Walm’s body felt as heavy as if it were coated in clinging sludge. The surface of his skin rippled in small waves, literally melting away. Sprinting through the trees beneath the descending curtain of night, Walm finally collapsed to the ground. Blood and flesh crumbled and melted with a sickening sound. The mask peeled away from his face.

“Ugh… guh… haa…”

From his mouth he spat out half-coagulated blood. His muddled consciousness and blurred vision slowly returned. The residue that had melted from his cheeks streamed down like red tears. The night wind was cold, stabbing into his skin. Shivering slightly, Walm lowered his eyes to the mask lying on the ground.

“Damn… that military god gave me something outrageous.”

As if responding, the demon mask rattled faintly. Memories that shouldn’t exist flickered through his mind. This cursed mask had intervened twice without his knowledge. The first time had been in the ramparts that had become his grave marker, when it created a narrow passage of air between the soil and the piled corpses covering him. The second time was when it moved his body slightly so that he would not be crushed beneath the sheer weight of the Tyrant Worm.

Without those interventions, he might have died. Even so, those two acts had still been within the bounds of human reason, but the third intervention had gone far beyond that. Walm had been at death’s door, his heart pierced by his own brother. Even as his breathing and consciousness faded, he clearly remembered it. That great demon had forced a contract upon him.

“Offer sacrifices as payment for your restoration.”

His heart had indeed been restored. But the result had consumed all the sacrifices he had offered up until now, and the greedy demon had the audacity to claim that still wasn’t enough.

Perhaps it would have been better to pay the six coins of passage on the River of the Dead instead. If the contract failed, what awaited him would be collection, and the target of that collection would surely be his own body. After all, a heart already accustomed to the Cursed Eyes and the demon would surely prove very convenient to use.

“So you’re after my body, huh? Filthy demon.”

The demon mask trembled. Some of their memories had mixed. Denial was pointless as the truth showed through regardless. The words the demon had spoken about offerings were carved into his mind.

“Battles filled with screams and wails. Pile up mountains of corpses and pay tribute.”

Among those sacrifices… his own brother had been included.

Anxiety. Panic. Determination.

Walm recalled the emotions Hayes had felt, emotions he had experienced through both his own perspective and that of the great demon. Past family and present family had been placed on a scale, and when the attempt to bring him back had failed, Hayes must have been ordered to kill him.

The idea of an entire nation ordering a military operation to eliminate a single individual was absurd, yet Walm was aware that he had done things worthy of such treatment. On the eastern border, at Refun Mine, and within the Sarajevo Fortress complex, he had burned many Libertoa soldiers. For a single soldier, it could even be considered excessive.

Perhaps it was because they were brothers, but Hayes was strangely earnest and straightforward, just like Walm himself. Both of them would fulfill their roles as soldiers belonging to their respective nations.

Letting out a sigh soaked with resignation, Walm thought about his obligations.

Military operations were still ongoing within the provisional border zone. As a Highserk soldier, he should return to the imperial capital as soon as possible and make his report. Instead, Walm slowly reached into his coat and pulled out a damp, dark-reddish cigarette.

A spark lit in the darkness. As he inhaled the purple smoke, it mixed with the iron taste clinging to his mouth, leaving an intensely bitter flavor. He knew it was a form of escapism. After all, he had once been a weak fool who resorted to alcohol. Even so, he needed the smoke to maintain his mental balance.

The mask trembled reproachfully. Walm exhaled white smoke in response, and the demon mask shook violently as if enraged. A deep frown creased Walm’s brow, but then he smiled softly.

Leaning wearily against a tree he thought of Hayes, the brother who had taken a different path. He was no longer the boy who swung a club around in the forest during their childhood. Like Walm, he had crossed countless deadly battlefields and become a soldier devoted to war. Their next meeting would likely be a fight to the death without hesitation.

No longer brothers, just soldiers of opposite sides. Perhaps that would be happier for both of them.

