A week passed in the blink of an eye.
From 1 PM to 3 PM, I took lessons with Lir at Alter, then collapsed. Upon waking up after resting, I reviewed the lessons then collapsed again—a cycle making the days fly by.
“Here’s a letter from Commander Belua.”
Around lunchtime, the young servant handed me a securely sealed letter. Carefully breaking the seal, I began to read it.
“Unfortunately, a large force of mutants and several Marauders have been confirmed 20 kilometers from the forest in a marshy area. Inside the forest, numerous traps akin to magic mines have also been found.”
As expected.
The Marauders were preparing ambushes, exploiting every loophole in our agreements. Belua’s ominous predictions had come true right on the mark.
“Tch.”
Marauders are notoriously cunning and malevolent, and we never expected anything less from them.
Writing a short reply with a quill, I penned my response.
“I will handle it. Please prepare the ‘White Anvil’ operation.”
I must make up for my mistakes.
That day, I went to bed earlier than usual.
Tomorrow is going to be a busy day, after all.
As the sun peeks over the horizon, I woke up four hours earlier than usual. Grabbing my robe, hat, and grimoire, I stepped out of my room.
Alter and Lir were already awake and waiting for me, unlike during our excursion to the Enker High Plain when they were fully prepared for expedition. This time, they wore tactical accessories, staves, and robes that covered their entire bodies.
Walking through the castle gate, rather than the usual lavish royal carriage, military wagons and a large contingent waited for me.
Seeing the well-armored dwarfs, humans, orcs, and elves who filled the ranks in precise order, I deeply inhaled the morning air.
“Today, we reclaim the land that was lost to us.”
The soldiers’ faces were tense. They knew: this wasn’t a routine operation to build forward bases. We’re going to ambush the Marauders who are lying in wait for us.
There may be casualties and fatalities; casualties and fatalities that could have been avoided if I had been more cautious.
“Ah, damn it.”
The scent of the damn death carts lingered in my nose again.
“The expedition today could have been simpler, but my mistake has caused unexpected complications.”
I don’t know what words would best boost the soldiers’ morale as their commander. Just last month, I was a high school dropout who played around with sheet music and midi keyboards.
“Today’s battle might not have happened if I’d been more careful.”
In this situation, the best I can do is tell them exactly what I’m thinking.
“My apology for this stupid mistake will be formally offered after all is said and done.”
There will inevitably be sacrifices now that we’ve decided on this battle. Although I understand this in theory…
“Quite a spectacle, isn’t it? A general bowing to his common soldiers.”
My heart wishes for the safety of everyone here, hoping they all return to their families unscathed. The atmosphere at the graveyard I visited before was so heavy that it felt like my weak shoulders would break.
I silently prayed, knowing it would never happen.
“So please… don’t die before I have to bow.”
The soldiers offered half-hearted smiles.
Is their tension easing? Perhaps they’re smiling out of pity for this young commander trying to relieve their anxiety.
Either way, it doesn’t matter.
They’re smiling, and the faint tension that once clouded their ranks is gone. For a rookie commander, that’s doing well, isn’t it?
“Let’s move out!”
“Everyone! Mount your horses!”
As soon as I finished, Belua next to me shouted loudly. The dwarfs roared with their characteristic boisterous voices as they mounted their horses, while Lir and Alter, covering their ears, boarded the cart amid the noise.
“General!”
Even amidst the soldiers rushing to their horses, a familiar voice pierced through the commotion to reach my ears.
“…Lieutenant Rex.”
There was the orc lieutenant, his one arm replaced with a mechanical prosthetic, a massive axe strapped to his back. As he approached silently, he saluted courteously.
I reciprocated the salute quietly amidst the soldiers preparing for departure.
The number “6” was emblazoned in crimson paint on his prosthetic arm, replacing his severed right arm less than a month ago. Yet, he handled it with the fluency of his original arm—a truly remarkable sight.
“General, you’ve created an opportunity that we could never have dared to reclaim—the Achilipthus Forest. An immense opportunity. You are not lacking.”
Rex’s crimson eyes held a depth beyond description.
His words seemed to carry empathy for the young prodigy burdened by his responsibilities, and also a rebuke toward this human who believes he can control everything.
“None of us are perfect. Even the great Sword Saint makes errors. How could we be any different?”
Rex continued, gently stroking the horn of the Komodo beside him.
“Therefore, you don’t need to apologize after everything is over. Soldiers choose to die to protect the innocent future of others. None of us would complain about not being given a ‘perfect situation.'”
“Rex seems not to be a big fan of my promise.”
“In the orc culture, a superior bowing to subordinates is unheard of. While we respect cultural differences, General, it still feels uncomfortable to see such an esteemed figure bow.”
Orcs are warriors armed with a strong hierarchy and a disciplined military ethos. Even Rex, the elite soldier of this culture, seemed uneasy about a general’s promise to bow to common soldiers.
