Chapter 98

Rex, son of Beljark.

Like all other orcs, he enlisted in the army with his axe on his coming-of-age day, and cleaved through the enemy.

In the year he turned twenty-two, he faced death for the first time, and then death again the year after.

On his twenty-sixth birthday, he achieved a feat worthy of being called a ‘Merit’ for the first time, and became someone whose name occasionally surfaced among the soldiers.

By this year, his thirty-third, the number of mutants slain by his hand exceeded ten thousand, and the lives he had saved, over a hundred thousand.

Rex, son of Beljark, was by no means someone worthy of being called a ‘genius’, but he was brave, righteous, and a being worthy of being called a hero.

“Damn.”

Yes, a damn hero indeed.

“Filthy, wretched…”

Carefully, I placed my hand on Rex’s fallen form.

The adrenaline of battle subsided, and the surrounding stillness began to pound in my skull.

“…”

Ice cold. The hole torn through his abdomen was large, and blood continued to spill.

I struggled to turn Rex onto his back. Unsurprisingly, his body wouldn’t budge.

“Rex, are you awake…?”

No matter how hard I pushed, he didn’t move. It couldn’t be easy to breathe with his face pressed into the ground like that.

I had no choice but to turn his head at least, to the side.

“…Shit.”

Rex’s face, turned to the side, was a ghastly blue. His breath was thin, near to breaking, and his skin was as cold as a glacier.

“Shiiiit…”

I collapsed right there. A faint lightning flash erupted from the floor. A loud electrical crackle echoed between my skin and my robes.

[Composure]

Prevented me from falling into despair.

If I could even just burst into tears, it would feel so much better.

As of today, I owed Rex my life three times over.

And so, sprawled there, I clasped my hands together and prayed endlessly.

I didn’t know to whom I should pray.

Right, Rex believed in Astelle, so let’s offer a prayer to Astelle, at least.

“…”

And so, silence again.

Rang out eternally.

“…Rise.”

Not long after, that silence, that seemed destined to last forever, shattered into pieces.

The voice belonged to the Sword Saint, and I immediately shot lightning towards the place from whence his voice came.

A pure white spark grazed past the Sword Saint’s side.

I glared at him with resentful eyes, and he looked at me with eyes of pity.

“Move…”

“What took you so long?”

I know.

The Sword Saint has dealt with the Grand Dukes. I know I’m in no position to question him.

I also know that the only reason I gained the upper hand against Maltiel was because the pressure of ‘the Sword Saint will be here soon’ constantly suppressed him.

I know that Rex’s death was entirely due to my own lack of ability.

I know that Alter’s death also happened because I am weak.

From the very beginning, pretending to be a genius when I wasn’t, deceiving everyone… that was wrong.

“Get moving. Nothing is over yet.”

“…What do you mean?”

The battle is over.

The fact that he has appeared here means the third Grand Duke, Michael, is dead.

Rex killed the fourth himself, so the war in Valerand…

“Focus, General. The battle is over, but the war is not. Gather the wounded. If we move quickly, there are still many lives we can save.”

“…Save… Rex?”

“Not just Rex Belzark. Alter Heindel, Sergeant Maxwell, Lieutenant Martellion, and Private First Class Hames as well. If we move now, there’s a chance.”

Alter.

“Did you see Alter…? Where is he now…?”

“I only have three minutes left to stay on this battlefield. I will take the most critical soldiers to Grisha first. Your injuries aren’t as severe, so wait here for a moment. There’s a limit to how many people I can carry.”

The Sword Saint said that and walked deeper into the pit. Approaching Rex, he tore a strip from the sleeve of his clean clothes, unfolding it like a bandage.

“The battle is done, but the war is not. Remember this, General.”

Repeating the words once more, he briefly examined Rex’s body, a gaping hole torn through his abdomen. Without attempting to staunch the bleeding, he hoisted him onto his back.

Did he believe it was more likely Rex would survive if he delivered him to Grisha as swiftly as possible, rather than waste precious seconds on a clumsy attempt at first aid?

Impossible to know.

Simply, there was no hesitation in the swordsman’s actions.

Soon, the man carrying Rex vanished like a mirage.

Only a pool of dark crimson remained on the ground, frozen in place as if forged from solid metal.

Moments later, the crackling electricity that had been snarling between skin and robe fell silent.

A stillness blotted out my vision.

