I Became a Foreign Worker Loved by Transcendents

Ring~

Music could be heard.

A performance with a melody so beautiful, one would not expect it in the current situation.

Scream, aaaah!!

But even that was nothing more than a faint presence.

Beneath the mountain where the army stood, the enemy forces swarmed, increasing their numbers and gradually cutting off the retreat routes one by one.

Even if they forcefully break through and shake off the pursuit, only a few could inform humanity of the situation, but what meaning does that have now?

After enduring that, it was obvious that even greater despair would follow.

Even those destined to be heroes had turned against humanity and joined the enemy; how could anyone believe there was still hope in this world and move forward?

Perhaps it would be the right choice to throw themselves into the fray like the first soldier, not dragging it out any longer.

Despite this realization, the reason they couldn’t follow the soldier who went ahead was because there was someone still fighting her on this battlefield.

‘Then why, why is that man still fighting?’

He was a memorable figure.

He was the one who was taken as a disciple by an old comrade, someone they had wanted to raise as the successor to the hero they admired.

The power and skills he wielded at this moment were hers, and the reason he appeared here alone to duel with her was probably because he had inherited her aspects as a hero as well.

‘Jang Cleo, you…’

Yet he was meeting his end after all that effort.

Even so, why did he not give up like they had and instead fight against the grudge of the disillusioned hero?

He should have known her as well as they did, and understood her pain better than they did.

‘Do you still have hope? Did you raise him to be a hero, believing there is hope even in a world like this?’

Marcus chose to erase the thoughts from his mind as he lowered his head.

‘I don’t know.’

Thinking about it alone wouldn’t provide answers.

There were never clear answers in his life, and hope was always followed by betrayal.

‘I just want to rest now…’

Tired of living in such a world, Marcus stopped questioning himself and placed his hand on the sword at his waist.

Yes, for now, he just wanted to be true to his feelings.

*Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling~*♬

Listening to the increasingly intense music, he wanted to stay true to what he felt.

“Commander, what are you…?”

“Those who wish to fight, follow me.”

His words were nothing more than a desperate lament, not even a command.

Nevertheless, he intended to end his life in the form of a commander, if only in appearance.

“What?”

“Those who wish to fight with me, go down and draw the enemy’s attention. If we can reduce their numbers even a little, a few may escape from here.”

There was no honor or righteousness in this.

He just wanted to stay true to his feelings now, and he was acting in the way most familiar to him.

“Whether you fight or leave… I will not hold anyone accountable. What you do after is up to each of you.”

“Commander, wait…!”

By the time the soldier’s dissuasion continued, it was already too late.

Having already gone down the hill, he drew his sword and charged alone towards the enemies.

The aura imbued in his sword was the result of dedication to practice every day without fail, following the death of the one he admired.

Though his role as a commander reduced his time wielding a sword, he never neglected his training to maintain that sense, even with his aging body.

Slice!!

A sword filled with such a lifetime was enough to cut through the enemies before him in an instant.

But no matter how sharp the blade, there was a limit to the enemies one could face alone.

Thrust, slash!

The soldiers attacking from all sides also possessed similar strength, and with even stronger will, they sought to carve through his body.

Their remarkable ferocity was because they were not ordinary undead, but the result of the most frenzied era.

His aging body, unable to respond to all of their fierce attacks, was rapidly crumbling with every step he took.

‘The sword I’ve devoted my life to has become futilely twisted.’

His armor was torn apart by countless attacks.

Even a slight shift in posture affected his strength, and even if he barely succeeded in defending, his bones cracked under the strain.

‘The body I’ve driven forward my whole life is breaking down miserably.’

His breath became labored, and even exhaling was difficult, making his fading consciousness painfully clear.

The powerlessness he felt from these limitations was frustrating, yet he kept moving forward with tenacity.

‘Was my life so meaningless?’

His hand trembled as he grasped the sword, but he aimed it at the enemies around him, refusing to fall.

‘Did we struggle so desperately because we refused to face the truth of this world?’