“All the people on the continent make progress by compensating for each others’ deficiencies. It is unnecessary to apologize for small mistakes when you’ve already achieved great things. Even that great Sword Saint moves in a party to cover his shortcomings, does he not?”
“…Understood.”
“Apologies for overstepping my place.”
Rex bowed upon finishing his speech.
Long time no see, Rex was still a proud warrior and a considerate individual.
“I appreciate it.”
I smiled reassuringly in response to his concern. Nodding, he turned and began to ascend the Komodo.
I watched him climb up and then briefly exchanged greetings before boarding the carriage where the mages awaited.
With the sound of hooves and wagon wheels, the journey began.
The carriage also carried a few other mages assigned to the squadron—four mages with mid-tier abilities from the 4th to 5th circle and veteran battle experience.
“…Ah.”
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. I wasn’t sure when, but the tightly tensed muscles of my shoulders began to relax, along with the pressure in my heart.
I had a moment to look up at the sky again.
The weather today was too beautiful for a thunderstorm.
Breathing in deeply, I admired the clear sky. The air of this medieval era was much fresher and cleaner than I had imagined.
A small marshy area, about ten kilometers from the Achilipthus Forest.
This densely vegetated area, dotted with numerous small caves, was filled with mutants whose veins were saturated with deadly poison.
“…Humans have entered the forest.”
A Marauder who had closed his eyes spoke in an emotionless tone.
This Marauder observed as the silver-armored dwarf infantry cautiously moved into the densely wooded forest region, thanks to the connection with the mutants placed secretly around the forest.
“Seems to be a reconnaissance team…the main force should appear soon.”
“Considering the distance from the forest to here…it’ll be more efficient to move the mutants now. If we move the mutants fast, we’ll be able to attack them before they set up temporary defenses.”
“Agreed.”
From the depths of the dark, damp cave, shadowy voices exchanged thoughts. The surrounding area began to tremble in sync with their voices, and the mutants, brimming with venom, started to march toward the Achilipthus Forest.
These monsters, cloaked in moss and leaves, were bizarre hybrids—part rabbit, part tree—or a mixture of orcs and elves.
Their presence alone contaminated the air and corrupted the land.
Ten Marauders residing in the caves launched their mutant hordes toward the Achilipthus Forest, causing the ancient trees of the marshlands to collapse and the ground to crumble in their wake.
As an eerie silence settled in the deepest parts of the cave, the Marauders concentrated their full attention on controlling the mutants.
“Is this some sort of cult ritual…?”
The darkness, humidity, and sheer eeriness of the scene caused someone to cringe.
A delicate yet cold voice filled the air.
“…?”
The Marauders all opened their eyes and turned in the direction of the voice.
There stood a boy with white hair, his entire body swathed in a pitch-black robe, holding a red lantern.
“How…?”
None of the Marauders knew the identity of the boy.
A young prodigy mage who survived battle against the Grand Marshal, a remarkable strategist who managed to extort tributes from high-ranking lords.
The unexpected arrival of such a prominent figure caused the Marauders’ thoughts to momentarily freeze.
“…”
All their key forces, the mutants, were currently heading towards the Achilipthus Forest, leaving none behind in the cave.
Even if an urgent recall order were issued, they would need more than ten minutes to return.
Could they withstand ten minutes?
Ten ordinary Marauders against the boy who once dueled with Grand Marshal-level strength…
Would they even have a chance if all their mutants were fully deployed?
“…”
No matter what strategy they considered, the outcome was always the same—death.
“…How are you here?”
In the depths of despair, one of the Marauders asked a meaningless question.
“Our reconnaissance team performed better than expected. Thanks to the capable subordinates assisting me.”
The boy carefully placed the lantern on the damp cave floor as he replied.
“And now, it’s my turn to repay that favor.”
Fzzt…
Between the boy’s snow-white hair, faint sparks began to appear.
Shining through the darkness of the cave, the light disoriented the Marauders’ eyes, accustomed to darkness.
“According to the reconnaissance report, there are ten of you…perfect for testing my current level.”
For nearly a month, the boy had continuously studied and practiced magic under an 8th Tier Mage.
He had undoubtedly become a much stronger magician since he first arrived in this world.
However, he wasn’t sure exactly what level he had reached.
Due to the nature of the spell [Blossoming], which completely depletes his collected mana in one burst, it was impossible for him to test his abilities in spars.
He had to avoid using his accumulated mana in casual spars, only to find himself unable to fight in emergencies.
“In the game, a ‘one-hit mage’ would have needed at least level 20 to fight ten average Marauders.”
Therefore, the Marauders in front of him now were nothing more than a kind of punch machine to measure his own ‘strength’.
“Flourishing.”
Crackle!
The glass of the lantern shattered, unable to withstand the electricity surging from the boy’s body. The oil inside leaked onto the puddles on the cave floor. The current moving over the shattered glass set the scattered oil ablaze.
In the next moment, a massive surge of current erupted from the boy, shattered the cave ceiling, and reached the clouds above.
