novelraw Chapter 22 : Chapter 22
Chapter 22 : Chapter 22
༺ 𓆩 Chapter 22 𓆪 ༻
「Translator — Creator」
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
Though two centuries had passed, the superhumans who inherited the legacies of knights, magi, and priests had each proved their worth, surviving under a single designation i.e., Specialist Officer.
Knight officers still fought on the very front lines of battle; their power might have diminished into something almost paltry compared to the past, but they remained humanity’s blades.
Military chaplains gathered the dim remnants of faith, guiding the lost and weary, struggling to prevent soldiers, whom the Forgotten God could no longer care for, from being devoured by the beings of Ashes.
And what, then, of the mage officers?
Why was it that those who, two centuries ago, had conjured storms with a gesture and overturned the earth with a word, were now absent from the battlefield?
‘Because, truth be told, those short-lived wretches were too valuable to be squandered on combat alone.’
Mana had been tainted by the beings of Ashes.
And Specialist Officers, who consumed that mana to draw forth phenomena beyond all measure, were doomed to suffer from petrification syndrome, an incurable disease.
Here lies the problem.
What separates a knight who channels mana into his blade or body, or a chaplain who refines it through a process of divine purification, from a mage officer?
The answer is simple.
To cast a single, proper spell required more mana than a knight would expend across dozens of battles.
‘Because it was the act of rearranging matter, of overwriting the laws of physics themselves.’
—Or so someone had once said.
He didn't know the more detailed reasons.
Anyway, for such reasons, Mage Officers gradually became unsuitable for combat.
They were too few to begin with. To throw them into a fight only for them to collapse into late-stage petrification after one or two battles, raging out of control or mutating into monsters, was simply not worth the cost.
“All the same, that Adnes Rom fellow is one tough bastard. You’d think he’d show his face once in a while, but I hear he’s still holed up in some cellar?”
“He is. But he’s doing his work. Truth be told, sir, the only reason supplies have managed to stretch this far is thanks to him.”
As Rier Yung said, mage officers had become something else entirely—engineers.
And it was hardly strange.
The tribe of magi had always been seekers, after all.
Even if their ailment kept them from the battlefield, their brilliance and their countless practical applications had become one of the pillars of humanity’s advancement.
At least, that was what the academy had always preached in grand tones.
“Hell, even these cigarettes I smoke are made by them.”
Ain Krieg let a wry smile tug at his lips as he bit down on a mana cigarette.
Mages, or rather, the geniuses among them, were given a title: Meister.
The car they rode in, the trains bound for the station ahead, these too were the works of the Meisters.
By the time Krieg had smoked down his second cigarette in a row…
In the passenger seat, Rier Yung loosened a button at the top of his shirt, his chest still bound in bandages that chafed him, and asked,
"Can we trust those who came as reinforcements?"
Lieutenant Colonel Ain Krieg.
Master Sergeant Rier Yung.
The two main pillars of the Cerberus Brigade had been laid low, and in their stead, Captain Johan Gerner, Sergeant Vermin, a handful of Specialist Officers, and two reinforcing companies had been assigned to fill the gap.
Strictly speaking, it was the Ministry of Military Affairs’ order.
But given the circumstances, it was no wonder Rier Yung voiced his unease.
“They may have been thrown to the wolves same as us, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be friendly toward us.”
“True enough. What loyalty could exist between men dragged here against their will?”
Yet Ain Krieg was confident.
For now, the Vanargand Ironblood Fortress was safe.
'Even for those Ashen Order bastards, Dual Numbers must be precious resources. Having spent three of them, they'll lie low for a while.'
No doubt they were shaken.
Even a single Dual Number could tie down an entire regiment, sometimes more. Three could cripple a division outright.
And yet that overwhelming strength had been squandered here, caught fast against what was, in truth, little more than a battalion.
How bitter their fury must be.
They were probably in uproar on their side as well.
Not that Krieg could summon an ounce of sympathy.
What beauty could there be in madmen who wasted their devotion on those damp, reeking carcasses they called monsters?
He had smoked through how many mana cigarettes with such thoughts?
Soon they crossed the Siegfried Line, further along now in its construction than when last he’d seen it, and reached Dreritz, the greatest city of the North.
Through the car window he watched the cityscape roll past; shops along the main streets crowded with soldiers on leave, children in the alleys wearing crude uniforms they had stitched together themselves, playing at war.
"I'll be waiting at the nearby military hotel. Please contact me before departing from the capital, Brigade Commander."
When the driver pulled up in front of the train station and asked, Ain Krieg nodded. He drew out a bill for 100,000 dinars and pressed it into the man’s hand.
“I won’t be long. Do whatever you like, just don’t get yourself in trouble with the Military Police.”
“Thank you, sir!”
The driver, incidentally, was not of the Cerberus Brigade at all, but one of the reinforcements from the two companies. They had needed someone. Departing before dawn with half the men still carrying injuries, there was no one else to drive.
Stepping out of the car, Krieg found Rier Yung already outside, a modest bag in hand containing the two men’s luggage.
“Let’s go, Commander.”
“You’ve had it rough. Maybe I should’ve brought that sergeant along, what was it, Vermin? Vermil?”
“That brother’s got plenty on his plate as it is.”
Perhaps it wasn’t that Vermin was overwhelmed, perhaps he simply didn’t want to come because Krieg made him uneasy? Ain Krieg swallowed the thought that had risen to the tip of his tongue, gave a slight shrug, and started toward the train station.
