novelraw Chapter 18 : Chapter 18
Chapter 18 : Chapter 18
n༺ 𓆩 Chapter 18 𓆪 ༻
「Translator — Creator」
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
"……Ugh."
"Are you alright?"
"Hey! Go grab more bandages from over there!"
"We don't have enough!"
"Then make some if you have to, but bring them!"
Once they passed through the gate outpost and into the fortress, Johan Gerner found it hard to doubt the truth of what he’d been told, yes, a battle had been fought here.
It was obvious enough.
The inside of the fortress was, how to put it, an absolute mess.
"Sniff… huuuh!"
"If you’ve got time to cry, get this moved first!"
Men missing an arm, a leg, sometimes both, lay under frayed blankets, their bodies propped against peeling walls while medics worked on them.
By the standards of this place, they were the lucky ones.
They were still breathing.
Johan’s gaze drifted past the wails, the barked orders, the sharp cries, and settled on the one place where no noise intruded, the parade ground.
"……A lot of them died."
"That they did."
Beside him, Vermin pulled off his military cap and pressed it to his chest, his eyes shadowed with bitterness. At the far end of the yard lay hundreds of bodies, perhaps more. Many had been torn apart so badly that there was nothing to recover; instead, they’d been swaddled in blankets, the shapes underneath jagged and wrong.
"……Ah. Ahh."
"He wasn’t meant to die like this."
The living here were of two kinds, those who carried the dead, and those who sat before them with their faces buried in their hands.
"Make way!"
"Ugh!"
Suddenly, Vermin staggered forward, shoved aside.
"What the…!"
Naturally, having been pushed without knowing why, he turned his head in irritation, but……
"Why are you blocking the path!"
He wore a dumbfounded expression at the profile of a brown-haired woman limping on one leg, carrying past him a box filled with bandages and supplies.
"Pretty."
"Of all the Atonement Order priests I know, you’re easily the most frivolous. I’ll bet on it."
Well, what else could you expect from an easterner? He’d always had a thing for women who were sturdy, with a certain heft to them.
Johan shook the thought away and clamped a cigarette between his teeth.
Vermin, coming back to himself, muttered low enough for only Johan to hear—
"Anyway, the battle must have been fierce. Even the walls have collapsed."
Johan shook his head.
"It wasn't just fierce."
Before Vermin could ask, Then what was it?, Johan struck a match, drew in smoke, and let it seep out in a long sigh.
"It was nearly overrun."
"…What?"
"Look at those walls. Battle marks everywhere. Half the artillery positions are destroyed."
Belatedly, Vermin followed his gaze upward and let out a long breath. Yes, Johan was right. Even before their arrival, survivors had been moving along the ramparts, carrying the wounded down, hauling the dead away.
And that wasn’t all…
Sometimes, they tossed what was left of monsters, those not completely turned to ash, onto the pyres. The damaged artillery positions that blocked the way were shoved right over the wall, tumbling into the slope below.
"……Insane."
It was only then that Sergeant Vermin seemed to share Johan Gerner’s disquiet.
"One battalion and four knight officers… and they held off two Dual Numbers? That’s a miracle?"
"That's what we'll have to find out."
Thud—!!!
Johan flicked the half-smoked cigarette into the mud, grinding it under his boot heel.
"For now, go lend those men a hand. Haven’t seen a chaplain since I got here, don’t know if they’re dead or unconscious."
"Yeah, well…"
"Still, we’re lucky. We can touch corpses without ending up as corpses ourselves."
Really? You’re saying that out loud?
Vermin scratched at his head under the weight of staring eyes, then turned toward the hapless junior officers loitering behind him.
"What are you doing? Everyone, get moving!"
The ragtag collection of commoner Specialist Officers, men with no connections, no patrons, and hardly any experience, finally scattered. As for the two companies that had followed in behind? They didn’t wait for Johan’s orders; their captains had already sent them to help recover the dead.
'Honestly, knight officers and whatnot can call themselves whatever they want, but they're useless outside of combat. Bloody chicks.'
Whether he caught the thought or not, Vermin gave Johan a quick nod before making for a soldier lugging a corpse on his shoulder.
"You’re doing good work. I’m a chaplain officer. I see some ash, mind if I take a look?"
"A… chaplain officer?"
"Yes. Got dispatched here on urgent request for support…"
With Vermin occupied, Johan was left alone. He stopped a passing officer.
"So, Lieutenant, where would I find the brigade commander or battalion commander? Haven’t been told a thing since I arrived."
"..............."
The woman gave him a quick once-over, then simply pointed toward a building perched along the fortress slope before moving on.
By coincidence, she was headed toward the very same brown-haired woman with the limp who had caught Vermin’s eye earlier.
"Langier! Where’d you run off to? Here, take this first."
"…Candy. I’m low on sugar."
"Help me out and I’ll give you ten. My Langier’s such a good girl, right?"
"…Mm."
Should he be more surprised at a superior officer fussing over a lieutenant like an older sister? Or at a prosthetic-legged officer coaxing a beastkin Specialist Officer into obedience with candy?
"No need to choose, both are surprising."
Johan idly ran a fingertip over the scar carved into his cheek and muttered—
"…Did I take something yesterday?"
He didn't think so.
༒︎
He asked around a few more times just to be sure, but whether soldier or officer, every single one of them pointed toward the same building Langier had indicated.
And so, when he reached the place, he was greeted by a woman who, at a glance, looked thoroughly exhausted.
"Captain Johan Gerner, here on reinforcement detail."
