Chapter 61

Beneath the heavy, overcast sky, soldiers bustled about, unloading the various supplies, liquor, and tobacco from the enormous wagon. Every single one of them openly salivated at the sight of the dozens upon dozens of stacked bottles. Some, unable to resist any longer, reached for the supplies and were disciplined by the officers.

Because they were in the midst of war, the soldiers couldn’t all gather together and enjoy a merry party. However, those who had finished their guard duty or returned to the barracks after a grueling mission could rely on alcohol to find a moment of peace.

Soldiers heading out for guard duty would pour a little liquor into their canteens. The officers were aware of this, but they turned a blind eye, given the severity of the battlefield.

In Valerand, the soldiers were all veterans of exceptional skill. No one was so lacking in responsibility as to succumb to the lure of drink to the point of intoxication. Any liquor the sentries carried was merely to sip, to dull bad memories; no one ever rioted in drunken stupor.

Tobacco was not particularly popular amongst the common soldiers. The inconvenience of carrying and maintaining a pipe was one thing, but the fatal flaw was its smoke.

To raise smoke on the battlefield was tantamount to begging for death. The soldiers here knew well the importance of concealing oneself, so none would ever venture into the fray with a cigarette between their lips.

Instead, tobacco was favored amongst the officers and medics stationed to the rear. It was no great surprise, seeing as they weren’t the ones meeting the enemy’s blades or spears face-to-face.

Moreover, the people of this medieval age held the ridiculous belief that tobacco cleared the mind, aided in meditation, and was even a healthy supplement for the body. Perhaps due to this misconception, the medics often offered tobacco not only to themselves, but to the injured they tended.

…As a man with the common sense of a modern age, I tried to dissuade them, but they paid little heed to my words.

‘No, the soldiers assigned to Valerand are all monsters surpassing common sense. How could the lungs of such monsters be harmed by a few cigarettes?’

Perhaps, with the allowance of fantasy, tobacco truly was a beneficial substance in this world.

…Yes, it would be much more comfortable to think that way.

“This is the barracks where the Generals reside.”

The officer, with his gruff demeanor, left the inventory to another subordinate and escorted me and my companions to the barracks prepared for the Generals.

For a place where heroes bearing the future of mankind resided, it seemed rather plain. The thick, ochre blankets were worn and soiled with mud and rain, patched in every corner.

I cautiously lifted the heavy blanket that served as a door and peeked inside the barracks.

Only two figures occupied the spacious interior.

“……”

The first to catch my eye was Bel Artois, a 9th Circle pyromancer. The man, with his sleek, dark hair, bore dark circles beneath his eyes, as did the other officers, as though he had not slept for days. His wine-colored robes were torn in several places, but he, too, seemed to bear no physical wounds.

The Saintess Grisha lay in bed with her eyes closed. She did not appear to be sleeping. She simply… looked profoundly weary.

Her priestly robes were stained with traces of poison, purified and reapplied, judging by the blisters covering the tips of her fingers.

Like Bel, she had dark circles beneath her eyes.

Both Generals acknowledged my entrance by releasing deep sighs.

These faces… I knew them to the point of exhaustion. The Sword Saint’s party was at the core of the game’s story. Once you got your footing and your character’s growth was on track, they were the ones you relied on, and who relied on you, throughout the whole game.

“Uh… It’s a pleasure.”

But having played this game for thousands of hours, something felt jarring. Their expressions were so…dark.

The game developers, perhaps to impress upon players that these characters were the strongest in the game world, always showed them smiling or looking confidently assured.

Saintess Grisha always wore a benevolent smile as she aided those in need, and Bel Artois was always calm and self-assured as he wielded his staff.

But those huddled there in the barracks… they looked so tired, so anxious.

“You’ve arrived.”

Bel Artois.

The calm, dark-haired mage in his thirties rose from the mold-stained cot, pulling a pipe from within his robes and placing it between his lips. It was clogged with bits of unburnt tobacco. It didn’t look like he took care of it.

