novelraw Chapter 47
Chapter 47
Chapter 47
“This is insane.”
Marcello pressed her fingers to her forehead.
“Um....”
“I can see them too, Kinjo.”
She lifted her head slowly.
Only when they were right in front of the Demon King Castle did she finally spot them: black specks erupting from the Red Wolf—Black Winged Demon Beasts and green humanoid ones, the same horde that had poured out during the Second Invasion.
“We have to turn back immediately.”
“I know. Intellectually, I do.”
“Right now—”
“You decide.”
“...Ma’am?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“...Pardon?”
“It’s a fork in the road, Kinjo. Two choices. Return to Special Task Force Headquarters, or press on with the original mission. I told you—I can judge, I just don’t want to. I don’t want the responsibility.”
“How can you say that—”
“I’m basically a mercenary. Sometimes I’m with Unit 1, sometimes I operate alone like this with you, sometimes completely solo. Captain Shimena won’t let me lead anyone; she only lets me move on orders.”
“...Yes, I understand.”
“That’s how I like it—moving on command, no self-awareness. If it weren’t that way, I’d be running wild like an animal.”
“So you want me to decide?”
“Exactly. You do it.”
“I can’t. I’m a fresh recruit, 42nd Platoon. I don’t have the authority—”
“Screw authority. Tear off your rank insignia and think. Which feels right to you?”
“I can’t...!”
Kinjo’s voice cracked.
“Kinjo. During the Second Invasion I told Captain Shimena we should return to the capital. She agreed. The result was catastrophic. We were advancing on the castle together, just like now. Today you’re in her place. Pretend you’re Captain Shimena and tell me.”
“The Imperial Army has no means to assault an airborne target.”
“Right. We’ll get hit again, even if we do our best.”
“But even if we pierce the castle here, we might gain nothing. We might learn absolutely nothing.”
“So either way, the outcome looks grim?”
“Speaking as if I were Captain Shimena... yes.”
Kinjo tapped a finger against his chin.
“Returning to headquarters is the correct choice. You belong there, not here. Special Task Force needs its strongest asset fighting at the center.”
“Then... understood.”
“But I’m not Captain Shimena.”
“...Hm?”
“I’m the only one who can use clairvoyance on the castle. Unlike last time, I’m the one in her position. This might be our last chance.”
Kinjo half-closed his eyes.
“I’ll stake everything on this chance.”
* * *
I jumped down from the carriage luggage compartment.
“Oscar!”
He sauntered out at my call.
“Everything in there is gunpowder?”
“Pretty much. We’ll have to sift out the duds, though.”
“Mago, remember when I told you the tech division was scaring me with all that stockpiled powder?”
“Sure do.”
“Then why bring more...?”
“Can’t just throw it away. Quit whining and help.”
“Hello...!”
The hybrid vampire beside me bowed slightly to Oscar.
“Ah, uh—who are—”
Oscar caught sight of the wings sprouting from her back and stumbled backward.
“That’s a demon beast...! Mago, have you lost your—”
“Oscar, don’t freak out.”
“She’s... probably not a demon beast.”
She gave a bitter smile.
“Met her in the Red-Light District.”
I flicked a hand in her direction.
“Mago, that phrasing makes it sound seriously lewd.”
“Shut it. Long story short: she’s helping us now. That’s all you need to know.”
“Does Captain Shimena know?”
“Got her permission.”
“Well, then... n-nice to meet you.”
Only now did Oscar offer a proper bow.
“Those wings...”
He pointed.
“What about them?”
She bent halfway at the waist so the wings spread conspicuously.
“Can you actually fly?”
“Yes, I’m used to them now.”
She flapped both wings demonstratively; her feet lifted a finger’s breadth off the ground.
“That’s as high as you go?”
“Oh, I can go much higher. But if I did that here I’d probably get shot—easy to misunderstand, haha.”
She laughed a chilling laugh through a bright smile.
“So what exactly is she going to help us with?”
"Right now it's just moving barrels of gunpowder. With me."
"Huh? That's it?"
"For now."
"Then what about later?"
"Oscar, you handle the powder for the muskets. The rest of you, make fireworks."
"Fireworks?"
"Not the kind you shoot into the sky—ones you can carry."
"Carry around, like torches?"
"Exactly."
"I don't get why we need those... What are you and Captain Shimena even thinking?"
"Louise found out that Winged Demon Beasts are drawn to shiny things. We're going to lure them in. With fireworks. There's only one person in the Special Task Force who can fly."
"W-Wait a minute. That'll be incredibly dangerous. Everyone will be chasing... that person. If something goes wrong..."
"She'll die."
"I was trying not to say it. Thanks a lot, Mago."
"It's fine..."
"I'm ready."
She answered for me.
"I'm prepared."
* * *
"Why do I have to use this?"
Amon grumbled.
"Same here, Mago. I hate it."
Belle felt the same.
Each held a musket in hand.
"I know what this is. But why do we have to use firearms?"
Belle voiced her complaint outright.