As the blade dulled and the aura wavered, the moment it snapped under the intensified attacks of the enemies…

Crack, rip.

The undead of the old era that rushed through the gap repeated tearing through the cracks in his armor, ripping his flesh, and bursting blood.

The blood that burst forth became a fine drink to quench the thirst of the war-crazed undead.

As his blood drained and cold overtook him, even the pain subsided, and he could clearly feel his heart stopping.

‘Even so, if…’

So, this is death.

Feeling the final sensation, the veteran moved his lips while still clutching his sword.

‘If the world continues even after I’m gone…’

What escaped his parted lips was an unrecognized regret.

But he would never hear it himself.

Death meant feeling nothing anymore.

Leaving behind everything he had built in his life with his corpse…

“Commander, sir.”

Yet, he did not fall and stood rooted in his spot, still holding his sword.

The onslaught of the enemies that had swarmed around him had subsided for a while.

More troops, having increased in number, would swarm in again, yet he still stood in that place, lifting his broken sword.

Crack, creak.

With his skin and organs all but torn apart.

Moving his blood-soaked bare bones, he tried to hold his ground.

“Commander! The Commander is still alive! We need to rescue him immediately…!!”

“Are you insane!? The enemies will swarm again soon!!”

“But the Commander…!!”

“Look properly! It’s already too late!!”

The skin on his face was completely peeled off, revealing his bones, and what was inside had long since spilled out through the openings created in the fierce battle.

What remained was nothing more than a weathered, cracked skull, barely resembling his form, displaying the toil of his lifetime.

Rattle, clank.

Yet he moved, driven by the impure force residing in his body, attempting to animate him based on the remaining impressions in his flesh.

The Commander they had followed was already undergoing the transformation into an undead.

This was the tragic end faced by one who had spent his life strengthening an army to protect humanity.

“Ah, ah. Commander…”

Why did he fight to the end?

If it were merely resignation, there would be no need to extend his life thread; he could have simply thrown his body into the fray.

Why did he fight so desperately to the point of utterly destroying his own body?

Ziiing!!

A red current began to sweep over the soldiers mourning him.

The red light springing from his corpse soon twisted his flesh grotesquely, turning his body towards them.

That was due to the power of the enemy knight.

A force that revives all the dead within its domain, adding them to its army.

Once intoxicated by this power, no matter what kind of life they led, the resurrected become minions of the one wielding that power, turning into enemies of humanity.

Bang!!

Such a declaration of despair started to break with the clash between the hero and the enemy knight.

At that moment, the head that was about to turn towards them stopped abruptly, and the tip of his sword ceased to point at them.

The moment the control of the higher entity was cut off, the undead, regaining its autonomy, was driven by the residual force within its body to follow its instincts.

“Ch…”

If only the desire to live remained, they would pursue the living, seeking their warmth and life.

On the other hand, if a strong attachment surpassed even that, a distinct regret left unfulfilled in life would vividly remain even in death.

“Ch-charge…”

Yes, he had regrets.

Not just a clinging to life, but a regret so profound that it sparked a faint sense of self, driving his tattered body to move.

“Charge, protect the hero…”

And the direction he moved towards was not his former soldiers, but the enemies swarming in.

And in that moment, he gazed at the hero still battling the enemy knight.

“Protect…the hero.”

The voice that seeped out at the end faintly echoed among the soldiers behind him.

“Commander, what…?”

“Protect the hero. Protect…”

It all started with admiration for the hero.

The death of the one he admired in the end brought him to a realization and a calling.

She didn’t die because she was powerless, but because she bore too much alone.

“Army, charge…”

That’s why he always thought,

If once again, those called heroes appeared before him.

If beings truly worthy of being called the hope of humanity appeared again, he would create an army to fight alongside them rather than just watch their backs.

“Protect… the hero…”

This lingering regret was moving his corpse at this moment.

Even in the face of an inevitable and equal despair, he wanted to convey that there was meaning in the life that led up to it.

“So that the hope of humanity does not fall…”

If the world continued even after his death, he held onto the belief that what he left behind would bring about some change in this world.

