As he was directing his troops in battle, Harrey suddenly felt his vision blur and a wave of dizziness surged into his mind.
It was as if some irresistible voice was whispering to him, urging him to slaughter—slaughter everything and everyone around him.
But years of rigorous training allowed him to regain clarity in an instant.
Just as he was about to raise his sword to stab the guard in front of him, he broke free from the strange compulsion and regained control of his body.
Before he could fully grasp the situation, the sharp whistling of a weapon slicing through the air came from behind him.
Startled, Harrey threw himself off his warhorse without any regard for appearances—
—and narrowly dodged a lethal blow!
He rolled several times on the ground before springing back to his feet.
Only then did he finally have time to look back!
And with one glance, he recognized the person who had just attacked him—it was another commander from the Yharnis.
But at this moment, the man's expression bore none of his usual resolve. Instead, it was twisted with utter madness, as if all rationality had been stripped from him.
After realizing that his strike had failed, the commander no longer paid Harrey any attention. With a crazed shout, he turned and swung his sword at another comrade nearby. In one clean slash, he shattered the man's arm guard and completely severed his arm!
Yet the other man did not flinch. Without hesitation, he retaliated with a strike aimed directly at the commander's head…
Scenes like this weren't isolated.
When Harrey glanced around, he realized this madness had spread far and wide.
The entire army of over a hundred thousand soldiers from the principality of Yharnis—except for a few hundred elite knights of captain strength—had fallen into insanity. They had completely lost their minds and were now slaughtering the comrades they had fought beside just moments ago.
Staring at the chaos and brutality unfolding before him, Harrey felt utterly disoriented, at a complete loss for what to do.
He had never imagined something like this could happen!
After unsuccessfully trying to coordinate with those few who remained sane to stop the rampaging soldiers, he recalled the source of that crimson light—and quickly looked up at the city wall.
There stood Jaemar, calmly observing them like one might a pack of wild beasts.
In that moment, everything became clear. Harrey roared:
"Jaemar! So the principality of Mardain had such a powerful magical artifact hidden all along?!"
Hearing this, Jaemar blinked in surprise, then casually scratched his ear and lazily replied, "This magical artifact has been preserved in our country for over 700 years—well-maintained all this time. If your nation hadn't gone so far, we wouldn't have used it. Honestly, it's such a waste."
Harrey had no doubt he was telling the truth.
Because as far as he knew, no living warlock today had the power to cast such a spell. Only a few ancient magical artifacts of great power remained.
And even during the peak of the world's magical energy, hundreds of years ago, it would've taken monumental effort and cost for even the most powerful warlocks to create something of this caliber!
After centuries of attrition, barely any such items still existed.
They were exceedingly rare!
Moreover, with the world's magical energy in decline, maintaining such artifacts each year cost more than most nobles could afford. Only the royal families of a nation could manage such long-term upkeep.
Even so…
Regardless of whether these powerful magical artifacts were originally meant to be used once or many times—
—in this age of magic scarcity, they were all effectively single-use items now!
Once used, they were gone forever.
So unless absolutely necessary, no one would ever deploy them. The last known use had been decades ago.
Harrey never imagined that the royal family of Mardain had hidden such a trump card so well—gripping it tightly for hundreds of years without a hint leaking out.
Watching the soldiers still fighting and dying around him, Harrey's face darkened. Like a deflated balloon, he turned toward Jaemar and said:
"Deactivate that magical artifact… The principality of Yharnis is willing to surrender."
But Jaemar simply shook his head and replied, "Harrey, once this thing is activated, it's beyond my control. Only time will stop it."
Then he stopped paying attention to the furious man below the wall.
Instead, he turned to his subordinates, who were still stunned by their sudden victory, and ordered, "Once they stop, they'll either be dead or heavily wounded. Make sure to capture all of them. Pay special attention to those critically injured—we'll still need them alive."
"Yes, sir!"
The commanders—who just moments ago had been preparing to die for their country—responded joyfully.
As Jaemar walked away, one of the older generals couldn't hide the pride on his face. Excitedly, he said to the others, "I told you the nation had some hidden trump card! You all didn't believe me!"
"Come on, I thought we were hiding a peerless warrior or something! Never imagined the royal family had such a treasure."
"Actually, I think—"
Watching his fellow officers excitedly exaggerating the tale, the only one who knew the truth—Baron Duren—felt rather awkward.
He opened his mouth, but in the end said nothing, letting them ramble on about ancient dragons hidden beneath the royal capital and super warships buried along the coast…
It was all ridiculously fantastical!
Even as a noble of the Mardain, Baron Duren couldn't help but feel embarrassed…
---
The Next Morning
News of the crushing victory had already reached the capital.
