Chapter 73

Sparse weeds grew here and there on the hill of packed mud. Too few to matter; the heavy, thick soles of my military boots sank through the mud with each step, squelching down to the base.

The moon hung in the sky. The pitch-black storm clouds that had lingered for the last few months had unleashed all the lightning within and scattered, revealing the full moon that lit up the barracks and the surrounding area.

The air around us was as crisp as if it had just rained.

The cool breeze combined with my angled ascent made the climb feel less arduous.

‘What’s Ad, the guy who’s supposedly broken, doing climbing such a high hill?’

Bathing in the cool breeze, I voiced my trivial complaint. A leisurely… perhaps even peaceful moment.

On this hill, I noticed faint flower buds rising among the grass, shimmering under the moonlight. Seeing them, I naturally wanted to bring Lir up this hill sometime. It was a hill you could call one of the less blood-soaked places in this filthy, dreary battlefield.

“Are you planning to desert or something?”

But such peaceful thoughts vanished in an instant at Rex’s words from atop the hill.

“Huh?”

Desertion.

An act where a soldier flees the military without permission.

Desertion was a grave military crime, serious enough that desertion in wartime was, in principle, punishable by immediate execution.

Furthermore, if I possessed the skill to survive an attack by the Archdukes, it was a dream crime I would have committed right then and there.

…Saying it’s a dream crime makes it sound a bit odd, but anyway, that’s the gist.

“That’s correct.”

Add responded very calmly, and refreshingly.

Because we hadn’t yet reached the crest of the hill, I couldn’t tell what expression he wore.

“I am your superior. What’s more, your current post was secured on my recommendation. Are you thinking of just leaving and tarnishing my reputation?”

“…Rex, why did you come to the battlefield?”

“Because I am a warrior.”

What returned to Rex’s prodding was a Zen koan, but he answered Add’s question without a second’s hesitation.

“…I envy you.”

Add spoke with a trembling voice. Fatigue was etched deep into his tone. I doubted if this was the same man who possessed such a bothersomely cheerful and bright personality.

“I wanted to be a hero. From childhood, everyone called me someone who would become a hero, and I myself thought I would become one soon enough.”

Add’s voice wavered with sobs. I don’t know what he saw on this mission, but it certainly couldn’t have been anything normal.

“…But, I realized it today. I can’t be that.”

Add, so utterly drained. Just what happened?

“I let people die. I kept telling myself it was for the mission, a sacrifice for the greater good… but that, the screams of Corporal Danny as he was grasped by that massive, filthy hand and dragged off somewhere, they won’t leave my head.”

Edgar now spoke almost in a whisper.

The small voice barely reached my ear, carried on the wind.

Who on earth is Danny?

…And what did he see?

“Today, I saw Master Bin paint the sky. I wanted to be someone like that.”

Edgar paused, catching his breath, before continuing his story in a voice thick with emotion.

“But perhaps… I will never reach that level. There are only one or two born with that kind of talent in a century.”

Just hearing his voice, it was impossible to tell if Edgar was consumed by anger or by sorrow.

“I saw it. At first, I didn’t understand that look… but now I do. Bel Artois. The most powerful of the current mages, he envied that child painting the sky.”

Perhaps it was both anger and sorrow.

“Do you understand what this means? That even those with talent like Bel cannot become heroes.”

“…”

Rex said nothing to Edgar, who was swallowing his resentment in a small voice.

He simply watched the young man writhe in torment.

“Only a handful, a mere handful reach that place… and in this era, only the Sword Saint and Bin, just those two. I thought I was good. I had no doubt I was talented. Though not comparable to the General, I thought I was strong in my own right…!”

Edgar, it seemed, couldn’t even manage a bitter laugh at how arrogant he’d been.

He paused, catching his breath.

Soon after, the sound of his palm striking his chest resounded.

“…What foolish thoughts. Just look at me. A hero painting the battlefield atop a spirit? No, I am one who cannot even protect the lives of his comrades.”

Edgar began to sob, struggling to breathe.

Awkward, anxious breaths pressed heavily against my shoulder.

“A human destined to be a hero is decided from the moment they’re born.”

With Ed’s despairing voice as its punctuation, the mud made a slapping sound.

Probably Ed finally setting out on his path.

“Displeasing.”

Rex spoke softly, after a moment.

