Don’t Tame It!

Chapter 33

“Whoa!”

At the same time, dark clouds of soldiers rushed in from the other side. It didn’t take long to recognize them as the Debois army.

A general from Alvar raised his sword and shouted at his frightened soldiers.

“Don’t back down!”

“Let’s wipe out the Debois like we did at dawn!”

“Yeah!”

With that, the battle began. Under the blood-red sunset, swords clashed, ringing through the air.

Divoa smirked and jumped off his horse. At the same moment, Javier charged forward. But Divoa didn’t care about Javier. His focus was only on the Alvar soldiers. For a brief moment, his eyes seemed to glow red.

Javier noticed this but quickly realized it was just the sunset’s reflection. He cut down an enemy soldier rushing toward Divoa.

Divoa fought like a wild beast. Every swing of his sword sent Alvar’s soldiers collapsing like fallen straw.

“Duke Cassis!”

An Alvar officer suddenly ran toward Divoa, gripping his sword tightly.

“Your Highness!” Javier shouted urgently.

Divoa easily dodged the attack by shifting his weight. The officer, who had put all his strength into the strike, stumbled, his face filled with panic.

Divoa didn’t miss the chance. His sword slashed across the officer’s throat.

“Guhh!”

Blood sprayed like a fountain. Divoa turned his head quickly, but he couldn’t avoid it all. A faint chuckle escaped him as he wiped his cheek with his free hand, leaving a streak of red.

“The God of Death…”

Someone murmured in shock—probably an Alvar soldier. That was the nickname they secretly called Divoa.

The scent of blood filled the air. Divoa brought his blood-soaked fingers to his lips and licked them.

“Metallic,” he muttered.

In the next instant, he cut down another soldier. His eyes gleamed red again.

“It’s the Duke!”

“It’s the God of Death!”

Shouts echoed around him as Divoa thrust his sword into another enemy’s stomach.

Suddenly—

“Die, you enemy of Alvar!”

An Alvar soldier appeared from the left.

Divoa realized too late. His sword was already deep in the soldier’s belly, but the soldier used his last strength to grab it tightly, determined to take Divoa down with him. His eyes burned with hatred.

The soldier smirked, sensing victory. His sword swung down toward Divoa’s head.

For a moment, Divoa thought, ‘Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to die here.’

Instead of waiting for an unknown death, maybe this was the moment he had been waiting for all along.

But then—

Clang!

“Ugh…”

The moans didn’t come from Divoa but from the Alvar soldier.

Javier had struck the soldier’s sword away and, in the same motion, slashed his chest. The soldier, who had just been grinning, staggered and collapsed lifelessly.

Javier, still breathing hard, turned to Divoa.

“Are you alright?”

Divoa slowly pulled his sword out of the dead soldier’s body. The soldier’s grip loosened, and his hands dropped.

Then Divoa turned around.

Javier flinched.

Divoa was smiling. As if he was enjoying all of this.

“…Your Highness.”

“You saved me again.”

Divoa spoke casually—then, without warning, he swung his sword at Javier.

“!?”

It happened so fast that Javier couldn’t react. He couldn’t tell if Divoa’s words had been gratitude or resentment.

The sharp blade narrowly missed Javier’s side—

“Argh!”

Behind him, an Alvar soldier collapsed with wide eyes. He had been aiming for Javier’s back.

Javier glanced over his shoulder, then murmured, “Thank you.”

“We’re even.”

Divoa turned his head and, without hesitation, ran straight into the most chaotic part of the battlefield.

“!?”

Javier quickly followed.

Whoosh!

A sword barely missed Divoa’s ear, cutting a few strands of his hair.

His eyes narrowed.

His body tingled with excitement.

What if that sword had wounded him? What if it had drawn blood? How long would it take for the bleeding to stop?

Or… maybe this time, it wouldn’t stop at all.

How deep would a fatal wound have to be? This much? Or this much?

Ironically, Divoa only felt truly alive when death was right in front of him.

Just like war, there was another thing that made his life less dull.

Irene Rios.

Yes, just like war.

“Die!”

Lost in thought for a second, Divoa clicked his tongue in annoyance at the soldier’s predictable war cry. He dodged easily and slashed the soldier’s thigh.

“Ugh!”

Blood gushed out like a fountain. The soldier fell, clutching his leg in terror.

Divoa looked down at him with lazy eyes.

“This is why it gets boring.”

As the soldier collapsed, he whispered Divoa’s other nickname.

“The King of Slaughter…”

With the blood-red sunset behind him, Divoa smiled. It was almost dazzling.

But for the Alvar soldiers watching, a chill ran down their spines.

Meanwhile, in a medical tent—

“Drink this.”

Irene handed a bottle to a wounded soldier, who barely managed to open his eyes.

“Who…?”

She looked too emotionless to be an angel. If he was going to die, he thought he’d rather be taken by a kinder angel.

“Drink.”

She simply pushed the bottle toward him.

The soldier’s gaze shifted downward. His lips twitched, and a flicker of recognition crossed his eyes.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the bottle and gulped it down. The sharp scent of alcohol filled his nose.

As he swallowed, the pain seemed to fade slightly.

Irene spoke in a calm tone.

“It’s better if you lose consciousness.”

She glanced at his blood-soaked abdomen and added quietly,

“Not that it’ll take long, considering how much blood you’ve lost.”

“Irene!”

A girl named Mia ran over, carrying a bucket. She wiped her sweat-free forehead and smiled proudly.

“I brought clean water and clothes!”

She didn’t need to explain how hard it was to get those things in a battlefield hospital. A loyal maid wouldn’t seek praise.

Meanwhile, Irene removed her gloves and washed her hands. Then she opened her medical bag.

Mia watched curiously.

“What are you going to do with that?”

Instead of answering, Irene soaked a clean cloth in water.

The soldier, drunk from pain and alcohol, was barely conscious.

Irene reached out—but hesitated.

Her bare hand stopped just before touching his skin.

Even in his weakened state, he was alive. Warm. Bleeding. Not a corpse.

Could she do this?

Just thinking about it made her fingers tremble. A familiar voice echoed in her mind.

“You’re useless.”

Maybe Leticia was right. Maybe it was better to do nothing.

Irene started to pull her hand away—

But then—

“Ugh…”

Blood gushed from the soldier’s wound.

Without thinking, Irene’s hand moved on its own.

Her fingers, frozen moments ago, now worked quickly, wiping the blood away.

Her mind was still in turmoil, but her hands knew exactly what to do.

Mia gasped, eyes wide with shock.

Irene didn’t hesitate anymore.

She pressed her fingers into the wound, carefully examining the damage.

For the first time, she wasn’t afraid.