A month after giving up alcohol, Walm had been tirelessly training to restore his dulled body to its former condition. As the morning sun rose, he repeatedly practiced swings mixed with his “Strong Strike” technique, enveloped by a magical barrier. He would then run along the outskirts of the city. His body, now free of alcohol, felt heavy, and it was not easy to regain his previous agility.

He heated well water with fire magic and poured it over his head. Although he had occasionally used cold water, now he found it just right to manipulate flame and heat to make warm water, helping him regain his senses.

After his bath, Walm pushed open the door of Gangut’s establishment, which in his mind had shifted from a tavern to a restaurant. It was a time too late for breakfast yet too early for lunch, and the interior, usually bustling at night, was now eerily quiet.

“Good morning, Mr. Gangut.”

“Coming here every day for meals, remember this is a tavern, alright?”

Gangut grumbled but proceeded to prepare the meal, hanging a pot over the fire. This was because Walm, who used to spend his days drowning in alcohol, had stopped spending money on drinks, so Gangut had to make up for it with food earnings.

The meal served was a pie with cod and salmon happily cohabitating, accompanied by a soup of potatoes and beans. For Walm, who used his magic power and needed calories, this meal didn’t take long to disappear. After finishing his meal, Gangut spoke to Walm.

“There’s a place that might be a bit rough for a job, but it pays well and they’ll hire someone like you.”

“Where?”

Walm found it hard to believe that such a place existed, yet he was excited at the prospect.

“The battlefield. Lord Edgar is gathering soldiers. They even came to the tavern to recruit. Those with military experience and magic users are given preferential treatment.”

Walm understood. On a battlefield, one’s appearance and clothes were overlooked, which worked in his favor. Having military experience and magic, Walm met the recruitment criteria and would no doubt be an immediate asset on the front lines.

“War, huh? Who’s the opponent?”

It was a well-known fact that the three major countries hadn’t engaged in external military conflicts for decades. There were limited options for a country that could start a war. A war between the three dominant superpowers was too risky, and if it happened, it would drag the surrounding nations into a cataclysmic final war.

“Count Meizenaf. He’s a neighboring lord and has always been on bad terms with the Dalimarcus family. But ever since they started mining magic silver from the Demonic Territory, their relationship has worsened. It seems the Meizenaf House is the one who initiated the conflict.”

“You sure know a lot for a tavern keeper.”

“Don’t expect a discount on your meal for flattery. Thought you’d be more eager, but you don’t seem too keen.”

“I’ve had my fill of war.”

Walm reminisced about his days since being conscripted. While in-kind support and local income were immeasurable, the working and welfare conditions were poor. Sleeping alongside corpses, losing track of time in an endless cycle of killing and being killed, in a workplace where it didn’t matter if it was day or night, people and monsters killed and were killed in a homey yet lively environment.

“That’s a grim story. You’re from the Highserk Empire, right? Many of your former comrades will be there. It’s like a reunion.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re out of the loop.”

The innkeeper spoke teasingly to Walm.

“Going back and forth between your tavern and bed for a year, I’ve been left behind by the world. I don’t know anything about what’s been happening.”

“You were a good source of income. Should I do a little dance in thanks?”

“I’ll pass. My eyes might start hurting again.”

Who would willingly want to watch a middle-aged man dance? If his recently calmed eyes were to become irritated again, it would be intolerable.

“Now, to the main point. The areas near the border are considered a buffer zone against the biggest Demonic Territory, but in reality, one of the remnants of the Highserk Empire has become a military faction and is containing the Demonic Territory. It seems that a considerable amount of Mithril mines extend into the Demonic Territory. The Highserk, unable to mine and manage it alone, and Lord Edgar, desiring underground resources, are jointly mining it.”

The fact that the remnants of the Highserk Empire had formed a military faction was surprising. Indeed, while watching the Imperial City burn to ashes, Walm had seen no small number of defeated soldiers.

