Chapter 62
Bel sat down at the small desk in the tent, a pipe in his mouth. An overwhelming mound of paperwork was laid out on his desk. For a while, Bel grappled with the papers in front of him.
I carefully unpacked my belongings so as not to disturb Bel’s work. The few items I brought into the tent included a small notebook, a slightly thicker book, and a few pieces of chocolate, but placing them on the small shelf next to the bed made me feel as if the bed had become solely mine.
“…The casualty and fatality report from yesterday hasn’t come yet.”
Bel’s voice broke the silence. Of course, his words were not addressed to me.
“Hm, the captain didn’t send the report? There were six fatalities, eighty-one injured, and two missing.”
Lying on the bed with her eyes closed, Gridia replied with a dry tone.
“Cause of death?”
“Excessive blood loss for one. Self-inflicted wounds for two. Two others were killed instantly when their torsos burst open… One was probably suicide.”
They exchanged talk about people dying without changing their expressions even slightly. After finishing her statement, Gridia closed her eyes again, while Bel returned to his paperwork, chewing on his pipe.
“…”
Despite the grim conversation between them, the atmosphere in the tent remained unchanged.
It made me feel more uncomfortable, though. It seemed that after so many years of war, injuries and deaths no longer left much emotional impact on them.
“Bin, didn’t I clearly tell you that I don’t expect any remarkable feats from you? And then you insisted, asking why you should be sent back to the capital like the others.”
After about thirty minutes of that strangely peaceful yet uncomfortable atmosphere, Bel suddenly addressed me while organizing the stack of documents in his hand.
“Did you?”
“There’s one thing you possess that none of the others have.”
“What’s that?”
“Value.”
Huh?
Value?
…What kind of value?
“Your reputation is well-known across the continent. They call you the world-saving genius, the second coming of the Sword Saint, or something like that.”
“Uh… Yes.”
“And that reputation hasn’t just spread among the people of the continent. I’m sure even the accursed Grand Marshals categorize you as a top-priority threat.”
“…”
I remained silent for a moment before swallowing dryly. I had a rough idea what he would say next.
“What do you think your life is worth? Enough to make four Grand Marshals risk appearing on the battlefield?”
This conversation is starting to get strange…
“When you were first assigned to this battlefield, to be honest, I was at a loss. It’s an excessively tough place for someone as inexperienced as you to stand out. That’s why I even considered writing to His Majesty to reconsider the decision. Then I had a good idea.”
Bel stood up from the desk and picked up the chair he had been sitting on. He approached my bed with the chair in hand.
“Do you know the current situation of Valleland?”
A strange sense of pressure began to tighten my chest and throat. Among his black hair, his eyes gleamed with a depth of anger and urgency that no ordinary person could understand.
“The enemies are advancing by three steps a day. They’re eliminating all variables slowly while whittling away our resources and morale. At this rate, we will have to completely retreat from Valleland’s front lines within a month.”
Those eyes were like those of a man driven to a precipice.
“Our enemies don’t suffer from mental illnesses and don’t need food. Their numbers grow as our side dwindles.”
Bel picked up the pipe dangling from his mouth. A slightly unsettling smile faintly crept across his lips.
“To be precise, this isn’t a battlefield. It’s a slaughterhouse. We’re nothing more than stupid pigs waiting for our death.”
‘Damn, this atmosphere is way too intense, it’s not like we’re interrogating some criminal.’
I flicked my tongue while casually thinking these thoughts in the back of my mind. Thanks to the [Calmness] ability, even an excellent mage like Bel couldn’t overpower me with his atmosphere.
In the entire world, there wouldn’t be many people as strong as Bel.
And yet, given how clear-headed I remained despite the imposing presence of someone like Bel, it seemed I wouldn’t freeze in fear no matter who I encountered.
…Though, I didn’t expect to test the limits of [Calmness] yet again like this.
“Well, this place treated as a slaughterhouse will end today.”
He tapped my chest lightly with the end of his pipe and continued.
“Bin, what do you think you need to kill the Demon King and the Devil?”
“I don’t know.”
“An overwhelming genius—no, an even more monstrous being is needed.”
Bel kept the tip of his pipe pressed against my chest while speaking.
“Ultimately, killing the Demon King and the Devil is the only way to end this war. Even if we kill infinite Grand Marshals or Upper Generals, as long as the Demon King and the Devil keep recreating them, nothing will change. We agree on that, don’t we?”
“That’s right.”
“The Demon King is a cosmic entity, and the Devil is a killing machine crafted with great care by that cosmic entity. Both are abnormal monstrosities. To defeat these two abnormals, we need someone on our side with a comparable degree of monstrous power.”
He continued on calmly.
“We’ve got the Sword Saint, yes, but no matter how great he is, he can’t handle both the Demon King and the Devil simultaneously. Therefore, for us to win this war, we need another being on his level.”
Tssssk!
From the tip of the pipe Bel was holding came a faint spark. With what remained of the now-ashen pipe still in his mouth, he took a deep breath.
