“Even with one arm useless… that man is still a one-star knight commander.”

  Gardo swallowed hard as he watched the Dragonian commander trade blows with the boy.

  A Dragonian unit numbered around twenty knights.

  That meant their leader—no matter how “low” the rank sounded—was a one-star knight commander.

  And knight commanders were monsters.

  They weren’t just soldiers who passed the brutal knight exams.

  They were veterans—men forged by real battle, hardened by command, entrusted with lives.

  To earn even a single star, one had to pass not only martial trials, but the commander’s examination itself.

  Gardo knew that wall better than anyone.

  He had challenged it again and again—and failed every time.

  Each of the Five Great Nations judged differently, but the difficulty never truly changed.

  A knight commander carried a main crest, bore responsibility for subordinates, and possessed overwhelming battlefield experience.

  Compared to that—

  Gardo was still starless.

  In a true one-on-one fight, he would be dead in under ten seconds.

  Even landing a clean hit would be impossible.

  And yet—

  That boy was holding his ground.

  No—pressing him.

  His swordsmanship was rough. Unpolished.

  Naturally so. He was only eight.

  But his reactions—

  Too fast.

  Every movement looked like foresight, as if he could see the future half a second ahead.

  Not refined technique—just terrifying natural talent, growing in real time.

  “…A genius,” Gardo whispered.

  If that body matured—

  If his strength caught up to his instincts, skill, and composure—

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  Three stars? No.

  Five.

  A blade that could reach the pinnacle.

  For a brief, insane moment, Gardo found himself dreaming on a battlefield soaked in blood.

  Then he slapped his own cheek.

  Focus.

  “No—no time for that! The opponent is still a knight commander!”

  Gardo drew his sword.

  “I’m joining you, Sora!!”

  And he charged.

  ◇ Leo

  The plan worked.

  It was the same trick again—but in this world, a child wielding a crest sword was still abnormal.

  In my previous life, child soldiers existed—but you only noticed once they held a gun.

  A crest sword could be drawn instantly.

  Honestly?

  Assassination would be ridiculously easy in this world.

  Still… the knight commander was strong.

  I couldn’t kill him.

  But—

  I bought time.

  “Yield,” he said coldly. “You have no chance left.”

  Behind him, every Dragonian knight had already fallen.

  Numbers mattered. This was war.

  There was no such thing as fair.

  And Gardo—he was far stronger than I expected.

  “…You are the bearer of the main crest, aren’t you? Boy,” the commander said.

  “If I kill you, this ends.”

  “I won’t accept a duel,” I replied calmly.

  “If we fight head-on, I lose.”

  “…At that age, you’re too rational,” he sneered. “Disgusting. Abnormal.”

  Gardo stepped forward.

  “Sora-sama, please step back,” he said firmly.

  “Our enemy is a one-star knight commander. We will overwhelm him with numbers.”

  “…Alright. I’m counting on you.”

  Nearly ten Arcadian knights surrounded the enemy.

  Civilians too—far more than he could ever overcome.

  “…I suppose capture is impossible,” the commander murmured.

  “I am a knight commander.”

  “It is battlefield law to kill the bearer of a main crest.”

  “…War again,” he sighed. “To fail His Highness’s strategy by my own mistake… unforgivable.”

  He lunged.

  But outnumbered, wounded, and exhausted—

  There was only so much he could do.

  And Gardo, as vice-captain, was simply strong.

  After a brief, violent exchange—

  The Dragonian knight commander was pierced from behind.

  Dead.

  I watched him fall.

  Another death.

  Another life cut short.

  That man had people he loved.

  Dreams. Years of living. Decades of memories.

  I knew that.

  And yet—

  People died so easily.

  And worse—

  I could accept it.

  Because it was war.

  Something heavy settled in my chest.

  A weight I couldn’t name.

  But not now.

  “—Sora-dono!! Where are you going!?”

  “Wait here! I’ll be right back!”

  I ran.

  Out of the city, into the forest—back to the handcart where I’d hidden Mother.

  I checked her pulse.

  Steady.

  She was alive.

  The emergency treatment had worked… maybe the crest’s power was sustaining her too.

  I pulled the cart as fast as I could back to the plaza.

  “Is there a doctor!? A combat medic!?”

  “I was told there’s one in this town—please! I need treatment immediately!”

  I almost slipped into my old speech.

  No—noble persona. Careful.

  The bearded old man had mentioned a war medic… perhaps among the prisoners—

  A hand rose.

  It was a man I’d empowered earlier.

  Oh—

  The one who helped me when I drank river water and got sick.

  “…Severe injury,” he said, eyes widening.

  “…This woman—wait. You’re—”

  “Wrong person!” I interrupted. “Please—hurry!”

  “…R-right!”

  Treatment began immediately.

  The medic’s clinic was little more than a house.

  But the tools were real. Clean.

  The procedure was brutal to watch.

  Afterward—

  “She’ll be fine,” he said gently.

  “Rest is all she needs.”

  “R-really…?”

  He smiled.

  “The crest’s power accelerates vitality. She may sleep for days—but she will live.”

  “…Thank you… thank you…”

  My knees gave out.

  She lived.

  Mother lived.

  The tension holding me together finally snapped.

  Then—

  “Sora-sama!!”

  The door burst open.

  Gardo and the knights rushed in.

  “This is a hospital—!”

  “Forgive us! But this is urgent!”

  They knelt, sliding forward on their knees.

  “…What?”

  “This Dragonian invasion—please come with us!”

  “Huh?”

  “If this continues—this country will fall!!”