The King Who Returned From Death

Taking Command

​"Oh no!"

​The voice echoed inside the main tent that smelled of blood and sweat. Nikolai, who was now in Kael's body, stood tall in the middle of the room. His gaze was locked on the parchment paper in Malakor's hand.

​Malakor threw the letter onto the table stained with black ink. His face was bright red with anger and frustration. Around them, five guards held swords, ready to surround Nikolai.

​"Do you think that after surviving the enemy's assault on the front lines, you can act as you please here?" Malakor snarled as he stepped forward. "You are just a bait soldier. That body of yours belongs to the state to be used as a shield!"

​Nikolai did not respond with emotion. He took a soft breath, feeling the pain in his chest from the memories of the past. The warmth of the blood in his new body felt different, but the soul of a king would not flinch at the mere threats of a low-ranking soldier.

​"A bait soldier who just saved your entire troop from a m******e," Nikolai replied flatly. "If not for the tactics I made at the outer fortress earlier, your head would have been separated from your neck at the very start of the battle."

​"Watch your mouth!" Malakor barked while drawing his sword. The sharp tip of the iron pointed directly at Nikolai's chest. "I am in control here. The rules at this border are simple, whoever disobeys orders will be executed immediately!"

​The guards moved closer, forming a tight circle around Nikolai. The air inside the tent felt increasingly suffocating. Nikolai observed his surroundings, calculating the distance between himself and each soldier.

​In Nikolai's memories as King Frostvein, Malakor was merely an ordinary officer who rose through the ranks via bribes and connections to low-ranking noble families. This man did not understand how to fight a war, he could only shout and oppress his subordinates.

​"Do you know why Isolde sent that order letter?" Nikolai asked calmly, unaffected by the tip of the sword pressing near his clothes. "She wants to erase the trace of your failure here. You are just a tool to be discarded after all the soldiers here die."

​Malakor's face changed upon hearing that name spoken so casually by a low-ranking soldier. There was a moment of doubt in his eyes, but pride and anger instantly covered it up again.

​"Don't try to instigate me!" Malakor shouted with an even higher tone. "Isolde is the legitimate new ruler. And her orders are very clear, wipe out useless people like you!"

​Nikolai took a small step forward. That movement startled Malakor, making him reflexively pull his sword back a little. Nikolai's composure felt unnatural for a prisoner sentenced to death.

​"If so, try executing me now," Nikolai challenged with a thin smile. "Prove that you have the courage to carry out that order yourself without hiding behind your guards."

​"How dare you!"

​Those words burned Malakor's pride. Roaring, Malakor swung his sword toward Nikolai's neck. That s***h was fast and powerful, aimed at severing Nikolai's neck in a single swing.

​However, Nikolai was not the weak Kael. Before the sword touched his skin, Nikolai lowered his body. He lunged into close range, bypassing the reach of Malakor's sword swing.

​Nikolai's right hand moved quickly to strike Malakor's wrist until his sword loosened and fell. Before Malakor could react, Nikolai immediately grabbed the commander's throat firmly.

​"Ugh, let go!"

​Two nearby guards stepped forward to help their superior. Nikolai used Malakor's body as a shield, rotating his position so that the guard's sword s***h only struck thin air.

​Nikolai kicked his leg out, striking the first guard's knee until the sound of breaking bone was heard. That soldier screamed and collapsed. Without wasting time, Nikolai lifted Malakor's sword off the floor with his left foot, kicked it upward, and caught its hilt with his left hand.

​A single circular s***h immediately sliced open the second guard's chest. Blood spurted out, drenching the floor and the fabric walls of the tent. The other soldiers stood stunned, terrified to see such an absurdly fast fighting style.

​"Monster! He's a monster!"

​"Who else wants to step forward?" Nikolai threatened while tightening his grip even further. Malakor's face began to turn blue from lack of air.

​The remaining guards looked at each other with pale faces. They lowered their weapons slowly, not daring to fight someone who fought so boldly. The atmosphere in the tent suddenly fell silent, leaving only the groans of the injured soldiers on the floor.

​Nikolai slammed Malakor's body onto the table until the wooden table shattered in two. Malakor coughed violently while clutching his neck, gasping for air with a trembling body.

​"ARGHH!"

​"How does it feel?"

​"You... you are not Kael..." Malakor whispered raspily and frantically. "Who are you really?"

​Nikolai approached Malakor, who lay helpless among the table debris. He pointed the tip of his sword right between the commander's eyes. Nikolai's gaze was cold and full of authority, a gaze only possessed by a ruler.