“Yet, from somewhere, a vagrant brat suddenly appeared, survived a battle with a Grand Marshal, captured a juvenile dragon, and is now shaking down Upper Generals for their bounty. According to rumors, you’re a raw talent who has never studied magic.”
Dark black—no, completely pitch-black smoke streamed from between Bel’s lips.
“An unexpected variable in the game. It’s something desperately needed by us but unacceptable to our enemies.”
Bel slowly tilted his head back to look at the tent’s ceiling, covered with burnt marks and faint patches of mold.
“You’re the bait.”
Bel introduced the aspect of me I didn’t know, trying to suppress the urge to burst out with, “I thought my surname was Bin, not Jing.”
…Calmness, this thing is too effective for its own good.
“As soon as you appear on the battlefield, the Grand Marshals will reveal themselves to match the threat you pose. To them, your demise matters more than capturing Valleland.”
The situation in Valleland wasn’t looking good even to my non-expert eyes.
The Grand Marshals were hiding deep somewhere, while their subordinates, regular Marauders and Upper Marauders, were slowly tightening their grip on the front lines.
Every day, thousands of mutated creatures fall into hell by the blades of soldiers, but the number of mutants arriving on the battlefield exceeds tens of thousands.
The front lines were retreating by one to two meters each day.
There was no catastrophic damage yet. Neither General Gridia nor Bel had suffered fatal injuries, and the supply lines were still intact.
However, that was all. The battlefield was certainly falling into the hands of the Marauders.
“We’ll use you as bait to draw the Grand Marshals into our formation, and then we’ll snatch them efficiently.”
“Even if you can lure out the Grand Marshals, do we have a way to kill them?”
Surprisingly, my next line was not, “You intend to use me as bait? What nonsense.”
…Thanks to [Calmness], the god of my grace, I am invincible.
“Quite composed, huh? Did you expect this?”
Expect? Ha. In reality, my body structure simply makes it impossible for me to be scared or panic.
“…Of course.”
Well, what’s good is good, right?
“Clever kid. Anyway, you asked if there was a way to kill the Grand Marshals?”
“There is, isn’t there?”
Grand Marshals are not merely commanders of the Marauder race. They are excellent warriors among their kind as well as tacticians.
It varies from individual to individual, but the physical strength of a Grand Marshal is considered, on average, to be on the level of a ‘General’ like Bel and Gridia, standing before me.
So, even if we lure them out, it’s questionable whether the current regular army would have the capability to capture them for sure.
“I can’t answer that yet. It’s a confidentiality issue.”
In such a situation, most people upon hearing that answer would make a face of disbelief and immediately leave their seat.
How could they use my life as bait without sharing the details of the plan? Only a fool would entrust their life to such unpredictable and arbitrary command officers.
“To say it on the first meeting might seem a bit odd, but trust me. I’m not foolish enough to risk my life in a losing battle…”
“Sure, let’s go with that, then.”
Nevertheless, I readily accepted.
“…Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am.”
There’s no grand reason behind it.
I simply know what kind of person Bel Artura is.
Bel is undoubtedly a ruthless person who shows no mercy. However, all his actions are for the greater cause of ‘winning the war’.
Bel, who described me as an essential variable necessary to win the war, regardless of whether I’m truly a genius or not, the important part is that Bel believes I am.
As long as this misunderstanding persists, Bel will never let me die, no matter what.
…Even if things get to the worst-case scenario, Bel will probably trade the lives of all the soldiers to protect me.
Because for Bel, ‘winning the war’ is above everything.
That’s the kind of person Bel Artura is, like it or not.
“Of course you can’t say anything, but the fact that you mentioned ‘yet’ implies that there’s definitely a plan waiting to be revealed someday. I’ll simply trust you.”
Bel should be thankful that I’m a human being who has spent thousands of hours enjoying this game.
Otherwise, how could I understand that the person in front of me was ‘meticulous and a brilliant soldier’ so easily and trust him?
“…You’re unexpected. You can take a life-or-death matter and believe so easily. You could’ve thought about it more carefully.”
“There’s no need. I’ve made up my mind.”
Realistically speaking, I don’t have any other choice but to trust Bel.
I don’t have any brilliant moves to change the flow of the battlefield. I also lack the ability to escape and survive right now.
As I’ve mentioned before, isn’t it more rational to play Russian roulette with a revolver that has at least one empty chamber over an automatic pistol loaded fully?
I just chose the revolver with one empty chamber.
“I wholeheartedly trust you. In return, when I ask for your trust someday, General, you’ll trust me once too, without any conditions.”
Moreover, by believing so readily in such an absurd situation, I can even create a debt.
To some, it may not mean anything. There’s no contract written, no formal witnesses, after all.
Nevertheless, this debt could be useful in the future.
It would serve as an opportunity for the power brokers in the army I serve to form a positive impression of me.
Even if the abstract promise of ‘believing in me unconditionally in my moment of need’ never materializes, it doesn’t matter.
Because having this person form a positive impression of me has countless advantages.
“…Alright. When you need my help someday, I’ll believe in you unconditionally. I promise.”
After a brief pause, Bel responded in this manner.
The urgency that had filled his pitch-black eyes had already faded away.
