Chapter 9: Does Souls Taste Good?
"Unbelievable. I've referred to the squadron captain about the delay in duty rotation time over time and again. Those bastards, they're always late be it for one goddamn reason or another."
"We're all cut from the same cloth—who in their right mind would muster enough willpower to leave the warm embrace of a beautiful captive just to stand guard like an erect cock all night long?"
"You're too vulgar! For the love of gods, I didn't expect the army to be like this when I first left home!"
"You're too innocent, kid. I get it that this is your first on-field mission and all, but you need to get a few things up that thick head of yours if you wanna live comfortably, alright? Don't ever disrespect the general trend of things; either join them or shut the fuck up. Are we good?"
"Whatever…"
"Don't pout like a wussy… Sigh, know what? You hold the post for a bit while I head back and check what exactly went wrong with those idiots."
…
The soldiers didn't even bother to lower their voices while going back and forth, quibbling away to pass time. From their conversation, Kevin understood that the situation in the barracks was rather lazy and cozy, to the point where inexperienced young men are swiftly drafted to the front lines.
Then again, no one would dispatch elite troops to lead a war of internal strife, those lords on their lavish armchairs would rather file in batch after batch of newbies and shape them up in this game.
Still, even games have their wins and losses.
Players gain experience and rank up through their merits.
These games are the best way for someone to show their value, and Kevin wanted to display some of his expertise within these two weeks.
Ignoring the biting cold all over his body, Kevin began to inspect his gear of throwing knives and a long dagger just in case he lost some of them to the river's ruthless currents.
Luckily, all of his cold weapons were stitched into the inner fabric of the black cloak, and not a single blade went missing.
Judging from the intermittent complaints hovering overhead, the night shift was as good as over long ago, yet no one approached the watchtower with the intention to cycle through.
The older soldier, calling him veteran for the sake of it, started preparing to leave his post and invite the other two over.
The smooth edge of a long stainless steel dagger reflected the vile light in Kevin's eyes as he slowly got to his feet.
A young aspiring soul was about to depart from this world of mortals toward realms unknown to man.
Kevin never bothered thinking about the afterlife or where those he disposed of wound up in; he was not trained to ruminate about that.
The moment a target of his breath their last, the moment their annoyingly loud hearts went quiet, the moment their eyes dimmed and no longer saw him despite looking right at him; he moved on.
At best, dead people became no more than numbers in his head.
This young righteous soldier was now and unfortunately marked to be Kevin's number one in this life.
…
"He will most likely join them and come back by the break of dawn," mumbled the young man as he clutched the coats of arms tightly around his body. He shivered, and from head to toe at that. "If I was a mage, I wouldn't worry about climate shifts, be it hot or cold. That's what granpa told me."
He would never have expected a winter could be so cold, even the stars and moon above have wrapped themselves up in clothing like clouds, warding off this merciless bite.
How great was magic? It is that exotic omnipotent flavor.
Sprinkle a bit of magic on literally anything and it becomes manifolds better.
As he was foolishly lamenting the stories of his childhood, he heard someone climbing the wooden railings of the watchtower.
Judging from the passage of time, it should be the senior soldier making it back.
This young man caught a glimpse of a wine flask to the side.
Ah, he thought to himself. That must be it; the old drunkard.
"You were in so much of a rush, actually forgetting your precious flask of wine," complained the young man with a hint of supercritical sarcasm in his tone. Then again, if the man didn't return, this wine would end up in the belly of someone else— anyone else except for him.
Some people detest wine and some are revolted by its color and heavy flavor reminiscent of pungent blood on dry lands. This young man in particular was the latter— he'd feel nauseous.
Just as he was thinking so, thought a jumbled mess due to a feeling of cold that ought to feel otherwise warm in but a few seconds as an unfamiliar cold slit his throat.
Efficient it was.
He clutched his neck, albeit reflexively.
A thick scarf wound around his clasped hands, viscous red dyed it a familiar smudge as the young man's lips flapped open and lagged shut, quickly losing color.
Kevin nudged the young man forward lest the blood trickled down to soak the coat of arms; he needed these clothes clean and tidy.
Fear and despair crippled the young man beyond resistance as his soul slowly departed from its shell.
Kevin's eyes flashed an odd black as his vision darkened.
A space of silent, invisible ripples.
A lost soul or so he instinctively assumed it to be lunged at the space between his brows, binding him into a momentary daze that elapsed as quickly as it came.
"That was something interesting…" muttered the young baron while clutching the corpse of a man probably no older than he was. "Who knew souls had flavors to them? Quite nutritious too."
He couldn't help but lick his lips as his body jolted in delight, a current of energy both familiar and unfamiliar rushed from his brain all across his body; from the mind to the spinal cord and to every fiber of his being.
This was a pulse of mana, the certification of a newly born mage, albeit a pitiful novice.
Kevin grinned to himself as he felt invigorated, tempted to test the enchantments a mage's physique provided to an irregular man like him.
Very quickly, however, he took a deep breath and calmed down as this wasn't the time or place to fool around.
A mage he may be, but when surrounded by soldiers on all sides despite their status as normal human beings; only death awaits him if exposed.
Kevin gave the young man a look and swiftly enough, he began to exchange their clothes in preparation to dispose of the body.
…
Far away in the baron's castle.
Soundlessly sleeping in her big brother's room, Lexia had yet another weird dream.
Blank white was everything, ripples of gentle frost spiked from near to far. While confusion riddled her little brain, a particularly clear snowflake drifted over— cold as it was comfortable, and lunged into her forehead.
She immediately woke up with a gasp, breathing heavily.
She touched her forehead instinctively but found nothing there.
"I miss you," she cooed to herself with a pout, not feeling fatigued or sleepy anymore. Although confused, the little girl quickly got off her bed with the intention of rushing through her practice regime from dawn till noon.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone