By Zephyria 
Leonardo, having just dropped into an unfamiliar place, had no way of knowing where the ‘warehouse’ mentioned by his helper was. However, contrary to his will or information, his sturdy legs crawled on their own toward a hut located in a secluded corner. A pungent, rotting stench wafted from the entrance, but his body seemed to accept the situation, not even flinching.
Sensing the atmosphere, he set down the sack he had been carrying on his shoulder and crouched behind it. The junk was piled so high and haphazardly that it was a perfect spot to hide. He remained there for a while, head bowed low.
Occasionally, men carrying luggage entered and exited the hut, spitting curses, but none of them spoke to him, seemingly failing to notice his presence. Thanks to this, he was given time to think about the surreal situation.
‘…?’
Or so he thought. If only his shoulders hadn’t suddenly begun to shake.
His vision blurred with moisture. It took a surprising amount of time for him to realize that this body was crying.
An emotional response that did not correspond to actual feelings was this alien. Leonardo quietly observed the man—presumably his previous self—as if looking at a complete stranger despite sharing the same body.
“Sob, hic….”
Various emotions flickered in his gaze as he watched this ego. It began with bewilderment and ended in pity. Though the boy likely couldn’t hear him, Leonardo murmured softly, as if scolding his other self.
‘Sure, the battlefield is tough… but is this the time to be crying?’
“Hic, ugh….”
‘Are you the only one struggling? You should be grateful your limbs are intact. Is this really the time to be blubbering?’
He didn’t know exactly how old the boy was, but judging by the height of his vision, he was certainly older than Leonardo had been when he first enlisted as a boy soldier. Daily life on the battlefield is a relentless struggle in hell. That was why one had to keep their wits about them even more.
Maintaining weapons and hauling food are all things done to survive; one cannot simply collapse and dig a hole in the ground alone like this.
Since there was no response, Leonardo raised the back of his hand and wiped away the tears as if comforting himself. At that moment, the timing aligned, and the body followed the command. Just as he was struggling to lift his backside, intending to stand up and march out bravely—
The body, which refused to listen again, suddenly reached into an inner pocket. He pulled out a piece of cloth—whether a pocket or a wallet, it was hard to tell—crudely sewn together. Opening it revealed a single photograph, but upon closer inspection, it wasn’t a photo, but a delicately drawn small portrait.
His eyes stared intently at the portrait he had been cherishing. In that moment, Leonardo realized another fact.
‘Family?’
A young woman and a small child held in her arms. The two looked very much alike.
He knew instinctively. He must have been married at this time.
Suddenly feeling strange, he let the body cry a little longer. While the boy wept, he was able to glimpse the portrait through blurred vision. The edges were stained with blood.
“Dammit, there’s a limit to how many maggots you can fish out of this slop. How are we supposed to eat this?”
“Be glad there are even maggots. At this rate, we’ll be boiling grass soon.”
“Stop talking nonsense and just eat.”
The length of the food distribution line was proportional to the length of the complaints. Burly, strong-looking men occupied the front of the line. However, seeing as they were receiving food waste in bowls made from halved hard fruit shells, it seemed it didn’t matter whether one stood first or last.
Leonardo sat in a suitable corner, tearing into the bread he had received while observing the atmosphere. Maggots aside, he saw sprouts on the potatoes, making him wary of the stew. Information he had overlooked in his earlier confusion began to enter his eyes and ears one by one. The first thing he noticed was the difference in language.
“Phry＇tkk, vulg＇nn zxyt.. mnn＇thr.”
“Vn＇qaz, ygrd＇x ll＇gue! xza＇v.”
He could naturally understand the meaning, but the language they used was not the tongue of Laina Rogia.
It wasn’t the language of the enemy Turandot, nor that of the neighboring Ulisia or other small nations. If he had to pick, it was similar to the old grammar and intonation of Paren… but was there such a dialect among them?
Chewing a piece of bread while tilting his head in thought, he shifted his gaze. Then, another question arose. The weapons they used were similar in form to ancient artifacts one might see in a museum from several hundred years ago.
The spear shaft he had been holding earlier was embarrassing to even call a weapon. A piece of stone split sharply at the end, tied to a smoothed wooden pole with twine—it was a toy… or, giving it the benefit of the doubt, nothing more than a threatening farming tool.
Thinking thus, he began to doubt whether this body, and the people gathered here, were actually knights. Even if he estimated the era of this place to be the Dark Ages, dominated by plague and ignorance, a Knight is, by definition, a being who charges without hesitation for their Monarch with dignity, honor, and pride, fighting to protect their faith and their life.
Though the title might have been different in this life, he had once lived with a spirit no less than that of a knight, so he could comfort himself that if his previous life had been a knight, it was at least a decent existence. But no matter how he looked at it, the group before him, including this body…
‘They’re just conscripts dragged out from farming, or a complete rabble.’
He realized his guess was correct during the march that began at dawn.
“Once we just reach Perman….”
“If we can recapture that place, we’ll have a chance….”
