Chapter 64

September 21st

06:00 AM.

Operation Name: Fish Trap

Operation Number: 05―0078

Location: Valoran, Coordinates 05―46.75

In Charge: General Bell Artois

The following day. The hour before the sun had yet risen.

Bell arrived at the pre-arranged location an hour early and checked his equipment.

Around 5:30 AM, all the soldiers participating in the operation had gathered, and they habitually re-checked their equipment, equipment they had already confirmed countless times.

“Take these.”

At 5:55 AM, Bell Artois distributed masks that completely covered the face to the soldiers. Outwardly, they didn’t appear much different from the ones doctors used when treating plague patients.

The oddity lay in the mask’s beak-like extension, abruptly severed, and the presence of large, unidentified canisters affixed to either side of the cheeks.

“Dwarven craftsmanship. A mask specially forged. Grants breath even amidst the thickest gas and poison. Costs roughly 29 gold pieces to produce just one of these.”

“Hah, more expensive than my yearly wages.”

A soldier, who’d been listening, scoffed in disbelief, examining the mask in his hand.

“Costly and heavy, yes, but allows unfettered movement in enemy territory rife with toxins and waste. Internal communication magic is woven within, so communication won’t be an issue.”

One by one, the soldiers covered their faces with the masks, tightening the buckles at the back of their heads.

“Move out. You lead, Lieutenant.”

The communication runes inside the masks emitted a faint glow.

Exactly 6:00 AM.

At his command, the high-ranking elf archer, seemingly accustomed to such tasks, took the lead and moved forward.

They carefully stepped beyond the frontline, thick with silence and tension. Soldiers on guard at the base of the trenches looked bewildered as Vel, masked, suddenly appeared.

The rank-and-file soldiers couldn’t have known about today’s operation. Even a fairly high-ranking officer stared with curiosity at Vel, heading somewhere from early morning wearing a mask of unknown origin.

After walking several meters, they soon reached the end of the extended trench.

Compared to the battlefield buried in mud, the outer edge of the battlefield where Vel and the soldiers now stood retained some semblance of the old Valloran.

The remnants of walls that had soared to dizzying heights, a dwarven workshop half-obliterated by bombardment, and an old fruit store completely collapsed remained, unburied by the mud or reduced to dust.

“Watch for mines. The outer edge of the battlefield, strategically insignificant, lacks heavy security, but reconnaissance has reported a few mines discovered.”

With the terse warning, the elf lieutenant swiftly exited the trench and disappeared among the rubble of buildings. Vel and the other soldiers followed, and Ad also concealed himself amidst the debris without incident.

Passing the ruins of buildings collapsed on the battlefield’s edge, a forest ablaze came into view. Acrid smoke obscured their vision, but thanks to the masks, breathing remained unimpeded.

They walked through the burning forest for what felt like two or three hours.

The elf lieutenant, Menes, acting as a guide, warned them of the location of mines from time to time; that was the extent of the conversation exchanged between them in the two hours.

“…From here on, it’s enemy territory. We infiltrated by circling around the rear, so don’t expect support from the main force.”

Intermittent sounds of mines detonating and soldiers’ screams echoed faintly, but no one except Ad showed any sign of surprise.

“Consider that getting caught means instant death and move with utmost caution.”

Menes left with that brief warning, disappearing into the burning forest.

“…”

The demon forces’ formation… it was eerily silent.

A chilling silence that contrasted sharply with the Allied forces’ encampment, where there was never a quiet day due to the groans of the injured and the rampages of the insane.

Ad was overwhelmed by the silence, momentarily forgetting to breathe.

“Move out.”

Menes, after confirming that the formation was somewhat reorganized, took the lead and moved forward.

The smell of blood, a smell that never became familiar no matter how often he smelled it, only grew stronger. For some reason, it seemed that even the most expensive and high-performance masks couldn’t completely eliminate this scent.

Menes marched onward, wading through the mud mixed with blood and flesh, with Bell following closely behind.

The surroundings were littered with the corpses of mutants, emitting unknown gasses.

Corpses with their upper and lower bodies separated, masses of completely crushed mutant flesh, a giant orc’s arm, and bones so massive that their origin was impossible to guess, were scattered around.

“First point secured.”

Menes said quietly after securing the surrounding area.

Bell immediately pulled a thick piece of parchment from within his wine-colored robes.

The parchment, covered with patterns and writing that Ad couldn’t understand, melted as soon as it touched the ground, emitting a pure white smoke like a chunk of meat falling into a pit of poison.