​"Who I am is not important to you," Nikolai answered coldly. "What matters now is that your power in this camp is over."

​Nikolai pushed the tip of his sword through Malakor's forehead without hesitation. Blood flowed from the wound as the commander's body twitched briefly before finally falling still. The swift execution was over in a matter of seconds.

​Nikolai drew his sword, then wiped the bloodstains off the steel blade using Malakor's corpse clothes. He turned back to face the guards standing stiffly in the corner of the tent.

​"Call all squad leaders and front-line soldiers here now," Nikolai commanded firmly. "Tell them that the command of this place has changed."

​Not a single guard dared to disobey. They immediately ran out of the tent to carry out the order. Nikolai walked to the corner of the room, picked up Malakor's thick fur coat, and put it on to cover his body that was full of wounds.

​A few minutes later, dozens of soldiers and squad leaders gathered in front of the main tent. Their faces were dull, dirty with battle mud, and full of uncertainty. They were outcasts, criminals, and death row soldiers sent to the front lines to die.

​Nikolai came out of the tent, standing on the wooden platform where Malakor usually gave orders. In his right hand, he held a sword that was still dripping blood.

​The soldiers were shocked when they saw Nikolai step out wearing the commander's coat, while Malakor's personal guards stood submissively behind him. News of Malakor's death spread rapidly among the ranks of the troops.

​"Your commander is dead because he was weak," Nikolai shouted loudly. His voice echoed, drawing the attention of hundreds of soldiers around him.

​"All this time, you were treated like live bait," Nikolai continued while pointing toward the border. "You were sent here not to fight for glory, but to be eliminated slowly by the enemy and by the corrupt system in the capital city!"

​The soldiers began to whisper among themselves. Nikolai's words touched the pain and injustice they had endured for a long time. All this time, they watched their friends die in vain because of poor strategies from superiors who did not care.

​"I don't promise this place will be a safe place," Nikolai said again. "But under my command, not a single one of you will die foolishly just to satisfy the greed of the people in the palace!"

​A veteran squad leader whose body was covered in burn scars stepped forward from the line. He observed Nikolai carefully, assessing the figure of the young man before him.

​"Why should we trust you?" the veteran squad leader asked hoarsely. "You are just a new soldier who happens to know how to kill."

​Nikolai looked the veteran right in the eyes. "Because I am the only person here who knows how to win this war and bring you back alive. If you feel you have a better tactic, step forward and take this sword from me."

​The camp atmosphere suddenly went silent. No soldier dared to step forward to accept that challenge. They had all seen with their own eyes how Nikolai led the defense at the outer fortress earlier this afternoon and brought down the enemy with extreme efficiency.

​The veteran took a long breath, then slowly knelt on the cold snowy ground. He bowed his head in submission. "We are with you, Commander."

​The veteran's action was immediately followed by the other soldiers. One by one, hundreds of bait soldiers and outcasts knelt before Nikolai, declaring their loyalty to the new leader.

​Nikolai looked at the ranks of troops now under his control. This was the first step of his plan. He had reclaimed a troop, the starting capital to rise and take revenge on the traitors in the Frostvein palace.

​"Good, I guarantee this decision of yours will not make you regret."

​After that meeting, Nikolai went back into the main tent that was now officially his command headquarters. Nikolai picked up the execution order letter that Malakor had thrown to the floor earlier. He wiped off the dust sticking to the paper.

​The parchment felt cold. At the bottom of the paper, a blood stamp in the shape of the imperial seal he knew so well was engraved, complete with the beautiful signature that used to write sweet words for him.

​Nikolai stared at Isolde Blackthorne's signature with a look full of hatred. The pain from the Ather-Rift ritual pulsed again in his chest, reminding him of every second of suffering when his skin was flayed alive.

​A newly appointed trusted soldier entered the tent carrying a map of the border region. The soldier bowed respectfully before placing the map scroll on the remaining small table.

​"What step will we take now, Commander?" the soldier asked hesitantly. "The enemy troops out there might attack again tomorrow morning."

​Nikolai flipped the execution order letter in his hand, exposing the blood stamp to the soldier in front of him. A cold smile appeared on Nikolai's face.

​"We will no longer defend this place," Nikolai replied firmly. "Starting tonight, we reorganize our formation and prepare all available logistics."

​The soldier was confused to hear such an order. "You mean, Commander, we will retreat to the inner territory of the empire?"

​Nikolai crumpled the parchment letter in his hand until it turned into a small wad. His eyes emitted an extremely dense killing aura.

​"Not retreating," Nikolai said in a heavy voice. "We will turn around and attack the outer fortress of Frostvein!"