Chapter 2

There were two princes in the Kingdom of Hairak.

These brothers were as opposite in personality as they were in appearance.

The First Prince Hasan was arrogant and gloomy. He would beat servants to death for minor mistakes and took pleasure in mocking and slandering others.

In contrast, the Second Prince Kinaine was cheerful and kind. He readily extended his hand to those in need and mingled freely with those of lower status than himself.

If the First Prince was the most outstanding one among a hundred, the Second Prince was a genius that appeared once in a century. Whether it was swordsmanship, horsemanship, or public support - the younger brother surpassed the elder in every aspect.

Everyone wished for the Second Prince to become king, but in a kingdom that strictly followed the principle of primogeniture, this was impossible.

Until the First Prince died.

The First Prince was executed for the crime of using forbidden black magic.

He had turned people to stone with evil magic and polluted forests and rivers. Countless innocent lives were lost, and no one could stand against the black mage.

Except for one person - his younger brother, who had always excelled beyond him.

The Second Prince executed the villain and brought peace to the kingdom. Darkness retreated, and a new sun rose.

People welcomed the peaceful era brought by their hero. It was time to move forward into a brilliantly shining future, leaving the painful past behind.

Therefore, no one remembered the villain's final words.

'I am not Hasan!'

* * *

'Kinaine. I hope you die in agony. I want you to lose everything, struggle in despair, and finally die hating yourself.'

'It will definitely happen.'

'I will make sure of it.'

Brother.

Brother, why...

"Hey!"

The man opened his eyes at the voice calling him. His black eyes, still clouded with sleep, turned toward the merchant.

"You begged to be taken on the carriage in exchange for protection, but now you're just sleeping peacefully?"

The merchant glared at him with fierce eyes.

He had seemed unreliable from the start. His disheveled appearance as if he hadn't washed for days, and his small, thin build compared to other mercenaries - none of it was reassuring. If the merchant hadn't had his money pouch stolen on the way up from his hometown, he would never have hired such a guard.

The merchant regretted it now. He should have hired better protection even if it meant going into debt. Not this vagrant!

"We're all dead men now!"

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? If you have eyes, look over there!"

The man's gaze followed where the merchant's finger pointed.

Screech!

Pig-like heads, green skin, bodies thick with fat and muscle.

A group of orcs had surrounded their carriage.

Even a rough count showed more than five of them. It took at least three grown men to handle a single orc. In this situation, even a skilled mercenary would surely struggle.

But the only people here were a merchant who had never fought in his life and a vagrant who acted tough with just a sword.

"Huuung, to think my end would be as orc food!"

Then a swooshing sound cut through the merchant's crying.

When the merchant raised his head while wiping his wet eyes, he saw an orc's head rolling on the ground.

"...Huh?"

Before him stood the man, who had already drawn his sword.

Growl!

Enraged at their companion's death, the orcs rushed at the man simultaneously.

Though he was watching properly this time, the merchant's eyes couldn't follow what happened next. To his eyes, it merely looked like orcs fell screaming whenever the sword flashed.

It was an incredible display of martial prowess that seemed impossible from the man who had been too sleepy to notice they were surrounded by orcs just moments ago. Even the merchant, ignorant about such combat, could tell the man's skills were far from ordinary.

Having lost its group in an instant, the last remaining orc hesitated to charge forward. It had become frightened of the man who was barely half its size.

Screech!

At that moment, the orc changed direction and rushed at the merchant. Having realized it couldn't defeat the man, it was targeting the weaker opponent.

The wooden club the orc wielded was so large that no ordinary person could lift it. One hit would surely shatter a head like a fruit.

"Eek!"

The merchant tried to run away but tripped over his own legs. He screamed as he watched the club mercilessly descending toward his head.

"Ugh!"

A low groan was heard. But it wasn't from the merchant.

The man who had blocked the club with his sword gritted his teeth.

If this had been his 'original' body, the orc would have been pushed back.

But now, it was the man who was being pushed back.

"Hnngh!"

Blood vessels bulged in his eyes and the muscles in his right arm screamed in protest. He endured the brutish strength with nothing but willpower and endurance.

