The battlefield stretched to the horizon.
Banners blackened the sky—countless, layered, rippling like a tide that never ended. Infantry stood packed shoulder to shoulder, shields locked, spears upright. Behind them, cavalry waited in disciplined silence, steel hooves scraping the earth. War mages stood farther back, staffs already glowing, runes forming in the air.
An army.
No—an inevitability.
And standing before it, alone, was a single man.
He did not advance.He did not retreat.
He stood at the edge of the castle's outer field, feet planted, sword resting lightly in one hand, as though the weight of the weapon was an afterthought. Behind him, stone walls towered—ancient, scarred, and filled with people who should have been screaming.
They weren't.
From the battlements, soldiers stared at his back.
Some gripped their weapons so tightly their knuckles bled.Some swallowed hard.Some trembled.
Yet none looked away.
"Do you think…" one soldier whispered, voice cracking, "…he can really stop them?"
Another answered without hesitation.
"He's still standing, isn't he?"
The swordsman lifted his head.
The wind changed.
His aura expanded.
Not explosively.Not violently.
It unfolded—layer by layer—like the world itself was making room for him.
The ground beneath his boots groaned, lines spiderwebbing outward. Air thickened, pressing down on lungs. Horses screamed and reared, refusing to move forward. A ripple passed through the front lines of the army as seasoned veterans took an unconscious step back.
A commander shouted, forcing confidence into his voice."Hold formation!"
No one moved.
Because they could feel it.
This wasn't killing intent.
This was presence.
The swordsman exhaled slowly, amused.
"…Huh."
He glanced at the sea of enemies before him, then at the sky above—clouds torn apart by the pressure of his aura.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Never thought my new life was gonna be this exciting."
The aura surged again—maximum output, no restraint.
Magic formations shattered mid-cast. Shields cracked before impact. The earth sank as if acknowledging something heavier than gravity itself.
From the castle walls, someone whispered in awe—
"He's not protecting the castle…"
"…He's protecting the world from them."
The swordsman rolled his shoulders once, raised his blade, and pointed it forward.
Not at the army.
At fate.
"Well then," he said calmly, voice carrying across the entire battlefield, "let's not keep everyone waiting."
His smile widened—sharp, satisfied, complete.
"Now this is what a perfect reincarnation is all about."
The world held its breath.
And then—
The first step forward shattered the battlefield.