Chapter 1
“Loyalty is as sharp as a blade, but the deepest wound it inflicts is on its owner.”
The green banners of the Kingdom of Verdania swayed heavily in the wind. The battlefield, once a stretch of fertile plains, had turned into a nightmare. The ground was so soaked with the blood of thousands of soldiers that with every step, feet sank into a slippery, sticky morass. The air was thick with the sharp stench of iron, burnt flesh, sweat, and the heavy, suffocating breath of death. Amidst the clash of swords, the cracking of bones, muffled groans, and the wet, rasping gasps of the dying, King Hiashi of Verdania swung his blade with one final shred of hope.
But this battle was a game already lost.
Hiashi swung his sword once more with tremendous force. The skull of the Ragekar soldier in front of him split open with a horrific crack; fragments of brain and blood sprayed outward. The man’s head was nearly torn from his body. As he wrenched his blade back, hot droplets of blood glinted in the air and splattered across his armour. He had no time to breathe. Glancing around quickly, he saw his countless loyal soldiers lying dead on the ground. Some were taking their last breaths with their intestines spilling out, others were vainly grasping for their severed arms or legs. Lakes of blood had formed small streams, and the corpses were tangled together. The situation was dire. If this continued, the Kingdom of Verdania would fall for good.
Just then, he narrowly dodged a lethal sword strike from behind. He turned to look, and his heart sank. Before him stood his right-hand man for many years, his most trusted companion, Chancellor Kurogane. On Kurogane’s lips was a nasty, bitter smile.
“Just as expected of my King… still on your feet, damn you,” he taunted, lunging forward savagely.
Hiashi countered without delay. The two swords clashed violently in the air, sparks flying.
“Why?” Hiashi asked, his voice trembling with deep disappointment and the pain of betrayal. “Why did you scheme behind my back, Kurogane? I saw you as a brother… I gave you everything you needed.”
Chancellor Kurogane looked into the King’s brilliant green eyes. There was no regret in his own gaze—only a cold, calculating resolve.
“Because you were blind, Hiashi. For years, you’ve ruled the Kingdom of Verdania with a weak idealism. When we had the chance to make peace with Frostveil and Ragekar, you kept preaching about ‘honour’ and ‘loyalty,’ and dragged the kingdom to the edge of the abyss. Enji Todoriki gave me his word: when this war is over, I will become the new regent of Verdania.Iam saving the kingdom while you were driving it into the grave.”
Hiashi hesitated for a moment. Those words stabbed into his chest like a heavy dagger. Betrayal filled him not so much with anger, but with a profound sense of letdown and devastation. That brief moment was all Kurogane needed. Just as the Chancellor moved to plunge his sword into the King’s heart, Hiashi blocked him at the last second. He could no longer dwell on such matters.
Kurogane attacked again. This time, Hiashi was quicker and more resolute. His blade severed the Chancellor’s right arm at the elbow. The sharp steel cut through flesh, sinew, and bone in an instant. The arm, still clutching the sword, thudded to the ground as hot blood gushed out, painting the soil a deep crimson. Kurogane fell to his knees in agony, vainly trying to stop the blood pouring from the stump of his arm, his face contorted in pain, teeth gritted.
Hiashi walked slowly towards him, looking down with immense disappointment. Then, he spoke calmly, his voice like ice:
“You thought you were my right hand, didn’t you? Well, now you have no right hand… and no loyalty left. Traitor.”
Just as he prepared to bring his sword down, a searing pain shot through his own sword arm. A deep arrow had pierced his shoulder. Spinning around, he saw that no one else from his side remained on the battlefield. Before him stood a force of about a hundred men. Leading them were Enji Todoriki, the King of Frostveil who had betrayed them, and the one who had loosed the arrow: Masaru Bakugo, the King of Ragekar.
Hiashi snapped the arrow off at his shoulder and hurled it to the ground in fury. He gritted his teeth against the pain but didn’t let out a single groan. He gripped his sword tighter. He would not run. He would not let anyone say he fled. He would not beg for his life, nor would he submit to the enemy. Only one thought crossed his mind: his four-year-old son, Izuku. He was going to leave him behind at such a young age… His heart ached.
He pointed his sword at the King of Ragekar and roared in a powerful, defiant voice:
“If you call yourself a man, face me alone!”
Masaru Bakugo, the King of Ragekar, looked at him with a pitying, mocking gaze.
“That’s far too bold a move for a man who has lost this war. If you want to live, get on your knees and swear fealty to me. Maybe then I’ll show you mercy.”
Masaru took another step forward and slowly lowered his sword. Hiashi took a deep breath, his voice steady and resolved:
“Even if two worlds united, I would never obey.”
The King of Ragekar began to laugh, his cackle echoing ominously across the blood-soaked field.
“Good. That suits me fine. Soldiers! Attack—but do not kill him!”
The soldiers lunged forward in an instant. Hiashi wielded his sword masterfully. With every strike, flesh was torn, blood sprayed, and bones cracked. He shattered the first soldier’s shield, his blade slicing deep into the man’s arm; hot blood spurted onto his armour. He slid sideways, parried another soldier’s sword, and brought his own blade down on the man’s leg. A cry of agony rose up.
As the fight dragged on, Hiashi’s breathing grew faster. He slashed swiftly across a soldier’s neck; blood sprayed. He shattered another’s shield and plunged his sword into his chest. With each move, his own arms, shoulders, and legs grew more tired. A mixture of sweat and blood blurred his vision. Within about fifteen minutes, twenty-five enemy soldiers lay dead on the ground. Some were trembling from blood loss with their throats cut, others trying to take their final breaths with their bellies ripped open.
But the numbers were overwhelming. The circle around him was slowly closing in. His body was covered in sweat, blood, and dust; he could no longer tell if it was his own blood or that of his enemies. He was breathless, his chest heaving rapidly.
Another soldier lunged forward. Hiashi dodged the attack skilfully and drove his blade into the man’s shoulder. Hot blood splashed across his face as the man’s agonised scream echoed across the field. At that moment, another soldier came from the side. Hiashi swung his sword, but the blow didn’t land cleanly. A strike came from his flank, and the sword was knocked from his hand.
The men piled on top of him. Fists, boots, sword hilts… No matter how he struggled, no matter how he fought, he couldn’t break free. Dozens of blows rained down on his body.
The last thing he saw was King Enji Todoriki of Frostveil and King Masaru Bakugo of Ragekar looking at him, laughing in victory. Hiashi’s green eyes were filled with deep disappointment and the anguish of betrayal… Darkness slowly engulfed everything.
