It didn’t take long for the army to reach the castle walls despite the solid ground turning into a liquid slush underneath them. Any attacks were repelled by the mages’ barriers, so they managed to preserve their strength as well. Ralph stared up at the castle walls. Now that the castle lay right before him, he realized just how large it actually was. Even if he craned his neck back, he couldn’t see the top of the wall. If dragons had castles, then the castle would have to be at least this big to house them. Could the castle be housing a dragon? Ralph bit his lower lip and kicked his legs a few times, flinging muck off of them. He looked behind himself, awaiting orders from above. Lord Briffault was in discussion with the rest of the commanders, but it didn’t seem like they’d come up with a plan any time soon.

“We should scale the walls,” the infantry commander said, glaring at Lord Briffault.

Lord Briffault shook his head. “And what if the wall were to fall over and crush our men? That wall is so large that it seems like half our army could fit on it. Can we afford to lose half our army?”

“If your only argument against my plan is that something impossible might happen, then that’s no argument at all,” the infantry commander said. “The castle walls will fall over? Nonsense! Castle walls are meant to be impenetrable. Why would it possibly fall over?”

“The ground isn’t meant to move either,” Lord Briffault said. He pointed up at the sky. “And suns aren’t meant to attack people. If someone purposely made the wall collapse, then—”

“Then it works out,” another man, the cavalry commander, said. The army didn’t have a cavalry, but it felt wrong to strip a man of his previous authority based on minor details like that. “If the castle walls don’t fall, our men will have entered. If the castle walls do fall, then we have another way in that doesn’t involve climbing the walls.”

“Wait, hold on a second,” the infantry commander said. “The gate is opening.”

“Huh?” Lord Briffault and the cavalry commander turned around. The metal of the castle was rising, and a lone man dressed in golden armor strode outside. He had a metal helmet, but a prominent mustache seemed to pass through the material as if it didn’t exist.

“I am Sir Edward,” the golden man said. “To proceed beyond this point, you’ll have to defeat me in a one-on-one duel!”

Ralph scratched his head. Was this the owner of the soul, or was it another man occupying another man’s soul? How would something like that happen in the first place? Ralph froze as a chill ran down his spine. Wasn’t he also another man inside of this man’s soul? What if … he became stuck here like this golden soldier? He couldn’t let that happen. “I’ll duel you!” Ralph shouted and stepped forward. His hands tightened on his short spear and shield.

“A challenger appears,” Sir Edward said and drew his sword. “Excellent, lad. State your name and station. I am Sir Edward Baron, head of the Baron household, Marquis of the Baron territory.”

Ralph pursed his lips. “I am Ralph.”

Sir Edward paused. A moment later, he pointed his sword at Ralph. “And your surname? And your title of nobility?”

“…I am Ralph,” Ralph said again.

Sir Edward sighed and lowered his sword. “I can’t duel someone who isn’t nobility,” he said. “It wouldn’t be fair. As someone who’s trained since young, only others like me can compete.” He raised his head and looked around at the army. “Are there any others among you who’ve—what are you doing, young man!? Did you just stab me!?”

Ralph pulled back his short spear and stabbed Sir Edward again. It bounced off the marquis’ armor, but Ralph wasn’t deterred. Like a woodpecker, his spear repeatedly knocked against Sir Edward until, finally, a hole appeared in the noble’s chest plate. Ralph deflected Sir Edward’s attempt at counterattacking with his shield and stabbed into the noble’s chest, burying his spear halfway into the man’s body. Sir Edward groaned, and Ralph placed the bottom of his foot against the noble’s stomach. He twisted and pulled with his hand while pushing with his foot. His spear flew out with a squelch as Sir Edward fell to the ground on his back.

“Good work, soldier!” Lord Briffault said. “I knew I wasn’t wrong to praise you earlier.”

Ralph looked around. “Do you think we’ll go insane again and start killing each other? Or does that only apply to genies?”

Lord Briffault checked his hands. Once he made sure they were still red, he exhaled. “Everyone, check yourselves for signs of corruption! If you’re corrupted, don’t touch anyone, and don’t let them touch you!”

A few minutes passed as the soldiers did a thorough check. Thankfully, it seemed like they’d only start killing each other after attacking a genie. Lord Briffault nodded as the men equipped their armor once again. He walked over to Sir Edward’s fallen body and crouched beside it. “For a noble, he was really weak.” Lord Briffault used his index and middle fingers to close the noble’s eyes before looking up at Ralph. “What did you say your profession was before dying?”

“A farmer,” Ralph said. “But I think I picked up the warrior profession after becoming a blood soldier.”

Lord Briffault nodded and patted Ralph’s shoulder. “Good work, once again. Now that he’s been defeated in an honorable, one-on-one duel, we can proceed.”

“Can we really?” Ralph asked and pointed at the gate. Several minutes had passed since he’d defeated Sir Edward, but the gate hadn’t moved. And there were no signs of any other entrances opening up.

“Ah-hah!” Sir Edward’s eyes shot open. “That’s because I’m not dead yet!” He sat up, and his heart fell out of his chest. His eyes widened as he, and everyone else, stared at it. A moment passed before Sir Edward coughed. “Huh. It’s still intact. I thought it broke in half when my wife left me.” He leaned forward, picked up his heart, and stuffed it back inside his chest. He spat on his palm and rubbed his saliva on his gaping wound that was dripping golden liquid. “There. All better.”

Ralph and Lord Briffault exchanged glances as Sir Edward stood up and drew his sword. “Which one of you is next?”

Ralph stepped forward. “I, I guess it’ll be me again.”

A shudder racked Sir Edward’s body, and he took a step back. “N-no, no,” he said. “Like I said earlier, I can’t go around fighting peasants. It wouldn’t be fair.” He swallowed and avoided Ralph’s gaze. “Aren’t there any nobles brave enough to—did you just stab me again, young man!?”

Ralph lowered his head and stared at his hand. It was holding his spear, and the tip of the spear was embedded in Sir Edward’s stomach. Ralph raised his head and looked Sir Edward in the eyes. “Is that a rhetorical question?”