“Protect… the hope of humanity… with our own hands…!!!”

With that belief lingering in his body, he still advanced towards the battlefield.

To protect the hero.

To protect the one who could turn this desperate situation around, even if he himself wasn’t aware of it.

“Commander…”

They understood.

The undead were nothing more than replicas of the most intense moments of the living, a fact best understood by those who have battled them.

-Ding~♬

Yet, in this despair, they found hope.

They understood that even in death, his will to protect the hero was directed toward that man.

-Ding, ding~♪

And at this moment, what echoed among them was a stirring melody.

Emotions drawn from the depths of their unconscious minds surged forth, evoked by the music.

“…Charge.”

A soldier, intoxicated by these emotions, drew his sword.

Caught up in a fleeting impulse,

In a feeling that could barely be called courage, more like reckless folly,

“Charge.”

Yet, in this moment, he stayed true to his emotions, using them as a painkiller against the cruel future that awaited.

It was only a matter of sooner or later.

Even if a despairing end awaited all, the journey there was a matter of their own choice.

“Charge!!! Soldiers!!!”

“Follow the Commander’s lead!!!”

The emotions that had lingered in their subconscious finally became reality.

Their screams turned into a battle cry, and they hurled themselves into the calamity born of humanity’s original sin.

No matter how brilliant and desperate their lives had been, in the end, they would equally fall as mere fragments of flesh.

“Charge…!”

“Protect our hope!”

Even so, just as the one who went ahead had done, they too believed they could rise, burning their bodies with resolve.

“Do not let the Commander’s sacrifice… the sacrifices of those who went before us be in vain!!!”

“Let the world remember his end!!”

In the battlefield, the living gradually disappeared and the dead overflowed.

Yet the direction they advanced remained unchanged.

The battlefield, created by those who moved forward and those who followed, symbolized humanity’s madness.

“Protect the hope of humanity with our own hands!!!!”

The madness of seeking hope in a hopeless world.

Madness born from the belief that what they found in the end would indeed be hope.

Clang!!

At the end of this war, where madness swirled, the tide finally began to turn.

Not only the living but even the undead, who had slipped from her control, joined the fray…

An unprecedented and absurd occurrence.

“Why, in the world…?”

Of course, if she exerted more power, she could bring them under her control again, but the one before her kept interfering at every turn.

A mere hero, whom she could easily crush if she fought properly.

A mere fledgling who, at best, could only mimic her techniques and barely match the power she wielded in her prime.

“Why am I being pushed back…?”

Yet, why was she now, in this one-on-one battle, slightly overwhelmed by his strength?

Even though the swarming troops and his interference left her with no room to issue commands, her own power should have been enough to dominate him without the help of her forces.

“My power surpasses even dragons, so why am I being bested by the likes of you…?!”

-Kaboom!!

The explosion of magic, triggered by her agitation, disrupted her balance.

The enemy knight’s eyes widened as she felt the impact of a thrown spear, her stance faltering for the first time. Meanwhile, the hero caught his breath and began to smile faintly, raising his spear.

“You’re getting desperate. Suddenly dropping your formal speech, too.”

“What are you…?”

“Well, because you’re more influenced by your memories of being a mercenary rather than a hero. Maybe this outcome is only natural.”

Indeed, the reason her opponent had become a disaster surpassing even dragons was due to her ability to endlessly produce troops.

Since she had awakened this power only recently, the number of her forces was barely manageable by the remaining humans. Without these forces, all that remained was her own strength.

And the time when she had the strongest desire was during the era of war, when she was a ‘mercenary.’

Even though she might have been the strongest among humans back then, it wasn’t the peak of her individual combat power compared to when she faced dragons.

“While you might surpass dragons with sheer numbers…”

In contrast, he had inherited the life of Tashian Pheloi.

From the era of war, through facing dragons, to the will left behind after her death, he had absorbed it all.

“If you’re alone, you’re not an opponent I can’t defeat.”

The moment he realized this difference, hope sprang up in his heart.

The hope that he could win this seemingly hopeless battle.

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