"Arthur, huh? If that's true, you've got a lot to explain."
The voice broke the silence, deep and commanding. The man had been studying Arthur intently, his gaze sharp, almost piercing. He felt like he was staring into his soul directly when that sharp gaze fixed on him.
Arthur, or rather Issac, who now inhabited Arthur's body, straightened instinctively. His nerves were pricked, but somehow he maintained calm. He instinctively felt the man in front of him was someone he should be wary of.
The squad leader was no ordinary swordsman. Issac could sense it immediately, the sheer strength he felt from him far surpassed his own.
His face bore the marks of his battles, the most striking was a jagged scar slicing down the left side of his cheek. Silver hair, cut in a rugged wolfish style, framed his strong features. His thick, neatly trimmed mustache added an air of dignity to his rough appearance.
He sat casually on a sturdy wooden box, yet the greatsword leaning beside him made it clear he was far from unarmed. Its hilt alone suggested the weight of the weapon, a weapon that required tremendous strength to wield effectively. His pristine armor gleamed even in the dim light. Issac felt that this guy in front of him was no ordinary squad leader, unlike him.
"Arthur, I'll only ask a few simple questions. Answer me carefully." he said, his voice hoarse but steady.
"Yes, Sir!" Arthur nodded firmly, his voice unwavering even though he felt pressure bearing down on him.
Issac couldn't help but reflect on the situation as he stared at the man.
'Is he an Imperial Knight?'
The sheer pressure of his presence was oppressive, not something one encountered in a common soldier.
'This must be what it feels like to face one of the higher-ranking knights of the Imperial Order.'
As these thoughts raced through Issac's mind, the memories of this body, Arthur, ran through his mind like a film, exactly playing the moment that he needed to hear or know about without missing a detail. In a single body, he now had two different lives living inside.
It was because of these memories, along with the senses and physical prowess of Arthur's body, that allowed Issac to adapt to this strange and perilous situation. Though Issac had taken over Arthur's body, the muscle memory, instincts, and years of accumulated experience remained intact, offering him a lifeline in this unfamiliar world.
The squad leader's sharp gaze never wavered, as if he could see right through Issac. The silence felt heavy.
"How did you survive?" the knight asked, his deep voice laced with a quiet menace. The pressure he exuded intensified, settling over the area like a suffocating blanket. It was as much a warning as it was an interrogation. Any lie, hesitation, or foolish move would be met with instant and merciless retribution.
The oppressive aura emanating from the knight made even the surrounding soldiers falter. Their knees buckled under the weight, and some nearly collapsed to the ground. Yet Issac stood firm. His posture was straight, unyielding, as though the knight's pressure was but a passing breeze.
"Sir, I truly have no idea," Issac began, his voice steady despite the oppressive atmosphere. "While I was fighting on the frontlines against the demonic forces, a black mist suddenly engulfed the battlefield. It was unlike anything I had ever seen as it swallowed the light, making it impossible for anyone to see."
He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing.
"Then... it came. An unknown demonic being emerged from their ranks, cutting down everyone in its path with an almost godlike force. It showed no mercy, slaughtering soldiers indiscriminately. I remember fighting desperately, but—" Issac paused for a fraction of a second, recalling the chaotic memories that weren't entirely his own. "—I was struck down. I thought I was done for."
To emphasize his point, Issac lifted his shirt slightly, revealing the diagonal scar across his abdomen. The wound was deep and clear, "The blow should have been fatal, but by some twist of fate, the cut wasn't deep enough to cause a life-threatening wound. I bled heavily and lost consciousness from weakness."
Issac took a moment to gauge the knight's reaction, but the man's expression was unreadable. His piercing eyes bore into Issac, unblinking, as if searching for even the faintest trace of deceit.
Issac continued, his tone calm but tinged with lingering confusion. "When I woke up, the battlefield was silent. The black mist was gone, and all that remained was a wasteland of rotting corpses. Soldiers, friends, and foes alike were reduced to lifeless bodies strewn across the land. The monster had disappeared as suddenly as it had come. I... don't remember anything else."
The memories, though vivid, felt surreal to Issac. He didn't know how Arthur had survived, nor how he himself had come to possess this body. The chaotic memories of that night were disjointed. One could see memories that came straight from horror movies, as all it was filled with were screams, cries, fear, and helplessness.
What Issac did remember clearly, however, was the sheer horror of the event, the desperate cries of soldiers trying to flee, the sound of flesh being torn apart, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness as that godly force struck them down one by one.
"That's all I've got to say," Issac concluded, his voice steady but restrained.
The squad leader remained silent, his keen gaze fixed on Issac. He studied him intently, as though in deep thoughts.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the squad leader exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. His decision seemed to solidify in his mind as he spoke. "That's it. I've got no more questions for you."
He turned to a nearby soldier. "Ron, inform the other squads that we've found a survivor. Let them know our squad will return to the capital before dawn, and we'll be taking the survivor with us."
Ron snapped to attention, quickly rushing off to relay the orders.
The squad leader's sharp eyes flicked to two other soldiers standing nearby. "You two, prepare lodging for the survivor and see that his wounds are properly treated. Ensure he's fit to travel by morning."
"Understood, sir!" they responded in unison, hurrying off to carry out their tasks.
However, one soldier lingered, his face clouded with doubt. His hesitation was palpable as he finally voiced his concern. "But, leader... you only asked him one question. What if he's lying? Shouldn't we interrogate him further? He could be hiding something."
The squad leader's gaze snapped to the protesting soldier, his eyes cold and piercing. It was as though a physical force accompanied that look, pinning the man in place. "If he were lying," the leader said, his voice low and frigid, "he'd already be dead."
*****
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