Master of the Deep

The men's morale peaked, at this moment they were invincible. They were given an order to kill, so they did. For every goblin killed, the men's morale became higher and higher, anything else is not relevant at this moment.

It is now the time to vent their frustration and anger. They roared and charged, like a beast released from their leash.

The sudden change in the battlefield surprised and terrified the goblins. They watched as their kind was being slaughtered, bones and skulls crushed, flesh and blood splattered every time humans swung their maces.

Those who have fallen from the initial maneuver of the humans are now being trampled. Their kind, who have been violently attacking the human lines, are now retreating en masse.

Those feeding from the corpses were overwhelmed by the rushing tides of their kind, they were helplessly pushed to the ground. They groaned as they were trampled. 

A mass stampede appeared in the messy battlefield. As men hunt and the prey runs. 

The humans, staring at the fallen goblins, let out a deep breath, then heavy breathing followed. Mist forming from the heat of their breath as an expression of pure joy appeared on the humans' bloodied faces. 

The humans smiled widely as they slaughtered the goblin. They are in a frenzy, fed up defending passively, it is now their turn to attack. Unleashing everything that they have. 

From one to two, two to ten, ten to thirty, the goblin casualties rose exponentially. The number of goblins who were fighting was reduced from the mass retreat, and now they once again dwindled from the frenzied attack of the humans. 

Those who were still fighting began to take a step back. When they realized the situation, they turned back and started running away. 

Their crazed state due to hunger gone, now exhausted and weak, they are powerless. The humans have gone mad, they are no longer terrified of them. It is now their turn to be terrified.

Prewell swung his arming sword at a running goblin. Hitting its back causing it to fall face first to the ground. The goblin released a pained screech, crawling away to follow its running kind. 

Prewell approached the fallen goblin, staring at the horrid abomination. Raising his arm up as he swung once more, this time aimed at the goblin's neck.

"CHAAAAAAA!"

The goblin let out a cry as Prewell's sword was unable to finish the job. The screeching goblin turned to face his attacker only to see a bloodied face, unlike the other humans whose faces were filled with ecstasy as they slaughtered his kind. This face is devoid of any emotion, eyes staring down at it. 

Peace 

No emotions were seen in those eyes, just peace. The goblin stared back into those crimson eyes, as if entranced by its appearance. As the goblin stared into those eyes, An arm holding a sword was raised.

Swoosh

A downward slash, followed by another and another. A flurry of slashes came, leaving the goblin, who was entranced by those peaceful crimson eyes, defenseless. 

Perhaps the goblin did not realize that beneath the peace in those eyes are various dark emotions, hiding beneath the false guise of peace.

The goblin's divided remains littered around Prewell. Prewell stared at the horrid creature's corpse as his men gathered around him. Raising his head, staring at his bloodied and battered men. 

Looking around the battlefield, seeing the retreating figures of the goblins and corpses of both humans and goblins on the ground. 

"Count the casualties and gather our fallen. Make preparations to bring them back. They will be buried at 'Waldr'." Taking in the sight, a turbid emotion was seen in those eyes. He commanded his men as his stare remained focused on the battlefield. After a moment, he turned, heading to the rear. 

Ignoring his men's stares, Prewell began to make way to his steed. Reaching out to his steed's side for a water container to drink. After being hydrated, he washed his face with the remaining liquid.

Clenching the bottle tightly as the adrenaline from the battle left his body, gone was the indifferent Prewell. As the water touched his face, realization came to him. Giving him an idea of what a stupid notion he had before this encounter.

What morality? The inhabitants of this world aren't concerned about that. Life is as fickle as a lit candle's kindling. At any moment, it can be extinguished. Why bother to think about morals when even a person of higher status can be slain by the dullest blade and bluntest of clubs.

What controls the body is now the modern soul from his previous life, an adult who has experienced the world… Though that world is peaceful and safe, compared to this world. 

Resisting the urge to vomit, Prewell stared at the battlefield. This simple trip to check on the progress of his subordinate's mission resulted in him encountering a life-threatening event. 

'In the end, just surviving this world is not enough. My system is useful, but with the difficulty of earning points, putting my hope in it to survive this world is not enough. 

It's time to adjust the plans, developing the territory is not enough. I must focus my points on summoning more Tier 1 to clear out the dangerous factor in Zalsac. 

I hope Lucius and Lancel were able to accomplish their goal in their trip to the Great Plume Forest.'

Changes are happening to Prewell something that he himself is unaware of. Changes that will change him and his people's future. 

_

Port Town of Waldr

As the rising sun began to set and the ever clear sky darkened, a twilight of twinkling stars began to appear on the horizon.

The inhabitants of the Waldr began to prepare to close their stalls, finish their work and leave for home. They walked and chatted with one another. Shouts and Laughter echoed through the streets. Just then, a commotion came from the gate. 

Men in leather armor, bloodied and battered, carrying various weapons, paraded in the middle of the streets. In the procession, pairs of men can be seen carrying poorly made stretchers. In those stretchers lie bodies covered in various sheets of cloth.

A bloody odor emitted from the bodies, causing the nearby locals to scrunch their faces. Bowing their heads as they clasped their hands as a sign of respect and prayers.

The children curious about such a sight were dragged by their parents away as the procession made their way to the center of the town. Divided into two, one heading for the edge of the town, where a small church belonged to the order of the three seas, and the other heading into the town hall.

