Chapter 228: 228 227 Sayings and Youngsters' Vision and First Order

In the center of the battlefield, on the front lines. With their cheeks scorched by the reddish hues of dusk, the heraldic soldiers took another step forward. The front lines are crumbling with their own steps. This created an unbelievable feeling of exhilaration in my heart. A heart-melting pleasure that could never be experienced in everyday life.

That supreme pleasure that can be experienced only when the danger of life is always next to you, only when an iron weapon snatches your cheek. This is what the charm of the battlefield and warfare is all about. The euphoria of bringing a hated enemy to its knees with force.

On the front lines of the heraldic army, the people who stand out from the crowd and turn on the enemy are those who have volunteered from among the soldiers. Some are young, some are experienced. Some volunteered out of a burning sense of religious duty, while others volunteered to receive more money. Their ages and reasons for volunteering are all different.

The only thing they have in common is that they have sworn that they are willing to die on the battlefield, even if it means getting blood on their hands.

Hayes was one of those who volunteered, though he was not yet old enough to be called a boy soldier.

Even though he was a boy soldier, he was not the first to hold a spear on this battlefield. Even though he was young, he was an apprentice soldier of the Order of the Crest, and he had chased bandits around and subdued drunks who had assaulted him in the streets on several occasions.

It was not a lot of money for an apprentice, and the work was laughable to a soldier, but it was enough experience for Hayes, and he was even a little proud to be a soldier. So it was not the first time he had used a weapon to hurt someone.

But he had never killed anyone before. At the Battle of Cirnio, Hayes killed a man for the first time.

He learned that the feeling of an iron spear piercing a man was softer and more unpleasant than he had expected. But by the third time, he got used to the feeling.

The sight of the iron spear easily devouring my comrades in arms made me spill liquid from between my legs several times, but I got used to the sensation. I got used to the feeling of iron poking my nose, the flesh of my comrades running in front of me, the sound of bones being crushed, and everything else. I have grown accustomed to it all in the midst of this intense battlefield.

Those who couldn't get used to the sight and feel of these things would probably die on the battlefield, Hayes thought to himself.

I don't know if it's normal to get used to them. He didn't even know if he was sane or insane right now. For a moment, he even wondered why he was here. Still, Hayes swung his spear. The sickening sensation of something soft piercing his arm struck him again.

The reason why Hayes, a young soldier, volunteered for the front lines was not money or honor. It was because of one simple wish.

--I want to see what a hero, or whatever they call him, really looks like. I want to see.

Hayes knew that he would probably end up dead in a battlefield or on the streets somewhere. He didn't have any money, and his parents had died miserably of a disease a long time ago. It would happen to him. Somewhere along the line, you're going to meet a miserable, inevitable death.

So before that. I wanted to see it. The heroes I'd heard about in lore, in fairy tales, in my childhood bedtime stories. I wanted to see that glorious man up close. Even if I had to lose something else in return.

The strength to crush all opposition, the popularity to lead the people and attract the eyes, the dazzling glory.

When he was a child, Hayes was told that a hero with all of that would eventually lead and save heraldry. His parents had told him many times that he was still in the service of the gods, gathering wisdom. The more they told him, the more he came to believe that it was true.

However, Hayes' parents were never saved by the hero, nor did they even hear the hero's name, and in the end they died like dogs muttering curses at the hero who never showed up no matter how long they waited.

Unlike her parents, she was either happy or unhappy. A hero appeared before Hayes.

The hero, Lugis. The unmistakable hero who brought down the trading city of Galuamaria, the hanging garden of Ghazalia, the mercenary city of Belfain, and was given the golden sigil by the saint Mattia. In the taverns and in the streets, everyone said that he must be a hero.

Was he, indeed, a hero? Hayes couldn't help but wonder if Lugis was a hero. His still young eyes were filled with skepticism.

In fact, the feeling was more like anger than skepticism.

If you are truly a hero who can save us all, if you are a shining light who can reach out to everyone... Why didn't you come to me before my parents died? Are you saying that my parents, who died miserably while sick, were abandoned by a hero? That would be too pitiful for them.

In Hayes's heart, there were two emotions: skepticism toward the hero and longing for the great deeds that Lugis had accomplished. These two emotions still surged in his heart. That's why he wanted to see it up close.

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At the front line, the figure of the hero Lugis, dismounting from his horse and wielding the sword of the purple light right near Hayes. The closer you look, the more you understand. Each swing of Lugis is much heavier and sharper than Hayes.

As if frightened by the glint of purple light, the army of the Great Patriarch crumbled again and retreated on its hind legs.

It was during one of these brief intervals on the battlefield that Hayes heard a voice.

You look so young.

The words made Hayes' heart jump. The words strangely stuck in his ears amidst the savage voices that echoed across the battlefield. There was no mistaking it, it was the voice of the hero Lugis.

For a moment, Hayes was confused as to who the voice was referring to, but then he quickly realized it was him. After all, no one but Hayes had ever volunteered to be a boy soldier.

Lugis didn't even wipe the blood from his cheeks, but kept his lips tightly pursed. He kept his gaze forward, but Hayes could see that his mind was definitely on him.

Hayes was, of course, at a loss for words. He looked around desperately for the right words to say, but his confused mind couldn't come up with anything good.

Letting out a few stiff noises, Hayes said yes to Lugis' question and told him his age. A strange feeling of embarrassment and joyfulness wavered in his heart.

Even though he doubts whether Lugis is really a true hero, there is no doubt in his mind that his admiration for Lugis' accomplishments is strong. The boy's heart was complicated.

Lugis responded briefly to Hayes' words, "I see," and then asked him his name. Again, Hayes responded with a strange twist of his lips.

Okay, then, Hayes. Sorry, but I have a message for you. I've got something to tell Mattia at the main camp.

The boy's back fell away.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I'm going to do it.

I'm not sure what I'm doing here. It's beyond ridiculous. I've burned so many people and sent them to their deaths. Even that boy, when he went into battle, he was prepared to die.

And yet, to send him to the rear at this moment is nothing short of foolish. What I'm doing is just a meaningless act of self-satisfaction or self-aggrandizement, it's trivial.

My eyes narrowed and my cheeks contorted in visceral self-loathing. But whatever, I needed to send word. In a sense, it was natural to use the soldiers at hand. It's just that there was a bit of arbitrary selection there.

He drew a circle in midair with his feet running, and slashed at the wrists and stomachs of the enemy soldiers. Through my reddish-black vision, I could see the enemy's main camp, illuminated by the evening sun. I could reach it if I bit into the enemy's stomach a few more times. It was not a dream, but a place that I could certainly reach.

It must be an undeniable death zone. If I stepped into it, the ambushers would be happy to see me. Even if you know that, you still can't escape the dead land itself. The enemy's main camp, illuminated by the glow of the evening sun, looked strangely beautiful.

The enemy is crumbling to pieces. What do you want, Master Lugis?

One of the soldiers following me said. His voice was strangely buoyant, even though he was still on the verge of death. The heat and insanity of the battlefield seemed to make people more buoyant than bad alcohol.

Then all I have to do is keep that fever at bay.

I took a small breath. Eyes tightened. To the hundred or so soldiers around me, those who had volunteered to join the assault troops on the front lines, willing to die, I said in a voice that rang out.

"Are we going to win? All right, listen up. This is my last order to you.

Her lips crumple and twist. I could see the sarcastic smile on his cheeks.

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