Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 41

Regaining consciousness, Walm was led to a room set up in the fortress.

This was the third time meeting Commander Gerald Berger. Previously, he had met with the entire squad, but now it was only Walm who reunited with the old commander.

“I’ve been waiting for you. Please, have a seat.”

“Excuse me.”

Walm sat down across from him without any hesitation.

“First of all, I must express my gratitude. Your solo act of taking on the four nation alliance, burning their camp, disrupting their command structure, and capturing one of the Three Heroes is an achievement that rivals legends and myths. Now, there’s not a soul in the Felius front army who doesn’t know of Walm.”

Frankly, it was an excessive evaluation. Walm had merely been trapped, sleeping for a week with the corpses. It was nothing more than a fluke that he had survived.

“I am deeply honored by your praise, but I feel it’s an overestimation—my survival was merely a product of chance. I couldn’t do anything while my battalion was on the brink of annihilation.”

“The destruction of the Reglia Battalion is a loss that is difficult to bear both personally and publicly. There’s barely any core personnel left, and no prospect for rebuilding. But Walm, don’t underestimate what you have achieved. If that’s an overestimation, then me being called a ‘Military God’ is the same. It’s in death’s face where one’s true nature is revealed. You’ve accomplished it. You deserve appropriate recognition and reward.”

Gerald Berger made it clear there was no room for argument.

“The communication magic device has relayed your valiant efforts back to the homeland. You are to be awarded a knight’s title by the Imperial Council, though it’s honorary.”

“A knight?” Walm repeated the words, trying to comprehend.

“I’m a third son of a farmer. A knight… Do knights even exist in our army?”

A third son from a family with a farm no bigger than a goblin’s forehead had no status of a knight. Being chosen as a knight only brought confusion to Walm.

Moreover, in this developing world of military affairs, with ambiguous units and ranks intermingled among nations, Walm had never even heard of a knight’s rank in the Highserk Empire’s army.

“It’s no surprise you don’t know. It’s a relic from an era when old military units and ranks were prevalent. Now, it’s nothing more than an honorary title in our country. But still, the title of knight is useful both domestically and internationally.”

Walm thought of the title as something akin to a medal with no practical benefit or harm.

“Unfortunately, there’s no option to refuse. In recent years, those who received the knight’s title were all deceased. The Imperial Council is longing for a living hero. Congratulations, you’ve taken your first step towards becoming a ‘Military God’.”

“Th-that’s too much of an honor.”

Seeing Gerald’s genuinely pleased smile, Walm returned a strained one.

“There’s nothing to fear; it’s already too late. Now, enough talk. Let’s get to something more interesting.”

Gerald gestured, and a servant brought forth a heavy box wrapped in cloth. Unveiling it, a sword was extracted from the box – simple, unadorned, seeking nothing but practicality.

“This sword is bestowed upon those who are the martial might of the Highserk Empire. It’s an exceptional piece, forged from a dragonfire iron and magical silver alloy. Only those who hold a knight’s title can receive it.”

Gerald drew the sword, and Walm gasped. The blade, tinged with a faint crimson hue, seemed to glow even in the room.

“It seems you like it. That sword is now yours. Try channeling your magical power into it.”

As instructed, Walm channeled his magic into the blade, akin to using “Strong Strike.” The blade turned red, captivating Walm as his gaze traveled from the tip to the hilt.

What would happen if he used “Demon Fire” with this? Driven by curiosity, Walm applied “Demon Fire” to the blade.

The blade transitioned from a thin crimson to azure, and in an instant, the air in the room heated up, its tremors palpable.

“…Incredible,” Gerald uttered, his words bringing Walm back to his senses.

“My apologies. I got a bit carried away.”

“It was I who encouraged you. No need for apologies.”

As Walm turned around, he noticed a guard who had seemingly appeared at the door.

“Just a little demonstration. My apologies.”

At Gerald’s remark, the guard expressed his discontent.

“Please, moderate your jesting.”

With a wave of his hand, Gerald sent the guard back outside. The guard’s gaze, however, lingered on the sword.

“I’ve seen something remarkable. Along with a gift from the Empire, I’d like to offer you something personally.”

What was handed to him next was an old, weathered pouch.

“Could this be…”

“Yes, a Magic Bag. While it’s only for personal use and not too extraordinary, merchants around would pay a fortune for it.”

“Such an expensive item…”

“It’s something I acquired in my youth. I’ve kept it out of nostalgia, but I have replacements. Don’t be shy.”

“…Thank you very much.”

“Now, we could continue chatting, but was there anything else?”

A sense of unease gripped Walm at the commander’s words, a bad feeling emerging.

“Ah, yes. About your affiliation, Walm. You’re now under my direct command.”

“Under your direct command, sir?”

“Just so happens, I’ve been troubled over a task. It’s a mission to surveil and guard an important person, and I haven’t been able to find someone suitable who’s available.”

Walm’s reason and instincts screamed danger.

“There has already been one secret rescue and one assassination attempt, both thwarted. But a skilled guard is needed.”

The old commander smiled kindly, but his nature was enigmatic. Walm realized too late that he had fallen for the bait.

“It’s Ayane Sugimoto, one of the Three Heroes of the Crest Kingdom.”

“Hah, you must be joking.”

“I’m quite serious.”

“…If I may be so bold, my abilities are best suited for offensive operations, and while I have experience in transport escort, personal bodyguard duties might not be my forte.”

“True, your abilities are impressive in offensive situations, and your use of ‘Demon Fire’ is first-class. Don’t sell yourself short. And don’t worry about lack of experience; we’ll assign others with you. Besides, having you there will probably be ‘reassuring’ for Ayane.”

Walm internally groaned at the thought of guarding someone he had once duped and attacked, praising the commander’s ‘benevolent’ intentions.

“You’ll accept, right?”

“…Understood.”

Sadly, even as a knight, he had no right to refuse. Gerald patted Walm’s shoulder lightly in acknowledgement.