Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 37

Gerald Berger was deep in thought in one of the most fortified rooms within the Sarajevo Fortress.

“The Three Heroes of Crest are troublesome. Who would have thought that the Reglia Battalion would be annihilated?”

The Reglia Battalion, having the most combat experience in the Libertoa region, was among the most elite infantry battalions of the Highserk Empire’s army. They had endured countless battlefields—open field, siege, maneuver, defense—so much so that they were now hailed as one of the two wings supporting the Felius front, alongside the Jeyf Cavalry Battalion.

Such a valuable asset, akin to gold or magical silver, was now lost. Underestimating the enemy’s firepower and delayed orders to retreat led to the Reglia Battalion engaging in melee combat with an enemy force more than twice their size. The Battalion Commander of Reglia died, and although some of the core members had retreated to the rear, the battalion’s restoration was far from easy.

“Even if I trigger the trap, we lack bait. Should have kept them in the rear from the beginning.”

Even being celebrated as a military god didn’t prevent Gerald from misreading the enemy and losing one of his most treasured battalions. He cursed his own foolishness.

“No good. Mourning the lost won’t bring them back. I can’t afford to retire and dawdle.”

Gerald shifted his thoughts. If activating the trap only maintained a stalemate, overpowering the enemy was not feasible. While not using any tactics was out of the question, assassination required a suicide squad on a small unit level and was far from reliable. Sabotage operations, considering the time for retreat, could only involve a few people, barely enough to disrupt the enemy soldiers’ sleep and make their breakfast poor.

“According to the second plan, we’ll bleed them at the Sarajevo Fortress and resort to scorched earth and delay tactics in Mayard’s territory.”

If he relinquished the territory he had once gained, Gerald’s position would be stripped by the Imperial Council.

“In the midst of the Empire being carved away, living holed up in the countryside… I’d die of boredom and frustration.”

The problem was where the enemy would stop. Although the four nation alliance was loudly proclaimed both domestically and internationally, to Gerald, it was nothing but a joke. Even with superficially good relations, disputes over interests, leadership, and the position of the supreme commander had already begun behind the scenes.

“Mayard is certain. The key is how much we can prevent them from penetrating the former Canoa.”

Tracing his finger across the map, the old general was lost in thought, puffing out purple smoke and knocking off the ash. Just as he reached for the lamp to light a new cigarette, the window trembled slightly.

“What’s that?”

“I shall check immediately.”

Gerald gestured with his hand, stopping his quick-thinking servant from leaving the room.

“No, I’ll see for myself.”

Gerald, accompanied by his servant, left his private quarters and headed towards the military council room, where his staff officers were waiting.

“What’s happening?”

Entering the room, Gerald stopped the nearest staff officer. The panic in the room clearly indicated an unforeseen situation.

“A huge explosion occurred at Felius’ position in the old third rampart, and now the old sixth rampart, where the four nation alliance set their camp, is also engulfed in flames.”

“Engulfed in flames? Did Libertoa’s black water catch fire?”

He had infantry battalions stationed at the horse exit, but Gerald had not allowed any nighttime operations. It was unclear whether it was an accident or some deception.

“Prepare all troops, including reserves, for battle. This includes Jeyf’s battalion.”

“Where are you going, Your Excellency?!”

“I can’t see from here. I’m going to the walls.”

Gerald rushed up the stone staircase, two, three steps at a time, to the rampart walkway. Leaving the stunned guards behind, he entered one of the side towers and leaned out from the arrow slit on the rooftop. Indeed, the enemy camp was ablaze, a large area from the third rampart to the sixth, where the trap was set. The screams carried by the wind were unmistakably those of the enemy soldiers in the camp. But what truly excited Gerald was the azure flame.

“Ha ha, ahahaha!! It’s burning. That must be the blue ‘Demon Fire’ of Duwey Squad’s Walm!”

Gerald declared to the catching up staff officer.

