Marven Jaste wakes up with a start. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he is, or how he got there. It takes him a couple of minutes before he recognizes the bed that he’s on and the room that he’s in to be his captain quarters in Fort Varen. Then, like someone opening a switch to a flood gates, the memories of what had happened to him comes rushing in.

The figure in black… a living armour… a walking statue sculpted out of knives and nightmares. That thing bested him in battle, broke his swords in three pieces, then used his chest as a stage to re-enact a children dance recital.

Marven, couldn't remember much after that. Just bits and pieces. He recalls seeing a series of images, like he was having an out of body experience, as if the incident happened to someone else and not to him. Pain, tasting his own blood in his mouth, drowning, the river water entering his lung, his world turning to white. He vaguely remembers the sounds of men shouting, the clamour of a battlefield, Ardeth’s voice calling out from the darkness, telling him to come back to her.

I could have died, I nearly made Ardeth a widow and my children were this close to experiencing the pain of growing up without a father, Marven laments. If he could stand up and kick himself, he would. But judging from the condition he’s in, the various bandages covering his body and the pain throbbing through his entire being, Marven doubts he could even scratch his ass. Maybe if I had a better sword, maybe if I was two years younger. Maybe if I had an even footing. Maybe…

But Marven shakes such useless feeling from his mind. What’s done is done, there’s no use crying over spilt milk.

Marven looks around the captain quarters, his room. There are barely any decorations, he just needed the minimum necessities, a chair and a table for writing, a pitcher of water and a basin to wash his face. The curtains are drawn, but he could feel from the heat and the bustling sound outside that it is midday.

Someone should better come for me soon, I really don’t want to scream to get attention, like a child crying for his mother, Marven thinks. Just as he is about to roll out of bed and crawl to the door, he could hear footsteps approaching his room.

Marven suddenly wishes he has a sword with him. He highly doubts he is in enemy’s hands and that Fort Valen has been occupied by outside forces. But Marven still wish he had something to protect himself with. Not that it would have mattered anyway, in his condition, Marven doubts he would last 5 seconds.

The door to his room opens and much to Marven’s relief, it is his second–in–command, Deek. “Glad to see that you’re alive, sir. Thought we had lost you for a second there.”

“For a moment, you almost did. What’s the situation report?” Marven asks him immediately. Any pleasantries or the news about his family can wait. Right now, he’s a soldier and he has a duty to be carried out.

“We lost 75% of our men during of first contact with the “Razors.”

75%? This number nearly made Marven pass out. They had over 2000 men at the fort. Leaving out the non-military personal and those on leave that weekend, Marven estimates there were 1600 men standing with him on the eastern river bank that fateful Sunday morning.

“1200 men, dead…” Marven whispers, his heart filled with sadness and grief. Those were good men, brothers. Men he ate with, trained with, bled with. For some of them, it was their first battle, and Marven couldn't help but feel he had led them to their doom.

“It’s not your fault, sir.” says Deek as if reading his mind. A moment of silence passes before them. Marven breathes in deeply and pushes the memories of those men to the back of his mind. He would grieve their losses later. There are more pressing matters that require his immediate attention.

“How many enemies did we kill?” Marven asks his second–in–command. The man seems hesitant to answer.

“One.” Deek finally says. “Just the one you had initially fought, sir.”

If Marven had managed to avoid passing out before, now he feels like he’s going to vomit his stomach content before blacking out immediately.

1200 men in exchange for 1. Marven has a hard time trying to wrap his head around this number. Seeing that it would take some time for his captain to get over his shock, Deek continues with his report.

“Our archers were useless against the first Razor. Due to its speed and the materials it’s made from, our arrows either missed or pinged harmlessly of it. Swords seem to damage it, but the swordsmen didn't have the skills or the necessary weapons to bring it down.”

Marven remembers his sword breaking into three pieces. Soldiers in the Kingdom of Trev are usually equipped with a standard military issued sword. Good enough to slash through human flesh and bone and the occasional armor stabbing, but not good enough against that “thing” apparently.

“Judging by the way we’re still breathing and having this conversation, how the hell did we managed to stop it?”

“Skill… Luck… Divine intervention… you can pick one. A spearman managed to run his spear through the Razor’s right chest, and it stopped moving immediately. We didn’t want to take any chances so we hacked the thing to bits. We didn't stop until our own blades were dull and broken. Then we picked up some rocks and continued bashing it until the rocks turned to dust and the Razor was flatten into a pile of metal and dried blood.”

Marven finally decided to asks something that has been bugging him for a while. “I keep hearing the word ‘Razor’? What’s that?”

“It’s what we decided to call them.”

“Them?”

“Yes. There are hundreds and hundreds of them across the Grand River of Kartank. Just waiting for a chance to cross to this side.”

Marven suddenly wishes he had never woken up.

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Looks like Marven is still alive. And now that we've established time/this story does not flow in a straight line, I hope you guys won't hate me for it.

I know people like to read stories about an overpowered MC who gets the girls and grinds his enemies to dust, but I can't tell the story of Demon Hero Reaper Saviour without going back and forth through events that had happened in the past, present and the future (not with my limited writing capabilty. Perhaps some other writers could but I can't).

Maybe if there are many complaints, I'll just put a warning label on top so you guys can skip the flashbacks (flashforwards?) if you want.

Anyway, since this chapter is too short (that's what she said), and I got 2 more ratings (yay), I've decided to do a Q and A session to celebrate

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Q: you make a great background story but darn those tittle are awfull

what the hell is "Demon Hero Reaper Saviour"

can you make something normal tittle like "Accidental Hero" or something

A: I'll do a chapter later to explain the meaning behind "Demon Hero Reaper Saviour" later. Perhaps the title doesn't roll of the tongue nicely but "Accidental Hero" sounds so normal.

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Q: i am really confused, what is happening currently (chapter 5) doesnot match the description at all, can you explain it a bit for us?

A: Maybe it's because chapter 5 doesn't takes place immediately after chapter 4. I wanted to make the readers as confused as the man falling in the Time Abyss. Looks like I wasn't successful (or was I?) Just to clarify, chapter 13 takes place after chapter 4.

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Q: who so his 'gifts' are soemthing with obtaining knowledge beyond one's immediate surrondings? or is it semi-omnicent, who know!

oh he is back to his old school, man this is going to be interesting as all hell. i really wonder what his gifts are.... and how he knew things that he shouldn't have known, like the ink-incident.

A: What are his 'gifts'? Only the goddess knows... (or more accurately, only the little girl knows)

What I can tell you without spoiling too much is he can heal quickly (the scene where he cracks his head on a chair)

He can't read minds, he just "knows" things

And his past experience in school does help a bit

He's not 100% omniscient, he will get blind-sided later by his enemies... ooops, spoilers.

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Q: i wonder why his super reactions, and body didn't react to master wes, maybe because he had no malicious intet?

A: Believe me, there were plenty malicious intent behind Master Wes's attack. He couldn't dodged because his emotions were "overloaded" at that moment (seeing his old friends alive). It's going to be fun to write how his enemies will try to take advantage of that

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That's all the questions I can try answering without spoiling too much. Don't be shy to drop by and asks if you have any more queries.