episode_0304

Soldiers clash on the battlefield.

War is devoid of reason. There’s no constructive dialogue, no tangible gain, no justice, no love, nothing.

It’s nothing but a hell where countless people die for a superficially glorious cause. Having lived in the modern era, I couldn’t think otherwise.

Even until the moment I ordered the advance, I hesitated. Was I leading these men to their deaths? I have power, and with it, responsibility. Shouldn’t I be the one to wipe out all those enemies alone?

I realized that thought was fundamentally wrong.

“For Naifrantz—!!”

“Waaaaaaagh!”

Were they mad? The soldiers themselves picked up their swords and spears, rushing forward. Even if I gave the order, it was their own feet that carried them onto the battlefield.

I agonized. I pondered. And I found the answer. Power and responsibility don’t always perfectly align. Those who have something they want to achieve, something they desperately desire, can even risk death for it.

That was a fact I knew well. Whether you have power, whether you can succeed, doesn’t matter. It’s just what your heart dictates.

‘Humans… are like that, aren’t they.’

My past attitude of looking down on my soldiers, as though I were something special, some kind of cosmic administrator, needs serious reflection. I am neither god nor hero.

I only represent Naifrantz, all those who live in Naifrantz.

My shadowless sword rose high and pointed towards the battlefield.

“Court Mage Corps… commence bombardment.”

My voice, imbued with mana, spread far and wide. As if responding, the magically-inclined troops deployed throughout the camp simultaneously drew up mana.

Piles of fire, blades of wind, ice picks, rock fragments. Multicolored mana surged upward, creating magical shells in mid-air. Each one held power equivalent to a previous bombardment.

The sight felt incredibly beautiful to me. A kaleidoscope of colors mingling and yet distinct in the air. Swaying, swaying, and swaying again.

Countless enemy soldiers would soon be swept away by this bombardment. The meaningless deaths I so despised were about to engulf the enemy.

Thump-

Yet the resonance of those unique souls was utterly beautiful.

“Fire—!!!”

The magic shells arced through the sky. The imperial soldiers charging forward with terrified expressions were mercilessly slain. Flesh tore, bones broke, and crimson blood sprayed.

Dying, dying, and dying again. The first explosion reduced the enemy to corpses. The second explosion scattered the corpse fragments. The third explosion flattened the ground.

Someone still breathing reached out. Their soul flickered as though attempting to escape their body. Ironically, it was their comrades’ footsteps that delivered death to him.

“Wa-wait, I’m still al-”

Crack-!

The imperial army did not stop advancing. They relentlessly pushed toward the battlefield. Tens of thousands had already died, yet their numbers showed no sign of dwindling.

Rustle-

My body, excited by the excessive mana, returned to normal. The smell of blood tickled my nose. I clenched my fist and shook my head.

“Your Majesty…”

“Yes, Brother, you felt it too? At this rate, we’ll just end up with mountains of corpses endlessly. That’s what Duke Darius is aiming for.”

“We can’t just meet them head-on. Send a special detachment to attack their flanks.”

“We need some rough, wild guys.”

A unit came to mind. I sent someone to summon the Naifrantz Guild leader.

Soon a large mercenary force assembled at the base camp. I examined them individually. Most were Naifrantz adventurers, but I saw some Imperials among them.

“You…”

A familiar face was among the mercenary throng: a powerfully imposing man, apparently the mercenary group’s captain, his greatsword slung across his back, surrounded by three women.

“I never dreamt that adventure back then… would be a minor royal escapade.”

“Heavens, no. It’s a pleasant memory for me, too.”

I was quite surprised by the unexpected visitor but even more pleased.

It was the , the team I’d explored the Artemis Ruins with.

. . .

“Well, adventurers who seek freedom would naturally be repulsed by the Imperials’ and Moriarty’s methods.”

“Indeed. And that Moriarty…”

Grind-

Terrance gritted his teeth so hard they almost broke. I understand. Moriarty’s named, Persona, did something truly awful to Leaf, a member of the Four Saints.