"Major Arditi Günther, acting brigade commander."
Black hair, black eyes, and a stature taller than most women.
Her face, too, was as striking as the rumors claimed.
The fact that she had been saddled once again with the title of acting brigade commander, barely days after losing it, was black comedy in its own right. But given the circumstances, Johan didn’t bother to point that out. Instead, he took a seat on the sofa.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Brandy, with some tea."
Johan Gerner, seeing Arditi Günther's expression as she was about to question whether it wasn't usually the other way around, quickly corrected himself.
"Just the brandy, please."
It had been an attempt to lighten the mood, but it seemed the rumors were right; Günther had the sort of temperament that took things in deadly earnest.
Clink—!!!
Normally, it would be the adjutant pouring the drink, but Arditi Günther poured it herself from the decanter in the reception room and handed it to him.
He took a sip before speaking.
"Well, given the situation, there’s no point in going around in circles. Major, I suggest we share information directly."
He had chosen straightforwardness over polite evasion.
For a moment, Günther seemed taken aback, perhaps she hadn’t expected him to come right out with it, but the words that followed compelled her to nod.
"As you know, the 10th Corps. well, Marshal Rosenthal’s staff, intended to abandon Vánargand Fortress. Which, I’m sure you’ll agree, was only natural."
After all, Rosenthal had betrayed Krieg.
It wasn’t impossible they were even thinking of using this as an opportunity to their advantage.
"But, for various reasons, a reinforcement unit was dispatched anyway…"
Even a man as weathered as Johan Gerner couldn’t look at the carnage he’d just seen and speak entirely without feeling. So, after asking her leave, he pulled out his notebook, scribbled down a rough outline of his unit’s composition, and slid it toward her.
It was partly because he didn’t have the heart to say it aloud, and partly out of consideration for the fortress personnel who might be listening in.
"……Ha."
And the contents were so utterly 'perfunctory' that even she let out a bitter laugh.
One captain whose promotions had been delayed so many times he was essentially set to retire at that rank, and his adjutant.
Eight Specialist Officers, all commoners and all without academy training, shunted to dead-end posts for their lack of pedigree, men without a shred of combat experience.
The only half-decent thing in the lot was the two companies of actual combat troops, and even that was enough to make one sigh.
‘Yes… it was bad.’
No wonder Johan had considered making a quiet exit after seeing the state of the fortress. He sipped his brandy and quietly studied Arditi Günther’s face, wondering if what he saw there was anger… or simply the stunned silence of someone with nothing left to say.
The silence stretched, long enough that Johan began to wonder if she would speak at all.
At last, Arditi Günther seemed to have gathered her thoughts, and her voice came out steadier than before.
"I understand your situation. So, what is it you want to know?"
"You already know."
The brandy was surprisingly good. I’ll have to check the label before I leave.
"The Dual Number."
With that idle thought still lingering, Johan asked without ceremony—
"Did you really kill them?"
Arditi Günther quietly set down his notebook.
Then, meeting Johan Gerner's gaze with eyes that held not a trace of wavering, she countered softly:
"'Killed', what exactly do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what it sounds like."
He set down the now-empty brandy glass.
Thud—!!!
Then he rose, crossed to the sideboard, and poured himself more brandy from the same bottle she had used earlier.
"Did you kill them? Really?"
He knew it was impossible.
Driving them back, that was realistic.
But there was something that nagged at him.
‘The lieutenant I met at the outpost… he said they were definitely dead. Ain Krieg.’
There had been certainty in the man’s tone. Generally, Men like that, men with that kind of weight in their voice, didn’t deal in lies or embellishment. Especially not a man wearing a rank insignia frayed from too many demotions and transfers.
"Please be honest with me, Major."
The longer her answer took, the more his conviction hardened.
Meanwhile, Arditi Günther’s head felt ready to split.
‘Can I even say yes to that?’
Outwardly she faced the captain with calm composure, but she herself found the situation no easier to accept.
Would anyone believe her if she told the truth?
That a Grade 3 knight officer had killed two Dual Numbers outright?
In less than ten seconds?
No, she could practically see the military psychiatric ward looming in the distance.
‘Think calmly, Arditi.’
The 13th Special Independent Brigade’s position was precarious enough already; they couldn’t afford to get dragged into needless rumors. And at the heart of it all, Ain Krieg was still lying in a hospital bed.
'Judge quickly. Act even quicker.'
She repeated her father’s words in her head, then slowly opened her mouth.
"There’s been a bit of a misunderstanding—"
"There is a misunderstanding, alright."
But at that very moment…
Creak—!!!
The reception room door swung open, and a man entered, his steps a touch weary. Without so much as a greeting, he picked up the brandy from the table and took a slow sip.
"Ahh…"
Exhaling briefly, he lowered himself into the place of honor on the sofa, left deliberately vacant by Arditi, crossing one leg over the other.
Hiss—!!! Fsshh—!!!
A cool scent of mint and lemon drifted from the cigarette between his lips as he spoke in a low, casual voice.
"I didn't just kill them."
Black hair, and black eyes.
Beneath the rolled-up right sleeve of his shirt, the inked image of a snake biting its own tail.
Pale skin, shadowed by restless dark circles, yet the corners of his eyes lifted in a smile.
"I butchered them. That’s the word for it."
And with that, he dropped the single biggest bombshell in the history of the Military State.
"Anything else you want to ask, Captain?"
He said it with the most unruffled face in the world.
END σϝ CHAPTER