"It takes forever to reload, and the formation's limited to a straight line. It's an incomplete weapon. A sword is ten times better."
"This is just rude, Mago. Ranged weapons are a disgrace to a swordsman...!"
Amon chimed in.
And added more.
Come to think of it, these two.
They'd never once touched a bow back at the Training Center.
This stubborn streak had been around for ages.
"First Graders. Always clinging to pointless pride..."
Then someone from Unit 43 muttered—just loud enough to hear.
But it was definitely heard.
"What... did you say?"
Belle bristled.
Provoked like that, she might just throw herself into marksmanship training.
"Nope, still hate it."
No use.
"Why on earth do Units 42 and 43 have to train with firearms? Just for a demo?"
"Because they're young. Haven't been out of the Training Center long. If you want to learn fast, now's the time."
"Captain Shimena said that?"
"No, I did."
"Who are you to—"
"Muskets have power, sure, but the best part? You learn fast."
"I still can't accept Coster using guns."
"And I can't accept you disobeying orders, Amon."
"Mago, just because you're three ranks above me in the 15th Platoon doesn't mean you can—"
Three ranks.
The kid knew the system.
Units 40–43 were bottom tier.
Next came 30–39.
Above that, 20–29.
The Special Task Force ranked its squads like that.
Only exception: the Unit 1 Captain was overall commander.
Right now, Shimena Extein.
She was called the Commanding Officer.
"Hit the deck."
"Hey, Mago."
"Amon."
"No, but—"
"Hit the deck."
Amon hesitated, then lowered himself.
It felt like telling a well-trained dog to sit.
A flicker of the old Commander resurfaced.
"Fifty push-ups."
"Ugh..."
"Sixty."
"Wait, no—"
"Seventy."
Amon finally bent his arms.
"Down: repeat the superior's words."
"The superior's words...!"
"Up: listen straight."
"Listen straight...!"
He clenched his molars and finished the first rep.
"Belle, didn't you have something to say?"
“No, no. I’ve actually been dying to try this. Oscar built it!”
Belle hoisted the musket high.
“Repeat the superior’s words...!”
Amon’s chant rolled on.
From Unit 43 came a ripple of snickers.
They seemed to like the 66th Class mood we’d brought from First Training Center.
I lifted a musket for demonstration.
Target: the training dummy’s head.
First, how to pour powder, then how to seat the lead ball—
I walked them through it, step by slow step.
A single sight is worth a hundred words.
The final step, of course, was the shot itself.
When I squeezed the trigger, the flint cracked down on black powder.
A sharp report split the air, and snow-white smoke bloomed.
The dummy’s head exploded open with a hollow pop.
“Still feels like a sword’s better, though. Takes forever to reload...”
“Amon.”
“Repeat the superior’s—”
I tuned him out and went on.
“There’ll be enemies we can’t reach in close quarters.”
“Flying ones, you mean?” Belle asked.
“Sadly, these won’t hit those.”
“Then why drill with firearms at all...?” she muttered under her breath.
Yesterday I had asked Captain Shimena the very same thing.
—The Special Task Force has zero reason to use guns.
—Right, none. Haha. By the time you load, you could’ve closed the gap and slit a throat, and the Task Force can do that.
—Then why tell Oscar to copy a musket?
—Because of the Imperial Knights. Sooner or later we’ll have to join forces. Same Imperial Army, yet they refuse to cooperate out of sheer pride. The Task Force wants every unit up front to punch through the line; the Knights want every unit back to guard the Emperor. Both sides are stubborn, so their views never mesh.
He’d swapped “stubborn pride” for “conservative.”
—What does that have to do with guns...?
—We can build muskets and we can fire them. The Task Force can prove technical superiority. When word reaches the Emperor?
—Won’t he be pleased?
—Oh, Mago, he’ll be thrilled. He’ll try to yank us all to the rear.
—That sounds awful.
—Awful for the Knights too. They’d lose their purpose—be discarded.
—So if we don’t want mutual ruin, we play nice?
—Exactly. Even if it’s just for show. Once word spreads that we’re handling muskets, they’ll set the negotiating table themselves.
Sly as a fox, I thought.
The smoke from the shot was thinning when I felt the cube wriggle in my pocket.
“Huh?”
I pulled it out and stared.
It had actually moved.
Pieces were sliding toward matching colors.
The dormant cube had spun to life the instant the musket fired.
Not a bow, not a sword, not an axe.
The artifact was analyzing me, choosing a weapon I could wield well.
In my last life, firearms had been the perfect arms for me—
I couldn’t see sharp things, so I’d clung to them.
I hadn’t expected the cube to remember that.
After all, I’d regressed; every trace of my past life should’ve vanished.
Yet it had figured it out.
“Then maybe even a revolver...?”
If the cube leapt past current Imperial tech and birthed a revolver,
there’d be no need to explain its shape or mechanics.
A single glimpse would teach better than a hundred descriptions.
The Task Force—and the whole Imperial Army—would leap forward overnight.