In a mix of disgust and rage, the two remaining guards charged toward Nicholas, baring their swords.
As soon as the first guard closed in enough, Nicholas rose from the ground, stepping back a few paces. He grabbed the blood-soaked helmet and hurled it with a swift motion at the guard's face, denting the metal helm with a resounding metallic clang that echoed around. The guard staggered backward, stunned by the force of the blow, his dented helmet partially obscuring his vision.
Nicholas seized the moment and began sprinting toward him, ready to end his life. But the other guard stepped in front of his comrade, swinging his sword toward their enemy's head.
Nicholas dodged the strike miraculously, keeping a safe distance, glaring at him with feral eyes devoid of any mercy, which only heightened the guard's tension.
The guard spoke in worry, directing his words to his friend: **"Are you okay?"**
The latter replied while struggling to his feet, removing his helmet in pain: **"My head hurts, and my vision is blurry. I can't even stand properly. I must have been hit hard in the head."**
The first guard continued seriously: **"I'll face him for now. Regain your balance quickly and come finish this slave off."**
At the same time, Nicholas noticed the dead guard's sword lying on the ground.
A medium-sized sword with a sharp edge and a handle made of leather from an unknown source.
He bent down quickly toward it, grasping it with his bloodstained hands, feeling the weight of the metal in his grip.
He assumed a suitable attack stance, holding the sword with both hands, then shifted into a ready position.
He began walking with steady steps toward the guards, his eyes blazing with the fire of anger and sorrow.
Beneath the guard's armor, tension and dread were clear on his features. Just seeing his comrade's mangled head in front of him was enough to plant fear in his heart.
But despite that, his desire to survive was the only thing keeping him standing until now.
The soldier gripped his sword in readiness, watching Nicholas's slow approach.
As soon as they closed the required distance, the guard raised his sword into the air, while Nicholas angled his sword toward the ground.
In a fleeting moment, the swords clashed in a deafening metallic impact, its echoes reverberating through the cold, tense air.
Nicholas was pushed back slightly, while the guard continued pressing hard on his sword.
Nicholas sighed in exhaustion for a moment, then turned his face toward the guard. In a quick motion, he angled his sword sharply, causing the guard's blade to slide to the side, leaving his chest exposed for a brief instant.
Nicholas exploited the opening, pulling his sword back swiftly, then spinning in a rapid circle, delivering a direct strike to the guard's right side with his blade, piercing the armor with difficulty.
But surrender was not an option for his enemy. In a final attempt, the guard gripped his sword with all his strength and thrust it into the ground in front of the advancing blade, halting its progress into the armor.
Forcing Nicholas to withdraw the sword and step back.
But the guard didn't emerge unscathed; blood began flowing from a light wound on his side. The guard tensed all his muscles, trying to ease the pain while pulling his sword from the ground, gripping it firmly with both arms, hiding any sign of injury, thinking to himself: **"Damn, the wound is superficial, but it burns like fire. I have no choice—fight or die. The bleeding won't stop; that'll reduce my chances of winning. I need to end this quickly, here and now."**
The guard exhaled in fatigue, his eyes gleaming with a mix of fear and determination. Adrenaline surged through his veins, giving him an extra boost of strength to fight.
On the other side, Nicholas was panting from exhaustion, as sword fighting was new to him. But his rage and boundless hatred served as an additional engine, fueling him to continue.
The two approached each other with cautious steps, their eyes locked like predators stalking prey.
Their grips tightened, the crowd tense, the stench of corpses filling their nostrils.
In a fleeting moment, Nicholas swung his sword toward the guard's throat. The strike was fast and decisive, driven by wild rage and instinctive movement, targeting the weakest point in the guard's armor.
But the guard, despite his pain and fatigue, raised his sword to parry the attack, causing the blades to clash forcefully again, producing another deafening metallic clang.
Nicholas's sword rebounded, leaving him in a vulnerable position.
The guard's eyes spotted the opportunity. In an involuntary motion, his sword arced fatally toward Nicholas's midsection, his eyes widening with excitement and eagerness to win.
In the few seconds it took, instead of regaining balance, Nicholas dropped to the ground deliberately. The sword passed over his head, slicing strands of his flying hair, missing his body by a hair's breadth.
