The Immortal Genius Spearman

Chapter 64

Tayren couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“…Are you alright?”

“What do you mean?”

Damian stood up and looked at Tayren.

Tayren glanced at the men bowing their heads to the ground, looking bewildered.

Damian chuckled and said, “Oh, those guys? This is nothing. Just a little warm-up.”

Then, he kicked the side of the man closest to him.

“Argh!”

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

The men toppled like dominoes, and Damian spoke again.

“Again.”

“Yes, again!”

The men shouted loudly as they slammed their heads back onto the ground.

What on earth had happened in such a short time to tame these wild animals?

Damian turned to Tayren and said, “When it comes to beatings, if you do it half-heartedly, it just breeds rebellion.

But if you beat them to the point they think, ‘I might actually die,’ the story changes.”

That’s how you handle people like this.

“So, what brings you back? You said you’d be here in an hour.”

“Oh, I was going to…”

Tayren scratched his head, feeling awkward.

“…Nice to meet you. My name is Hemus.”

“Are you a prisoner here?”

“…Yes.”

“I’m Damian.”

Damian spoke curtly, not bothering to shake Hemus’s extended hand.

A prisoner follows Tayren to meet him.

‘Is this guy the real power around here?’

Damian eyed Hemus.

“How many prisoners are there?”

“….”

Hemus didn’t like the way this young man was speaking to him so casually.

He looked at Damian with a slightly hardened expression.

But Damian, noticing Hemus’s slow response, pressed further.

“Answer quickly when asked. If you don’t know, just say you don’t know.”

“…There are about 140 prisoners. We lost quite a few in the last battle.”

“I’ll give you 30 minutes. Gather everyone except the severely injured. I’ll be resting here until then.”

“Understood.”

Hemus bit his lip in frustration.

Tayren, on the other hand, looked at Damian with a mix of surprise and confusion. The aura around Damian had completely changed.

“Alright, I’ll be off then. If you need anything, send someone to the outer unit.”

“Thank you for your consideration.”

Damian responded with a faint smile, his demeanor noticeably different from when he had been speaking to Hemus.

Then he turned to the prisoners.

“Alright, you trash. Two of you, first come, first serve, clean my barrack.”

“I-I’ll do it!”

“I’ll do it!”

The man who seemed to be their leader jumped up, causing the others to flinch.

Damian watched them and added, “The rest of you, keep your heads down.

Don’t bother sweeping the sand—just keep your heads down. Only move the rocks aside before I have you headbutt them.”

“Ugh… Y-Yes, sir!”

The prisoners replied, their faces flushed with fear.

Damian lay down on his bed, leaving the two frantically cleaning the barrack behind him.

Somehow…

‘Feels like coming home.’

The dust.

The chaos.

The unrefined men.

Damian closed his eyes and started thinking about the tasks ahead.

‘A month, huh…’

He didn’t mind if it took longer.

After all, he could just throw these guys into a suicidal mission and let the regular army take over afterward.

But…

‘That wouldn’t prove my skills.’

He had wanted to train them a bit and devise a proper strategy, but time was scarce.

It felt like playing a game set to the highest difficulty right from the start.

“Damian, sir… Everyone is gathered.”

Hearing Hemus’ voice from outside, Damian opened his eyes.

After considering various options, he realized this was the best course of action given the current situation.

“Let’s go.”

Damian stepped out and headed toward the gathered prisoners.

Excluding the severely wounded, there were just over a hundred men present.

And even among them, less than half seemed fully fit.

“…This is a mess.”

Damian muttered as he looked at the disorganized group.

“Damn… Why the sudden assembly?”

“Damn it, my back’s killing me, and they drag us out here.”

“Hey, Hemus. Is that guy really the commander?”

“Ha… Commander, huh.”

The area was noisy and chaotic.

With no semblance of order, Damian walked toward one of the men at the front.

Step, step.

The men flinched as Damian suddenly approached them.

“W-What’s this about?”

“Why’s he coming over?”

Damian stopped in front of a man with brown hair and asked him.

“Name.”

“…Pardon?”

“Your name!”

“P-Ports! My name is Ports!”

Ports shouted his name, overwhelmed by the power in Damian’s voice.

It felt like the sound was swallowing him whole.

Then Damian turned to the man next to him.

“And you?”

“F-Fel! I’m Fel!”

Just by asking the names of two people, Damian had completely dominated the atmosphere.

Damian looked at them and shouted loudly.

“I’ll say this once, so listen well! This might be the one thing that keeps your pathetic lives going!”

Damian’s voice echoed clearly in the silent crowd.

It wasn’t loud, but every word was crystal clear.