“We’re going out!! Activate the trap. Mobilize everything, even the reserves. Tonight is the decisive battle!!”

“Your Excellency?!”

Patting the astonished staff officer on the shoulder, Gerald shouted.

“Don’t dawdle, speed is our ally! What did you learn in training? Time decides everything! Run, run!!”

The ramparts were engulfed in madness. Staff officers tumbled down the stairs, rushing to deliver messages to each battalion. The fortress interior writhed like a living creature, stirring to wakefulness.

◆

Walm’s side, where he had been stabbed, throbbed with pain; his fingers were beginning to lose sensation. His legs, too, screamed in protest from continuous running. His vision was even starting to warp, as he kept losing blood and magical energy.

“Why did I start this?” he wondered. His old self, who had spoken so grandly about reason and morality, had surrendered to emotion, scattering violence meaninglessly in the wake of his comrades’ deaths, spreading death himself. Surely, his comrades must be laughing at him from the other world. Walm could only mock himself. As a Magic User counted among the dead by the Highserk Empire, he was now ambushing enemy soldiers from behind, soldiers who were supposed to be resting on the eve of a major offensive. Perhaps they were even waving their hands in support from the walls of the fortress at Walm, who continued this seemingly pointless struggle.

When he struck down a soldier blocking his path with his halberd, the man collapsed without a death cry, as if his strings had been cut. Walm didn’t even spare him a glance, moving forward. His target was a warehouse area that had been commandeered. It was filled with highly flammable materials. Even if it was captured, it could still serve its purpose as a storage site. The convenience meant that the four nation alliance would use the existing facilities.

Two more soldiers lunged at him. Walm, unable to use his left fingers, slid the halberd in his palm, aiming a fatal blow at the throat. Although the soldiers dodged the spearhead, the halberd’s tip had a left-sided axe and a right-sided hook. The Crest soldiers couldn’t avoid the hooked blade.

Circling to the right side of the soldier whose throat he had sliced, Walm distanced himself from the other soldier. The remaining soldier, with an expression of rage, attempted to flee from Walm, but at that moment, Walm thrust his spear. The spear tip, extending from the back of the dying comrade, impaled the fleeing soldier, who collapsed to the ground with a small groan, followed by a gurgling sound. Walm continued running, the sound of bubbling liquid at his back.

In this short period, Walm had felt his own growth. His senses were sharpened. His left eye, which should have been blind, did not feel like a hindrance. At a corner of the storage area, he saw numerous soldiers on guard duty, a mix of various military types and soldiers from many countries.

“Do not let him into the storage area!”

Whether it was to boost morale or to encourage themselves, it was good news for Walm.

“The frequency of Demon Fire is decreasing. Surround him and wear him down!”

Some intelligent soldiers were in command. Their strategy was mostly correct, but with some errors. Walm was only conserving Demon Fire for the Three Heroes and the Rehazen Knight Order. Since he was facing dense targets, he didn’t need to control the Demon Fire, saving some of his strength.

Walm poured his magic into activating “Demon Fire.” Hot winds howled, and blue flames overflowed from his body. There were no comrades to protect, no positions to defend, only enemy soldiers to kill. Walm had already realized that his skills were more effective when activated indiscriminately within enemy lines for offense rather than defense.

“It’s the Demon Fire, aaaaaaaagh!”

“Wait, run―aahhhh!”

“Get away! Get awaaay!”

Soldiers who had experienced it once abandoned everything and fled at the manifestation of Demon Fire. Those who chose to fight to the end or were too slow to react were all swallowed by the sea of blue flames.

Walm walked leisurely through the flames. In the end, neither the Three Heroes who had seriously wounded him and slaughtered his squad, nor the main force of the Rehazen Knight Order showed up. Perhaps, when he burned the camp, many capable soldiers and knights were involved and became unable to fight, but Walm did not know for sure.