It struck the icy ground, producing a faint impact sound.
But the guard gave him no respite, immediately raising his sword overhead with both hands and bringing it down with all his might, slicing through the air around him.
Nicholas rolled quickly to the side, avoiding the fatal blow by inches. The guard's sword embedded in the white icy shards.
Nicholas dug his hand into the ice, forming an ice ball the size of his palm. In a swift motion, he hurled it forcefully at the guard's face.
The white shards slipped through the eye slits in the helmet, temporarily blinding the guard. He screamed in pain, staggering back with tearing eyes: **"You bastard!!"**
As darkness, pain, and fear enveloped him, Nicholas seized the moment, leaping to his feet and delivering a decisive strike to his neck.
It sliced his skin, tore through muscles and nerves, and blood sprayed into the open air.
The sword pierced the guard's neck, his blood erupting onto the battlefield, turning the ice beneath them into a bloodied red ground.
In his final moments, thousands of thoughts raced through his mind at terrifying speed: **"What? I lost? I'm dying?! Defeated by a slave?! No, no, no, this can't be right."**
His body shuddered violently as he grasped the reality—his death was inevitable.
Nicholas pulled the sword from his neck, and the guard collapsed dead to the ground.
Nicholas exhaled in exhaustion before turning toward the last soldier in fury, ready to eliminate him too.
But he wasn't in his expected spot. Nicholas spun in all directions, gripping his sword, prepared for any sudden attack.
The old man approached him slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder, his face etched with sadness and worry: **"No need to worry; he fled."**
Nicholas glared at him with eyes full of ferocity and rage, shouting at the top of his lungs: **"Why did you let him escape?! Go kill him—he was weak; he couldn't have harmed you!"**
The old man sighed deeply, patting his shoulder before removing his arm, replying: **"We're not as strong as you, my son. We're afraid; we don't even have the courage to attack them."**
Nicholas, panting from exhaustion, walked away from the old man without paying him any attention, advancing through the crowd. Some showed fear on their faces, others stared in shock and astonishment. But all of them, even if they didn't show it, felt relief at seeing their oppressors die in such a gruesome way, igniting a faint spark of rebellion in their hearts.
Nicholas paused for a moment in front of Ethan, who was staring at his bloodstained face with wonder and bewilderment. Despite witnessing the brutality of his actions, Ethan considered their deaths deserved, given what they had done.
Nicholas began wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand, his eyes watching Joseph, who looked worried.
He then said to him in an emotionless tone: **"Bring the bag."**
Joseph swallowed hard in anxiety before replying: **"Sorry, but I don't have it. You must have forgotten it at the old man's house."**
Without a word, Nicholas turned toward the old man's house, entered, retrieved the bag, and returned to them.
Lyor approached him, trying to say something, but Nicholas ignored him and opened the bag, revealing its contents:
- Two long ropes, each ending with a metal hook.
- 3 cans of gasoline.
- His personal rifle.
He took the hook with his bloody hands and began walking toward the wall that had imprisoned his people for all those years.
He started spinning the hook rope until it reached the right speed, then threw it with skill and strength to the top of the high wall. The metal hook embedded on the other side with a faint sound. He then pulled the rope hard to ensure it was secure.
He turned to them calmly, remaining silent for several seconds before speaking to everyone while holding the other hook: **"This rope you see before you is your only path to freedom. Climb this rope and place the other hook on this side of the wall so you'll have a way out. Once you're out, follow the elders who will guide you to our destroyed village. There you'll find some food until I come to you and lead you to a safe place. The choice is yours: those who choose freedom and dignity, step forward and escape this hell; those who want humiliation and slavery, stay here in disgrace."**
The crowd fell silent for a moment, torn between two choices: starting a new life outside or remaining here.
Cheers rose from the teenagers and young men who supported and encouraged the escape idea. Even those who hesitated at first received double encouragement from their friends, gradually pushing them to agree to flee.
But the parents and elders showed hesitation and doubt, silent, their minds swirling with thoughts.