“I don’t care whether you live or die, or whether we get the gold mine or not.”

The prisoners, without even realizing it, found themselves completely engrossed in Damian’s words.

Damian continued, “And I have no intention of using you to achieve anything.

After all, you’re all irredeemable trash, and there’s nothing you can actually do.”

As his cold insults continued, the prisoners’ expressions darkened, growing hostile.

Some glared at Damian with eyes that seemed ready to kill him at any moment.

Damian turned to face them, meeting their furious gazes.

“But here’s the unfortunate truth: I am incredibly skilled. And just how skilled am I?”

He stopped, standing still in front of them, scanning the crowd of hardened faces and hostile stares.

The majority were grinding their teeth, seething with anger.

Damian pointed at them and said, “I’m skilled enough to clean up this shithole even with trash like you.”

He continued, “Let me ask you something. You don’t have to answer, but if even one of you is desperate enough, I’d like to hear it.”

“…”

“Is there anyone here who wants to live?”

Thud.

A heavy silence fell over the room.

The cold stillness was suffocating, as if something had struck their hearts.

The prisoners’ expressions shifted, becoming more somber.

Damian asked again, “Is there anyone here who wants to live?”

“I-I want to live!”

“I want to live too!”

“Dammit! Who the hell wants to die?!”

“Yeah! Who wants to die, huh?!”

The room erupted into a cacophony of voices.

It was as if they were venting their frustration, lamenting their wretched existence in Makstri, and unleashing the anger they’d been harboring deep inside.

But Damian quickly silenced them.

“Quiet!”

The commotion, resembling a marketplace, instantly died down. But then…

“Who do you think you are to say such things?”

A large, muscular prisoner stepped forward, scowling.

Damian let out a small sigh.

“Alright, let’s make this simple since it’s getting tiresome.”

Damian glanced at the prisoners and spoke.

“If there’s anyone here who thinks they’re the strongest, step forward.”

“…”

At his words, about six men stepped forward, each glaring at the others.

The men who came forward began to size each other up, growling at one another.

“You think you’re the strongest? Get back before I stick a knife in your gut.”

“What do you think you’re gonna do with those tiny hands? Better back off before I break your spine.”

Calling out the strongest naturally led to a predictable showdown among them.

Especially with hot-headed types like these, it was inevitable.

Damian shook his head.

“Enough. What you really wanted was to test me, wasn’t it?”

He was getting fed up with these scenarios that played out over and over.

‘I guess I’ve grown a bit.’

Thanks to his training with Leonhark, Damian had grown much stronger and bulkier.

He was now on par with any adult male in terms of physique.

Yet his youthful face often became a hindrance.

‘Ah, I can’t even carve a scar on my face like before.’

Back in the day, his scarred face had lent him an intimidating appearance.

Although his current face was much better, it sometimes felt inconvenient.

Damian addressed the group.

“Come at me all at once. And if anyone wants to say something later, speak now, and I’ll give you your chance.”

“…If we beat you, there won’t be any punishment, right?”

One of the men asked.

Damian replied, “I swear on my honor: whatever happens here, there will be no punishment. But if this happens again after today, you will be executed immediately. No one’s going to complain if trash like you ends up dead.”

Gritting their teeth, the men’s eyes burned with renewed hostility.

One of the muscular brutes roared at Damian.

“Trash this, trash that… You think we wanted to end up like this?!”

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

The man charged like a bull, his massive fists that looked like they could crush a human skull.

‘He’d be an interesting match for Kyle.’

Damian briefly thought of Kyle, who was likely grinding away at his training right now, and clenched his fist.

The first step was to crush these men thoroughly.

Half-hearted suppression wouldn’t work with them.

They needed to be overwhelmed.

Damian channeled his mana from his mana core, spreading it throughout his body as he observed the charging giant.

The man swung his fist, using his momentum to power the punch.

But the attack was too simple, too predictable.

Damian casually deflected the punch with his left hand.

Stagger!

As the man stumbled, Damian seized the opportunity.

Boom!

“…!”

With a sound like an explosion, the giant was flung backward.

What kind of punch could make a sound like that when hitting a person?

The man was thrown at least ten meters, his body trembling as he lay unconscious.

Damian glanced at the remaining men and spoke quietly.

“What are you waiting for? Come at me all at once.”

The prisoners exchanged uncertain glances.

They didn’t fully grasp what had just happened, but…

“Just keep your promise!”

“Don’t complain if you get cut up!”

“Attack!”

Finally, they rushed toward him.

The prisoners watching the ensuing chaos could only gape in disbelief.

On his first day, Damian had successfully taken control of the Makstri Unit.

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