Chapter 101: War isn’t won by the most righteous
After realizing that this was his third life, Adam wasn’t quite sure how to feel... although his dominant memories were of this world, that didn’t mean the memories from his first life weren’t important.
He couldn’t simply ignore them... they were now a part of him.
With them, he could greatly improve his family’s lands thanks to all the knowledge he possessed, which could be of great help, especially when it came to farming and innovation. He could turn Arkham into the most important city on the continent.
It wasn’t a far-fetched idea... it was a real possibility.
Right now, Adam has a pretty big advantage... but now wasn’t the time for that; he had more important things to do, like preparing for war against Migzar’s army and, while he was at it, conquering their lands.
His priorities were clear.
With a sigh, he pushed those thoughts aside; tomorrow he had to meet again with the mercenaries from the nameless guild who were now part of his forces.
He couldn’t afford any distractions.
I have to think of a name for them.
It wasn’t just about aesthetics... it was about identity.
Since they were different, they needed a fitting name. Before flopping down on the bed, he glanced at the demoness Synes, but his emotions were complex.
Not everything could be reduced to logic.
If it weren’t for her, he would never have recovered the memories of his first life... but, remembering how he had been treated, Adem decided not to make a big deal of it and closed his eyes.
He didn’t want to dwell on that... at least not now.
Not long after, he fell into a deep sleep.
His body gave in... but his mind wasn’t completely at peace.
The night brought him no true rest.
Adam’s body slept, but his mind never stopped; fragmented images from his two lives intertwined in no particular order, as if someone were stirring his memories with an invisible hand.
When he finally opened his eyes, the light of dawn was already streaming through the inn’s window, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. For a few seconds, he lay motionless, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it, letting his mind slowly adjust.
Two lives.
The idea was still absurd... but he could no longer deny it.
He let out a low sigh and sat up, running a hand over his face before turning his head slightly to one side.
Synes was sitting there, as if she hadn’t moved all night, watching him with that faint smile that never seemed to fade completely.
He rose from the bed with calm movements, stretching his body slightly as his mind began to organize what was to come.
"We’re leaving,"
He finally murmured, without looking directly at her.
Synes tilted her head slightly, as if that simple phrase were more interesting to her than it should be, before standing up with an elegance that didn’t quite fit her nature.
"As you command, darling~."
Adam frowned briefly, but didn’t respond. He had already realized that correcting her wouldn’t change anything.
They left the inn shortly afterward, finding themselves once again amid the constant bustle of Risthon.
The city was now fully awake; merchants were setting up their stalls, adventurers were discussing assignments, and mercenaries roamed the streets with the ease of those who lived on the constant edge of violence.
However, Adam barely noticed the commotion.
It didn’t take long for them to reach the nameless guild.
The atmosphere of the place hadn’t changed much since the last time, but there was something different in the air. The glances that had once been hostile or suspicious now lingered on him longer, charged with a different kind of tension... a mixture of respect, curiosity, and something else harder to define.
It was recognition.
Adam walked on without stopping, ignoring those glances.
When he entered the leader’s room, the atmosphere was completely different from the day before.
The smell of death had almost completely vanished, replaced by a cleaner, more stable feeling.
The man who had previously been on the brink of death was now standing, dressed in simple clothes, moving his shoulders and arms as if testing the limits of his own body.
Claire stood beside him, watching him in silence, but her expression had changed. There was no longer any doubt in her eyes... only determination.
The leader turned his head as Adam entered, and for a moment, silence fell over the room.
"It seems the time has come," the leader finally said, his voice firm, with a tone that held no trace of weakness.
Adam didn’t respond right away.
"It seems the treatment worked."
The leader let out a brief, low chuckle—more air than sound.
"It worked... and more. My body feels different... lighter... clearer."
Adam didn’t say a word about it.
Claire stepped forward.
"The men are ready. As we agreed, the entire guild will act under your command."
Adam nodded slightly.
"Then let’s not waste any more time."
He turned and walked out of the room without waiting for a reply, knowing they would follow him.
And so they did.
The operation began shortly thereafter.
The carriages were quickly readied; they weren’t as luxurious as those of the nobility, but they were sturdy, practical, and built to withstand long journeys and harsh conditions.
The horses were secured, the equipment loaded, and the mercenaries organized themselves without needing many orders, moving with the efficiency of those accustomed to marching.
Adam watched it all in silence, standing next to one of the carriages with his arms crossed.
It wasn’t an army... yet, but it was a start.
Finally, he climbed into the carriage without saying another word, taking his seat as the rest did the same.
Claire gave the final orders, and the guild leader took his place in one of the front carriages, his presence now much more commanding than before.
The sound of whips cutting through the air marked the beginning.
The wheels began to turn.
And little by little, the group left Risthon behind, leaving the bustling city in their wake as the road to Arkham opened up before them.
...
Meanwhile, in the city of Arkham, the situation was dire; the streets were even more littered with blood and corpses than they had been a few days earlier; the stench of death hung constantly in the air.
It wasn’t an isolated incident... it was a permanent state of affairs.
More than half the city had been taken over by Migzar’s army, which, as the days passed, was gaining ground and slowly devouring the city, like a snake slowly suffocating its prey.
They weren’t advancing quickly... but they were advancing steadily.
Nevertheless, the Hall family’s soldiers held their ground admirably, though they suffered heavy casualties—not enough, however, to force them to give up.
Not yet... but with each passing day, that margin grew narrower.
Alisha knew that all too well; she’d been taught that lesson well enough... even though she couldn’t sleep at night, because she constantly heard the screams of all the dead and those who had died after realizing things too late.
But she didn’t let herself sink into self-pity, not at a time as precarious as this; she just had to hold on.
Hold on... even though she didn’t know for how long.
That was what she’d been telling herself all these days: with no good news to speak of, all the reports were about what they were losing.
And yet... she was still standing.
Alisha let out a long sigh, trying to pull herself together. She looked at her reflection in the mirror; her face looked unkempt: dark circles under her eyes, and her hair a mess. She was also dirty and stained with blood that wasn’t hers, but that of those who had helped her.
The image reflected in the mirror to her was not that of a noblewoman... it was that of someone who had survived at the expense of others.
Her fingers tensed slightly.
War was not what she had imagined. There was no honor in it... only decisions, and every decision came with a price that someone else had to pay.
And that someone... was rarely the one who gave the order.
She looked away for a moment, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that pierced her chest.
Every line she gave up... every order she gave... every second she chose to hold her ground instead of attacking... had cost lives.
Lives that had trusted her.
Lives that were now just numbers in reports.
She clenched her teeth.
She couldn’t afford to feel too much... but she couldn’t stop feeling either.
That was her curse.
Because she understood something no one ever said out loud:
"War isn’t won by the most righteous... It’s won by those who can carry the most corpses without breaking."
Her eyes returned to the mirror.
And for a moment... just for a moment... she allowed herself to hate herself.
But the next second, her expression hardened, burying everything under a layer of control.
Because if she broke... everything would come crashing down.
And that was something she couldn’t allow.
"A leader doesn’t choose between good and evil... they choose which death they’re willing to carry for the rest of their life."