The streets and alleys were in an uproar. People were celebrating wildly.
Even the stingiest merchants and nobles laid out food and wine in the streets for anyone to take—like it was the grandest of festivals.
Even those who didn't care at all just days ago now wore expressions of exaggerated joy.
After all, win or lose, free food and drink was nothing to complain about!
"My lord, aren't you going out to take a look?"
"They say the nobles are planning a massive celebration outside the royal palace—it's supposed to be absolutely spectacular."
The butler offered Orsaga a cup of coffee and spoke as he sat calmly reading a book of ancient myths.
"Not interested. Their kind of entertainment doesn't appeal to me."
Shaking his head, Orsaga declined her suggestion.
To him, reading a book was far more worthwhile than any of their festivities.
Hearing this, the butler wasn't surprised in the slightest. She chuckled softly, "Still the same mysterious and aloof as always."
Orsaga merely replied indifferently, "Mysterious? Maybe. Though I've never tried to hide anything."
The butler suddenly leaned in, brushing his cheek with her hand to turn his gaze toward her. In a gentle voice, she said, "I want to know you better…"
"Know me better?"
Looking into her eyes, Orsaga asked with interest, "How would you do that?"
Sensing that he wasn't rejecting her, her heart fluttered.
After a moment's hesitation, her cheeks turned pink as she slowly leaned in toward his face.
People are visual creatures. Just as men are drawn to beauty, women are drawn to handsome men. And Orsaga's human form—though slightly different from ordinary people—was undeniably near perfect.
Feeling the soft touch of her lips, Orsaga's face remained calm. Tilting his head slightly, he thought for a moment before saying, "Trina, I think you might regret this later."
Unbothered by his words, the butler—Trina—smiled sweetly, "My lord, this is the first time you've said my name. I thought you didn't even remember it."
"My memory is excellent. I wouldn't forget something like that. I just find 'butler' easier to say."
Realizing that Orsaga truly was just like that, Trina sighed, "You really are carefree… completely unconcerned about how others feel…"
She gently rested her head against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat and inhaling his subtle floral scent—something she found quite comforting.
Feeling her warmth against him, Orsaga replied, "For people who aren't important, I don't care what they think."
Trina laughed softly, "You really are selfish…"
His hand moved to the small of her back, warm and firm. Then, with a quiet shift, he rolled over and pressed her beneath him. The sudden closeness made her breath hitch.
Orsaga looked into her eyes, then lowered his head.
His lips grazed the corner of her mouth first—almost teasing. Then, slowly, he deepened the kiss. It wasn't hurried. It wasn't aggressive. It was searching. Exploring.
Trina responded in kind, her hands sliding up along his back, fingers threading into his red hair. She tilted her head slightly with a teasing smile between breaths. "I thought you weren't interested in these kinds of things. You never even glance at beautiful women. Didn't expect you to take the initiative."
Orsaga answered frankly, his lips brushing hers again, "I do have some interest. Just not very strong. There are more important things to do."
"Like kissing your butler?" she whispered.
He didn't answer, but leaned down again, his kiss deeper this time. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing just beneath her eye, as if memorizing her.
His warmth, the way his chest pressed against hers, the feeling of his breath mingling with her own—it was overwhelming. Not lustful, but intense. Every move he made was measured, as if he were still deciding something important with each touch.
His hand slowly slid along her side, over the dip of her waist, finally resting at her hip. She arched slightly into him, her breathing shallow and warm against his neck. The kiss deepened again—this time slower, hungrier, as if something within him had quietly slipped past its restraints.
Trina's fingers curled tighter in his hair. Her lips parted with his, but only briefly.
Their silhouettes shifted, the soft rustling of sheets the only sound for a while. He moved with care, deliberate and slow, as though he was still learning how close he wanted to let her come.
And later, when the room has grown quiet and only the fading warmth of their shared closeness remained, Orsaga rose wordlessly.
Trina, still bare beneath the blankets, lazily wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, her cheek pressed to his back.
"You said you don't care about people who aren't important to you," she murmured softly. "So… am I important?"
Orsaga paused, looking over his shoulder. A flicker of something—quiet and unreadable—passed through his eyes.
"Maybe… someday…"
Hearing that, Trina nearly burst out laughing.
It was the first time she'd ever seen Orsaga look like this.
Watching her try to stifle her laughter, Orsaga also felt a touch. Just as he was about to leave, he paused as if remembering something and turned to say:
"By the way, I'm not human. I'm a demon."
With that, he left the stunned woman behind and walked out the door.
Standing in the courtyard, gazing up at the sunlit sky, Orsaga's face returned to its usual calm expression.
But no one knew what was truly going through his mind.
___
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