‘…Did he even smoke in the game?’

Of course, there were no illustrations or graphics of Bel Artois smoking. Stress and anxiety were words that didn’t exist for him in the game.

“Your place is over there. Unpack if you have luggage.”

“Yes, understood.”

Every time Bel, his bangs nearly covering his eyes, spoke, my pupils widened slightly. It wasn’t anything specific. It was because Bel Artois, the Bel Artois *I* knew, was not someone you’d call good-natured, even as a formality. This version of him felt utterly alien.

In the game, Bel Artois was a man who would willingly incinerate his own subordinates if necessary. He constantly made decisions teetering between coldness and ruthlessness, and sometimes seemed more demonic than the demons themselves.

His inhuman, almost mechanical, logic and composure meant that Bel served as a sort of strategist for the Sword Saint’s party. Even the mighty Sword Saint himself rarely dared to contradict Bel’s orders.

In short, this man was the true power behind this army… no, perhaps even the entire nation!

If we’re talking power rankings in the continent, you should know that Emperors and Kings are #1, Bel is #2, and The Sword Saint is only #3.

“…I recognize Alter Heindel, and that prodigy from the Electric school. But who are the rest?”

Bel, pipe clamped between his teeth, stepped out of the barracks, looked at those awaiting me, and posed the question to me.

“Ah, these are the frontliners I hired. A mage always needs frontliners, but it seemed inefficient to coordinate with different ones and devise new strategies for every battlefield.”

“Hmm.”

Bell snapped his fingers, igniting the pipe’s ashy dregs. He didn’t seem to be listening to my explanation all that closely.

“You there, elf and human.”

“…I-I’m Lir,”

“Private Add Taylor, reporting for duty!”

Lir, unused to speaking with strangers, seemed to shrink into her robes as she answered, while Add’s voice was loud enough to disregard the listener’s eardrums.

“…”

Bell momentarily scowled at Add’s booming voice. Why did his subtle shift in expression send a chill down my spine?

“You two, take the supply wagon back to the capital.”

Add spoke as he desperately sucked on the pipe, now filled with nothing but ash. The smoke was a harsh, earthy color.

“…Pardon?”

At the abrupt order to return, Add uttered the most foolish sound a soldier could make, while Lir merely stared at Bell, her eyes wide with bewilderment.

“…Do you doubt our abilities? Just give us a chance, we’ll become heroes!”

Add, seemingly unable to comprehend the situation, loudly protested.

*This crazy b*stard, what are you doing?*

I anxiously watched Bell’s reaction. In the game, Bell was a character with no mercy, known to burn soldiers alive for “disrupting military discipline” if they dared disobey him.

“No, I don’t particularly doubt your abilities.”

But contrary to my worried gaze, Bell kindly explained his reasoning. An unplaceable sense of foreignness prickled at me.

“You two are promising. It would be a waste of your talents to use you as cannon fodder on some battlefield. That is all.”

“If we’re promising, shouldn’t that be all the more reason not to send us back? Suddenly telling us to leave… what sort of….”

Instead of simply agreeing, Ed needlessly pressed Bell with yet another question. He couldn’t seem to accept this situation, not at all.

“You can’t understand when I put it nicely that you’re promising? You’re a hindrance, you lot, with your lack of experience and skill. We don’t have space in our army for soft-hearted fools who fight while coddling children like you.”

Bell’s tone sharpened as he lashed out at Ed. Lirr seemed frightened, head bowed low, eyes hidden by the brim of his hat, but Ed instead took a step closer to Bell, raising his voice even further.

“Do you think I’m still a child? I can certainly handle my own!”

“…I, too, do not wish to return.”

Alongside Ed’s booming defiance, Lirr offered his opinion in a small voice.

“For twenty years, I have wandered as an adventurer, fighting countless monsters and variants! I will prove it! The extent of my skill! Give me the chance, and I will become a hero.”

