Chapter 57: Blood-Forged Army

"Throw the corpses of the losers into the ocean to feed it; lock the losers in the corner cages. Only the victors may eat normally. We are a group of sinners; there is no need to care about such red tape."

While Gelongni indulged in nightly revelry, the Cursed Fleet on the ocean was also conducting its own recreational activities.

Blood splashed everywhere on the battlefield, coating the yellow sand in the color of black iron.

Dozens of young men with white-rimmed eyes, hacked into pieces, were treated like trash by the red-clad attendants who stepped forward; the fragments were tossed into bags, then prepared to be thrown over the ship's side into the sea, where they bloomed into small, dark red flowers on the surface of the water.

They were all a bunch of delusional serfs, a bunch of opportunists who wanted to seize the chance to gain glory and become so-called heroes. They did not deserve to be on this ship.

Those without the strength do not deserve it and will forever be the ones howling under the giant axe. If you want glory, you can only take it with blood and sharp blades.

To simply want to participate in the expedition and then obtain glory is a shameful act.

"I repeat once more, you serfs."

Using a whetstone to make sparks fly from the fangs of his serrated halberd, the Gede Knight, already clad in black-red armor, looked coldly at the young men before him and said in a hoarse voice: "I know what you are here for. You are nothing but a group of incompetent thieves; you want to steal the glory that belongs to knights. You joined this Chivalrous Expedition just to make your descendants and those around you happy, or perhaps you don't even know why yourselves, just following along in a fit of hot-headedness."

"You are incompetent, you are cowardly, and you have no combat ability. Rather than letting you disrupt the formation on the battlefield out of fear, it is better to select the best among you."

"Use your blood to awaken your combat instincts, and use your ability to trade for a chance to survive."

"You were originally nothing but serfs without masters, scattered and fleeing, who became so-called free men under the promise of the previous Knight King. But do you think that makes you equal to us? No, you still need to prove that you are the strongest."

Wearing heavy steel armor, the crimson rage in his eyes seemed to take physical form, making the man look with immense fury at the serfs before him, who seemed somewhat timid yet restless.

He was, of course, extremely furious; the Gede Knight had been furious ever since he walked off that battlefield back then.

As a knight, he had always pursued a death filled with blood and glory.

But the warhorse tied to his life believed he would surely die there and fled on its own. He absolutely could not accept such a result. So he killed the warhorse that was like his own other half, smeared its blood onto his forehead and heart, and returned to the battlefield to kill all the enemies.

But there were no enemies. Once that battlefield was missed, it was missed. Such an opportunity only comes once in a lifetime; if you run, you run. That means there is nothing left. Such a result drove him truly into madness.

He must, he must wash away his sin and shame. This humiliation of being unable to fight, this humiliation of being left behind, must be washed away with blood.

And looking at those serfs, the rage in the Gede Knight's heart burned even more intensely.

Look at these slaves; they were originally the objects of his protection, but now? These slaves actually wanted to fight side-by-side with him, even wanting to become his battle-brothers.

What a humiliation; just thinking about it made the Gede Knight feel his brain surging with blood. The intense rage and shame threatened to burn his body to ashes, sticking his armor to his skin, letting his blood and anger spray from his eye sockets like bloody tears.

Therefore, he must wash away the shame. He must clear away those blasphemers, those restless monsters, one by one.

"Go prove yourselves, prove that you are useful people."

Just as he said to the serfs whose skin was gradually turning red and whose eyes were filled with a fanatical sense of mission, the Gede Knight also felt as if his voice was being guided by an invisible will.

"Only blood can please the gods; only strength and battle can prove everything. Like those monsters in Gelongni, those wastes who only know how to enjoy themselves and die on a woman's belly, they will never be warriors. And we, we will use blood and sharp blades to fight for our own interests. Go kill those heretics, go slaughter those living things, and cast all their heads into a trophy mound; we must prove our strength."

"So now, fight amongst yourselves. Only the final victor can become my..."

Feeling the shame and rage engraved in his heart as if he were going mad, feeling the power and ability that felt like an explosion brought on by that intense fury, the Gede Knight growled out the words he was most unwilling to say.

"... companion."

Hah, a companion who emerged from a serf.

Just saying it out loud made the anger and shame cause him to instantly slash out with an axe, slamming the serrated halberd in his hand into the ground.

The earth-shaking sound was like the strike of a gong; the serfs before him, eyes already crimson, picked up the weapons in their hands and began to slaughter each other wantonly on the specially prepared battlefield, letting blood splash across the area.

The Gede Knight, however, silently carried his halberd and left, locking himself in the deepest part of the captain's quarters.

That humiliation and rage of having to submit seemed to have become his nourishment.

It made him grow larger and larger in the dark, enclosed captain's quarters, making his fury and overflowing power rise ever higher. In the darkness, the Gede Knight felt as if he were living more truly than ever before.

It was as if his previous life had been a lie; this intense sense of shame and rage made him unable to stop grabbing at his armor, clawing at it constantly. His nails broke, wearing down to the bone, letting blood stain the originally Bretonnia-style dark red armor into a twisted, dark appearance.

As if alive, bits of flesh, nails, and bloodstains mixed together on it, forming a filthy and terrifying sight.

This mutation lasted for several days, until a knock on the door awakened him from the transformation.

"My lord."

The voice outside the cabin door said: "We have arrived at the edge of the Chaos Sea according to the route. But we have observed an excellent landing site; may I ask if we should land directly now?"

"... Bring me there."

A breath of flame smelling of rust erupted from his mouth, and his burning eyes slowly lifted from the darkness. A giant chain-axe was gripped in his palm, allowing his figure to be revealed in the darkness.

The man, with rusted armor, covered in blood, and crimson eyes, was exhaling a wisp of flame in the cabin. He took heavy steps, his three-meter-tall frame stooping as he walked out of the cabin, subconsciously squinting his eyes as he looked in the direction pointed out by the red-clad servant.

And before them, a massive rift, one that made anyone who saw it feel terror from their very Soul, was emitting a frantic, inaudible roar in the sky.

"That is the World Scar..."

Looking at the massive rift, the Gede Knight could not help but mutter in a low voice.

(End of chapter)