Even if others didn’t, the Four Saints would hate Moriarty enough to want him dead. I’m sorry, but I already killed Persona. And even if I killed her, the chain of evil wouldn’t end.

It was when everyone was burning with hatred.

“Stop it. I’m fine now.”

The masked woman stepped forward, easing the tense atmosphere. She looked at me and removed her mask. A pretty face with fair skin was revealed.

“You… you’re the real Leaf.”

“Yes, I… I’m the Leaf you saved that day.”

Leaf placed a hand on her chest and knelt before me on one knee.

“Thank you for saving my life… truly. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have escaped that basement, even in death.”

“Not at all.”

Leaf didn’t stop there. She glared at Terrance.

“I’m not dead yet, Leader. I’ve forgotten the pain too. Persona is dead, so the revenge is over. If you keep holding onto it like that… you know how it keeps bringing back memories?”

“Wh-what…? No, I didn’t know, I’m sorry…”

“You shouldn’t have such a regressive mindset as revenge. We’re not here for revenge.”

Terrance stared blankly into space for a moment before nodding.

Adventurers who had defected from the Empire had gathered. At their center stood Terrance and the Four Saints.

“We can no longer stand idly by while the Imperial family forsakes freedom and betrays its people. If Naifrantz intends to overthrow that Imperial family and Moriarty, we will become Naifrantz’s sharp blade.”

“I always welcome free spirits.”

If they had been other Imperials, I might have suspected them of being assassins, but given they were adventurers, and the Four Saints at that, I deemed them trustworthy.

In turn, could they trust me? The Four Saints’ influence seemed to be at work there too. My Ubiette adventurer platinum badge clearly had a positive effect.

Two heads poked out from either side of Terrance’s shoulders. And two staves.

What were their names again? Joy and Lily? My relationship with Terrance, the leader, was good, but with Leaf, it was almost a first meeting, whereas with the other two it wasn’t very good. I’d even gotten a string of curses from them when we parted ways.

I decided to take that embarrassment as a lesson in self-reflection and simply ignore it.

“Who will lead the special detachment?”

“That won’t do, Your Majesty.”

“I haven’t said anything yet, Brother…”

It’s not like… I should just casually cut things off like that. A commander shouldn’t just wander around the battlefield as they please. Still, the thrill from the bombardment and the subsequent feeling of stopping it was such a strong stimulant that I couldn’t contain my restless body.

“Can’t I just go out once? Just once.”

“Even if you beg, you may not go. There’ll always be inevitably more battlefields you’ll have to go to.”

“I want to go now…”

I propped my chin in my hand and tried acting cute, like a pretty flower. *Pwin pwin*.

“No…?

“…Just this once.”

Huh. Why would that work?

* * *

Imperial camp.

While almost all the soldiers were marching forward, there was also an auxiliary awaiting on one flank.

Pluto, the Count of the Northern Corps stationed next to the Tarun mountains, pondered inwardly. If he stayed here, he might end up with no achievements after the war.

The Pluto count family was traditionally martial. The only way was swordsmanship, the peak of art. A sword becomes art just by taking steps.

Of course, the current count hadn’t reached that level. Still, what a beautiful thing it was! The pride of one following only the way of the sword, repudiating the desires of human life and work.

However, the Empire was not quite concerned with pride or art.

Only existence, utility, and implementation. Extreme pragmatism left little room for the Pluto count family.

Even if you spend a hundred days drawing near-miraculous paintings with the tip of your sword, a nation that thinks it is inferior to a single sharp stroke from an adventurer will never understand such things. Realists who only know advancement, what will they know of ideals?

That’s why Count Pluto earnestly prayed.

“Please… please give me a chance to make a contribution!!”

Now is the time to make his claim of a beautiful sword being a strong sword a reality. If he gained merit, everyone would recognize Pluto’s swordsmanship, and more people would want to learn this elegant form of swordsmanship.

So please! Let him fight on the battlefield!

Count Pluto’s wish was granted. Naifrantz’s special detachment burst from the forests of the Tarun Mountains like a swarm of bees.