The procession moved with the wind at their backs to reach a place called ‘Perman,’ which was mentioned occasionally. Leonardo felt that the name of the region was quite familiar, but he had no time for deep contemplation. This was because a foul, fishy stench continued to rise from his clothes, soaked in sweat and blood. Even if he wanted to change, this was the only garment he had—a thick quilted coat with hard leather grafted and sewn onto it—so there were no other options.
“You pieces of shit… where the hell did they crawl into now?”
The man with the coarse voice who had been meddling here and there yesterday was leading the vanguard, having sent three or four scouts ahead.
“The entire Perman area is a nest of those things. If we get bogged down here, losing a leg won’t be the end of it.”
“I know that, fuck. That’s why I’m keeping us on the open roads. But these cockroach-like bastards are burrowed in the ground without making a sound. It’s driving me crazy.”
Ptoo. The man spat out yellow phlegm and looked back.
“Hey, tell those clueless idiots in the back to close the gaps. It’s not that those things are too scared to come out; they’re just waiting for the formation to break. Anyone who falls behind will be used as bait to sacrifice honorably for the unit.”
‘He’s not a fool.’
He seemed to be the leader of this group, or perhaps something like a captain of the guard in modern terms. His skill in command and strategy showed experience, but frankly, Leonardo didn’t like the way he led the march.
‘Still, they won’t last long at this rate.’
The group was exhausted across the board, and their speed was slow because they were moving with wounded soldiers. The body he inhabited was no different. Whether he was pretending to have a leg injury or was truly exhausted, the way he limped was so frustrating to watch that Leonardo felt like he might explode. Had he ever even held a weapon? Anyone would feel the same if their previous self acted more ineptly than their current self.
Furthermore, though it couldn’t be helped, the stench emanating from their bodies, including his own, was excessive. Against an enemy presumed to be monsters—demon beasts—whose sense of smell was several times more developed than a human’s, this was nothing more than shouting, ‘I am here, come bite me.’
“Hey, put more of this on. I’m giving it to you because you smell so foul.”
Just then, a soldier next to him tapped his arm. Looking back, the face was familiar; it was the man who had helped him when he fell in the mud yesterday.
In his hand was a flat iron mess tin containing charcoal powder. This seemed to be their version of bathing, or at least their way of masking the scent.
“…Thank you.”
“Where were you yesterday? I stopped by the warehouse and didn’t see you.”
“Ah, I was there, but during distribution, I sat in a corner…. I didn’t think you’d look for me.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I didn’t go looking for you on purpose. More importantly, this is hell, right? We haven’t eaten or rested properly for days.”
He comforted him as if empathizing with the body’s emotions.
“But since you’ve survived this far, just hold on a little longer. That’s the only way we get home.”
The body stared at him blankly, then shifted its eyes. It seemed emotions were welling up again.
Feeling the agitation just from the erratic eye movements, Leonardo vowed once more not to cry in front of his comrades from now on.
“Brother… how did you end up here?”
“Me? Me, well. Same as everyone else. Living like this isn’t really living, and I thought I should step up if we want to protect our land…. I made a mistake; I should have just stayed home and tilled the fields. But if things kept going this way, there wouldn’t even be a place to return to.”
“A place to return to….”
“Even if it’s become a mountain of corpses, if we keep moving forward, won’t the day come when the sun rises and flowers bloom again? I heard reinforcements are coming from various regions. Once I survive, I’ll swagger around like that stubborn bastard over there and brag about how many years of service I’ve put in.”
The man spoke, gesturing with his chin toward the man shouting at the front. At that, the corners of the body’s mouth twitched upward for the first time.
It seemed the heart had warmed slightly at the joking encouragement. It was the positive function of comradeship.
Just as Leonardo, who had been watching with crossed arms from within, was about to slowly relax his hardened expression—
“But how did your younger brother….”
Swish—
A dark shadow flashed past behind them in an instant. A heavy gust of wind blew simultaneously, and Leonardo reflexively turned his head. The man he was talking to did the same.
“Huh?”
The soldier who had been following in line behind the two just a moment ago had suddenly vanished. Instead, there were long drag marks on the ground, and their gaze naturally shifted toward them. But the state of things was strange.
Two arms and legs thrust into the brush were convulsing, scratching the dirt and flopping repeatedly. On the other hand, from the neck up, dozens of harpoons like iron skewers had pierced the flesh, pinning the head firmly in place. Red, hot blood flowed from the skull, which was riddled with holes like a honeycomb, gradually widening its reach.
A painful groan, like that of a gasping beast, leaked through the gaps.
“Aaaagh!”
A scream, from someone unknown, echoed loudly through the forest path. Using that as a starting point, bizarre noises began to swarm from all directions.
The demon beast that had brutally slaughtered the man watched the procession from the brush, chewing on the severed head. The desperate struggle of the body that still breathed fueled the tightening tension.
Though he realized they were already surrounded, Leonardo’s eyes could not pull away from the lumps on the demon beast’s back.
While the specific appearance was quite different from what he remembered, he couldn’t help but recognize that physical organ that repeated contraction and relaxation.
‘Dermokas?’
Soon, the area descended into chaos in an instant.
Along with the gathering dark clouds, the thick scent of blood spread.