Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 18

“I’ve… ended up in the wrong place.”

Walm was summoned directly by the Reglia Battalion Commander to the former Mayard mansion, which had now been seized by the Highserk army and transformed into the command center for the forces stationed in Mayard region.

All traces of the tragedy Walm had witnessed, including bloodstains and corpses, had been cleaned up, and two platoons were constantly guarding the mansion. Additionally, Commander Berger’s personal guards solidified the area around the command room, with a company-sized force keeping watch.

Even among the elite Highserk Empire army, these soldiers, uniformed and well-equipped, contrasted sharply with Walm, who wore many looted items and resembled a stray mutt living day by day.

While being the object of the guards’ curious gazes, Walm and his squad members were gathered in a room, presumably once a guest room.

“Did Squad Leader Duwey do something?” Barrit asked Jose, looking uncomfortable.

“I don’t know. It’s not a prison or a camp for the war hostages, so I guess it’s nothing bad.”

“I can hear you, you know. You think I did something wrong. Well, probably, it’s about the reward for our military achievements,” said the Squad Leader, uncharacteristically hesitant.

Walm and the others presumed it was about the reward for defeating Winston Felius, the commander of the Felius army. Unaccustomed to such strict formalities, they looked like cats placed in an unfamiliar environment, only able to polish their equipment and clean their clothes. They handed over their weapons to Commander Berger’s aides, or to be more precise, their weapons were confiscated. It made them look like a bunch of clean-cut thugs, and Walm couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.

“Please, take your seats,” urged a soldier, and Walm quietly sat down at the long table.

“Y-Yes,” the squad members replied in unison, served with tea and pastries. The sweets were as delicious as those Walm had in his previous world, and the squad members again stiffened after taking a bite.

Tasting such civilized pastries for the first time in 20 years since his death, Walm felt like crying. As he enjoyed the tea and sweets, he realized everyone was trying hard to behave properly, but their awkwardness made him want to laugh.

Unfamiliar with the manners of this world, Walm had no choice but to follow the general manners from his previous world while eating the pastries and drinking tea.

“Walm, you look too relaxed,” commented one of the squad members.

“It’s irritating how familiar you are with this,” added another.

“Walm, you’re supposed to be a farmer from a rural area, right?”

“He must have studied beforehand just to embarrass us.”

“You coward.”

“Squad Leader, Walm is smirking a bit.”

While Walm tried to act relatively at ease, the rest of the squad, especially the three fools, voiced their complaints.

“What are you all talking about…”

Walm’s reliable comrades were no longer there. Instead, he was surrounded by executioners condemning a traitor. As Walm tried to defend himself, he noticed the door quietly opening. The other squad members also noticed a moment later.

Despite being out of their element, they were still soldiers. Their reaction to the new arrival was prompt.

Walm quickly stood up, rigidly welcoming the new figure.

The living military god of the Highserk Empire, Commander Gerald Berger, who led 18,000 soldiers to a complete victory in the war against Mayard, entered the room with a smile, leisurely walking in.

“What a lively room, but all good soldiers, aren’t they?”

Commander Berger must have enjoyed watching Walm’s flustered response and the squad’s confusion from outside the room. He seemed like a mischievous old man with a wicked sense of humor.

Sitting across Walm at the long table, Commander Berger spoke, “Please sit down. We can’t talk if you’re standing.”

At the supreme commander’s order, the squad members promptly obeyed. A soldier poured freshly heated tea for Commander Berger, its sweet aroma tantalizing Walm’s senses.

After savoring the scent, Commander Berger took a sip of tea silently and placed the cup down.

“I honestly thought that the Jeyf Cavalry Battalion would bring back Winston’s head. I was surprised to hear the report. A 6km march through battlefield, breaking through the horse barriers, and even breaching the main camp, not to mention defeating Winston.”

His gaze naturally met with all the squad members as he continued, “Jeyf was frustrated. I’ve sent my utmost compliments to the Reglia Battalion Commander, but I heard there was a squad with exceptional performance. I wanted to reward you personally, so I invited you here.”

“It’s an honor we don’t deserve, sir.”

Walm was surprised to hear Squad Leader Duwey using honorifics, as were the other squad members who couldn’t hide their agitation.