One man stepped forward, his face serious: **"Shut up, you fools! We've told you hundreds of times that outside is more dangerous than here. You might not find food or water for days while being hunted by the most dangerous creatures. Even if you escape, where will you go? We have no safe place to stay. Escaping just means stupid suicide."**
A teenager shouted back: **"You always say that, but you have no proof there are any monsters. The outside might be—"**
Before he could finish, Nicholas interrupted: **"No, he's right."**
Everyone turned to him in surprise mixed with shock. Nicholas continued: **"The outside is dangerously indescribable. Monsters are everywhere, food is somewhat scarce, and all cities are destroyed, as the man said. But I wouldn't have come to you if I didn't have a solution already. As I told you, once you're out, head to the old village where you'll stay for a few hours. There we'll continue our journey through the city, the most dangerous part—creatures are abundant there, and it could kill us if we're not careful. But once we exit the city and cover a certain distance, we'll reach what you'll consider your new home: a colony full of humans like us, no slavery, no miserable life, safety guaranteed. You'll find your freedom and lives there, and I promise it will be better."**
Suddenly, he pointed at Ethan and the others, continuing: **"If anyone doubts my words, these three are from that colony, and you can ask them if you want."**
Nicholas's words stirred a wave of astonishment in the crowd, and eyes turned toward Ethan and the others standing in the midst.
A woman asked them curiously: **"Is he telling the truth? Is there really a safe place outside?"**
Ethan nodded in agreement, while Jenny replied positively: **"Yes, I assure you."**
Joseph added jokingly: **"We're the only ones with different skin color here; that's pretty obvious."**
After hearing their words, the doubts festering in the elders' minds began to fade slowly, while the teenagers' resolve and enthusiasm grew.
Nicholas shouted at them one last time, seriousness filling his face: **"I repeat: those who want freedom, come to my side; those who want to rot alive, stay where you are."**
Everyone began making the most important decision of their lives. Soon, a slight movement spread among them.
Some were driven by excitement to leave; others overcame the fears instilled by the Katorans over the years.
After a minute, the freedom side was filled with people, young and old, all yearning for liberty despite their differing goals.
Yet a significant portion of the slaves didn't move an inch, too afraid to advance.
A man from the freedom group shouted to a friend on the other side in confusion: **"Argon! Why are you still there? Come over here!"**
Argon averted his gaze from his friend, replying regretfully but laced with fear: **"No, I won't risk my life for this. Freedom is a beautiful dream, but if they catch me escaping... the end will be worse."**
Kamo's eyes widened in shock. He stepped forward a few paces, waving in the air: **"What nonsense are you spouting? Weren't you the one always talking about the outside world and wanting to see those creatures? This is your only chance to make it happen, so stop being a coward and come!"**
Argon remained in place, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the icy ground, replying: **"I was just joking. I never expected this day to come, so I said it for fun, nothing more."**
Argon's words stabbed Kamo's heart like a knife. He lowered his arms in shock as disappointment and sadness took over: **"So everything you said was a lie? You traitorous black bastard, all your talk was nothing? Fine, screw you and this place—I'll leave without you."**
Argon's heart clenched with grief and self-loathing. He said nothing, turning back toward his hut, waving his arm in farewell to his friend forever.
At the same time, Nicholas gave the others additional advice: **"When you reach the top, jump off the wall without fear; the snow will cushion the fall."**
Suddenly, a mother from the other side approached Nicholas, her face marked with worry and regret.
As she neared, she spoke: **"I want to be free; I don't want to stay here humiliated serving those pigs. But I can't leave."**
Nicholas replied indifferently, assuming she was making excuses: **"What do you want me to do about it?"**
The woman responded with pain and sadness: **"My son... he works as a servant in their homes. I won't go without him."**
Suddenly, she collapsed to the ground, placing her hands on her face in grief, her trembling fingers trying to hold back tears streaming down her cheeks, her body shaking from the weight of sorrow and fear: **"So please, free him too. He's all I have left. Please don't abandon him."**
Seeing the mother's state, Nicholas's harsh gaze, filled with anger and pain, softened a little.
Her words and love for her son reminded him of his own mother, who, despite her life's troubles, continued to love and care for him.