* * *

A hazy vermilion filled my eyes.

Then, something indigo fluttered at the edge of my sight. I lowered my head, seeking to identify the entity that was teasing my vision. A vivid yellow greeted me.

“…….”

Slowly, the faint colors began to coalesce into shapes.

Soon, I recognized the unidentifiable yellow silhouette.

It was Lir.

Her robe was soaked in muddy water, turning it indigo, and her snow-white skin was the same.

Red streaks stained around Lir’s eyes. Without realizing it, I reached out and placed my hand on that area. A slender hand touched her face.

I stroked her face with my right hand, but felt nothing.

Lir took my unnaturally moving right hand in hers and asked, her eyes filled with concern.

“Are you alright? Shall I fetch the clerics…?”

“It’s nothing. Just twisted it.”

I spun a lie, unwilling to let Lir leave my side.

And in my heart, I prayed for time to stand still.

I don’t know why I offered up such a prayer. Perhaps it was fear of what lay ahead?

How many had died, how many survived, and how many were simply gone?

The battle was over, so the general had to attend to his men.

Distinguishing the living from the dead, loading the corpses strewn across the battlefield onto carts.

I hated it.

I was sick to death of talk of war.

I just… just wanted to abandon everything, to sit quietly with Lir, trading silly jokes.

But that was impossible, wasn’t it?

“…What about Rex and Alter?”

“…”

This time, Lir touched my face with her slender hand. Tears welled in her reddened eyes, and then streamed down her cheeks.

“They… they pulled through. Both of them.”

“…Their injuries? Really?”

I responded to Lir’s words with a wide, unrestrained laugh.

For a result I’d wanted time to stop rather than discover, it was better than I could have imagined.

I don’t even know how long it’s been since I laughed like this. Two weeks? No, it’s been more than three, I think.

“It *is* Grisha.”

“Madness. Maybe *I’ll* start going to church, starting today.”

Lir, still drying her tears, let out a faint chuckle.

Seeing that, I burst out laughing again. Still like trying to keep air in a punctured balloon, but joyous nonetheless.

“…Master is asleep right now. Grisha says he should wake up within two weeks, at the latest. Rex… Rex suffered serious injuries, but he should be awake within ten days.”

“Rex will wake up first?”

“He’s a strong one. Master is an old man, over eighty.”

“Well… It’s definite that Alter is old. I guarantee it. One hundred percent certified old-timer.”

The certainty of being alive, of waking up, loosened my tongue, made it move without permission.

Lir looked like it was hard for her to relax and laugh at my teasing joke.

But she did laugh.

And I’m satisfied with that.

“…Rest.”

Her slender fingers brush my hair back.

Following the direction of her touch, my gaze drifted upwards.

Only then did I notice the sunset, beginning to disappear far below the hills.

“…Those people.”

And against that sunset, the long shadow of an orc carrying a massive banner on his back stretched out.

Behind the orc walked an elf, holding a broken longbow.

A dwarf with a small hammer and a human with a large nail in his hand were hurrying after the orc and elf ahead of them.

Presently, the shadows halted atop a hill of decent stature.

The orc, carrying a banner on his back, planted it at the hill’s highest point. A height easily exceeding ten meters, by rough estimate.

The elf reached out to the pole, firmly secured by the orc. Immediately, thick ropes unfurled from it.

The elf tugged until the ropes were taut, then passed them to the dwarf who followed close behind. The dwarf promptly received nails from the human and commenced hammering.

…That banner, even after prolonged viewing, felt excessive. Observing the enormous tarp, limp for lack of wind, caused any budding sense of grandeur to quickly turn frigid.

A banner over a dozen meters high; and not even foldable – how on earth did they transport that thing in a wagon?

A ceaseless stream of inanities surfaced in my mind, yet I felt strangely disinclined to voice them aloud.

And it wasn’t just that.

I even began to fervently hope for wind, for that banner to finally billow.

“…”

Just a large tarp, paint, and an unnecessarily long pole.

A simple, ordinary banner, untouched by any magic or special craft.

Nevertheless. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from it for some time.

It was the least the survivors could offer as respect to the dead,

And a message from the dead to the living.

We held today. So we entrust you with tomorrow.

* * *

51,123 Deaths

4,123 Injuries

11,577 Missing

Survivors: 6,781

The Valorland War

Allied Victory