novelraw Chapter 4 : Chapter 4
Chapter 4 : Chapter 4
༺ 𓆩 Chapter 4 𓆪 ༻
「Translator — Creator」
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
It came as no surprise.
Ever since the fall of House Krieg, the disbandment of the 13th Special Independent Brigade had been all but inevitable.
“No, in this case, maybe it’s more accurate to blame the Siegfried Line.”
But one thing was certain.
Three years from now, when the Siegfried Line would finally be completed, the Cerberus Brigade would cease to exist.
“This much… is probably the best she could do.”
Even Ain Krieg, slowly leafing through the neatly arranged documents left by Major Arditi Günther, could tell; that she had tried, against all odds, to keep the brigade alive.
“She has every right to resent me.”
It wasn’t difficult to understand why no soldier, officer, or even non-commissioned officer in the brigade bothered speaking to him, save for Rier Yung, whose priesthood demanded humility and kindness toward all.
Some might argue – what did it matter if he came or not, to a brigade already on the verge of collapse?
But there was a thing called legitimacy.
“Even if House Krieg is little more than a name now, it's still a ducal house.”
And that alone meant something.
Take the 6th Logistical Support Brigade, under the notoriously unfriendly 10th Corps. They were in charge of Cerberus's supply line. In the last seven years, their supply record was nothing short of disgraceful.
Everything was in shortage.
At most, they received just enough provisions to keep a company or two fed and armed, despite the brigade's base formation being five thousand strong, with each company typically made up of around two hundred troops.
It was laughable.
Sssht—!!! Huff—!!!
Ain couldn’t help himself anymore.
He bit into a mana cigarette, letting the sweet, minty smoke unfurl into the air as he stared toward the long black case lying quietly in the corner of the room.
“…Maybe I should just destroy everything.”
Years in the Intelligence Bureau had taught him a simple truth — sometimes, violence made more sense than reason.
But then he shook his head.
Because that was far too short-sighted.
'The deadline is three years. Within that time, I must prove the brigade's value.'
That was why he’d spent seven years in the Bureau. That was why he’d deliberately left the brigade to rot.
Ain Krieg let out a soft chuckle, as if none of it truly burdened him, and let his body sink further into the chair, eyes scanning the mountainous piles of paperwork.
“…Honestly, if I could, I’d kidnap senior Retton.”
The best desk officer he’d ever known.
But that was no longer an option. So, with a resigned sigh, he reached for a pen, the weight of responsibility settling into his palm.
“Well… nothing for it.”
Just like always, it was time to get to work.
༒︎
The organizational structure of the 13th Special Independent Brigade was starkly simple.
From the 1st through the 4th battalions. A special operations unit composed of specialist officers. A support unit, special support division, backing that unit along with the military chaplain. And finally, the headquarters battalion and a maintenance unit.
Formally, an independent brigade required a minimum strength of five thousand. The Vanargand Ironblood Fortress should have teemed with soldiers.
But inside, it was almost silent.
Decades of being used as a dumping ground, followed by dwindling supplies and reinforcements, meant the actual manpower on site barely exceeded a single battalion’s complement.
Only the 1st Battalion and the specialist unit remained.
“Especially critical, only one military chaplain, and it’s just you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ain Krieg summoned Rier Yung at dawn and quietly handed him a cup of coffee before asking:
“The handover documents list six specialist officers. What was the original number?”
“In the original roster, there should have been a hundred. But that’s theory. When I was transferred out, six years ago, there were around thirty.”
In six short years, twenty-four vanished.
Ain let out a dry laugh.
“All KIA?”
“About half. The rest either discharged or reassigned due to injury. Some were even sent to the Srenlople National Military Prison.”
Ain nodded grimly.
“Alright, then we'll start by sorting out the remaining officers.”
Regular infantry shortages were manageable. But specialist officers were essential, they were the backbone of everything he intended to pursue.
With a soft rustle, he opened the personnel file for specialist officers, tied with dusty, weathered string.
“Discharged… discharged… KIA… wounded transport…”
The file wasn’t updated in decades, but since the brigade had never been large, Ain quickly located relatively recent entries.