_

Prewell stared at the backs of his entourage, carrying the corpses of their companions. 

'May you live a better life in your next life.' Closing his eyes to pray for his fallen soldiers in his mind. Slightly tilting his head downwards to give respect to them. After a moment of prayer, Prewell led the remaining men inside the Town Hall. 

The guards saw the entourage and the sigil of the House they were serving. A guard entered inside the building to notify his superior as the rest stayed in their position and bowed to Prewell, a common sign of courtesy for a commoner to his liege lord.

Making their way inside, Prewell set his sights on his men. Looking at their appearance and thinking of what they have just gone through. He turned to one of the guards and asked. "Where can the men rest?" 

A guard, flustered by the sudden attention, answered in a nervous voice. "My lord… t… o. to the quart… ers.. my.. Lord.. side of the town h..all, my lord." 

Nodding to the flustered guard, Prewell turned to his men. "Go and rest, there are quarters at the side of the hall." 

The men obliged, leaving Prewell to his musing. Soon a flurry of steps can be heard as the guard who had left before soon appears with a man in sailing attire.

Wearing a woolen shirt underneath a leather jerkin and brown colored breeches, a strong built body frame, bald head and graying beard. 'The Captain' Wiegraf has arrived.

"My lord." A man not known for words and pleasantry, Wiegraf bowed to pay his respect to Prewell. 

Prewell raised his hand as a gesture to stop Wiegraf. In his cold voice, he spoke of what he and his entourage had encountered, followed by a series of commands. "We have encountered goblins, near the crossroads. Send someone to notify the settlements. From this point until I say so, no one is allowed to leave the confines of the walls. Send an order to mobilize the militia and have someone gather volunteers from the villages and gather at least five hundred volunteers from Waldr."

"Understood, my Lord." Wiegraf nodded in acknowledgement as he realized the severity of the issue. Goblins are a common sight in the region, but goblins being this close to human settlements. That's an entirely different matter. 

Mulling over Prewell's command, Wiegraf asked about the issue of the militia.

"My lord, where will the militia assemble and who will lead them?"

Seeing Prewell still thinking over the answer to his question, Wiegraf hesitantly asked.

"My lord, the militia may indeed be considered as a viable force in defending settlements, but against the feral creatures in the wild, they will break as soon as they make contact with the enemy."

Prewell knew this, that's why he had been hesitating for a while. Mobilizing the castle guards is not possible because leaving the castle unattended will lead to bigger consequences, and the number of guards in the castle is not enough to begin with.

The entourage that came to Waldr with him this time received casualties, mobilizing them without replenishing their number will result in them not being able to utilize their full fighting capability. 

As for the last option, the Black Halberds. Tier 1's unable to communicate with the locals of this world and only able to do simple commands.

Still, the Black Halberds are one of his trump cards. Mobilizing them might lead to a big reaction from the Order of the Three Seas, but thinking of the lives of the people that may be lost because of the rise of goblin activities in Zalsac made Prewell give in.

As for the troubles that may come later, he will let his future self deal with those messes. Coming to terms with himself, he turned to Wiegraf as he told him of his plan for the upcoming inquisition.

"I will give a command to the Black Halberds to begin preparations, we wait for Lucius and Lancel's to return. By then, Lancel will be sent to command the Black Halberds in clearing out the monsters in the territory. The rallying point will be at Hatr. I fear these goblins come from the Great Forest of Pluma. Their crazed state due to hunger is an indicator that they have been starving for some time now. I fear something might have caused them to lose their food source. Resulting in their appearance here in Zalsac"

"Understood, my Lord." Wiegraf heaved, As long as the Black Halberds can stand in front of the militia, the volunteers' morale should not collapse at a moment's contact. As for the possibility that the goblins lost their food source, he will let Lancel worry about that. 

Just as Prewell was considering changing subjects, he remembered his fallen soldiers. In a low voice, he issued a verbal instruction.

"Another thing, send a letter to Ecish. Tell him to give the family members of the fallen members of my entourage a sizable pension and allocate a certain number of resources for them every month." 

Wiegraf bowed, a sign of respect for Prewell's care of his subordinates.

"Your kindness will be praised by your men, My Lord."

Perhaps annoyed by something that Wiegraf said, Prewell's eyes twitched as his fist clenched. Letting out a snort as he turned and left for the door.

"I will have someone call you to discuss your harvest in Delberg. For now, I shall retreat to my quarters." 

Wiegraf raised his head in confusion after his Lord's sudden departure. 

_

Walking through the long corridor, seeing the aging interior of the Town Center, Prewell paused to process what had happened just now. 

The sudden departure was not something he liked. Perhaps he was caught off guard by Wiegraf's praise, but to be called kind when he was just giving something to alleviate his guilt is not something he is fond of.

'I led those men to their deaths, kindness is not something that I should be associated with.' Prewell pinched the bridge of his nose as the images of his men being paraded through Waldr passed through his mind.

His guilt towards those who perished because of him torments his mind. Reaching the end of the long corridor, Prewell opened the closed door. Entering the room and closing the door behind him, heading towards the bed, falling face first as soon as he reaches its side.

'So much for being Prewell the cold-faced baron of Zalsac... huh… I wonder… the future...'

Prewell's thought came to an end as his consciousness vanished, entering into a deep slumber.