The Immortal Genius Spearman

Chapter 1

It was a desolate land.

The land that had been ravaged by war was stained with blood, and the houses and shops once touched by human hands were all destroyed, making them unusable.

Corpses discarded like trash were scattered all along the road.

And at the center of that land of death, where there was no glory, a man stood at the bottom of a ravine.

Armor that looked nothing special.

Blood was seeping out from under the helmet, obscuring his vision.

The spear he held, which seemed like something only a common soldier would use, had lost most of its blade, and it wobbled as if it would break at any moment.

“Cough!”

Damian finally coughed up blood and dropped to one knee on the ground.

He had managed to fend off the enemy’s assault after a fierce battle, but…

‘…Damn it, I told them from the start it was a reckless plan.’

The plan had succeeded.

Not only had they stopped the enemy’s advance, but they had also annihilated a force of over two thousand enemies.

With a force of barely a hundred men. But…

“…”

Damian looked at his fallen comrades.

Every single one of them was dead, except for himself.

Grit!

Blood trickled from his tightly clenched lips.

Though they were his subordinates, to Damian, they were the first ones he had ever considered family.

“I’m sorry… If only I had been a bit stronger, I could have saved all of you.”

Damian looked at the comrades who had already become corpses.

Some of them had died with their eyes still open, and Damian slowly walked over to them and gently closed their eyes.

Thud.

And then Damian collapsed to the ground.

Before he knew it, the blood around him had pooled so much that it began to surround him.

“…Damn it.”

Damian knew it.

He knew he would die here as well.

Was it because his time had come?

Regrets from the past flashed before his eyes.

‘If only I had been a little faster.’

Damian, who had first set foot in the army at the age of twenty-five, had grown at an incredible pace, like a dry sponge soaking up water.

In just one year, he became a squad leader of fifty men, and in the second year, he became a centurion.

Though his promotions had been stunted because he was from a penal unit, by the third year, he had mastered spear techniques to the point where he could toy with most knights.

But there was one regret…

“…Damn it.”

Damian recalled the grotesque scar on his lower abdomen.

Back in his days in the back alleys, he had been stabbed in the wrong place, shattering the magic hole in his lower abdomen, rendering him unable to use magic.

Of course, the fact that he started so late at twenty-five also played a part.

“Sigh…”

Looking back, it was a life full of regrets.

He regretted it so much that it brought him to tears, but it was all meaningless.

He finally understood why people say that when someone is about to die, all that’s left is regret.

“Damn it.”

Just once.

If only I could have one more chance…

‘We would have truly dominated the battlefield together.’

He had thought about it before.

Roaming the battlefield with his men, sweeping away the enemies, becoming unstoppable.

But now, it was just…

Slump.

Finally, Damian’s head drooped, and his hand fell limply to the ground.

Damian, a centurion of the Baroque Kingdom’s penal unit.

At the age of just 30, he closed his eyes on an unnamed battlefield.

* * *

“Hah!”

With a groan that sounded almost like a seizure, Damian opened his eyes.

A man standing beside him gave Damian an awkward smile and spoke.

“Hehe, Damian. How can you fall asleep at such an important moment? You need to sign here.”

“…Uncle Furker?”

Sweat was pouring down his forehead just from sitting there.

His chubby cheeks jiggled every time he smiled, and his hairy hands rubbed together obsequiously as he approached Damian.

That sly smile, that voice. And that disgusting smell that came from his mouth every time he spoke.

How could this be so vivid, even after all these years?

But soon, Damian’s eyes widened in shock.

“…What?”

What kind of situation is this?