If these humans were the strongest that humanity had to offer, then Earth had certainly come further than the otherworld. But, at the same time, the existence of humans with such high levels did pose a bit of a problem.

What had happened on Earth while Kreig was gone?

Going only by the architecture, little had changed. There were no flying cars, no robotic servants, and especially no air balloons. It was obvious that 130 years had not passed here. Something was very strange, and Kreig was interested in knowing what.

But first, he had to handle the party of humans that now faced him. The leader, if the young blond could be called that, reared a spear in his direction. Behind him, a frog-like man with a level befitting any nation-class warrior hid from Kreig’s gaze. If Kreig so desired, he could easily handle this group of fighters just as easily as the rest. No abilities that a sorcerer of that level could muster would be able to penetrate the armour Kreig wore, much less his own skin.

But if he did that, there would be no end to the fighting. If he killed these people, another group would simply replace them.

That was how he had been indefinitely stalled in the northern regions for thirty years, after all. But he had no intentions of getting stuck in a loop of murder again.

Right now, all he wanted was for this to end.

But surrendering was not something he could do. Never in his years as a warrior was surrender an option. If he were to go down, he would go down fighting.

However, with the appearance of a high-levelled sorcerer, such a situation could easily be manufactured.

Supposing the sorcerer was a man of ability, this would all work out perfectly, and Kreig could soon rejoin society. Assured of his imminent success, Kreig placed his sword and shield on his back and prepared for the confrontation that was sure to come.

“What the hell is it doing?...” the blond spear wielder mumbled.

“I-, I think it’s underestimating us,” a brown-haired woman at his side responded.

The frog-man pulled his lips tight.

The blond youth grinned. “All the better for us. If it wants to rumble, then rumble we will!” With that, the blond youth had apparently riled himself up enough to face Kreig. As expected, the sorcerer remained in the back, casting various protections on his comrades. If he was anywhere near as clever as Peter had been, then he would soon begin constructing a certain spell. A spell that required time, patience, and for their comrades to distract the enemy. Kreig gladly allowed himself to get distracted.

Moving like a zap of lightning, the blond youth appeared between Kreig and the lower-levelled fighting party, probably hoping to make him back off. Kreig complied.

And so began a fight that pretty much played out in slow motion from Kreig’s side. As might be expected from a young man, the youth fought gallantly, prodding at Kreig whenever possible, attempting to pierce his spear into any openings. For a while, Kreig tried to pretend that he was being beaten back, but that got hard when he accidentally broke the youth’s spear. Empty-handed, the kid just kept fighting, seemingly fully in the belief that he was able to match Kreig in hand-to-hand combat. At that point, it only took a few minutes until Kreig accidentally shattered his arm into a pile of human mush and bone fragments.

“AARRRGHH!!” He fell down, cradling the maimed remains of his arm. Kreig considered putting him out of his misery, but by that point, the rest of his party had joined in as well. A glance at the sorcerer told him that the spell was well underway.

At this point, whether he fought them on the same ground or not, the fight would still end in a matter of seconds.

Not seeing any reason to hold back anymore, he plunged his fist deep inside the skull of a nearby fighter with such force that it removed the emptied cavity of a head from its shoulders. With such an excellently-sized projectile in hand, he lunged it at a nearby fighter with enough power to create a hole where his chest had previously been.

After that, he was only barely able to grab and crush the neck of another fighter before the sorcerer shouted something incomprehensible and Kreig was cocooned in a transparent purple barrier. The nearby fighters all breathed a sigh of relief.

After all, with this, Kreig had been immobilized. Under the power of the spell, he was stuck as he stood, incapable of moving.

Of course, he could move, but doing so would dispel both the spell and the illusion that he had been captured. Instead, he watched how the sorcerer grew silently confused before relaxing, letting the spell keep him upright. Of course, there was still the almost-dead fighter with his neck in his grip, but his life was unimportant.

From here, things happened quite quickly. Since most people appeared to be under the impression that he had been soundly captured, the fighters wasted no time calling for backup in the form of emergency medical assistance. Most people Kreig had interacted with were either alive or dead with no in-between, the only two examples of the exception being the blond kid (coincidentally named ‘Craig’) and the guy with his neck in Kreig’s grip. Though, even after several minutes of attempting to dislodge him, it was eventually accepted that his fate was sealed.

Regardless, apparently under the impression that he could still survive, they gave him emergency treatments and blood infusions and everything else to survive. It was a pathetic way to live, but if they tried to remove him, the spell would’ve been broken.

Since most people assumed Kreig could neither understand nor speak English, they spoke rather openly around him about their plans. For one, it was not in their intent to nuke him and the city, something Kreig certainly appreciated despite not knowing what a ‘nuke’ was. Slowly, a facility was built around him. At all hours of the day, fighters of varying levels surrounded him. The only person who was constant was the frog-like man, who was usually there during the nights. At no time did the look of utter reproach drop from his face.

And then, one day, a man boldly approached him.

Judging only by his outfit and the way he walked, with his back as straight and proper as any royalty, it was clear that he was a man of authority. Depending on Kreig’s actions, the man might even be his saviour.