“I always notice it. For a northern city, the buildings here are oddly well ventilated.”
Which meant, it was cold.
“Of course. This was originally the southern part of the Empire. Two hundred years ago, they hadn’t even seen snow here.”
“You say that as if you’d seen it yourself.”
Rier Yung chuckled faintly as he replied.
Of course, this time too Ain Krieg had only spoken the truth.
“I have seen it.”
It was while they were having this conversation, one speaking truth, the other thinking it idle banter, that a conversation from a street vendor in front of the train station brushed their ears.
“Damn it. I left my wallet back at the barracks.”
“What? You said you’d pay.”
“Yeah, well… Ah shit.”
At a glance, it was a conversation between two idiots on leave who stupidly hadn't brought their wallets.
But their tone, speaking without any bewilderment as if meant to be heard.
Sure enough, the old woman, who'd been watching nervously despite them having eaten quite a lot of her food, sighed and said with a voice tinged with reluctance and slight fear.
“Just go on, then.”
“Much obliged, ma’am. Blessings on you.”
“Nothing to thank, really. We serve the nation, and it’s only right the citizens serve us in return.”
The two soldiers left it at that.
The old woman stayed behind, cleaning up scraps, sighing as she did.
Naturally, Rier Yung's face hardened watching this scene, but Ain Krieg felt no particular emotion.
Truth be told, even if Yung had smashed their skulls and recited scripture over their corpses, Krieg would not have batted an eye, he’d have simply lit another mana cigarette.
“How much for everything?”
But before Rier Yung could take a step, a man wearing a black officer's coat stood before the vendor's old woman.
“Oh, no need, really…”
The blue-haired officer smiled gently at the old woman, glanced at the scraps she was sweeping away, and then at the stall’s menu board; then he drew out a bill worth more than double the cost of the meal and pressed it into her hand.
“All soldiers of the Military State perform their duties. Sometimes misunderstandings arise in the process. Please, forgive them with a generous heart.”
“Ah… thank you, thank you, sir…”
Tears welled in her eyes as she clutched the bill with trembling, wrinkled hands, bowing again and again. The blue-haired officer only returned her gaze with the kindest of smiles.
“Well, that was unexpected.”
"...How touching. If the Forgotten God saw this, He would call it the virtue of mercy and charity."
Well. That bastard's not that type of person, is he?
Ain Krieg shrugged his shoulders once at Rier Yung's words and turned his steps toward the train platform, adding.
"Let's hurry. Master Sergeant."
Did Rier Yung see it?
The moment the blue-haired officer pressed money into the old woman's hands, the two soldiers walking toward the alley entrance instantly disappeared.
'Well, it's not my concern.'
He wouldn't kill them, would he?
༒︎
Leaving behind the old woman’s bowed thanks, the blue-haired officer stepped into the alley with a benevolent smile still fixed on his lips.
There, he drew a small iron case from his coat.
From within, he plucked a single pill, placed it on his tongue, and bit down.
“Kh—hhhuuuh.”
He tilted back his head, his hunched shoulders and spine straightening with a sudden snap. That familiar rush, exhilaration, bliss. His eyes sharpened, gleaming.
Calmly, he wiped the old woman’s touch from his hand with a handkerchief, then tossed the soiled cloth into a puddle of alley-filth.
Splash—!!!
The wet rag was ground beneath his boot.
Passing his bowing adjutant, he looked down upon the two soldiers lying sprawled in the muck, beaten senseless.
“Names and postings?”
At his question, his adjutant, Captain Nietzsche Bauer, pushed back the brim of his cap, unfolded their bloodied identity cards, and answered quietly.
“Staff officers, under the 10th Corps. Weber Keintel and Kin Schneider.”
“The 10th Corps, eh? Full of rot, it seems.”
The blue-haired officer’s smile widened, intoxicated.
“Well, fitting, isn’t it? A Corps led by the idiot house that betrayed the Kriegs to snatch a Marshal’s seat.”
Nietzsche gave no reply.
Nor had the man expected one.
Crunch—!!!
He pressed his boot down onto the half-conscious Weber Keintel, grinding the man’s head into the filth.
“Ghhk—aaaghhh!”
The scream rang out, but the officer did not relent.
“Disgusting.”
He kicked and stomped them both, again and again.
There was no emotion in it.
As for the old woman they had harassed, whether she was robbed of her money, or gunned down in some alley, what did that matter to one of noble blood?
No, this was nothing but pretense.
A diversion.
Amusement.
Pure cruelty for its own sake.
“Hhhuhh… ffffhh.”
At last, sated, he pulled a wad of bills from his coat, twice the size of what he had handed the old woman, and tossed it carelessly upon the backs of the unconscious staff officers.
“There. Enough of this. Let’s go. I’ll need to buy new boots on the way.”
He murmured it absently, adjusting his coat and hair as if preparing for a stroll, muttering something about not missing the train.
Nietzsche didn’t bother to respond.
He only checked the two officers, making sure.
…Fortunately, they were alive.
Exhaling a long sigh, Nietzsche followed after him in silence.
'I can't keep doing this.'
That such a man was the youngest of the Sentinels—
The future of the Military State looked anything but bright.
END σϝ CHAPTER
Do not forget to read my other novels :-
⟿ How to Honor The Goddess
⟿ The Margrave's 10th-Class Ne'er-do-well