He knelt slowly on his knees, gently placing a hand on the mother's shoulder, his eyes a mix of sadness and empathy as he looked into her tear-filled eyes, saying reassuringly: **"Don't worry; your son will be fine."**
The mother stopped crying, lifting her face to him while wiping her tears: **"Thank you, thank you, thank you. You don't know how important this is to me."**
He replied calmly: **"No, I do know."**
Nicholas stood again, looking at those who chose to stay, shouting: **"I'll go and bring everyone left from your families in the Katoran area. So if anyone's worried about their child and wants to see them again, climb the rope and get out."**
He slung the bag over his back, turning to those with him: **"Anyone who wants to help is welcome anytime."**
He advanced through the weak crowd, and with each step, some joined the freedom side.
Everyone with Nicholas began climbing the rope, while the elders oversaw organizing them to avoid chaos.
At the same time, Nicholas sensed footsteps following from behind. He stopped, turning slowly to scan behind him.
He found Ethan, Jenny, Joseph with the trio, and 10 of their friends.
Lyor held the dead guard's sword before him, saying seriously: **"Come on, let's continue. We'll help you."**
Nicholas didn't reply but threw the other sword he had toward Karl calmly, dropping it in front of him.
Then he opened his bag, tossing out all the gasoline cans inside.
He began carrying and distributing them to the others.
One to Joseph, one to Lyor, one to himself.
Then he gave instructions: **"This thing in your hands is a highly flammable liquid. All you do is pour it where you want to burn and light it. But the problem is the Katorans' houses are made of mud and stone—that'll just waste the liquid."**
At the same time, Karl and the other 10 stared at the gasoline can in astonishment and shock, as it was their first time seeing such a thing, along with Ethan who regarded it curiously while arguing with Joseph to take it from him.
Malware stepped toward him, raising his hand and pointing to the ground with his fingers, suggesting: **"Hey negroes, I have a great idea. See that junk we call homes? Let's use it to burn these bastards' houses. We're leaving anyway, so no problem."**
Positive reactions appeared among them, and chatter broke out in support.
**"Epic idea, Malware!"**
**"Finally using the shoe in your head!"**
**"Let's go!"**
Nicholas cut them off sharply: **"Then let's do it. First, destroy the huts and pile them in front of the gate to this area, wherever it is. We'll block their only way in to buy time for the others to escape."**
Everyone launched without question or objection toward the dilapidated huts, smashing whatever was in front of them, extracting wood, old beds, plastic...
While those waiting their turn to climb watched in curiosity and bewilderment.
One said: **"What are they doing?"**
Another replied: **"I don't know, but they're with Nicholas—they must be planning something."**
Seconds and minutes passed, and the only gate to their area—4 meters long and wide—was completely blocked with hut debris.
Some sat on the ground for a rest, while others celebrated finishing quickly.
Nicholas, holding the gasoline can steadily, reached the blocked gate. His fingers carefully opened the metal cap.
He poured half the can over the debris in various directions.
When done, he recapped it, pulling a lighter from his pocket. He flicked it quickly, igniting a faint flame dancing in the cold air.
He took one of the scattered woods, lit it, and threw it onto the debris.
Flames appeared rapidly, carving their way through the pile, their tongues devouring everything ignitable, belching black smoke.
In moments, the fire consumed the debris entirely, becoming a fiery barrier preventing anyone from entering or exiting.
Everyone stood watching the fire warm their bodies, hope and unmatched resolve in their eyes.
In contrast, Nicholas's eyes reflected resentment and rage. He turned slowly toward the execution tree, gazing at his mother's hanged corpse for seconds before refocusing on the flames, regret and sorrow gripping his heart.
He approached Lyor, saying calmly: **"Tell those leaving to take the bodies and bury them. Even in death, they deserve to die on their land."**
Lyor was silent for a while before nodding with a faint smile, going to carry out his words.
Karl, standing beside Nicholas, asked in surprise: **"Wait, how will we reach them if the gate is burned?"**
Nicholas replied coldly: **"I didn't really think about that, but we can use the ropes to get out and smash the main gate."**
Eyes turned to him in shock at the non-seriousness, astonished he had no exit plan.
Karl replied, placing a hand on his face in frustration: **"Seriously, you don't even know how to get out?"**
Nicholas ignored him and headed back toward the rope, the others following without hesitation, ignoring the Katorans' voices approaching the gate.
Upon arrival, those with them shouted for those waiting to climb to move aside, making way for them to exit first.
Nicholas climbed first, followed by the others, meeting those who had exited earlier, waiting for the rest to go together.
