Ch.383Episode 15 – Life is Beautiful

“Join the revolutionary tide against foreign invasion.”

The soldier looking at the slogan decorating the gray wall turned his gaze away.

The peeling paint on the walls was filled with warlord propaganda, and rows of corpses were scattered everywhere.

There was nothing special about these bodies dressed in different clothes, no matter how hard one looked. But since death is always relative, the soldier walking through the alley couldn’t take his eyes off one particular corpse that appeared before him.

It was a boy wearing a stretched-out sleeveless shirt and shorts. He seemed to be about the same age as himself.

The boy was about a hand span shorter than him. The man in uniform realized this belatedly as he stood looking down at the boy for quite some time.

“…”

A youthful face and soft hands. The boy’s hands were much more delicate than his own, which had grown rough and calloused over time.

But the rifle clutched in those small, fern-like hands seemed so out of place that the soldier couldn’t easily look away.

Touching the buttons fastened up to his chin, the soldier lowered his head to look at the clothes he was wearing. His dust-covered uniform was starkly different from the sleeveless shirt the boy in front of him wore.

The soldier leaned his gun against the propaganda-covered wall. Then he crouched down on the dirt ground and examined the boy’s face.

Wide-open eyes and a line of fresh blood flowing down the bridge of his nose, wetting his philtrum. The boy in uniform closed the eyes of the boy in the sleeveless shirt.

“…”

Just as he was bringing his hands together to mourn the death of someone around his own age—

“Nasir! Where the hell is this bastard loitering around?”

“Ah…”

“There you are. Get out here quick, you punk! We’re moving to the next village!”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Hearing his senior’s angry shout, the soldier hastily grabbed his rifle and rushed out of the alley.

Episode 15 – Life is Beautiful

There are no decent jobs in towns far from the capital.

It’s only natural when you’re born in the countryside where people make a living through farming.

Looking around, barren land and rocky mountains stretch out, and when you raise your head, the scorching sun is right above. Next to one mountain is another mountain, and behind that, yet another unnamed peak peeks out.

Perhaps beyond those mountains lies the range where, thousands of years ago, dark elves and nomads led their mules across at the cost of their lives.

The life-killing sun, arid soil, and mountains built of stone are the natural enemies of farmers, and making a living through agriculture in such a place was no easy task.

Once, goblins flying red flags built something called “cooperative farms” for the people living on barren soil, but that was already ten years ago. The flames of civil war, sparked by clashes between the military and local forces, burned everything to the ground. The nomadic tribes fleeing from monsters, the farms cultivated by farmers, the people—all gone.

So the past ten years had been hellish for those trying to make a living through farming.

The situation in his hometown wasn’t much different.

His hometown, where his father’s father and his grandfather’s father had lived, was a typical rural village that survived on farming. That’s why hometown was synonymous with hunger.

Whether it was due to the lack of decent jobs, the cursed land, or the detestable higher-ups who only fed their own tribes—the reason was unclear, but the fact remained that most people had cobwebs in their mouths.

Unable to eat properly. Unable to dress properly. For people with limited education, there were no other options.

Those living on barren land had two choices:

The first was to survive by taking what others possessed, and the second was to attach oneself to the country and receive a salary. The former is commonly known as a robber, and the latter as a salaried civil servant.

But how could a country boy who had been handling farming tools since childhood, barely able to take care of himself, have attended school? People who couldn’t even read had long been common in the countryside.

However, the military was the only place that would accept anyone as long as their limbs were intact.

So the boy put on a uniform.

“Are you not paying attention?”

A cold voice flew into the boy’s ear as he stood with his back to a building.

The boy was surrounded by young men. He was wearing a military uniform with a bulletproof helmet, but it looked quite ridiculous, perhaps because he was wearing a size too large that didn’t fit him properly.

The young men surrounding the boy in uniform were also wearing military uniforms. They were soldiers belonging to the same unit.

A young man whose protruding yellow teeth showed whenever he opened his mouth scolded the boy.

“Kid, are you mentally here or not? Didn’t I tell you this village is where rebels operate?”

“You did…”

“Then why are you wandering around the alleys on your own? You must be crazy wanting to die.”

The young man struck the boy’s helmet as he reprimanded him.

