Chapter 17

“If we don’t want Louise to hear about this, whose milk do you think you lot should be handing over?”

Belle tilted her head.

“Y-yours, ma’am!”

Amon barked, bending almost double.

“At least one of you can speak sense.”

She ruffled his hair.

Imperial Army 1st Training Center, 66th Class.

The trainees laughed, scowled, and shouted over the dumbest jokes.

Risking their lives to become soldiers.

Forgetting, for a moment, the terror that they might soon die.

Acting every bit their age.

Mixing, melting together.

“Haha...”

It was fun.

“Laughing?”

“Yeah—keep laughing. Stay like that.”

“Where did that come from?”

I’ll keep you alive.

Kinjo Shua.

Louise Murphy.

And Belle Red.

Five days before their deaths.

* * *

Front Lines.

Imperial Special Mission Unit 1.

“What the hell are those things?”

The captain pointed skyward.

Marcello’s gaze followed his finger.

“Clouds, sir.”

“Not those. Look past them.”

“Sorry, sir. When evaporated vapor rises—”

“Forget science. Those giant crow-like demon beasts circling day and night—what do you think they are?”

“Giant crows?”

“Use your head, Marcello.”

“We’re stretched thin just holding the line. No time to watch the sky.”

“Figured you’d say that.”

They knelt beside the orcs Marcello had cut down in one sweep.

No different from the usual kind.

Except one.

“Marcello, over here.”

The captain’s voice dropped, grave.

“What is it?”

“Let’s think this through.”

He crouched and examined an orc’s armor.

Only this orc wore something different: crude plates of iron riveted together.

Odd detail:

“Rings,” Marcello murmured, fingering the metal.

“Two on each shoulder—four total. What for?”

“Shackles? Something to hitch rope to?”

“Why rope?”

“No idea.”

“Might not be rope—holes are huge. You could thread ten ropes through one.”

“Weapons, then?”

“Too small. Hang a sword here and it’d ride sideways—awkward.”

“Or...”

Marcello lifted her eyes, staring blankly at the sky while her mind raced.

Then she saw it.

“We have to go. Now.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. I think we’re already too late.”

“What?”

“There.”

She pointed at the clouds.

“Marcello, enough—I know what clouds are!”

Not the clouds—what glided beneath them.

The same beasts the captain had wondered about.

“...Hell.”

He understood.

They vaulted onto black horses.

“Ride for the capital. We stop this there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Marcello, you go straight. I’ll warn the others.”

“Understood.”

They moved faster than ever before.

“Carriers... those things are carriers!”

“Four rings on the armor—perfect for talons.”

“And I bet that orc isn’t the only one wearing them.”

“Everything we've seen so far has just been bait to draw our eyes. The Second Invasion is about to begin.”

She snapped the reins downward.

“Right. Feels like they’ll rain from the sky.”

* * *

I lifted my head and stared at the clouds.

The Demon King's Army, Second Invasion.

They didn’t punch through the Imperial line.

They simply stepped over it.

From the air.

Aerial warfare had never existed.

No one imagined goblins and orcs might hitch rides on the drifting talons of sky-borne demon beasts.

No one predicted it.

All we could do was butcher the ones already deep inside.

Or be butchered.

That day, the Empire lost its capital.

[Second Invasion]

I wrote the words across my palm with a fountain pen.

Black ink scratched the skin.

[Half of 66th Class, First Training Center, KIA]

I scrawled it in a flourish.

Kinjo, Louise, Belle—all on the list.

[Must Protect]

What protection demands.

And what my last life never had.

[Weapons]

That day, the only blades we carried were wooden.

And.

[People]

A handful of instructors and trainees never stood a chance.

Five days left.

I had to find weapons and people, somehow.

“Can’t go out and fetch them—I’d be branded a deserter.”

Then the people who come to the camp.

I underlined the word People.

One powerhouse heading this way.

“Elizabeth Red.”

Tomorrow.

I gazed blankly at my ink-blackened palm.

I let myself imagine it, just once.

The moment I would ask for help, only once.

I’m from the future.

I know everything that’s going to happen.

So trust me and follow me.

“Ridiculous.”

Of course she wouldn’t believe it.

Even if she did—

Mago knows the future, so believe Mago.

One sentence like that could twist the timeline.

And I couldn’t take responsibility for the future it created.

It would be no different from fighting myself.

20 December, Year 614.

Four days before I lose my life.

After the final hill battle.

—Commander, how do I lead soldiers well?

Jin Roadmain.

The rookie who had challenged me from day one asked.

—Want to take my place?

—No, sir!

—What’s the thing you want most right now?

—Sir?

—Your personal desire.

—Right now, a peaceful life.

—What scares you most?

No answer.

—Can’t say?

—No, sir!

—Then the desires or fears of your squad mates?

—I don’t know, sir.