When he opened a corner of the burning warehouse, it turned out to be a food storage. To Walm, who had not eaten anything for nearly a week while feigning death, it smelled incredibly sweet. If only it wasn’t mixed with the stench of death.

“Time to change clothes.”

It would be a fitting send-off for his fallen comrades. He dragged one of the corpses into the warehouse and began stripping off the equipment. He couldn’t use Crest soldier gear, as it would be too conspicuous. Walm chose familiar Felius gear. He was most familiar with Libertoa soldiers, but he had often conversed with Felius prisoners of war. With many militiamen mixed in due to the emergency conscription, it would be easier to blend in.

Regrettably, he replaced his familiar gear with that of the dead soldier and threw them into the burning warehouse. He debated what to do with the mask but eventually decided to abandon it, fearing the unpredictable consequences of discarding a living mask that had been shaken violently. Though essentially harmless, there was no telling what it might do if discarded unilaterally.

Walm, utilizing borrowed equipment, began to distance himself from the accumulation area. His disguise as an injured soldier was flawless. After all, Walm himself was already severely wounded. His broken fingers had been forcibly realigned, and the bleeding was controlled through cauterization. He perfectly resembled a soldier ambushed in battle, unlikely to be identified as the riotous user of demon fire. Sitting in a corner of the earthen wall, amidst the dead and variously injured, Walm could easily pass as one of the soldiers of the Felius army, whose camp had been set ablaze.

“Damn it, the fire is intense, get the seriously injured to the medical tent!!”

“Don’t let your guard down. The storage area and command post are also under attack.”

“Come on, get up quickly, or you’ll be engulfed in flames.”

A Felius soldier grabbed Walm’s shoulder, helping him to his feet.

“You’re badly injured. Let’s get you to the medical tent. It’s well-guarded there.”

For Walm, this was an unexpectedly ideal suggestion. In the continually burning camp, the search for the demon fire user and firefighting efforts were ongoing. Being carried away as an injured soldier would allow Walm not only to heal his wounds but also to escape more easily. The place he was dragged to was under a tent, filled with countless injured, not only those Walm had harmed but also those wounded in the ongoing battles with the Highserk Empire.

“Healing mage, this one’s severely injured.”

“He’s badly hurt, but still savable. Please carry him further in.”

The place he was brought to was filled with the choking stench of death, mixed with the smell of medicinal herbs and incense, which only served to induce nausea.

“Lay him down here.”

The soldier who had carried Walm quickly returned to the burning camp, possibly to extinguish fires or carry more injured. His dutifulness was notable.

Walm glanced at his fellow near-death compatriots. Perhaps twenty of them, all severely burned. Unaware that the very cause of their predicament was lying beside them. It was a bitterly ironic scene. Walm lazily turned his attention to the operating table. Clothes fused to wounds were being cut away, and the injuries were being expertly cleansed. Astonishing was the healing mage’s magical power and healing ability.

The regeneration speed was remarkable. Extensive areas of lost skin and severed blood vessels were being reconnected and healed. The healing mage was young, barely in her late teens. Her long hair was tied back and stuffed under a hat. She was undoubtedly one of the last of the Three Heroes of Crest. It was a meeting with a fellow countryman, but Walm had no reason to rejoice. After all, they were enemies in a life-or-death struggle. Identifying himself honestly would only lead to certain death.

“Miss Ayane, the next patient, please.”

It was Walm’s turn, and he was placed on the operating table. Embarrassingly, his armor and clothes were removed.

“Full-body bruises, a burn and laceration on the right side of the abdomen, three broken ribs, and all left fingers are crushed.”

The assistant, a woman, methodically identified each of Walm’s injuries.

“Let’s begin.”

The young girl declared, focusing intently as she hovered her hands over Walm’s wounds. The healing magic was warmer than any he had felt before, easing his pain. Walm thought to himself that with such a healer, soldiers would undoubtedly plunge into battle without hesitation. She was a hurdle that the Highserk Empire army must eliminate.

