‘I was once a Holy Knight. Daydreaming of one day becoming a hero. Fought in countless battles. Lost an arm. Was thrown out like garbage.’

‘Joined the bad guys. Spent some time in prison. Now having a day off. What kind of a messed up comedy-life protagonist am I? My life sounds like some kind of a sick joke!’

‘Whoever is the crazy god who dictates my life, I beg you, please stop! It’s not funny!’

If a god like that existed, he or she would have a truly twisted sense of humor.

‘Eh, at least my boss is reasonable. Though…he is a self-proclaimed Lord of Darkness… of all people. Calling him an eccentric would not do him justice’

‘No… he is batshit insane! I don’t understand…It is hard to tell whether he actually has a plan or if we are following the whims of a madman. I already made a contract with him, so it is tad bit too late for me to back out now…Still, I wonder if I made the right choice by joining him?’

Meros Solros, a former Holy Knight, now one of the Shadow Lords, and the sole human member of the group.

Apparently Dark Lord himself is half-human, but he identifies as a demon, so Meros in a sense was the only pure human.

As such, compared to the members of non-human races who have grudges against humanity, Meros was truly an odd case.

A human being who is working against humanity.

A traitor.

‘To be fair, I don’t have family, loved ones, or even relatives. And the kingdom I loyally served for a decade, risking my life to protect, threw me out like garbage as soon as I was maimed.’

“We have no use for a cripple”

“What a waste of potential.”

“You have no future. It is best for you to simply slit your throat”

“You will never reach the level of heroes. Drink this poison and it will put you out of your misery…”

The words of his former superior in the Holy Order echoed within Meros’s ears.

And true enough, before meeting Dark Lord, Meros truly did consider killing himself.

His swordsmanship, the one thing he devoted his life to, had become impossible for him to use.

Not having anywhere else to go or a place that would accept him, Meros was reduced to a drunken vagrant, just waiting for his time to die.

At that point, he was desperate enough to join the Dark Lord, a man of questionable background with even more questionable agenda.

Meros clenched his left hand into a fist. The arm he had once lost but was restored by Dark Lord.

It worked same as normal, though Meros did note that the arm had no sense of pain. Over time the arm did develop a sense of touch, but the sense of pain was still not there. Dark Lord did warn him that the arm was not perfect and that even if the functionality was restored, it will never be same as original.

He may not have done it intentionally and he most likely had a not-so good motive behind it, but Dark Lord did save Meros’s life and restored his purpose in it.

For that, if nothing else, Meros owed Dark Lord a debt of gratitude.

‘But it’s not bad, having an arm that does not feel any pain that is.’

‘Still…Even after working for him for a several months, I know next to nothing about him. Where he came from, the reason he wants to destroy the kingdom or even his real name. He got the profile for a mysterious boss covered to a tee alright!’

As he walked forward, Meros could see the base of the Holy Order.

He could still remember the days he used to report there; in fact, his old mentor was one of the elders in Holy Order before retiring.

Before they abandoned him, Meros thought that he would gladly give up his life for the sake of the Holy Order, kingdom, and humanity.

But turns out, humanity is not much better than demons, arguably, they are far worse.

They were not monsters that haunt the dreams of people, turning them into nightmares.

Nay, they were living beings, just like them.

But it took him more than a decade to understand that simple fact.

The demons were not there out to plunge humanity into an age of darkness or some other nonsense that kings, lords, and saints had led them to believe.

They simply wanted to survive.

Many people speak of the glory, tales of defeating ghastly demons, but not a single one of them speaks of the true atrocities humanity has been carrying out on a daily basis for centuries.

As a Former Holy Knight, Meros knew for a fact that many of the demon victims of the knights were no more than mere children.

The first time he had seen such a massacre, Meros ended up throwing up.

Whenever it was time cleansing after a battle (kill all demons within a captured territory), Meros would avert his gaze, not wishing to see all the demon children that were condemned to death as the hands of knights.

There was neither honor nor glory; it was simple carnage, nothing more.

At times, Meros felt ashamed for ever picking up the sword in the first place.