Faintly glowing letters were etched into the mud floor, and Bell immediately moved his boots to cover them with mud.

“…Just eight more times like this. A simpler task than one might think.”

Adro couldn’t decipher the meaning behind Bell’s actions.

He wasn’t particularly gifted in magical knowledge, nor had he been briefed on the mission’s true objective beforehand.

All he knew was, “Escort the mage.” That was the sum total of his understanding.

Questions bubbled in his mind, but they were in the heart of enemy territory. Asking after returning to base wouldn’t be too late, so he held his tongue for now.

“Our task here is complete. We move to the next sector.”

Menesses brushed past Bell and advanced towards their next destination.

The next sector was quite a distance away. Menesses, senses heightened, cautiously proceeded, scanning their surroundings. Bell and the other soldiers followed in hushed silence.

A tense quiet stretched for perhaps ten minutes.

“Halt.”

Menesses’ voice, distorted by the runes etched into his mask, broke the silence. Something had caught his eye.

“…Route deviation. Too many globs of flesh, saturated with virulent poison, lie ahead. One misstep and our limbs will melt.”

“How much of a detour?”

“A mere five minutes’ difference. It won’t affect the operation.”

Menesses assured them, but a chill, strangely, prickled Adro’s spine.

‘This operation…the elven Lieutenant and General Bell, at least, must know everything. They haven’t told grunts like us, but have meticulously planned every detail, from which paths to take to how we move.’

The optimal, repeatedly reviewed route had been disrupted. A mere five minutes’ difference, yes, but it meant a breach, however small, had appeared in what was meant to be a ‘flawless operation.’

“…Should the worst occur, our mage will remain hidden, offering no support. Exposing a General-rank mage in this location would doom the entire mission. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

As if to confirm Adro’s unease wasn’t mere fancy, Menesses reiterated the ‘worst-case scenario,’ which he had stressed repeatedly before the mission began.

Thick mud squelched beneath the weight of heavy combat boots.

The soldiers, clad in lightweight gear that allowed for stealth instead of cumbersome armor, quietly swallowed hard.

To meet a demon or a mutated being in this state, with no shield or armor to protect oneself, would surely result in grievous injury.

And a grievous injury in enemy territory… meant certain death.

“Absolutely no sound. Follow me closely, and stay alert.”

Menes drew his sharpened dagger, lowering his body and skillfully navigating the debris. Crossing rotted wood and mounds of repulsive mud, they reached their second target point.

Bell quietly chanted an incantation behind his mask, setting down the parchment he’d kept hidden in his belongings. Once again, the parchment slowly sank into the mud, vanishing completely from sight.

While Bell buried the parchment, the soldiers kept watch over the surroundings. How they longed for the armor that had felt so heavy and cumbersome only today.

*Thump!*

A chilling footstep sliced through the silence, resonating through their chests. Ordinarily, the armor would have vibrated, but today the immense tremor struck their bodies directly.

“…Down.”

At Menes’ command, most of the soldiers ducked their heads sharply. If they could, they would have buried their faces in the ground, but this mud was saturated with blood and poison, so they could only lower their heads as far as possible.

“S-spare me, please. Spare meee!”

Where the great tremor had rung out, a colossal giant stood, shoulders towering above the ramparts. Stitched with seams all over, skin hanging loose like rags, it appeared the mutated being had been made by a demon of less than stellar skill.

The mutated being’s hand grasped a handful of torn and broken armor.

“aaah!”

A horrifying scream erupted from within the armor, soaked with filthy poison.

“Danny…”

One of the soldiers muttered someone’s name, his face pale.

“Someone you knew?”

“…Classmate. Training camp classmate. Worked together for five years… saved my life twice. Damn it, he went missing in the last battle. Son of a b*tch, son of a b*tch…”

The soldier with the close-cropped hair spoke as if in a trance. His gaze was fixed on the monstrous mutated being.

Hidden, becoming rough, focus wavering. Finally, the soldier, staring blankly at the colossal mutant, turned to Bell, speaking as if requesting his command.

“…He’s like a brother to me.”

A trembling gaze visible beyond the mask.

“Give the order.”

Meness waited for Bell’s decision, Bell not even glancing toward the giant.

On this battlefield, being captured was more horrific than dying. The dead merely became part of the mud, but the captured… their bodies twisted, brains melted, transforming into mutants.

“Continue the operation. We move.”

Bell didn’t even pretend to think.