Though the rank insignia on the uniform was faded, the boy’s rank insignia shone clearly even through the dust. Just by looking at that, one could easily infer who was of higher rank.

In a village that rebels had made their base, regular army was scolding regular army. The reason for the scolding was that he had left the formation without permission and acted alone.

“You’ll get shot that way, punk. If you die, that’s it for you. The rations going to your siblings back home will be cut off too.”

“…”

The boy’s head drooped automatically at his senior’s scolding. It wasn’t because of the hand tapping his helmet.

The boy had chosen to enlist to avoid starvation, but not everyone made the same choice just to avoid hunger. The army was a place everyone wanted to avoid. Especially in a neighborhood where civil war was raging.

At first, he didn’t want to join the army either. But the recruiter’s promise that his family would receive monthly rations if he enlisted was too attractive for a boy responsible for his younger siblings.

So the boy put on a uniform. He chose to live for the future by mortgaging his present.

Of course, his seniors weren’t generous enough to appreciate the boy’s firm resolve. They too had dependents.

“I wonder where this dim-witted kid rolled in from.”

“Hey, stop it. You’ll kill the kid at this rate.”

“Shawal’s right. Let’s stop.”

Other seniors stepped in to stop the one who was scolding the junior.

Of course, it wasn’t out of chivalry or compassion that they wouldn’t turn a blind eye to the bullying of a young boy.

“The unit will be moving soon, we can’t waste time here.”

The scolding stopped at the squad leader’s words.

The senior who had been grabbing the boy’s collar released his grip and growled in a low voice, spitting through his protruding teeth.

“We’ll see when we get back.”

“…”

Left alone where the squad leaders had departed, the boy leaned against the crumbling ruins. His blank eyes staring into space disappeared between his eyelids several times before meeting a sergeant who shouted, “What are you doing!”

“N-nothing, sir!”

“What do you mean nothing? Move quickly, Nasir! We’re moving out now!”

The boy hugged his rifle and hurriedly joined the unit.

The twenty or so soldiers who had finished clearing out the rebels left the village for their next destination. The boy, watching his seniors’ backs, followed the unit while glancing back at the receding village.

The platoon, whose only weapons were mediocre rifles and a single machine gun, didn’t possess luxurious items like vehicles.

Occasionally, generals who came to inspect the troops rode in cars left behind by foreign armies, but for some reason, there wasn’t a single wheeled object in the boy’s unit that could roll properly.

What if he had the car that the general rode around in?

Although he was a country boy who had rarely seen cars, let alone donkeys, rolling around the village, the boy briefly indulged in such a fantasy.

The soldiers walked along a road mixed with sand and gravel.

They walked, and walked, and walked some more.

It was such a long distance that the outline of the village could barely be seen after crossing a mountain, but there was no luxury to complain. The boy, carrying a rifle as big as his body, began to follow the young men.

Crossing mountains, crossing rivers. Passing through villages reduced to ashes and walking along roads.

His feet were chafed by panting boots, and his stiff uniform, soaked with salt, scratched his armpits and groin.

By the time the boy’s feet were swollen and tingling with pain:

“Halt.”

The unit stopped moving at the officer’s signal. The soldiers gathered at the roadside stealthily looked around and hid in places that seemed safe.

The boy hid behind a rock with the young man who had scolded him.

He wondered if they had finally reached their destination, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hear the officer’s whispers from a distance.

“Is that it?”

“Yes.”

The squad leader answered.

“That’s the village we’re attacking today.”

“What’s in that village that we came all the way here?”

“I heard a United People’s Party official is there, but I don’t know the details. The orc’s face on the wanted poster looks similar to the one selling goods at the general store, how would I know? He even has a goblin shaman with him…”

“Sh-shaman?”

A shaman? The boy had never seen a shaman in person, but he had heard rumors about how dangerous they were.

Shamans who kill people with curses and control puppets with magic. There were even stories that they could fly through the air, walking on empty space. It was hard to imagine killing such a dangerous shaman with just a gun.

But the young man’s words were enough to erase the fear in his heart.

“The bounty on rebel shamans is enormous. If you kill just one, you could probably change your fate.”

It meant money would be paid for killing a shaman. The boy’s tense expression relaxed at the amount the young man muttered.