That was the reason he explicitly stated to Dark Lord that he will never kill children, and surprisingly, Dark Lord agreed.

“But everyone else is a fair game” Meros muttered, remembering his first conversation with his superior.

Taking a deep breath, Meros’s face adorned a rather sad smile.

“At least most of my past is far behind me”

But before he could walk away, he heard a voice behind him.

“Master Solros? Is that you?”

That voice…

Meros gulped.

So much for his past being behind him, it caught up to him once more.

‘Hello, my past.’

“Livon? Livon Clave?”

“Master Solros! It really is you!”

Meros found himself being embraced by his former protégé, a lad of nineteen years of age, Livon Clave.

* * *

‘What a nightmare… to run into Livon of all people…’ Meros couldn’t help but think.

The former teacher and student were now walking together while conversing.

“I see that you are still a knight of the kingdom”

“Yeah, but I still can’t use chi, sorry Master Solros”

To use air slash, one needed to be able to use chi, even the most basic form of chi was fine.

Livon had been having a lot of trouble grasping that since chi required willpower to generate, which is linked to one’s emotions and mentality.

If one has even a bit of doubt or weakness of will, chi will not work.

In Livon’s case, Raina Nockser, Knight of Combat’s assessment was spot on.

He had more than enough physical ability, but he lacked the heart, deep emotions strong enough to generate chi.

Deep emotions fueled willpower, willpower fueled chi. And the heart is the key to unlocking one’s latent power.

“No worries, and call me Meros. I have not been your master for a long time now”

“Understood, Master Meros”

“Obviously you don’t, brat!”

In his irritation, Meros ended up giving Livon a noogie with his left hand. He only realized his mistake when it was too late.

“Master…your hand! Your left hand, it has been restored?!”

“Uhm, yeah…kind of”

It was too late to hide it, so Meros found himself in a rather awkward situation.

“That is great! That means you can come back to the Holy Order, doesn’t it~!”

“NO WAY! I AM NOT COMING BACK TO THAT PLACE EVER AGAIN!”

Perhaps Meros went too far by raising his voice that much.

As he calmed down, he realized his anger had terrified Livon to the brink of tears. Meros could not see his face at the moment of absolute rage, but it was scary enough to frighten a high tier knight.

“Sorry. Livon, you already know of my circumstances and why I wouldn’t want to come back, right? Besides, I already found a job that I like”

“Really? As expected of Master Meros, you truly can find a place anywhere!”

“Right…” Meros internally noted just how messed up and wrong his current situation was.

Not only was he now a former Holy Knight, but he now was working in an organization that was essentially an evil counterpart to the Holy Order, with their leader being the one and only Lord of Darkness.

To say that he essentially switched sides would not be too much of a stretch.

“I am so glad for you, Master, now that you have your hand back you can finally achieve your lifelong dream of reaching the level of a hero”

“About that…Is that truly what is for the best?”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind”

Meros was afraid that if he ended up slipping up, he would end up revealing his affiliation with Shadow Lords.

Livon was not exactly the sharpest of nails, but Meros did not want to take his chances.

Besides, since they were now on opposite sides, there was a grim possibility that Meros would one day need to face Livon in battle.

‘He still so naïve…I hoped he would have more common sense by now…Ugh…’

After talking for about half an hour, Meros and Livon finally parted ways.

“I am so glad you are doing ok, Master Meros. More than ok, you seem to have recovered greatly”

“Yeah, something like that”

“Come to think of it, I forgot to ask you, master. What kind of job do you have?”

“Ahm…I serve a nobleman as his bodyguard. Yeah, bodyguard, that’s what I am”

First part was technically true, while the other half was debatable.

Runfar did not really need a bodyguard.

Only Livon was dense enough to not see through that obvious lie.

‘Boy, am I glad this idiot was always so clueless~’

* * *

“Oh, I am glad that is over with”

Meros was not sure how much more of that he could take.

Then, he heard a strange noise.

“Please, milady! You must rest to heal your body!”

“For the last time, don’t call me milady!”

Meros felt chills go down his spine.