“…”

The short-haired soldier felt a foul stench pressing down on his shoulders. The screams of his comrade, a brother, still echoed not far off.

“That mutant is just big, but slow. If you give the command, I can rescue him right away.”

Eddard said, his hand moving to the greatsword slung across his back. He, too, knew well the fate that awaited those captured by the demonic horde.

“Don’t talk nonsense, and take your hand off your sword. I said continue the operation.”

Bell dismissively snapped, his voice sharp with irritation.

“…There’s plenty of time to save him.”

Eddard looked ready to draw his blade and charge at the mutant. The other soldiers carefully placed their hands on their weapons, ready to cut Eddard down immediately if he attempted such a foolish act.

The short-haired soldier could only stare blankly at his comrade being dragged away somewhere in the giant’s hand.

“Depending on the individual, there are demons who maintain a real-time link with the mutants’ consciousness. If we’re detected by them, things get complicated. Our mission is not rescue. If you understand, remove your hand from the sword, Private.”

Bell tasted iron in his mouth.

A taste he could never grow accustomed to.

“……Surely you know what will happen if we just leave him there like that.”

Ad scoffed, glancing back and forth between the short-haired soldier and Bell.

“Didn’t you hear he was in training with him? Five years they worked together. Five years on the battlefield, that’s practically brotherhood—”

“Shut it.”

The short-haired soldier gripped Ad’s shoulder hard, cutting him off. The force in his grip twisted Ad’s shoulder momentarily.

“……Corporal?”

“Just… please, shut it.”

The short-haired soldier’s eyes swam with a chaotic mix of confusion, self-loathing, and guilt.

“……”

The other soldiers remained silent. They couldn’t side with Ad, nor could they side with the short-haired soldier.

Because they couldn’t be sure what decision they would make were they in the same situation.

“……”

Ad had to make a choice.

Whether to go and save the poor soldier, doomed to a gruesome, melting, tearing end, or to look the other way and continue with the mission as planned.

“……”

It didn’t take Ad long to decide. He slowly lowered his hand from the grip of the greatsword slung across his back.

“A disturbance will draw other Variants to this place, and that will mean the annihilation of the entire team.”

…Ad understood that clearly in his mind.

“Are we really just going to leave him, General?”

Even so, Ad asked. He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth.

It was impossible to lift his foot, to move.

Unbelievable.

Hero.

Weren’t the Sword Saints and Generals the closest to that childish, cliché word?

And yet, those called heroes could so heartlessly ignore a comrade’s death.

The illusions he’d held since childhood, his admiration for them, felt like waterlogged paper, tearing to shreds.

Their heroic tales, as told by word of mouth and in the papers, felt like nothing but lies.

“This is the battlefield.”

Bell didn’t bother adding much more.

“Help meeeee…”

The soldier’s voice, grasped in the giant’s hand and dragged away, was now barely audible.

“…We only move according to orders. We have no choice. Yes, we just follow orders. We’re soldiers.”

The short-haired soldier, who’d shared the battlefield with the kidnapped soldier for over five years, repeated the words like a mantra. That painful soliloquy passed through the rune script on their masks, reaching all the soldiers.

“This is the battlefield. This is the battlefield. People die. Because this is the battlefield.”

The corporal’s hand, forced to ignore a comrade who was practically a brother, trembled with anger and grief.

And… the others simply hoped the corporal’s mind would hold out until they returned to base.

“Yes, it’s the battlefield. It’s okay, this is where things like this happen, on the battlefield. Let’s go, Private. Yeah.”

The short-haired corporal spoke, patting Add’s back with a trembling hand.

Eyes, the eyes visible beyond the mask, were a complex and profound mix of emotions that defied any single word.

His eyes were looking at Add, but not really seeing him.

He gazed towards that faraway place, a place utterly unconnected to this one.

Seeing this, Edna and the other soldiers felt a shiver of unknown origin.

Edna couldn’t be sure if this was the right thing to do.

‘Because it’s an order.’

‘Because it’s the battlefield.’

But life wasn’t light enough to dismiss with such convenient excuses.

…He had always believed that.

“……”

Soon even the faintest screams faded, leaving only the oppressive silence that had first greeted them.

The stench of blood, hidden within the mud, grew endlessly stronger.

Splorch.

Mud and boots fell, emitting a thick, viscous sound.

Edna, in the end, belatedly rejoined the ranks of Bell and the other soldiers.

For the first time in his life, he felt disgust for himself.