Reborn As Noble

The air smelled strongly of blood and burnt earth. Cries of pain filled the battered hill, mixing with the sharp sounds of clashing steel and the loud boom of magic blasts. Smoke rose above piles of dead bodies—both halfling and human.

At the center of the battlefield stood Kenjirou.

His divine sword rested casually on his shoulder, its blade covered in red blood. He was breathing heavily, sweat mixing with the blood on his face. Yet, his smile hadn’t changed at all.

”Damn these weaklings,” he grumbled, sounding more annoyed than scared. ”There are too many of them…!”

Around him lay over a hundred fallen halfling soldiers, their small bodies torn and burned beyond recognition. Still, more of them kept coming from the forests and hills—determined, organized, and relentless.

Behind him, the 5,000 Amazarak warriors who had charged in under his command were now fighting hard to hold the line. Many of them were experienced fighters—mages, swordsmen, and even some who had been cursed—but the battlefield told a different story.

One by one, they fell.

Not just to enemy blades, but to the heavy, invisible pressure weighing down on them.

The dark energy coming from Kenjirou twisted the flow of magic, drained their willpower, and spread a creeping madness. The weaker soldiers began to see things that weren’t there.

”Hold your line, my warriors! We hold! Until Her Majesty sends reinforcements!”

”But Lord Kenjirou—!” another soldier shouted, struggling to block a halfling spear. ”They’re 80,000 strong! We’re outnumbered!”

Kenjirou snorted.

Without thinking, he stepped forward and stomped down on a wounded halfling soldier below him. The small warrior cried out, only to be silenced a moment later as Kenjirou slashed down, cutting him open with ease.

”Don’t worry, everyone!” he shouted, raising his sword high. His eyes were wild and feverish, filled with arrogance.

”You all have me!”

He pointed the blade forward dramatically.

”I’m the divine! The chosen one! Victory is guaranteed!”

But the halfling horns were already sounding again.

Another wave was coming.

”FUCK!!!”

Kenjirou shouted across the battlefield, his voice slicing through the chaos like a whip.

”Where the hell are the reinforcements?!”

Blood sprayed across his face as he hacked through another group of halflings, killing three soldiers with a single swing of his sword. He didn’t pause to breathe or flinch. He just kept charging forward, sword raised, his body drenched in blood and sweat.

The remaining Amazarak warriors staggered behind him. Their once-organized formation was now a chaotic mess. Smoke filled the air, and screams echoed everywhere.

”HOLD YOUR LINE!!” Kenjirou yelled without looking back. ”YOU COWARDS, FIGHT!!”

Some Amazarak soldiers gritted their teeth, barely managing to lift their weapons. They were surrounded, exhausted, and outnumbered, but they obeyed.

Kenjirou’s eyes shot toward the next wave.

More halflings were coming, spears raised and arrows ready. They were a wall of organized anger and revenge.

He clicked his tongue.

”...Damn it. Looks like I’ll have to have a little fun.”

He raised his left hand.

Crackling magic surged around him, swirling like lightning. The ground beneath him cracked and split under the force of building energy.

His divine sword pulsed, drawing in this power.

A wicked, wide grin spread across his face. His pupils turned a glowing crimson, and his aura changed completely—no longer just powerful.

But monstrous.

”Time for some fun.”

And with that—he moved.

The moment his foot hit the ground, the entire battlefield shook.

He became a blur.

A halfling soldier barely had time to scream before Kenjirou’s blade sliced through him from shoulder to hip.

Another halfling was impaled as Kenjirou spun around, his sword dragging a bloody arc behind him like a devil’s brush.

His laughter echoed—twisted, loud, almost inhuman.

”AHAHAHAHAHAA!!”

The dark energy around him grew with every swing, like a living shadow feeding on the bloodshed.

The halfling ranks tried to hold their ground. They really did. But the monster before them was no longer a man.

He was a weapon. A disaster. A divine mistake.

A thunderous war cry pierced through the blood-soaked haze.

”CHARGE!!”

The Halfling General, a stocky warrior dressed in tough, mana-forged armor, lunged forward with a group of elite guards beside him. His dual axes shone in the sunlight, covered in dried blood and decorated with glowing green mana etchings.

Kenjirou turned, his grin growing wider.

Clang!!

Steel clashed as one of the General’s axes slammed into Kenjirou’s divine blade. Sparks flew, and the impact cracked the ground beneath them.

”Ugh—!” Kenjirou slid back slightly, his boots scraping against the dirt as he absorbed the blow.

The Halfling General didn’t stop.

”Hmm! You’re strong, I’ll give you that—” the General growled, swinging again with brutal accuracy, ”but you’re too slow, human!”

Another clang rang out as Kenjirou parried with one hand, twisting his body for a counterattack.

”A wicked thing like you shouldn’t even exist in this world!”

Kenjirou’s grin turned into a scowl.

”Oh, you want to fight, shorty!?”

His aura surged outward—dark mana swirling around him like a living beast. The already corrupted ground cracked under his feet, warping with tendrils of cursed energy.

”Then come on! I’ll give you a fight!!”

The Halfling General gritted his teeth, firmly planting his feet. ”I don’t care what kind of monster you are. I don’t care about your title. You don’t belong here. Not in our world.”

Kenjirou laughed, a wicked sound.

”Then I guess I’ll just have to cut down your world, won’t I?”

Clang! Clang! CLANG!

Steel met steel again and again as the two battled—raw power against disciplined rage. Around them, the battlefield continued to rage, but for a moment, the center of it all was just one crazed human and one furious halfling general trading blows in the heart of chaos.

All around them, the Amazarak warriors fought as if they were possessed.

There were no tactics. No formations. Just blind, bloodthirsty rage.

Kenjirou’s dark aura pulsed like a heartbeat, surrounding the battlefield with an unnatural pressure that seeped into their minds. The moment it spread, something inside them broke.

They stopped thinking.

They stopped feeling.

Pain didn’t matter anymore.

Only the roar of their own voices and the sensation of steel tearing through flesh filled their world.

The Amazarak lines surged forward with wild energy—cutting through halfling troops without care, even as more of their own fell.

( End of Chapter )