Every step imprinted on the white ice, witnessing the first and last revolution of the colony.
Nicholas reached the car they had left nearby, passing corpses and their old footprints.
He stopped at the car, turning to Joseph with a serious face, gesturing toward it for him to drive.
Joseph got in without complaint, starting it. Nicholas entered immediately, rifle in hand.
He stuck his head out the broken window, shouting: **"Listen well—I'll explain this once and only once. We'll circle fire around the main gate. That'll force them to open it for two reasons: first, to search for who did this; second, to extinguish the flames. As soon as they open it, we'll charge in with the car."**
Nicholas's tone grew darker and more manic, his features hardening with rage: **"We'll run over every damned animal of them—everyone in front, we kill and crush. We'll fill their area with blood and chaos. You'll extract everyone who wants to come. Now move, Joseph—no time; the sun is setting."**
Joseph drove without objection, heading to the gate. The car sped over the white snow, leaving a deep trail mixing their previous steps and the blood of corpses it passed.
Upon arrival, the area was as usual: a white expanse of snow dotted with blood, the guards' bodies dragged inside, and the colony entrance gate.
They stopped meters away. Through the window, Nicholas signaled Samuel to pour gasoline on the gate.
Without preamble, Samuel doused the gate everywhere until the can was empty.
Samuel, eyeing the gate with a wicked smile, pulled the lighter Nicholas had given him earlier.
He tried igniting it, but it failed. He turned back to the car with Nicholas.
With an embarrassed smile: **"Um, I don't know how to use it."**
Nicholas facepalmed in frustration, took the lighter from Samuel with an angry glare, lit it in front of him to show how, saying sharply: **"Got it now?"**
Samuel replied: **"Of course, of course,"** returning to the gate and igniting the flames without hesitation.
Fire erupted quickly, covering the gate's lower part entirely.
Samuel backed away swiftly, eyes shining with satisfaction and excitement, shouting: **"You're done, you bastards!"**
The flames interacted with the wood, growing gradually.
On the other side, a guard watched the fire slowly creeping inward, smoke seeping through gate cracks, dread and fear dominating his heart: **"What the hell is this damned day?! Damn, I need to report the fire to stop it before it worsens."**
He shouted loudly to the other Katorans: **"Fire at the main gate! Bring as much water as you can carry!"**
The Katorans, without care, sent their slaves to a simple well in the area's center, driven by fear of their lord's punishment.
At the same time, the guard opened the gate to allow extinguishing.
He pulled the handle, and the gate began opening slowly, smoke pouring in more with each inch, making the guard cough violently. The slaves backed a few steps, worry and terror etched on their weary faces.
The guard said while waving smoke away, eyes closed: **"(Violent cough) What's all this smoke? I'll choke to death if this fire doesn't stop."**
Suddenly, a powerful engine roared, accompanied by wheels grinding on snow.
The guard opened his pained eyes in surprise, trying to see the source amid the thick smoke choking him. But before he could comprehend, a car burst through the smoke in seconds.
Through the broken window, the guard glimpsed a shadow barely visible, glaring at him with boundless hatred and rage, aiming a rifle at him, planting fear and dread in his heart.
Before he could react, the bullet pierced his skull, exploding his head from behind. He fell dead.
The slaves trembled in fear, instincts screaming to flee. They dropped buckets and ran away from the path as the car advanced, passing them.
Joseph turned the wheel madly, taking a curve with a group of Katoran men and women, each in their daily routine, unaware of their fate.
Joseph floored the gas, doubling speed, beginning to mow down everyone in the way. Horror and disgust rooted on his face, turning the area into bloody chaos. Bodies flew around the car, snow absorbing victims' blood, turning red.
The area filled with screams of fear and pain, panic spreading among survivors fleeing in all directions, abandoning belongings and tools.
But they were hunted one by one by Nicholas, who aimed skillfully at fleeing ones, killing all who tried to escape, his face endless rage.
Joseph turned at the road's end, taking one last look. His eyes narrowed in disgust and horror.
The entire path had become a pile of corpses on blood-red snow, a gruesome unbearable sight.
(At the main gate)
Everyone with Nicholas entered, cutting through thick smoke, searching for friends.