That voice…It couldn’t be….

“Oi! You there! You look strong, spar with me!”

She was as unreasonable as ever.

Silver hair, a single slash mark scar over her closed right eyelid, countless scars upon her muscular body, and a voice that was rather rough around the edges for a woman.

There was no mistake about it.

It was the Knight of Sword, Verita Welles, the woman Meros fell in love with long ago.

She seemed to be doing better after the last time Meros saw her; Camilla did dose her with so much poison that it should have killed her outright.

But due to her formidable willpower and having god’s blood running through her veins, she managed to survive. But she was still rendered out of commission and severely weakened.

In fact, it was incredible that she was even walking.

The poison should have crippled her for life, but like always, she fought back.

Meros gulped in fear.

‘To the god of my misfortune, just one question. Why?’

* * *

‘Yet another experiment at creating the True Undead ended in failure.’

Kanka clenched his fist and struck the boulder near him, his fist left a sizable dent in the rock.

“Damn it, my level is still too low”

In this world, there were many ways of measuring a person’s power; one such way was by application of levels.

Demon kind uses ranks, humankind uses classes (Knight, Holy Knight, Hero, Legendary Hero), and some, like Kanka, who could see the overall abilities of creatures at a glance, used levels.

If it is by levels, then a knight would be around 5-10, a holy Knight 11-20, and a hero would be around 21-30. The ones who exceed level 30 are known as legendary beings.

Depending on what abilities the levels were gained in, the user could unlock a previously unattainable type of power.

Such was the case for Kanka.

Overall, he was a level 27, which would be very high if he was a human being.

But for a True Undead, it was a rather low level, nowhere near high enough to obtain the power to create True Undead.

The only way to make his skill level in undead creation grow was to use his powers more and more, gaining more and more experience each time.

Ultimately, Kanka’s true goal was the resurrection of the True Undead race, with his own hands.

Long ago, there was a kingdom composed of nothing but True Undead, ageless beings whose bodies were not rotten corpses that most undead are known for, but simply people whose time had been frozen.

In some ways, it was a true eternal paradise many dream of.

Undead Kingdom had its own caste system, with Kanka being born at the lowest class of society, a mere menial servant, almost a slave.

Depending on the level of society the True Undead was born into, one could be born with far greater powers than others.

Kanka was not so fortunate in such regard. He pretty much had only being a True Undead going for him, with a measly level 0 at the start.

But one day, the Primary God of Power, Michael, the Sword of Gods, appeared before their kingdom.

He saw the Undead Kingdom as an absolute abomination and decided to destroy it.

Extending his eight golden wings, Michael unleashed a wave of Holy Light that burned the entire kingdom to the ground.

As far as Kanka knew, there were only two survivors after that massacre, him and the Princess of the kingdom.

By some odd fortune, they alone managed to survive.

The princess is now known as the Undead Queen, and she is currently searching for Kanka.

The reason?

To procreate, of course.

Only a high level male undead can create True Undead, with the white converting light.

Undead Queen cannot make True Undead, but she can conceive one. That is why she has been chasing after Kanka for hundreds of years.

True Undead don’t age, so time was not an issue.

In Kanka’s case, he had the opposite problem, he was a male undead, but he was too low level.

Since he was born into the lowest of castes in the Undead Kingdom, even with gaining many levels of strength, power, and experience over the years, he still was nowhere near his goal of reviving his race.

He could have had a child with the Undead Queen, but Kanka, as a former lowest class of the Undead Kingdom, held a rather personal grudge against her, the one last member of True Undead royal line.

And it was a matter of pride; he wanted to be the one to restore their race, by his own efforts.

Still, she was more powerful than him, which is why he was forced to build and flee bases whenever she came too close.

Even now, his senses and his personally created undead are at high alert.

Undead Queen has a very strong and distinct mana signature that can be sensed from a mile away, at least by Kanka.

This way, he always had enough time to escape, run away or teleport to a remote location.

None of the experiments so far produced success.

But Kanka was determined to succeed, no matter how many men, women, or children he had to abduct to achieve his goals…