The ground trembles.
So do the legs, the arms, and the very values one holds dear.
Add’s breathing grows increasingly rough. And yet, this isn’t from engaging in a serious battle or from marching for an extended period—his breaths merely continue to grow heavier.
In Add’s mind, the cries of the soldier who had struggled and screamed while being grabbed by the giant’s hand still echo.
He begins to doubt whether what he is doing is truly the right thing.
His stomach churns uneasily.
“What is the purpose of this mission? What function does that parchment General hides on the ground have?”
Ed quietly asked, his voice low.
He was curious. What was so important about this mission that it could justify leaving behind someone who might as well have been a brother?
How grand a purpose do we serve for Bel to march forward so unwaveringly?
“Security reasons. I can’t tell you.”
“Security? Please, we’ve all seen the parchment being hidden right before our eyes. So why not tell us what kind of magic is inscribed on it?”
Add’s sharp tone made the other soldiers’ eyes widen.
How dare a mere private talk back to Bel Artura?
Is this idiot brainless?
“I said, it’s security reasons. Shut your mouth and focus on guarding, Private.”
“There must be a good reason, right? Please, enlighten us. Let us understand why we couldn’t save that comrade. If there is a greater cause behind this mission…”
“Could we have really left no other choice but that?”
“What?”
“Was there truly no other option besides letting him die?”
Bel Artura’s voice suddenly grew sharp. Deep within the mage’s heart, a fierce disdain arose, though it’s unclear toward whom it’s directed.
“…What are you…”
“Choices always exist, Private. We abandoned our comrade and chose the mission. Don’t run away from this reality by hiding behind some grand excuse.”
The other soldiers listening through the rune-inscribed gas masks swallowed audibly.
“…”
Add wanted to ask if that meant they should have rescued the soldier, even if it meant putting their comrades in danger.
But strangely, the words wouldn’t come out.
…Is he scared of Bel?
‘No.’
He mustn’t be scared. He shouldn’t.
Bel had merely made a necessary choice, endangering his comrades to complete the mission.
Who could blame him? Isn’t ignoring the captured soldier the obvious right decision for everyone?
It felt unfair.
But it was a choice made for the greater good.
What greater good?
Add didn’t even know the exact purpose of this mission. He only knew that his task was to protect the mage standing right in front of him.
‘Right. Bel Artura is a general. He’s a hero of the continent. And I am the hero who protects a hero…’
A wave of nausea rose from his stomach.
Wearing the mask, he couldn’t vomit, so Add forcefully pushed the rising substance back down his throat.
…Bel didn’t care whether Add felt nauseous or not and urged everyone to move forward briskly.
They moved cautiously and efficiently into the enemy’s territory.
After the brief argument between Bel and Add, the soldiers remained silent, focusing solely on the mission.
Due to their silence and focus, they successfully hid the seventh parchment at the designated location by the time dusk enveloped the surroundings.
“Just two more. Stay alert until the end.”
It was a long operation that spanned twelve hours. Operating covertly over such an extended period inside enemy territory was extremely nerve-wracking, and all the soldiers were on edge.
One mistake, and the lives of everyone here could be in danger. If they were lucky, they’d die quickly; at worst, their entire bodies would be dissolved and turned into mutant flesh.
No matter how brave they were, maintaining one’s sanity in such a situation wasn’t easy. Especially for Add, who had little experience in such horrific battlefields.
Though he had spent much of his life as an adventurer, thinking he had witnessed almost everything there was to see, the scenes surrounding him since the start of the mission seemed to tell him otherwise.
The piles of meat lying before his eyes could have been someone’s corpse, a mutant, or a marauder. Or perhaps all of them mixed together. Like a massive beast swallowing everything around it, digesting it half-heartedly and vomiting it back out, grotesque chunks of flesh were scattered everywhere.
…But what troubled him more than the revolting sights was something else.
“Choices always exist.”
“Don’t run from the facts behind your excuses for the greater good.”
Bel’s words, like daggers, had pierced Add’s heart and remained firmly planted there.
It felt as if his heart was rotting and his lungs were hardening, yet he had no idea how to pull it out.
Something kept rising from his stomach, but with the mask on, he couldn’t vomit. He had been forcibly restraining it for some time.
“…Damn, damn.”
A soldier’s voice echoed from inside his mask. It belonged to a corporal with short hair.
It annoyed everyone.
Every breath and every word was shaky and unstable, making even the calmest feel anxious.
Already feeling nauseous from Bel’s words, the constant muttering only made his anger surge.
Add wasn’t the only one to feel this way. The other soldiers, Bel, and even Menes found the corporal’s voice irritating.
Still, no one told him to be quiet. They all feared that unnecessarily provoking him could lead to an uncontrollable situation.
They saw his eyes.
Add and the soldiers noticed his hazy eyes, not focused on them or the present but gazing far into the distance.
One mustn’t irritate someone like that. Everyone here knew that.
If this were a barracks, they could send him to rest or exclude him from the battlefield. But this was enemy territory. There was no place to recover or take a breather.
“It’s the last one. Hang in there a little longer.”
Bel and the soldiers quickened their pace amidst this tension.
Only 30 minutes after hiding the seventh parchment, Bel pulled out the eighth from his robes.
…By now, Add cared little about what this parchment actually did.
