A Bloody Year

A year had passed since Anno first arrived in Britain.

"You beastly Merlin! Just how long do you intend to leave me in this godforsaken place!!!" Anno shouted, his voice raw with exasperation and fury.

Anno considered himself a man of quality, usually refined, easygoing, and graceful, but lately, he was truly on the verge of a breakdown.

After he and Merlin had agreed that he would become a knight, Merlin had spent another month with him by the Holy Lake, teaching him the etiquette and creeds of knighthood. Then, due to a summons from King Uther of Britain, Merlin had departed, but not before dropping Anno off at a goblin settlement and leaving without a word.

And so, clad in the Treasure Armor of the Lady of the Lake and wielding nothing but an iron sword, Anno had fought his way in and out of the goblin encampment seven times over, all on his own.

Goblins and humans were mortal enemies; seeing Anno alone, they naturally had designs on him.

The goblins themselves were not particularly strong, and with Anno wearing the Treasure Armor, small settlements posed no threat.

Practical combat was the best teacher, and with Anno being a Thread of the Root and possessing the protection of the Counter Force, his strength improved at a rapid pace.

At first, Anno had been deeply repulsed by such things, but with so many goblins intent on killing him, he had been forced to slaughter one. After retching a few times, he had fully adapted to the rhythm of the massacre within a few days.

He lived like a savage, hiding by day and hunting by night.

When even swarms of goblins could no longer pose a threat to him, Merlin reappeared. After being chased and beaten by Anno, Merlin threw him into the territory of the Orcs.

The rest, as they say, goes without saying.

At this moment, Anno was sitting atop the corpse of an Orc, his entire being radiating a fierce, rugged aura.

When he had first entered this region, the Orcs had constantly tried to hunt him down; now, Anno had to actively seek out their settlements.

A year had passed. Anno had grown a few centimeters taller, and while he couldn't be described as having bulging muscles, he at least appeared sturdy. His once bright silver armor was now stained a deep, bloody crimson. A beard had sprouted, and several faint scars marked his face, giving him an air of chilling lethality. The fair-faced youth from a year ago was gone.

Anno sat on the Orc corpse, using a scrap of rag he had found somewhere to wipe the longsword in his hand.

The material of this sword was quite exceptional; it had been with him for nearly a year without sustaining the slightest damage.

The reason Anno had been able to remain active in this region all this time was entirely thanks to the Treasure Armor and this longsword.

"Yo, looks like you've been training quite well." A voice that sounded incredibly punchable to Anno drifted from behind him.

Anno instinctively swung his sword backward, but felt no resistance.

Looking closely, he saw that the insufferable old geezer Merlin was standing by a tree in the distance.

"Where do you think you're going, you old thief!" Anno gritted his teeth.

He hurled the longsword in his hand toward Merlin with a sharp whistle. Merlin, nearly frightened to death, scrambled to dodge.

BOOM!

The sword, its momentum unchecked, shattered the tree Merlin had been leaning against, snapping it clean through before burying itself deep into the earth behind it.

Anno remained in his throwing stance, staring at Merlin, who was clutching his chest and gasping for air, clearly shaken. A terrifying smile curled onto Anno's lips.