“Rier Yung, Master Sergeant… Grade-4 military chaplain?”
Reading that ranking raised his eyebrows. Usually, specialist officers ranked Grade-5 or higher. A Grade-4 meant Rier Yung wasn’t just a servant, he was a bona fide priest, superior even to most peers.
“I was humbled with… undeserved talent. It's both an honor and a disgrace.”
“And you volunteered?”
“Yes. Because true penance requires walking into the suffering.”
Ain, cigarette in hand, let out a tone of admiration.
“You’re a lunatic.”
“Your praise is overwhelming.”
He said it softly. Calmly.
Madness, perhaps, but it was useful.
Then Ain squared his expression and asked, voice tinted with curiosity:
"Then why was Sergeant Rokton left alone like that? If you're a Grade-4 Military Chaplain, it shouldn't have been hard to notice."
“He had been reported missing a few days prior.”
“But he was stationed alone at the post.”
“We searched the surrounding area. Two sentries were found murdered.”
So, in summary, the missing soldier had been impersonated by a monster, and in that guise, managed to kill two sentries without anyone realizing.
“What a shitshow.”
“Yes. That’s why, last night, we conducted a full personnel check to confirm there were no additional casualties. It was my oversight.”
That explained the dark circles under his eyes. He had checked a thousand men overnight; that alone tipped the scale toward lunacy.
“Anyway, setting that aside... Arditi Günther. Also Grade 4.”
She was, indeed, the kind of knight-officer who had survived at the frontlines, her rank testified to it. But the next three names on the list were, frankly, absurd.
“Lieutenant Langier. Grade 6 Knight Officer.”
From Hwanguk. Assaulted a superior. Dereliction of duty. Repeated misconduct.
“Captain Adnes Rom. Grade 5 Mage Officer.”
From the Ministry of National Defense Research Command. Records… spotless. Suspiciously so.
“Second Lieutenant Eugene Hailt. Grade 5 Knight Officer.”
From the Royal Guard Sniper Brigade. Suspected of murdering a superior officer. Possibly involved in the coup attempt by the Praetorians.
“Fucking delightful.”
And then there was the offhand number that didn’t quite add up. With a look of disbelief, Ain Krieg turned to Rier Yung, who had just finished his coffee.
“Wait. Am I one of the six?”
“Most likely, yes.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Reality was hard to ignore. Somehow, in this damned brigade, there were only six specialist officers, including the brigade commander himself, and their average rank barely scraped Grade 5.
“What a magnificent brigade.”
It was a moment of genuine admiration.
“How the hell are we not dead yet?”
Almost instinctively, he found himself revising his assessment of Arditi Günther, raising it by yet another notch.
“To be blunt, you're far too late,” said Rier Yung quietly.
“Let’s walk for a bit.”
But instead of answering, Ain Krieg simply motioned for him to follow as they began their inspection of the brigade.
A bitter wind slapped against their cheeks. Two hundred years ago, the Vanargand Mountains had been unbearably hot, now, they were a harsh land cursed to endure an eternal winter.
It was as they ascended the snow-covered stone steps of the fortress that Ain Krieg asked,
“But why here? I get the whole penance thing, but there were other options.”
“It was the will of God.”
“Try again. But this time in plain speech.”
“No one from our graduating class volunteered. And my grades weren’t that great.”
“But your rank’s high.”
"I had absolutely no talent for theology."
So he’d been pushed into it. Figures. Volunteered, my ass.
Perhaps Yung had sensed that judgment in Ain Krieg’s eyes. He chuckled softly, the kind of easygoing laugh that made him seem disarmingly affable.
"Well, that too must be the forgotten Gods's arrangement, wouldn't it?"
“Yeah, sure.”
The state religion of the Military State, the Atonement Order, referred to their deity as the Forgotten God. And rightly so.
Two centuries ago, it was said that this deity had once held back the march of Ashes. Now, that name, once venerated across the Empire, had faded like old debt, worn thin and utterly forgotten.
Ain Krieg raised his gaze toward the towering walls, each easily dozens of meters tall.
‘Was it the dwarves who built the Southern Gate? Impressive work.’