—Hard, isn’t it? Talking about fear. People cling to it desperately. Fear is weakness. Reveal weakness and you’re easy to control.

I’d lived my whole life dreading one thing.

And because some knew that fear, they controlled me.

When I was a slave, my master.

Superiors in the army, the Demon King’s Army, everyone.

The instant a weakness surfaced, you became prey.

So I knew.

—This is a battlefield. A place where the desires and terrors you’ve buried can flip in a heartbeat.

The words drew a weary sigh.

I was sick of them.

Soldier, war, battlefield.

—We all want to survive. We all fear death. Same desires, same fears. You’ll be no different, rookie.

“...Even me?”

The thing I’d hidden was lying bare for everyone to see. Beastly, wasn’t it? Before the war I’d had dreams I wanted to chase and nightmares I wanted to outrun.

“Yes.”

Now I can’t even remember them; the situation is too raw. Yet when death comes I still want to meet it as a human being. That’s why they trust me and follow me.

“Why... is that?”

I’m no god, no Hero, but when death arrives the first thing you’ll meet—

—not a god,

—not a Hero—

—will be the one who carves your headstone.

“The one who carves your headstone...”

I mouthed the words I’d spoken in my last life, here in the present.

So this fight was against myself.

Against the me who had abandoned everything and traded a weapon for a hammer.

A fight to reclaim every dream I’d thrown away.

If I lost here, I would simply become the same person I had been.

I clenched my fist.

Black ink dripped like blood.

* * *

“Four days remain until the Fourth Exam. Today we’ve invited a special instructor.”

The Chief Instructor planted the butt of his rod on the ground.

“A face you’ll all recognize.”

He introduced the woman beside him.

“Second daughter of the Red Family—Elizabeth Red.”

The woman in crimson bowed silently.

“Today you’ll spar with the special instructor.”

The Chief Instructor stepped aside.

Belle’s bloodline.

“Just call me El—Ms. El is fine.”

Elizabeth Red chose the name herself.

“You’ve handled real swords before, I’m sure... but be careful! I—I can’t take responsibility if you get hurt. All I know how to do is cut...”

El drew her blade.

A standard-issue sword from the depot.

She was the exact opposite of her younger sister, Belle.

Her voice quavered, lacking strength.

She stumbled over her words.

“Spitting image. Where’s the rest of the family? Belle was sent away, right?”

Kinjo murmured.

“Seeing family ruins discipline, so the instructors shipped her to the capital. She’s on a different mission now.”

“Shame. I wanted to see her reaction.”

“She was never going to be the special instructor anyway.”

“Then why is Amon gone too?”

“You can’t send Belle alone, can you?”

Just as Amon and Belle had left as a two-person team, the spars would also be fought two-on-one.

Two trainees versus one instructor.

El sent the first pair flying in short order.

When our turn came, Kinjo and I stepped forward, bodies taut.

“P-please go easy on me...!”

El’s voice trembled.

Before I drew my sword I called,

“Kinjo.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll do it alone.”

“Huh...?”

I ignored his stunned face and raised my hand.

“Instructor, may I fight one-on-one?”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“Mago, isn’t it polite to ask your opponent first?”

“Ah, my apologies.”

“Hey, Mago! You ignoring me?”

Kinjo’s voice cracked.

“I’d like to face you alone, if you’ll allow it.”

I looked straight at El.

“I—I don’t mind.”

She nodded.

“Still, I’m curious... why?”

“It’s a chance to gauge my skill without interference. So far I’ve only fought fellow trainees. If I beat Ms. El today, it means the Red Family can be beaten.”

A subtle provocation.

According to the plan I’d drafted yesterday, she would remain at the training camp to fight the Demon King’s Army.

Before I asked that favor, I had to make her interested in me—

—and winning this spar was the way.

A small smile touched El’s lips.

Only her mouth curved; her eyes did not.

She was unquestionably thinking, What an arrogant brat.

“Beat the Red Family, you say. What’s your name?”

“Mago.”

Since she’d only ask again, I added the rest myself.

“I don’t have a Family name.”

“No sect, no clan... If I lose to a trainee with no bloodline at all, I’ll never be able to show my face again.”

“Then we’ll keep it our secret.”

At that she laughed out loud.

“Good spirit—at least for now.”

“I’ll take that as permission.”

I closed my eyes and spread the lake.

“Begin.”

We drew at the same instant.

The ring of steel leaving scabbard.

Not bright, not rough—just the clear announcement that what my hand held was a weapon.

“What are you doing?”

El’s voice, incredulous that I’d shut my eyes.

By now I was used to it.

Instead of answering I slid both palms along the grip.

“There’s a limit to showing off...”

She studied my sword without blinking.

The focus in her gaze felt razor-sharp.

If this were Belle, she’d already be charging in excitement.

Aside from the red hair, they were nothing alike.

“Hup—”

One deep breath and I sprang forward.

Sand burst wild from my toes.

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