Even when he had fled to Kopetsk, a border town of the Archipelago Countries, there were quite a few like Walm. Most of them had come to terms with reality and found work, while a few became prostitutes, beggars, slaves, or drunkards. Walm, having recently been deeply corrupted himself, had neither the inclination nor the right to condemn them.

“To think they survived and are trying to rebuild at the border.”

“Are you going to join them?”

Walm fell silent, pondering. With no decent job opportunities and the need for funds to acquire healing medicine, he understood that war was profitable.

Until now, he had the convenient pretext of fighting for his homeland, but if he responded to the recruitment, it meant willingly participating in the war. Could he kill people just for money?

“Surprisingly troubled, aren’t you? I thought you’d be the type to gleefully kill, seeing how you nearly killed a drunken adventurer.”

“What do you think I am?”

Indeed, he had shattered faces with elbow strikes, shaken internal organs with palm strikes, and slashed with “Strong Strike.” But that was reflexive defense, and it was they who had drawn their swords first. The tavern keeper merely shrugged his shoulders, not attempting to answer.

Walm sighed. In any case, he had no choice. If his eyes were normal, perhaps he could have chosen a profession unrelated to the chaos of war. But now, he urgently needed money. The only way to utilize his specialized skills was through battle. Without any lofty purpose to proclaim, the reality was that he had to plunge into war for money. He was no different from the adventurers and mercenaries he despised.

The only consolation for Walm, who was mocking himself, was that he could help his former comrades recover and stand shoulder to shoulder with soldiers, even if from a different army. But having drowned in alcohol for a year, even that thought seemed disproportionate.

“I’ll participate.”

No matter how much he piled up foolish excuses, he was impressed by his own lack of principles for choosing to participate.

“Alright, I’ll get some good meat for dinner to make sure you have no regrets. Want me to include some liquor?”

“Thanks for the concern. Better not, I might end up drinking till morning.”

Walm was amazed by Gangut’s attitude, as if offering a last supper. Nevertheless, the comfort he found in this connection made in a foreign land wasn’t so bad.

◆

The city outskirts, a farm where people responding to conscription had gathered. Most were mere numbers, infantrymen, like Walm, who had no land to inherit as second or third sons of farmers, and others who joined out of hunger.

Although they were eager to earn military exploits through spear fighting, unlike regular soldiers, their bodies lacked solidity, and their loose demeanor hinted at their inexperience in battle.

Many were young enough to be called boys. Some brought their own weapons, but most were handed dusty armor and spears from the warehouse. The line at the crowded reception seemed to last an eternity. Occasionally, dull sounds echoed from afar. While observing the surrounding civilians to pass the time, it was finally Walm’s turn.

The man dealing with the civilians was likely a seasoned regular soldier. Running his gaze from Walm’s feet to his head, the man muttered.

“You seem to have military experience.”

“Yes, until very recently.”

“You’re from Highserk?”

“That’s right.”

There were many people from Highserk who had fled and come here. Among them, some joined the battle to earn their keep. In the midst of the diverse civilians, a soldier who had experienced the wear and tear of combat stood out.

“More than half here here hardly have any experience. Though an outsider, we welcome you.”

“It’s half flattery, half sincerity,” Walm mused. Even if he was a regular soldier, it was natural to place higher expectations on foreign soldiers than on his own countrymen, who were mostly amateurs.

“What about magic and skills?”

“I can use fire, wind, and water attributes, but only fire and wind are practical in battle. As for skills… I have ‘Strong Strike.'”

Walm had been instructed by the healing mage to refrain from using ‘Demon Fire’. It was a skill that couldn’t be used without being mindful of the surroundings. If he used it in a place where its deployment wasn’t well known, it could cause collateral damage to many soldiers. Even regular soldiers would be in danger, let alone the inexperienced ones mixed in.

“A wielder of three attributes and ‘Strong Strike’, huh? I’m not doubting you, but I need to verify it myself.”