However, Walm was nothing more than a surviving soldier, without any orders to kill. Causing harm would mean losing the life he was barely clinging to. If the situation allowed, he would have preferred to avoid repaying kindness with enmity.

“Thank you, healing mage. My body feels unbelievably light.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

In less than ten minutes, the treatment was complete, and Walm sincerely thanked her. The girl, seemingly bashful, smiled faintly. The operating table was cleaned, and the next patient was brought in. Walm left the medical tent, heading towards a corner where many injured were gathered.

“…tch.”

Walm clicked his tongue. The female knight of Crest and the remaining two of the Three Heroes had arrived at the medical tent.

“It’s good. It seems the demon fire user hasn’t come this way.”

“Yes, I almost had a heart attack when I heard Johanna was attacked.”

“If only I hadn’t been caught off guard, the damage wouldn’t have spread.”

“A surprise attack like that, no one could have anticipated it. It’s not your fault, Johanna.”

The black-haired boy consoled the female knight. Walm prayed that they would be engrossed in their casual conversation as he continued walking.

“However, according to the witnesses, despite being so gravely injured, he still hasn’t been finished off.”

Only five steps remained. Cold sweat ran down Walm’s forehead.

“The storage area is burning, and there’s no end in sight for the firefighting. The darkness is making it impossible to find him.”

The group and Walm passed each other. He reminded himself not to unconsciously quicken his pace.

“Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought I recognized one of the soldiers, but it’s strange because I don’t know anyone in the Felius troops.”

“Maybe he just looked like someone you know?”

“Ah, perhaps that’s it.”

“You, Felius soldier, have we met somewhere?”

Ah, things were not going smoothly. Walm began to dislike the so-called fate he had almost come to appreciate. He was also being overheard. He had no choice but to change his tone of voice.

“…Maybe you saw me in your field of vision during the battle.”

Walm self-mockingly thought his voice sounded terrible, but he didn’t lie.

“Is that so? Felius also participated in the siege, so perhaps that’s where I saw you. By the way, you’re squinting with one eye, what happened?”

“I was badly hit by an enemy’s magic.”

“That’s unfortunate. But you’re lucky your head wasn’t crushed.”

“Thank you.”

“Sorry for stopping you.”

“No, I’m fortunate to be addressed by a knight of Crest.”

This time, Walm managed to keep his composure and moved on. All that was left was to find an opportunity to escape.

“Where are the Three Heroes?!”

A messenger soldier rushed into the medical facility, calling out the names of the Three Heroes without even a glance at Walm.

“I am here.”

“Miss Johanna is with you too!! Please come to Lord Gran immediately, a large number of Highserk soldiers have infiltrated the rampart!”

“Has the front been breached?!”

It was news to Walm as well. The Highserk soldiers were supposed to have abandoned the ramparts and retreated to the horse exits.

“It seems the enemy used the fire to enter through underground tunnels. The Jeyf Cavalry is also counterattacking from the horse exit. There are hundreds now, but the intrusion isn’t stopping, and Lord Gran is calling for you to collapse the entrance with magic.”

Walm had been curious about the large amount of earth piled up at the sixth rampart. He had plenty of experience digging through the ground, trenches, and pitfalls, but he had never imagined that the earth at the sixth rampart was from constructing underground tunnels.

Normally, Walm would have been jumping for joy at the arrival of friendly troops, but fate is a cruel mistress. They had the means to collapse the entrance. Walm was conflicted. Ignoring the situation could mean abandoning hundreds of soldiers to their deaths. Should he prioritize his own life—

“Understood. We’ll head there immediately.”

He had worked hard enough so far. He should have just fulfilled his personal duty. Walm intended to convince himself of this, but he found himself naturally responding.

“I’d like to say something.”

Walm thought himself foolish. However, if he let this opportunity slip, he could no longer call himself a soldier.