It was the cheap sword that couldn't endure. Unable to withstand the force, the blade broke in two and fell to the ground.

"Hah!"

Unlike the pale-faced merchant, the man remained calm.

He ducked down and instantly grabbed the broken blade. The snapped blade deeply pierced the orc's neck in the blink of an eye. Red blood and green blood mixed as they flowed down the man's forearm.

Groo?

The orc seemed to realize what had happened to it belatedly, but it was already too late.

Thud! With a loud sound, the last orc fell. The rising dust temporarily obscured their vision.

"Hah, hah."

The man staggered as he exhaled rough breaths. His straight back bent over.

"Cough!"

Soon, violent coughing erupted that was painful even to hear.

"Are, are you alright?"

After the prolonged coughing finally stopped, the merchant carefully approached and asked.

As he got closer, he noticed a strong smell of blood coming from the man. But it was hard to tell whether it was from the monsters or his own.

The merchant's eyes sparkled as he looked at the man.

"You, you're amazing! I knew from the first glance that you were no ordinary person!"

As if he hadn't been looking at him like a useless vagrant before, the merchant's eyes were now full of admiration.

All men admire martial prowess. Though he had become a merchant, he too had once dreamed of becoming a swordsman from the stories of his childhood. The man before him seemed like the embodiment of his childhood dream.

Mysterious, quiet, and seeming weak but actually hiding his strength - what a twist!

Whether aware of the merchant's thoughts or not, the man wiped his blood-covered hand on his clothes. Now that his skills were known, even his shabby appearance made him look like a swordsman with a story to tell.

The merchant's eyes sparkled even more.

"No. I'm not alright."

"I see... What?"

"Sigh, looks like I'll need to rest for a while. I lost my sword, and my right arm... ouch, ouch!"

The man whined with exaggerated groans and a pitiful expression. He looked so dim-witted that it was hard to believe he was the same person who had just coldly dispatched the orc group.

"Seems I won't be able to use it for a while. And this is how I make my living. Ah, this is really bad, truly."

"Aah, what's the point of surviving here? Whether becoming orc food or starving to death, dying is dying... Wouldn't starving to death be more painful? What do you think?"

As the man continued speaking, the sparkle in the merchant's eyes gradually dimmed.

Only after the merchant promised to give him part of the proceeds from selling goods in the next town did the man finally stop whining.

***

'This is quite decent.'

The man, Kinaine, checked inside the money pouch and smiled faintly.

Fortunately, the merchant had properly paid for his life. This would be enough to stay at a decent inn tonight.

"Ugh, itchy."

Perhaps from sleeping rough for so long, his body was itchy. When he scratched his head vigorously with his good left hand, nearby people stepped away with expressions as if they'd seen a bug. Kinaine sheepishly lowered his hand, realizing his mistake.

"Ahem."

He cleared his throat needlessly and walked quickly. It seemed his sense of hygiene had grown dim after being caught up in monster subjugation for several months.

Once he became conscious of it, the foul smell coming from his body became unbearable. Kinaine hurriedly entered a nearby inn.

"Welcome...!"

The innkeeper's welcoming smile faltered significantly.

Was it because he was too dirty? Hiding his embarrassment, Kinaine naturally followed the innkeeper's gaze. At its end was his clothes stained red - marks from when he had wiped away the blood he had coughed up.

Only then did Kinaine realize the innkeeper's misunderstanding.

"Ah, this is my own blood."

It was an answer worse than silence. Seeing the innkeeper turn pale and even take a step back, Kinaine quickly added:

"Of course, I'm not sick. Here, I'll pay a week's advance first."

Only after seeing the silver coins Kinaine offered did the innkeeper seem to lower their guard somewhat.

"...You really aren't sick, right? It would be really troublesome if you had something contagious. It would ruin my business."

"Yes. There's absolutely no need to worry."

There wasn't the slightest tremor in his reassuring voice.

Though he was coughing up blood, this wasn't an illness. What was killing Kinaine was the evil energy from black magic.

The curse left behind seven years ago when his own brother, Hasan, had stolen his body.