The soldier then called over a younger soldier, presumably one of his subordinates.

“You heard it. Take him and verify.”

Led by the young soldier, Walm was taken to a vacant spot in the adjacent farm. The area was surrounded by earthen mounds, and like Walm, others taken away from the crowd were demonstrating their skills.

“Cast your magic there. Fire attribute only.”

The designated earthen rampart bore heavy marks of destruction. The earth had been gouged out by various types of magic. The dull sounds heard from afar were undoubtedly from the enjoyable target practice and magic test firing, Walm surmised.

Asking for only the fire attribute, it seemed that they expected Walm to demonstrate firepower formation with fire magic. Fire magic was most suitable for creating stopping power to block a charge or to create a breakthrough.

Walm gathered his magical power and aimed at the designated target. A blue fireball manifested at his fingertips, scattering azure flames and hot wind upon impact. The explosion caused the five earthen figures to burst apart, with fragments raining down from above. The azure flames clung to the impact site as if not quite satisfied with the burning.

“That’s amazing,” the young soldier said excitedly. Walm, having witnessed the fluctuating azure flames, let out a small sigh. The burning clumps of earth brought back memories of past battlefields.

“Is that enough?”

“Next, ‘Strong Strike’.”

Another skilled magic user quickly formed a human figure out of earth in front of Walm. He patted it lightly with his hand, finding it not just compacted but also nearly as hard as a real person, suitable for a test cut.

Walm removed the leather cover from the spearhead of his halberd and, holding it in the middle stance, swept it in a diagonal upward cut. The figure, which would have been bisected from waist to shoulder if it were human, lost its support and fell to the ground, pulled down by its own weight.

“That’s enough.”

The soldier, as if surrendering, raised his hand and then took out a silver plate adorned with decorations from his pocket, offering it to Walm.

“What’s this? Money?”

Walm guessed it was a type of unique coin minted for use within the territory. The palm-sized silver plate was bulky and seemed impractical to use. Walm frowned in puzzlement, but the soldier laughed.

“I thought you were a seasoned mercenary but you don’t know? This is a silver plate guaranteeing payment. Even if melted down, it has value, but if you present it after the war, you can exchange it for gold coins. There are several types prepared, but this silver plate indicates the highest treatment among those who applied. The others, just ordinary soldiers, get various copper plates.”

It was fortunate to be highly valued. Walm guessed this was a measure to prevent deserters from fleeing before the battle since it wasn’t a complete advance payment.

“What happens if the Dalimarcus family is destroyed in the war?”

“Don’t speak such inauspicious words. It’s a battle over a magic silver mine. Even the greedy Meizenaf family wouldn’t completely annihilate them. Maintaining the demonic territory and buffer zones would be a headache for them. Besides, if they indiscriminately ravage cities and farmlands, even the central government, with its policy of non-intervention, would have to act.”

Walm couldn’t grasp the soldier’s explanation and asked again in confusion.

“So, the Meizenaf family won’t burn down the villages and cities?”

The soldier’s eyes widened as if Walm was some incomprehensible creature or monster.

“That’s why the northern nations obsessed with war are… The decisive battle will only be over the magic silver mine developed in the demonic territory.”

Walm was astonished. This mission was purely about capturing a specific target, without looting or capturing supply bases or strategic locations like farmlands and cities.

“Haha, I see.”

Marvelous, truly marvelous. The wars in the Archipelago Countries were so peaceful and intelligent. There were no defensive battles risking the lives of civilians, no annihilation battles involving both military and civilians, no total wars risking the downfall of a nation. What a carefree war, Walm thought, relieved.

He didn’t mean to disparage, but if it was just a matter of killing his own kind for money, it somewhat eased his troubled conscience. Of course, there would be exceptions, but it was hard to tell. Walm decided to treat everyone as equally as possible.

“What a great country.”

Walm uttered these words from the bottom of his heart.

Translator – Lyxxna