Second Life as a Soldier

Chapter 128 - Realization

While Sergeant Cole, Roland, and I sat staring at the horizon, the rest of the squads searched the battlefield. They moved through the clearing carefully, checking for any signs that the barbarians had previously encountered a patrol from Fort Dunvale.

I had not seen any evidence of an earlier battle.

If we had spotted even the smallest sign, broken arrows, blood, disturbed soil, we would have been more cautious. Perhaps we would never have been ambushed.

Of course, there was still the possibility that the encounter had happened deeper inside the forest.

I looked around the forest for any signs, only for my eyes to land on the two soldiers we lost.

“Sergeant… sorry for your loss,” I said quietly.

Sergeant Cole nodded and gave my shoulder a firm pat.

Roland sighed beside me.

“The kid was so happy after joining the vanguard,” he said. “Just his first mission and…”

The rest remained unsaid.

The private we lost was Holden, a new member of the vanguard. He was the one who fought with Varric. Even after losing to a criminal, the smile never left his face. A spirited guy, always ready for a challenge, a trait common among vanguards, and here he was.

“Sir, how do you deal with loss?” I asked Sergeant Cole, sitting beside him.

It was difficult for me to imagine constantly facing death like this.

It is easy to ignore death when it happens somewhere far away, or when tragedy strikes people you have never known.

But when it happens close to you, when the person had spoken with you only hours earlier, it becomes something else entirely.

I was bothered by Holden’s death more than I thought I would. When Corvin died, I was not bothered, so I thought I was getting used to losing people, but now it looks like it was just because he was a traitor and I was angry at him. But it was not just about Holden. Even now, I occasionally have nightmares about the deaths of Walter and others during the Grand Beast Tide, and I do not know how I will handle losing someone under me, someone who was my responsibility to protect.

Before this expedition, sitting safely inside the fort, it had been easy to keep a certain distance between myself and my squad.

But out here, surviving together in the wild, that distance had disappeared. Slowly, bonds formed whether we wanted them or not. and I was afraid. Afraid that one mistake of mine might cost their lives.

The only reason the fear had not affected my decisions during battle was because my squad was… unusual.

They liked fighting.

They liked killing.

Most of them feared missing a battle more than the battle itself.

“You don’t,” Sergeant Cole said suddenly.

I looked at him.

“Every sergeant or leader deals with it in their own way,” he continued. “It’s harder for us commoners. We didn’t grow up watching people lead. We didn’t inherit command like nobles do.”

He paused for a moment.

“Over time you just develop a method that helps you keep moving.”

“What method?” I asked.

Sergeant Cole exhaled slowly.

“I focus on the task in front of me,” he said. “And the task after that. Planning what needs to be done next stops me from thinking too much about what already happened.”

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He looked toward the fallen soldiers.

“And as sad as it may sound… eventually you get used to losing people.”

Listening to Sergeant Cole’s last statement, my breath caught. I looked at the supply squad and the vanguard squad, who were now setting up a pyre for their fallen comrades, while my squad rested in the corner after the recent battle. I was not sure whether getting used to the deaths of your squadmates was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Come,” Roland said, standing up. “Let’s pay our respects.”

Sergeant Cole rose as well and gave me another reassuring pat before walking forward.

I followed them.

As I approached the pyre, the supply squad turned toward me.

“YOU! Your squad was supposed to be in his place,” one of the Tier-1 privates said, pointing at me and starting to approach me, only to be held back by another supply private who was also giving me accusatory looks.

I stopped walking.

Before I could respond, another voice cut in sharply.

“Hey! Do not disrespect the fallen by sprouting nonsense like this. Show some respect to the sergeant. He saved all our lives,” said one of the vanguard privates, equally angry, not at me but at the accusing private.

I was caught by surprise. Just a few minutes ago Sergeant Cole was praising me for my work, and here I was getting blamed.

But thankfully it was not just the vanguard private who came to my defense.

Even Sergeant Darric stepped forward.

“Enough,” he ordered his supply squad.

Then he turned toward me.

“I am sorry, Sergeant. He is new, and Private Sawyer was like a mentor to him. I would understand if you want to have him punished. I only ask that you keep his current situation in mind,” said Sergeant Darric.

I took a deep breath and, ignoring the supply squad, made my way toward the vanguard side.

Getting accused after using almost the last drop of my mana to heal everyone was not a good feeling. I was angry. And healing was not the only thing—while engaged in combat, my orders were according to the requirements of the battle, not based on who was in which squad. Three of my Tier-2 privates were injured, and my squad members were the only Tier-1 soldiers who took part in the battle.

Then, as the pyre was lit, I looked across at the supply privates. The one who accused me was young, maybe the same age as me. He was so disturbed that he was not even looking at his mentor Sawyer. He even looked scared to look at the dead barbarian.

Seeing him struggling to find a place to look, a little bit of anger left me.

There was a good chance this was the first death he was experiencing.

Seeing all this, I decided to focus on the fallen. I closed my eyes and made a silent prayer in my heart for them, praying for them to find peace in the afterlife.

Once everything was done, I nodded to the vanguard squad and started making my way toward my squad with complicated thoughts still in my mind.

Today’s accusation proved one thing: there was a high chance of getting accused anytime my squad performed better than expectations. I knew a few sergeants, like Sergeant Fenward, would never expect a young sergeant to perform better than them, much less a Death Squad sergeant. But thanks to the truth-telling skill, accusations could be handled. The only issue was that I would have to involve the intelligence department.

But that was not the only thing on my mind. The image of Holden’s body and the face of the young supply private kept returning to me.

We were all young, even Holden was less than twenty years old.

Many of us had joined the army hoping to improve ourselves.

Earn some money.

Maybe someday live peacefully.

Become strong enough that we would not always be tools used by others.

For supply soldiers like Henry and Erick, combat was never the goal.

Then suddenly loud voices pulled me out of my thoughts.

“I think Deran and my contribution is bigger,” Rokan declared proudly. “We’re Tier-1 and killed one barbarian each. You’re all Tier-2.”

“Fuck off, newbie. You all killed after the distraction. I killed one before that. Also, none of you have earned the right to speak in front of me,” said Barry, looking so smug that even I felt like punching him, and Varric did, or at least tried to, as Barry ducked down.

“I have four kills. I killed one before the distraction and three after that. If anyone is the winner, I am,” said Varric, looking at Kael, who nodded seriously.

Then Barry protested.

“What about points for creativity? I killed mine by jumping on his shoulders.”

Kael shook his head calmly.

“That doesn’t count. I would call it foolish.”

As I saw them, I understood what was going on. Like always, they were competing and boasting about who killed the most.

This reminded me of the same discussion I caught them having after the Grand Beast Tide, wondering why they did not get an Iron Medal like me.

But this time, listening to their conversation had the opposite effect. Instead of getting angry, a sense of relief washed over me.

Just a few paces away from me were soldiers who were scared to even look at dead bodies, or the vanguard squad which, despite being superior to us in combat, had fewer kills than my squad.

And here even the young Tier-1 members of my squad were relishing the kills and combat experience. The only one who was not enjoying this was Silas, and even he did not look bothered, just neutral.

Then a thought came to my mind. Until now I knew I wanted to make my squad powerful and earn merits, but I think I had suddenly discovered the purpose of this squad.

Looking at their laughing faces bragging about who and how they killed, I knew this squad was made to kill.

I think people misunderstood the meaning of a death squad.

It was always meant to be a squad that brings death to their enemies, not themselves.