A snort.

A sound close to a sneer escaped Bell’s lips, followed by a puff of smoke. The acrid tobacco smoke swirled around Bell’s eyes.

‘Damn it, is he going to do it? Is he finally revealing his true nature…?’

I watched Bell’s fingertips with a tense expression. If he so desired, he could turn some whelp like Ed into ashes without leaving even a trace.

I kept my gaze fixed on the back of Bell Artua’s head with growing dread.

…Though it was unlikely, if his fingertips or his staff were to point towards Lirr, I would not hesitate to use ‘Bloom.’

“Well, if you want to die that badly, go ahead.”

Bell stared down at Ed and Lirr for a long moment, then raised his head to the sky, replying as if to himself.

The storm clouds remained dense, engulfing the sky and hiding the sunlight.

“…Thank you!”

He told them to die and they answered with thanks. This conversation had gone wrong somewhere, and in some profound way… I did not bother to interfere.

Lirr, too, seemed relieved at the prospect of remaining on the battlefield.

“Lead them to the barracks.”

At Bell’s command, the officer with the deep dark circles under his eyes led the four of them towards another barracks nearby. I watched Bell, his sharp gaze following the backs of Lir and Add, and mustered my courage to speak.

“…They won’t be a burden. Lir reached the 5th Circle at the youngest age in the history of the Electro-Mages. And Add… well, I don’t know him well, but Rex complimented him, saying he was technically superior, so he’ll definitely be helpful.”

I added my personal opinion, anxiously worrying that Bell might harbor resentment from this conversation and secretly set fire to the barracks where they would be staying.

Alter Heindel is an irreplaceable mentor to me. Thanks to the magical theories I learned from him, I’ve been able to survive until now.

Rex was the benefactor who risked his life to protect me, someone he could have easily abandoned on the roadside, and Lir was the only friend I could open my heart to and talk to after suddenly being dropped into another world.

I had to prevent them from being killed or injured in any way.

Add?

Well… honestly, I’d only met him less than a day ago, so I didn’t really care, but still, one should prevent people from dying, shouldn’t one?

“Helpful, they may be. It’s just a pity.”

Bell said, deeply inhaling from the pipe that was no longer producing smoke.

“In just ten more years, those two will grow to be famous throughout the entire continent. For promising talents with so much potential for growth to die or be injured on this battlefield is a great loss for the Allied Forces.”

“…Then why don’t you send me back?”

The question that had only been in my mind involuntarily spilled out of my mouth.

No, it’s not something I should say myself, but honestly, if we’re talking about potential, wouldn’t I be the most promising?

Even though it’s a reputation built on misunderstandings, I am, in my own way, a ‘promising individual destined to save humanity’.

I don’t want to die in this dark, sunless battlefield without even being able to scream.

“You’re certainly here too early for this battlefield. That’s why I don’t expect any particular achievements from you.”

“Then am I also useless on this battlefield? Why do you tell them to go back, but not me?”

I clung to Bell’s words. In an instant, a feeling of unfairness and confusion welled up inside my chest, and my voice involuntarily rose slightly.

“No, why is Lir and Edd being sent back while they want to keep me here? If they expect nothing from me, then there’s no reason for me to be here, is there?

Send me back to the capital too. Please.

“Looks like you’re quite heated that your comrades are being dismissed.”

He looked down at my raised voice, as if I were a small, amusing thing, and spoke thus.

…It seemed he was under some strange misunderstanding again.

I was just jealous, that’s all.

“Well, if it were up to me, I’d send you back to the capital as well. Unfortunately, there’s something I need you to do.”

Edd, his pipe no longer smoking, took a drag and walked inside the makeshift barracks.

“Rest now, I’ll explain about the task later.”

The earthy smoke hit the barracks ceiling and began to drift down softly. A pungent, acrid smell pricked at my nose.

The common sense of not smoking indoors was, naturally, nonexistent in the medieval ages.