Despite having stood for more than two hundred years, the fortress still held its regal form. It was cracked and crumbling in places, yes, but proud nonetheless.
And even if supplies were too scarce to maintain it properly, the stationary artillery and giant ballistae stationed along the walls seemed eager to testify to its past; that this had once been the front line of the Military State.
Perhaps it was all those years of service that made Ain Krieg's gaze linger on the fortress wall. Yung, catching that look, spoke with a visible puff of breath curling from his lips.
“To others, it may look like just another old fortress, but for us, it's our only lifeline. It's the one thing we can rely on, even without official supply lines from the Military State.”
Of course, even that would become meaningless in three years, when the last remnants of support would finally run dry, a thought Rier Yung swallowed before it could leave his mouth.
That was when it happened.
Creakkkk—!!!
A thunderous groan echoed through the ground beneath their feet. Rier Yung snapped his head toward the sound, his usual playful smirk now vanished.
“The gates are opening.”
That could only mean one thing - the reconnaissance unit that had ventured out into the Vanargand Mountains was returning.
Without a word, Rier Yung broke into a sprint toward the northern gate.
Ain Krieg watched his retreating figure for a moment before following, his pace slightly behind.
‘Fast. So he didn’t just poker-face his way into a Grade 4 rank.’
Each of Yung’s strides left deep, far-reaching impressions in the snow, and each one more than a normal man could manage with a leap. Still, Ain Krieg kept close.
They ran for several minutes, but not long, until they reached the northern gate. And what greeted them wasn’t a muttering, frostbitten patrol mumbling complaints about the cold.
“Khak! Guhhk!”
A corporal swaying on his warhorse, staggering with ashen thorns embedded from his back.
Neighhhh—!!!
The warhorse too collapsed sideways as if exhausted, and the corporal fell to the ground from the impact.
He soon vomited up a mixture of blackened blood and ash, staining the white snow with an ugly, marbled slick of death.
And then, seeing Rier Yung rushing toward him, he croaked out a mangled plea, his voice shredded and soaked in blood.
“Do... Doggins' squad... reinforcements! Guhhk!”
Rier Yung knelt slowly before him; he then gently cradled the dying man’s head onto his knee, closing his eyes in solemn reverence as he thumbed through a worn rosary.
“Gratias tibi agit res publica (the State thanks you, brother). Brother, before you step into your rest, please show us the path that leads into the future.”
A faint trace of divinity gathered around the corporal’s body, it was faint, yes, forgotten and diminished with time, yet even that ephemeral warmth was enough to offer comfort to a man crumbling beneath ash and blood.
The soldier’s face, twisted in agony just moments ago, slowly relaxed. And with thick, dark blood bubbling up from his mouth, he whispered weakly,
“Bullets… don’t work. All of them… tentacles. Scarecrows…”
But not even a Grade 4 Chaplain could hold a soul back once it had begun to slip away.
Thump—!!!
The corporal’s hand fell, lifeless.
Yung bowed his head, eyes lowered, and began the Rite of Passing in a hushed voice.
Then, without pause—
“May you enter into your rest.”
He pulled a tarnished silver spike from within his robes and pressed it gently to the man’s forehead.
“Memento mori (Remember death).”
Crack—!!!
With a sound like splitting bone and rending iron, the spike drove through his forehead, shattered the skull, and disintegrated entirely, releasing a blaze that consumed the corrupted flesh in an instant.
Ain Krieg stood among the silent, praying soldiers, watching the entire scene unfold, and thought to himself,
'That's exactly why military chaplains are necessary.'
Beyond the mountains lay a land blanketed in ash and monsters. Out there, the chaplains weren’t just spiritual guides. They were the fire that kept corruption at bay. the last line of sanctified defense.
Once the commotion faded, Ain Krieg quietly stepped forward and approached Rier Yung, who had just finished his final prayer.
“Would you summon Arditi Günther to the brigade commander’s office?”
It seemed he'd need to get into real combat right after arriving.
“If that’s your order.”
Rier Yung gave a quiet smile and nodded. Considering the man was a full head taller and built like a fortress wall, the gesture wasn’t exactly comforting.
END σϝ CHAPTER