That bounty would be enough to live on. In a quiet countryside, if not in the capital, one could live comfortably for years with that money.

What would happen if he took the bounty and went back to his hometown? Though it was hard to imagine, he could picture a future where he would be discharged and live with his siblings.

“…”

The boy gripped his dust-covered rifle tightly, as if it were a rope descending from heaven.

Meanwhile, the young man knelt on the gravel, lowered his body, and muttered a prayer with his lips to the earth, his back to the sky. It was a prayer offered to the sacred land where the prophet slept, as a believer of Al-Yabd.

Although even devout believers aren’t required to pray outside of set times, the young man had a habit of praying before every battle. His reason was that he always had bad luck on days when he skipped prayer.

Just as the believer kissed the earth and prayed to God for mercy once again today, the boy, staring at the village, caught sight of human figures.

A tall person and people surrounding him. The very tall one seemed to be a man.

There were many people around the man dressed in traditional tribal attire. Those with their bodies completely wrapped were tribal women, and those wearing kufis were tribal men.

And among them was a very small figure. The distance was too great to determine the gender, but the pointed green ears protruding through the cloth indicated that it was not human.

“…It’s a goblin.”

His grip on the rifle tightened.

Though he wasn’t certain if it was a shaman, it was definitely a goblin. Since the forced relocation of goblins after the coup due to military crackdowns, bounties had been placed on goblins operating in other regions without government approval.

Although the amount was ridiculously small compared to the bounty on a shaman’s head, the amount didn’t matter at all. What mattered was that money would be paid, whether a lot or a little.

At that moment, as the boy raised his rifle and looked up at the sky.

A scene he had never seen before unfolded before him.

A bird was flying in the clear, cloudless sky. With its wings fully spread, it was clearly recognizable as a bird even from a distance.

But there was something strange.

It was too high up to be simply called a bird. Based on his experience chasing away birds while helping with farming, birds flying that high were quite rare.

And the wings.

With a bird flying so high up.

Why were its wings so clearly visible?

It was clearly strange, even for a bird with large wings. The boy stared at the large-winged bird flying at high altitude.

“Hey, what are you looking at?”

“…There.”

The boy pointed his finger at the bird. The young man followed the gesture and raised his head.

What the two saw was a giant bird flying in the sky.

And then, the bird suddenly plummeting toward the ground.

“Oh…!”

An exclamation burst from the boy’s lips as he saw the falling bird. It was an unconscious utterance.

It was a loud voice, causing all the soldiers hiding nearby to turn toward the boy. Even the officer who had been tapping his radio against the unfolded map did the same.

“Who made that noise—”

Just as the officer was about to raise his voice toward the soldier.

The giant bird crashed into the center of the village.

As the soldiers’ gazes turned toward the village, sensing something strange, an intense light from the center of the village,

Flash.

*

The area brightened simultaneously with the crash.

The world turned white. A piercing ringing sound made it feel like his eardrums were about to tear, and his head buzzed as if hit by a hammer.

Someone wearing a headset got up, muttering a small curse. The headset connected to the terminal was carelessly thrown on the desk.

The brightly lit screen gradually regained its original colors. Even though it was just a screen made up of black and white, the fact that the screen had returned was important.

“Damn… That was really loud.”

“Are you okay, Section Chief?”

“No. I think my eardrum is torn.”

The man in a suit laughed at the joke of another man in a suit. The suited man with tied black hair looked at the screen and spoke.

“Sala Al Afri. Mid-level official of the Independence National Alliance. Confirmed dead 17km southeast of Dames.”

“I saw. If the BDA (Battle Damage Assessment) is complete, call in the pigeon and feed it.”

The suited man patted his subordinate’s shoulder and turned around.

The suited man with blonde hair and distinct bronze skin, stirring his coffee, asked his superior who was leaving the situation room:

“Where are you going, Section Chief?”

“I need to report to Leonian.”

“Go ahead first.”

“Alright. Pippin, Jake. Don’t be late.”

In the situation room located in the basement of the Military Intelligence Agency.

I waved to the two guys as I left the room.

“I’m going first.”

“Lucky you!”

My life in the intelligence unit, now entering its 8th year.

Today was just another ordinary day.