Knowing its function wouldn’t extract the dagger buried in his chest.
The parchment sank into the mud, emitting a faint light before disappearing completely.
“Damn… Damn, Danny… I’m sorry. You know you saved me in Belgium, right? I know, I haven’t forgotten… I haven’t…”
While Bel was planting the parchment, the muttering of the corporal with the short hair grew clearer. He continued staring vacantly into space as if holding a conversation with someone.
The other soldiers, at their wits’ end, could only close their eyes and ignore it. None of them, including Add, dared to comfort the corporal.
“It’s done. Let’s move, I want to finish as quickly as possible and return to the barracks, everyone stay focused…”
BOOM!
Another massive explosion resounded from the front lines. It was the sound of a magic mine detonating, and no one knew who triggered it. It could have been one of the soldiers of the continental army or one of the marauder mutants.
“Sorry! I’m sorry! Danny, but I saved you once too! Remember the battle at Dalin? Come on, go away, Danny.”
Startled by the sudden explosion, the corporal collapsed to the ground, trembling in limbs and voice, spilling out pathetic excuses.
“Damn, damn.”
“…Gasp!”
Other soldiers clenched their fists, trembling or sighing as well. Explosions that usually would have gone unnoticed suddenly sounded deafening.
Perhaps it was because they had performed their operations in silence for twelve hours, but the soldiers were thrown into temporary chaos by the explosion that had sounded nearby.
“Shut up… just shut up…”
The explosion subsided, and the hot wind swept past their collars. The voice of the short-haired corporal grew fainter, but it never stopped.
“Just one more time. We need to survive and return.”
The one to encourage the disoriented soldiers was Bel. Meanwhile, Menes had already moved ahead, searching for a safe path.
“Lance Corporal.”
“…S, Lance Corporal, Citadel Kraya.”
Bel sighed deeply, then approached the corporal with short hair.
Citadel’s trembling voice barely managed to state his rank and name, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
Bel grabbed the corporal by the shoulder and forcibly lifted him to his feet.
Only then did the corporal’s gaze, which had been directed at nothing, turn to Bel.
“Once this mission is over, I will personally ensure that Lance Corporal Danny, transformed into a mutant, rests in peace.”
As Bel’s robes fluttered, his arm was momentarily revealed. On his arm were a number of scars, all running in the same direction.
Add, who saw this, felt a sense of wonder. Though any warrior, whether a mage or a fighter, would bear a scar or two from the battlefield, these scars on Bel’s arm were peculiar—like they had been artificially carved in a straight line.
“…Are you serious? Are you saying, sir, that you’ll personally end Danny’s suffering?”
“I promise. So hang on a little longer.”
“Danny… promise Danny right now, General, the Danny standing right next to you. Right now.”
“…What?”
“Promise Danny standing here! General, promise right now that you will let Danny rest peacefully. Quickly…”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the soldiers.
Menes, listening from afar, barely managed to suppress the sigh that had almost escaped him.
Some soldiers thought to themselves.
Perhaps it would be better to kill this lunatic right here.
He could cause a major accident that could endanger everyone else…
“Fine. I promise, Corporal Danny.”
The soldiers, who had been instinctively reaching for their weapons out of unease, froze momentarily.
Because Bel had said this while gazing into the air.
“…Did you hear that, Danny?”
A cold wind blew. The sky was pitch black, and the area was littered with rotting corpses.
Citadel slowly turned his head, following Bel’s gaze into the empty air. The other soldiers couldn’t help but look in the same direction as well.
“General says he’ll end the suffering, so hang on until the mission ends, right? That’s good. Yes. That’s great, isn’t it?”
Naturally, nothing was there.
“Fools, I’ve found the way.”
“Let’s move. Hang on a little longer, Corporal.”
Bel lightly tapped Citadel on the shoulder, then moved ahead.
For some reason, Add felt an inexpressible sense of shame.
*
Without Bel, the general’s tent was an absolute quietude.
Holy Maiden Gridia had finished her relentless thirteen hours of duty but was repeatedly called by the officers to care for the wounded. Writing reports, being called out, taking a moment to catch her breath—only to be called out again.
It was a life of relentless toil, much like that of a first-year intern doctor working 24/7.
Though I pitied her, she never gave me so much as a glance.
Because another officer had entered the tent, pulling back the heavy cloak.
“Sorry for inconveniencing you…”
“I’ve come here on behalf of General Bin.”
What? Me?
Not Gridia?
With the forced benevolent smile still plastered on her face, Gridia finally turned her eyes to me.
And only when one doesn’t know the truth does that smile seem kind. To my eyes, Gridia’s face looked nothing but pitiful and forlorn.
“What is the matter?”
I slowly rose from the bed and asked the officer.
“Master Bel entrusted a mission to Master Bin before departing.”
“A mission?”
“Prepare your guard forces. I’ll explain the operation on the way.”
“Uh? Now?”
Didn’t we normally get some advanced warning when there was a mission?
Tight security measures are fine, but at the very least, the people heading out should be informed.
“…Where’s Add?”
“It doesn’t matter. Gather all available moving soldiers here within ten minutes. Once everyone’s here, I will explain the plan during our movement.”
“…Where are we going?”
I asked the officer’s retreating back, growing more uneasy.
He held up the thick cloak, quietly answering.
“The battlefield.”
