 8, covered in blood. He was staring up at the sky, seemingly oblivious to the carnage around him. His frail body was smeared with the blood of thousands, the very people we had come to kill.
We cautiously approached him, weapons at the ready. But as we drew near, the boy sprang to life with terrifying speed and strength. He moved like a beast, tearing through our ranks with a ferocity that defied his small frame. Those who got too close were swiftly cut down. It was as if he was possessed by some dark force, an avatar of death.
I, Rodrick, the leader of the Sword Squad, engaged him in combat. He was unlike any opponent I had ever faced. His movements were erratic yet precise, his blows powerful despite his weak appearance. In the chaos of the fight, I lost my hand, severed by his savage attack. Desperation fueled my resolve, and I managed to land a blow on his chest, but before I could press the advantage, he fled into the night, his face obscured by blood and darkness.
The Fall of The Nation
With the rulers and rule-makers dead, The Nation fell. The power vacuum left behind was filled by the ascension of Luhap S Argan, a charismatic leader who promised to bring order to the chaos. Under his guidance, the nation was reformed, and The Republic was born. People finally found a semblance of peace and freedom.
But for me, there was no peace. We concluded that the boy was responsible for the massacre at the fortress, but no one had seen or heard of him since that night. His existence became a ghost story, a whispered legend among those who had seen the horrors of the old world. Was this newfound peace real, or merely the silence before the storm?
A Soldier's Solitude
I, Rodrick, was the only living person to have exchanged blows with the boy. As the leader of the Sword Squad, I documented everything in my report, detailing the strength and savagery of our mysterious adversary. But my superiors dismissed my account as the ravings of a traumatized soldier. Despite my wounds and the loss of my comrades, no one believed me.
In a move that seemed more like a silencing tactic than a reward, I was promoted to the rank of General [Rank 5] in The Republic. With the promotion came a stern warning: I was to never speak of the boy again. My silence was bought with rank and status, but it came at the cost of my peace of mind.
As I ascended in rank, I found myself surrounded by enemies. Hatred, jealousy, and despair were my constant companions. The camaraderie I once shared with my fellow soldiers had evaporated, replaced by suspicion and contempt. My superiors viewed me as a necessary evil, a reminder of the brutal past they were trying to forget.
I had no one to care for, no one to love. The loss of my comrades weighed heavily on my soul, and I found myself questioning the very purpose of my existence. My nights were haunted by visions of the boy and the massacre at the fortress. The blood, the bodies, the unrelenting fury of our young adversary—these were the images that plagued my dreams.
The Descent
Isolation drove me to the brink. The walls of my mind closed in, and the darkness became suffocating. I saw no reason to continue living in a world that had forsaken me. In a moment of utter despair, I attempted to end my life. But even in this, I failed. My body clung to life, refusing to let go, forcing me to confront the demons that haunted me.
With each passing day, the weight of my memories grew heavier. I became a ghost of my former self, a hollow shell of the warrior I once was. My rank and status meant nothing in the face of my internal torment. I withdrew further into myself, shunning the company of others, finding solace only in the solitude of my thoughts.
The Rise of the Silent Knight
Ten years have passed since the chaotic days of the fall of The Nation and the birth of The Republic. In this decade, I, Rodrick, have ascended to the pinnacle of military power, becoming the chief of the army. My rank made me the third most powerful person in The Republic, second only to Lord Argan and his most trusted advisors.
Through relentless training, I honed my body and mind. Love and companionship were luxuries I could not afford, so I devoted myself entirely to my training. This obsession paid off. I became the 7th among the 29 1st Rate Knights, earning the moniker "The Silent Knight."
The Aftermath of Mount Swan Fort
The battle at Mount Swan Fort was a turning point. Facing a monstrous enemy, it became clear that even my considerable power was insufficient to defeat him alone. This realization drove me to use my influence within The Republic to initiate a talent search. I sought individuals with the potential to become formidable warriors.
Out of thousands, 10 exceptional individuals were chosen. From these, two elite squads were formed, each consisting of 5 highly skilled fighters. One squad, known to the world, and the other, a secret force known only to me and its members.
The Living Squad
The Living Squad was composed of the finest warriors:
Arthur, "The Knight of the Sea" A master of aquatic combat.
Romulus, "The Divine BladeMaster" His swordsmanship was said to be a gift from the gods.
Sylvia, "The Seventh Sky" Aerial combat was her domain.
Gunther, "Knight of the Living Death" A survivor of countless battles, his resilience was legendary.
These four Peak 2nd Rate Knights were led by India, the 27th 1st Rate Knight, known as "The Immortal Blade." India wielded a sword of destiny forged by the Divine Baron of the great generation himself. The blade was said to be blessed by the gods, granting its wielder three lives. Though this might sound like an exaggeration, India had survived numerous life-threatening situations, and her blade skills and aura were unmatched.
The Dead Squad
The Dead Squad operated in the shadows, their existence known only to a few:
FIVE, FOUR, and THREE Their identities were erased, they were the finest 2nd Rate Knights.
TWO was stronger than the 29th 1st Rate Knight, a shadow warrior of immense power.
Leading them was Akasha, the 11th 1st Rate Knight, the only member whose existence was known to the world. Akasha was everywhere, emotionless, and exponentially strong. His loyalty was unwavering, and TWO was always by my side.
The Immortal Blade
India, the 27th 1st Rate Knight, was renowned for her beauty and combat prowess. Her immortal blade was said to be blessed by the gods, granting her extraordinary resilience. India's skills with the blade were unmatched, and her aura was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Her presence on the battlefield was a beacon of hope for our allies and a harbinger of doom for our enemies.
Akasha's Loyalty
Akasha, my most loyal subordinate, was a ghost in the shadows. His strength was unparalleled, and his lack of emotion made him the perfect soldier. With TWO always by my side, I felt invincible. My squads were out on missions, executing our plans with precision and efficiency.
Death
Despite my growing power, I was not invulnerable. On a fateful day, I was murdered in cold blood. The assassin was extraordinarily strong, and I suspected that Death himself had come for me. With both squads out on a mission to investigate Count Jhonson's involvement with the Blue Faction, I was alone and vulnerable.
As I lay dying, I felt a profound sense of failure. I had not only failed my comrades but also the very purpose of my life. My vision darkened, and I slipped into unconsciousness, believing it was the end.
Rebirth as Kent Jhonson
To my astonishment, I awoke in the body of Kent Jhonson, the first son of Count Jhonson. Karma, it seemed, had dealt me a strange hand. My new existence was both a curse and a second chance. The body was unfamiliar, but my mind and resolve remained intact.