“You’re Squad Leader Duwey, right? I’ve heard of your lion-like valor. A master of ‘Strong Strike’, you’ve been supporting Highserk for many years. Soldiers like you are irreplaceable to the Highserk Empire.”

“Th-Thank you,” Squad Leader Duwey replied, unable to hide his delight. Unlike Walm, the squad leader had strong patriotism and love for his troops. Being praised by the military god himself, it made sense to Walm why the squad leader was so flustered.

“And you must be Walm,” the old commander said, turning to Walm, who stiffened slightly. The old man’s eyes appraised him as if assessing his value.

“Half a year since enlistment, honed in battle against the Libertoa Trade Federation, and not only inheriting Squad Leader Duwey’s ‘Strong Strike’, but also learning magic from Wilart the Magic Soldier, and even mastering ‘Demon Fire’. Truly a remarkable talent.”

‘Demon Fire’ was a new skill Walm had acquired in the battle against Felius. It spread whirlwinds and flames around, delivering deadly attacks over a wide area. Walm had learned from Wilart about legendary heroes and adventurers who had wielded this skill.

“Thank you,” Walm responded.

“I’ve seen it once in my youth, and I’d rather not be scorched by it again. I’m genuinely relieved that Walm is on Highserk’s side,” Commander Berger said with a light smile, sipping his tea.

“Lynette, could you bring it here?”

Lynette, the attendant, brought something wrapped in an old cloth.

“This belonged to a mysterious group that rampaged against three great nations, clad in armor from another world. The materials used for this remains unidentified, bearing similarities to both Mithril and Adamantite. Its previous owner seemed to have mastered the ‘Demon Fire’ as well. It should be a perfect fit for someone like you who wields the same ‘Demon Fire’. There’s no need to be shy. Try it on.”

The mask resembled those seen in the Warring States period, a mix of a demon and a skeleton, but in vivid red. Walm hesitantly fitted it onto his face. To his surprise, it fit perfectly and was as light as a feather.

“Wonderful, it suits you perfectly. That’s now yours. Anyone opposing you will surely be startled by that mask.”

Walm felt a strange nostalgia for the mask, as if it had come from his original world.

As he removed the mask to thank the commander, it unexpectedly rattled.

“Huh?!”

Walm almost threw it away in shock but controlled himself, maintaining his composure as a soldier. Confused, he looked back and forth between the mask and Commander Berger.

“Uh, it’s trembling…”

The mask vibrated intensely, like a cicada in semifinal state or a smartphone on silent mode. Walm, with a strained face, sought an explanation from Commander Berger.

“Ha ha ha, it seems to have taken a liking to you. It’s picky, so I had trouble with it.”

Initially, Walm thought the old general was considerate even to low-ranking soldiers, but he was quite a trickster.

“It’s cursed!!”

Nohl, standing beside Walm, cried out. Jose, on the opposite side, moved away. The mask, as if protesting, continued to vibrate.

“Commander Berger?!”

Walm sought help, but the old man before him only laughed heartily.

“Haha, I apologize. There’s no real harm for now, so don’t worry. It’s a type of equipment that occasionally shows signs of its own will. It trembles in accordance with its emotions from time to time. I couldn’t wear it myself, so I’m glad it found a suitable owner. Please take good care of it.”

The commander then continued the conversation as if nothing had happened, handing out rewards to the squad members. With Walm’s precedent, everyone was suspiciously accepting their gifts.

“Ah, I’m tired,” sighed the squad leader as they left the guest room.

The squad members all kept their distance from Walm. The physically strong men seemed weak against curses, with only Wilart, Walm’s magic teacher, showing interest.

“What will you do with it, Walm?”

“Well, I should take care of it since it’s a gift from the commander.”

“Aren’t you going to throw it away?”

Before Nohl could finish, the mask vibrated more violently than ever.

“Nohl, you bastard!!”

“Don’t say unnecessary things!!”

Scolded by the squad leader and Jose, Nohl apologized repeatedly.

“Sorry, sorry, it was just a joke. My apologies.”

Finally, the mask stopped vibrating.

Walm realized he needed to change his perspective. In a world where magic and skills defy physical laws, a sentient, vibrating mask wasn’t so strange. After all, there were people who reincarnated in another world.

Though it vibrated, it was an excellent piece of armor confirmed by the commander.

Walm decided to cherish it, considering it a valuable protective gear.