The man looked him up and down before glancing over at the frog-like man. The sorcerer nodded at him and the man turned back to Kreig. His sharp eyes bored into Kreig’s. A small group of people with varying ethnicities and facial expressions approached to crowd around him

“We know you can move. If you can understand me, please break the seal.”

Kreig felt the need to blink, but knowing that doing so would break the spell, he decided against it. Then, while trying to digest what the man had just said, the people around him, each one at a time, repeated his sentence in another language. This went on for a few minutes or so, which luckily gave Kreig plenty of time to think.

They knew. Well, of course they did. Since the sorcerer was well over level 600, he would have been able to see Kreig’s level of 999+. The concept of the sealing spell of a sorcerer being able to capture a knight with a level of Kreig’s level - as magically boneheaded as he was - was absurd.

But it had let him stall for time.

Hardening his spirits, he took a single step forward. The purple barrier around him whined and stretched before finally cracking and dissolving into magic dust. Realizing that he still held the corpse of a fighter in his hand, he released his grip on the body’s neck. It clattered to the floor.

Before him, the translators each took a few steps back, their eyes widening in terror. Surprisingly, the sharp-eyed man was at least able to pretend that he wasn’t afraid. But Kreig could smell it. With his senses freed, he could smell the fear that permeated the building. The very walls, roof and hallways stunk with terror.

“May I ask which language it was that you understood?” the man asked smoothly. Kreig glanced back at him. The translators around him all shared hare-like glances, each hoping that it wasn’t him that they understood - that if he just ignored them, they might be allowed to go home alive. Before they could begin their translation, Kreig moved.

He pointed one finger at the man.

His eyes widened slightly. Then, as though he had rehearsed it before, he turned to the rest of the translators. “Dismissed.” Predictably, they scurried off like startled rats. Leaving them alone, save for the sorcerer. Or, well, not quite. With a mournful look, the man glanced at the body lying at Kreig’s feet. He met the sorcerer’s eyes. “Frank, would you please escort Mr Petersson to the morgue?”

Frank, as his name was, seemed less than happy to do so, but with the man’s authoritative gaze drilling into him, he really had no choice. Thus, they were left fully alone.

Of course, there were plenty of cameras, but other than that, there was little direct surveillance. However, just the slightest whiff of the air told Kreig that just behind these steel walls, countless soldiers crawled like ants. But, for now, he had to admit the bravery of the man that stood before him. Or perhaps it was foolishness?

“I am Sir William Reiker. The circumstances we meet under may be far from pleasant, but I ask that you will allow me to make your acquaintance regardless.” Sir Reiker gave a broad, cold-hearted smile. Kreig felt as though lizards were crawling up his back. “Will you tell me your name?”

In a different place, in a different situation, Kreig would have given the man nothing but a swift death. Now, he simply looked over at him for a few seconds. “...Kreig Wiedermann.”

Sir Reiker’s eyes shone analytically. “I see. Quite an interesting name. Are you of the Yungland Empire?”

Kreig almost struck down Sir Reiker right then and there. It was only barely that he kept himself from squeezing his neck just as he had done that fighter.

The man gulped, and his eyes briefly shone with a trembling terror. Then, he cleared his throat and took a step back, out of Kreig's immediate reach. “I-, I seem to have misspoken. You must understand that we Earthlings aren’t too aware of otherworldly custom-,”

“How do you know of that place?” Kreig croaked in a voice that hadn’t spoken for far too long, in a language that was all but dead in his mind.

Sir Reiker brought up his hands placatingly. “There is no need for any upset here. I have come to you as a show of trust, and I wish to extend this courtesy as much as you desire. As for your question, you are not the first otherworldly human that has arrived here. Other humanoids are currently kept in a facility of sorts. Through them, we have been able to learn much-,”

“I am not of the otherworld,” Kreig said quietly.

“Pardon?”

“Before all of this, I was an Earthling,” Kreig explained slowly. His throat ached from speaking too much but there was so much to say. Sir Reiker stared at him blankly before seemingly making up his mind. He folded his arms behind his back.

“...If this is indeed the case, then we are quite interested. However, I have not come to interrogate you. I am, if you will, merely a peace offering. One that we hope most direly that you will accept.”

The way he said it was strange, but with the true and honest wish to return to his old life, Kreig nodded.

Sir Reiker sighed and gave a strange smile. “I am glad to hear it. For the moment, I’m afraid we cannot let you do as you please. However, believe me when I tell you that you will be treated fairly. Within the week, your case will be brought up before any and all relevant persons. At that point, your fate will be decided. I hope that you understand that unless we decide that you are of no further harm to the Earth and its people, we cannot give you what you desire. Nor can you, for that matter, achieve it on your own.”

Kreig nodded again, feeling strangely numb. This was it? Would they really forgive him that easily? Sir Reiker seemed pretty finished with his piece, but Kreig still had one thing he had left to ask, one question he urgently needed an answer to. “What year is it?”

Sir Reiker stared at him for a moment. He blinked. “The year is 2020.”

And then, with a goodbye and a wave of the hand, Sir Reiker left.