Karl advanced, shouting: **"All black men here, come to the gate—we're escaping this place!"**
Karl's voice echoed, resonating between huts. Vague shapes emerged from darkness—enslaved men and women gathering gradually toward the gate, eyes burning with hope and fear.
Lyor approached them seriously: **"Anyone with a friend, son, or known person, bring them here to escape together. No questions, no objections—just do it."**
Confusion and worry settled on the gathered. One stepped forward with fear and seriousness: **"You've lost it, guys! Don't you know what the masters will do if we try escaping?!"**
Lyor replied seriously, glaring sharply: **"First, I told you to come without objections, idiot. Second, the masters won't be masters much longer—so shut up and do the simplest: escape to the opposite side."**
Lyor advanced, eyeing the bloody snow and scattered Katoran corpses from afar with relief and ecstasy.
He added confidently: **"This time, we're the masters."**
Suddenly, a Katoran shouted terrified: **"What are you doing standing there, slaves? Go tell the guards to come!"**
Everyone turned silently, glaring with contempt and rage. One black man ran toward him, wielding a sword from a guard's corpse.
With one swing, he thrust it into the Katoran's shoulder, inflicting a fatal wound. The Katoran collapsed screaming in agony, blood flowing from his torn shoulder, staining the white snow red beneath him.
The hesitant crowd moved again, driven by fear and excitement, feeling power shifting to their hands.
The group split: half exited the colony to the others outside; the other half searched for remaining friends.
Elsewhere, Ethan and Jenny walked among strewn corpses, their footprints on bloody snow. Disgust and fear dominated Jenny's heart.
Her hands trembled violently, eyes half-closed, hand over her mouth to avoid vomiting.
Ethan regarded her with surprise and worry, holding a gasoline can in his right hand.
(Crack) Jenny suddenly heard something under her foot. She opened her eyes slowly, lowering her head hesitantly to the source—a mangled man's corpse, entrails scattered, blood everywhere.
In weakness, Jenny vomited on the snow, leaning on a mud wall, breathing heavily.
Ethan approached quickly in concern, trying to help but unsure how. He stood before her, worry and confusion on his face.
After a short while, Jenny stood again, eyes tightly shut, breathing irregular, heartbeat violent: **"I can't stand seeing all this! Why do we have to do this again? Can't he just put the gasoline in the car?!"** **"Ugh!"**
Ethan patted her shoulder gently, and they advanced.
While Jenny tried ignoring corpses, Ethan eyed them with bewildered confusion, not understanding her disgust. The only thing he grasped: death is bad.
As they walked, Jenny thought: **"Ugh, when will night come? I want to talk to the moon instead of this madness."**
Ethan walked slowly, spotting a surviving Katoran crawling toward them, clutching his rifle-shot shoulder.
The Katoran begged: **"Help... some assistance here."**
Ethan turned in surprise, recognizing a Katoran.
The latter continued pleading. Jenny closed her ears, thinking it hallucination.
Ethan approached slowly. The Katoran neared too, hoping for aid.
Ethan stopped a step away, facing innocently without ill intent.
Feeling safe, the Katoran whispered desperately in pain: **"This is a clear rebellion. We must alert the king quickly before it—"**
Before finishing, he took a direct stomach stab, screaming in pain.
The sword twisted slowly through his belly, widening the wound under his cries.
His red eyes opened in unbearable pain and shock, pupils shifting to the attacker—meeting Ethan's expressionless eyes.
Ethan pulled the sword quickly, blood exploding on his face. The Katoran tried staying upright with all strength.
Heartbeat racing, breathing hysterical, shock clear: **"What? How could you do this? Aren't we all family?..."**
Suddenly realizing: **"My stupidity... I thought I didn't remember due to injury, but seeing you again... you're not Katoran. I don't know who you are or why you help slaves, but your act won't go unpunished."**
The Katoran fell dead, joining his family's corpses.
Ethan stood motionless before the body, eyes fixed on the Katoran on the snow, blood dripping slowly, leaving a dark trail mixing with existing red.
Katoran blood covered him. His heartbeat quickened slightly, gazing in bewildered discomfort. No reason to kill him—only imitating Nicholas—but after, it felt strange and unpleasant.