“What is it? Now’s not—”

The female knight’s soft gaze suddenly sharpened, fixing on Walm.

“Your eyes, what happened to them? And your voice too.”

Walm returned his voice to its usual foolish tone and opened his clouded eye which had been shut.

“No, I was just thinking of taking the healing mage and the injured as hostages.”

“Miss Johanna, that person is—”

Yuuto of the Three Heroes also realized late and began to draw his weapon. Walm changed his tone and shouted.

“Don’t move! If you draw it, the whole area will be engulfed in blue flames.”

The murderous tone gathered all eyes in the treatment area onto Walm.

“The user of Demon Fire, have you resorted to taking hostages now?”

Johanna bared her teeth, accusing Walm.

“Exactly as you say.”

Walm was conflicted about launching a surprise attack, but using Demon Fire would definitely alert the magic-sensitive. That would mean even if he could handle the foot soldiers, the magic user knight and the Three Heroes were another matter. It was unclear if he could restrain them even in an optimal situation.

But if the opponent held hostages, their movements would naturally be restricted. Walm was surrounded in form, but he had no intention of relinquishing control.

“Could you please behave for a while? I don’t want to burn the healing mage who healed my wounds and the defenseless injured.”

Walm spoke with a mix of truth and lies. He had no intention as a soldier to kill out of personal grudge, but if it came to killing someone who was a personal enemy or their close ones in the course of battle… it was regrettable but something he desired. He didn’t intend to seek revenge actively, but wouldn’t hesitate to kill if the opportunity arose.

“You, that’s cowardly.”

Ignoring the words of the boy called Yuuto. Walm felt the boy’s anger intensify, but he had no intention of discussing it here. Johanna spoke to the ignoring Walm.

“Do you think we can’t withstand Demon Fire?”

“Some of you might, but most probably can’t.”

Restraining several of the enemy’s strongest was already a gain. Even if the restraint failed, he could burn the injured and the healing mage. Walm would likely die, but he might be able to kill the female knight, the brown-haired girl, or the black-haired boy.

“The skin peels off in an instant, the exposed nerves make even water feel painful. The eyeballs lose their moisture, the trachea and lungs are burned, and you drown on dry land. Well, many of you probably know that.”

Walm spoke to the injured who had suffered burns. Those who had experienced Demon Fire once were turning pale and trembling.

“What a terrible way to kill.”

“Terrible, isn’t it? But you’re no different. My men were captured, their eyeballs gouged out, and killed.”

“The Rehazen Knight Order wouldn’t do such a thing—”

“Then the Crest soldiers? Or one of the other three countries? It doesn’t matter. To me, it’s something done by one of you.”

The surroundings, having fully grasped the situation, were enveloped in silence, a stark contrast to the noise outside. The sounds of swallowing saliva and fabric rubbing were distinctly audible.

He had already bought a few minutes. While engaging in a pointless argument, he just had to wait for the Highserk Army to overrun the ramparts. It was a Crest soldier who broke the silence, a messenger. Perhaps unable to endure the anxiety, in a seemingly impulsive action, he drew his sword and charged at Walm.

Walm lowered his waist and drew his longsword with his right hand, turning half his body and bisecting the soldier along with his sword using a “Strong Strike.” As he jumped back, the female knight and Yuuto of the Three Heroes also drew their swords. The guard soldiers also rushed in simultaneously. Whether intentional or reflexive, Walm couldn’t tell. But the fact that they moved didn’t change.

“I see.”

A threat is meaningless unless carried out. Hesitation leads to being seen through and defeated. Walm let his remaining magical power flow, and the Hellfire Beacon responded.

“Wait—”

The only one who hadn’t drawn a weapon, the chestnut-haired girl, let out a pained cry, but Walm had lost too much of his humanity to hesitate. The treatment room, along with the healing mage who peeked out to see what was happening, was engulfed in Demon Fire.