“…….”

The sound of shoe and mud mixing ceased briefly.

“How one is born matters little. How one dies, that is what counts. It seems you desired not to be a hero, but a jester.”

Ed made no reply to Rex’s words.

The slapping sound of mud continued soon after.

The sound grew fainter and fainter, until it became completely inaudible.

For a time, only silence hung over the crest of the hill.

I couldn’t quite seize the moment to ascend to the summit, almost fully reached…

…Perhaps I should just turn back.

“Do come up, now.”

Hmm.

Yes. Now would be fine to go up.

At Rex’s bidding, I slowly crested the hill. Only the large-framed Orc and clearly imprinted footprints stood guard there.

“Uh…”

Rex stood, turned slightly, gazing after the direction Edgar had vanished. His back held a profound melancholy.

“I’m sorry. You trusted me, gave me personnel authority, and then this happens.”

“No, I don’t fault you, Rex. It’s just… a regrettable loss, I suppose.”

Honestly, Edgar’s disappearance didn’t stir as much regret as I let on. We’d only known each other a few days, and even then, my first impression of him hadn’t been particularly favorable.

“Always spouting words like ‘hero,’ acting like some overgrown child. His mannerisms… they felt so detached from reality. So, I’m not exactly surprised.”

He’s gone anyway, might as well speak freely now.

I confessed my true feelings about Edgar to Rex, a weight lifting from my shoulders.

“That’s because he *is* a child, in many ways.”

“…I’m younger than him, though.”

“But General, you’ve experienced so much. Meeting the Archdemon, venturing into dungeons so dangerous that artifacts were discovered even when you were just a boy.”

That business about dungeon-crawling since childhood was a complete fabrication.

I never imagined such a convenient use for that casually spun lie.

“Compared to that, Edgar is but a babe. His talents and skills have only faced weak demons or Variants. He’s never had to confront abject failure or defeat in his entire life.”

Rex spoke quietly, as we descended the hillside.

“…Twenty is an appropriate age to become an adult. At least, that’s what I believe.”

Looking at Rex, I silently pleaded, *’Well, now that my guard detail has shrunk, what are we going to do about it?’*

Edgar’s departure was what it was; we had to prepare for what was to come.

Rex seemed saddened by Edgar’s desertion, likely due to their pre-existing acquaintance. I felt none of that sentiment concerning his absence.

Whether Edgar grows up or remains an eternal adolescent, what do I care? He’s no longer my guard. Just another deserter.

* * *

The generals’ tents were always brightly lit late into the night.

Grisha had to record the number of wounded and dead for the day, and Bel needed to grasp the immediate war situation and formulate future plans.

But tonight, unlike usual, only a small lantern illuminated the interior of the tent. Though the two were normally buried in paperwork until late, their workload was lighter this evening.

The reason for Grisha’s reduced workload was none other than alcohol and tobacco.

Usually, soldiers, pushed to their breaking points with stress, would riot, self-harm, and become casualties; or they’d lose focus and accidentally target their own allies with magic – absurd mistakes were frequent. However, today, thanks to the liquor and smokes, the soldiers’ stress was lower, and such incidents had noticeably decreased.

With their minds clear, the soldiers proved they were the continent’s elite, repelling the encroaching Variants and Mazoku with minimal losses. Today’s wounded numbered only eleven, and the only fallen were Bel and those who accompanied him on the mission.

Bel, too, would normally be wrestling with reports and maps until dawn, but tonight he could close his eyes early.

The operation to infiltrate enemy territory and bury the parchment had been successfully completed. Furthermore, the boy had drawn attention even more spectacularly than expected.

The Mazoku overlords wouldn’t be able to ignore this situation. They would launch an aggressive offensive to eliminate this Vin, and the Continental Army would simply need to parry it.

The trap was set.

Now was the time to wait for the crayfish and fish to get caught.

“General Bel, are you asleep?”

A small voice, carried on the dim lantern light, drifted from the entrance of the tent.

“What is it?”

Bel, lying on his cot with his eyes closed, asked without moving. Grisha and the boy, though it was still early, were already deep asleep.

“A letter has arrived.”

As if the thing he was waiting for had finally come, Bel opened his eyes and got out of bed.

“…The sender?”

Bel asked as he slowly walked toward the entrance.

“The Grand General.”