Jenny, avoiding the scene, sensed something wrong with Ethan. She didn't move but spoke worriedly: **"Ethan? What's happening there? Are you okay?"**
Ethan stood seconds more, sheathed his sword, returned to Jenny, patting her shoulder to signal he was still there.
Jenny sighed in relief, continuing: **"Since everything's fine, let's keep going. Make sure to tell me if I'm near an edge."**
Ethan nodded calmly, eyes still bewildered, not understanding the discomfort from killing.
They continued through the living area turned mass grave—every spot, every turn leading to worse sights.
Ethan's eyes watched corpses in disturbed wonder, questioning how Nicholas endured that unpleasant feeling.
They entered dead Katorans' homes, removed contents, began burning them with gasoline, matches found in a hut.
They continued for nearly an hour until a turn.
Jenny opened her eyes in fear and dread, shocked by the scene.
Nicholas's car lay on the road's side, tires arrow-punctured, fuel leaking. Shirtless Nicholas, covered in wounds, stood before a Katoran, ready to finish him with his sword.
(An hour before this event)
Joseph stood behind Nicholas, who aimed his rifle at a guard before 3 armored corpses of other guards.
Strong build, armored in black iron with varied geometric patterns. Center upper helmet: large circular eye in spiral pattern, wide line along the eye for viewing, dangling metal straps and tails. Top designed crown-like.
Holding a scythe with black handle, long curved blade from ground to head height, staff tip a engraved sphere.
Behind him, 10 other guards including Quintus, Gaius, Decimus.
All in ready stance, awaiting orders from their leader (scythe guard).
Gaius eyed a corpse with mixed worry and joy, thinking: **"Andreas, you bastard, look what your arrogance got you. You advanced carelessly; he killed you with one shot, idiot. Heh, at least that slave has some use."**
He shifted to their leader, awe and amazement on his face, eyes wide at his majesty: **"Magnificent—the king's personal guard here to help. His armor, weapon—everything special..."**
Suddenly, the leader spoke deeply with authority: **"I went for a stroll and find slaves revolting against us—a fiercer rebellion than I imagined."**
Nicholas, in rage and contempt, pulled the trigger without compromise, firing at his chest center.
The bullet struck his ornate armor, pushing him centimeters back, falling to the ground, leaving a small dent.
The leader didn't flinch, showing no effect, merely glaring at Nicholas seriously and mockingly: **"You think a weak gun like this will affect me?"**
He began advancing slowly and steadily toward Nicholas, who glared back, grabbing a soldier's sword at his feet without delay.
He said contemptuously: **"Galahad, you damn fool, looks like you achieved your dream and became a soldier."**
Galahad replied: **"Soldier? I'm far above that. Who'd stay in such a lowly rank? Anyway, how do you know my name, slave?"**
Nicholas didn't answer, glaring in rage and disgust.
The leader sighed calmly, suddenly turning to the other soldiers, ordering: **"Listen all—no need to tire yourselves with him. I'll end him myself—"**
A soldier interrupted shouting: **"Watch your back!!"**
Before reacting, he took a back stab from Nicholas's sword, who exploited his distraction, pouncing like a wild beast. Armor damaged but sword couldn't fully penetrate.
Galahad gripped tightly, swinging his scythe in a wide circle with one motion, slicing surrounding air.
Nicholas, preparing another strike, threw himself to the ground as hard as possible, dodging miraculously.
He rolled backward immediately, escaping attack range.
He rose quickly, swaying slightly to regain balance in seconds.
Unnoticed, blood flowed from his forehead, revealing a near-deep wound.
He felt sharp pain but endured.
Galahad advanced gradually, speaking scornfully: **"Pathetic—you try sneaking, cursed slave. Unfortunately, such tactics won't work on me at all."**
Meanwhile, Nicholas thought tensely: **"Using the sword against him is useless. Close attacks mean overwhelming victory for him. That damned weapon covers his entire body, even his back. So..."**
He gripped the sword with both hands, throwing it in a circular motion toward him with all strength.
It spun in the air toward Galahad's chest, but the leader parried with one swing, dropping it harmlessly.
(Gunshot)
Suddenly, a bullet stuck to the leader's helmet, causing minor deformation.
Galahad turned to Nicholas, finding him aiming the rifle again, ready to fire.
He charged quickly, saying angrily: **"Useless."**