The Extra Wants To Live

"Deal with the incoming knight. It will stall for time until Jaren finishes."

"Yes."

Carl, Billford, and Catherine killed a total of seven knights, while Jaren went on a rampage and killed most of the remaining knights.

There weren\'t many knights left now, and they would all be killed by Jaren soon. All they had to do was hold their position.

"Wow, this is crazy!"

As Jaren approached and killed the knight, the rebel soldiers started to run away in panic.

There were no commanders left to give orders, and they realized that the battle itself was meaningless in the face of Jaren\'s prowess.

"Pursue and kill!"

Carl\'s scream rang out like thunder.

At that moment, the imperial soldiers who had been hiding in their shells like turtles broke free of their formation and rushed out in one breath.

The imperial soldiers focused solely on defense throughout the battle and were physically almost exhausted.

On the other hand, the opponent was continuously attacking, their stamina was decreasing, and above all, they were under terrible psychological pressure, so they were much more exhausted than they actually moved.

The imperial soldiers easily caught up with enemies who were running away with their backs turned, pushed them down with their shields, and stabbed them to death with their spears.

Jaren, Catherine, Billford, and even Carl ran out and killed the fleeing enemies.

This time, Jaren in particular shined, as he dashed across the battlefield at a masterful speed and cleanly killed enemies who ran far away without missing a single one.

"Surrender! Surrender!"

The soldiers who realized that they could not escape surrendered, and it spread like wildfire until all the remaining soldiers threw down their weapons and surrendered.

Carl, the knights, and the soldiers all did well, but they could not match the skill of one master. It could be said that both this victory and the enemy\'s surrender were the result of one man, Jaren.

"Bring the surrendered men."

The soldiers brought the surrendered rebel soldiers to one place and made them kneel.

The rebels barely survived and surrendered, but their numbers were greater than the total number of members of the Laurel Unit.

They were trembling with half relief at being alive and half anxiety about what might happen next.

While some of the imperial soldiers were walking around the battlefield, making sure to kill, Carl took off his helmet and stood before them.

The uneasily rumbling noises suddenly disappeared, and Carl spoke with a mysterious expression on his angelic face.

"I am Carl Felt Hardion."

"Huh!"

The 4th Prince, the Grand Duke who held military power in the eastern part of the Empire, the commander of the Laurel Unit, and the \'one who plants Laurel Trees.\'

An indescribable emotion appeared on the faces of the startled rebel soldiers.

There was no expression on Carl\'s face.

But that wasn\'t Carl\'s true, emotionless face. His face seemed to have been forced to remain expressionless, as if he were a monarch who had made a ruthless decision to carry out his noble duty.

Blonde hair that shined brightly in the sunlight, a pure white face, deep green eyes, and eyebrows and lips that quivered with determination.

In addition, the legendary stories of the Laurel Unit captivated the rebel soldiers.

"Does anyone know anything about the rebels\' movements?"

A deep sorrow that was suppressed with all effort still lingered. Carl\'s voice had the power to touch the depths of one\'s heart.

The rebel soldiers looked at each other, and when Carl frowned as if in pain, they opened their mouths one by one and began to speak without realizing it.

Carl looked each of them in the eye and listened sincerely to what these mere common soldiers had to say.

He nodded heavily at times and frowned in concern for the rebellion that threatened the safety of the empire and those caught up in it at others.

The rebel soldiers, as if they had become Carl\'s soldiers, vied with each other to convey even a little information to him.

It was a very eerie sight to watch from the side.

It seemed as if people were hanging themselves one after another, possessed by an unknown force and falling into a collective madness.

"Kill them."

Carl had no intention of letting them live. After hearing everything, Carl gave the order with a blank expression on his face, showing no real emotion.

"Ahhhh!"

"Please save me! Please save me!"

"Please!"

While Carl listened to them, the soldiers who had finished their confirmation kill returned and surrounded the rebel soldiers who were so crowded that they could not even move.

And immediately after Carl\'s order was given, the soldiers blocked the men with their shields, then strode over to them and stabbed them with their spears without any hesitation.

The rebel soldiers, no, the \'heretics,\' who had been stripped of their weapons and armor, were brutally murdered without even putting up a fight.

They knew of the existence of the Church of Universal Equality, joined the rebellion, and aimed their spears at Carl.

Of course, they all had to be killed. In the vast plains where spring was slowly approaching, smoke from burning bodies rose.

"… I don\'t know if this is the right thing to do."

Jaren, who was most active in the battle, muttered with difficulty as he watched the scene.

That was never something Jaren could say to Carl.

Jaren was the master of the Empire\'s strategic weapons, and all he had to do was kill his enemies with just one spear.

...And the spear didn\'t think.

"The act of killing them? Or the act of killing them as if I were going to let them live?"

"… "

Carl asked Jaren in a flat voice. Jaren couldn\'t bring himself to say anything.

Carl was acting as if he wasn\'t human, but it only seemed that way because Carl always played the best game.

If they had spared them, the existence of heresy would have spread somewhere, and the mission would have failed.

If Carl hadn\'t pretended to accept the surrender, he wouldn\'t have been able to obtain the information so easily.

Carl was doing his best.

No living being had the right to blame him.

The fierce pursuit of life is the most important responsibility given to all living creatures and, at the same time, the most primitive instinct.

Carl spoke with only his lips moving like a doll.

"Should I do good?"

"…No."

"Should I enforce justice?"

"…No."

"Are you disappointed in me?"

"…No."

Especially Jaren, he had no right to be disappointed in Carl. And there was nothing Jaren could do about being disappointed in Carl.

"Then, concentrate on the task at hand."

"… Yes, Your Highness."

Carl left Jaren behind, his red cloak fluttering.

Jaren squinted his eyes at the sight of the golden eagle with outspread wings on the red cloak, which was dazzling.

It seemed as if Carl had steel, not red blood, coursing through his veins.

He seemed like a philosopher or an iron man.

Unlike Master Jaren, this was the back of a being who had become a true superhuman.

Was that really the back of a young man who was only 18 years old?