Looking up at the sky, Walm saw the stars and the twin moons shining exactly as they always had. The heavens showed no sign of reflecting the emotions of such insignificant humans.

◆

Military activity by the Libertoa Trade Federation within Highserk’s territory sent shockwaves through the imperial capital, Variguend. Several individuals suspected of being spies or informants were captured, but it was little more than a drop in the bucket. Nothing more than a show of retaliation and intimidation.

Highserk simply lacked the resources to thoroughly screen and select everyone entering its territory. Even so, the transport convoy bound for the Mayard territory departed on schedule without delay.

One of the byproducts left behind by the Flame Emperor Dragon that had brought down the imperial capital was the corridor it had carved. Mountains and rivers alike had melted away, transformed into a massive roadway. Walm couldn’t even imagine how many years and how much manpower it would take for humans to recreate something like this.

Plants and animals had been burned away by the intense flames. Rocks, though nonflammable, were blackened with soot, and several streams had dried up. Even though the route had been prepared as a road, the local landscape looked nothing like the homeland Walm remembered. Now it was mostly a barren wasteland in isolated patches.

In contrast to the gloomy scenery, dull-shining pebbles caught his eye. Walm picked one up from the ground and rolled it in his palm. The object was not particularly beautiful, but its yellowish color made him wonder.

“Glass?”

Nearby were scattered stones of similar shape, some bluish-green, others dark. Seeing Walm’s puzzled look, Friug explained.

“Central command forces had established defensive lines across this region to protect the capital. The Flame Emperor Dragon tore through them, and the flames released during the battle melted the earth and created glass. As irritating as it is, that creature refined ores and glass that normally can only be found near volcanoes.”

Natural glass formed from melted plant ash and sand, an abnormal byproduct of extreme temperatures, was scattered along the roadside. Various impurities produced nearby glass fragments with widely different colors. If the glass had been formed purely from plant ash, it might have been beautiful, but this place was the Flame Emperor Dragon Corridor, and a former battlefield. Walm preferred not to think too deeply about what materials might have contributed to its formation.

“Some people collect good-quality glass and ores here to make a living,” Friug continued. “It’s eerie when you consider the location, but it’s food on the table for families who lost their income or for orphans. They’re even trailing behind our caravan right now.”

At that moment, the platoon leader of the supply troops shouted out to organize the line. His skin was darkened from years under the sun, and his legs, twice as thick as his upper body, showed he was a veteran of hard labor.

“…So they’re using the convoy as free escort.”

Walm’s voice carried a mixture of disbelief and admiration. Friug glanced toward the rear.

“They’re a tough bunch.”

Walm nodded slightly, then addressed the officer.

“You’re from Hody’s platoon, right? Do you use this corridor often?”

“Except for a few days spent unloading cargo and resting on site, we’re constantly going back and forth.”

“…Hard worker, huh.”

“Haha. Even if that’s just flattery, I’ll take it.”

“It’s neither flattery nor a joke,” Walm replied. “The empire’s advance was supported by supply troops like you, platoon leader Hody.”

He meant every word.

One of the primary duties of infantryman was marching on foot. Even that alone wore down inexperienced soldiers with blisters forming, skin and toenails peeling away repeatedly. Supply troops, however, carried loads taller than themselves and hauled fully packed wagons. It was easy to imagine how grueling that labor was.

Infantrymen were sometimes forced into construction duties, but when stationed at occupied areas or permanent fortresses, they often had periods of being on standby. Supply troops had no such luxury. They kept moving without rest. If that wasn’t diligence, what was?

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Hody said, scratching his cheek. “Some folks call us broken soldiers or draft horses pulling carts, but you’re the second person to say something like that. The first was the military god back when he was still alive.”

Even after crossing into the underworld, the military god Gerald Berger seemed to appear everywhere. Walm felt both disbelief and admiration. Perhaps Berger’s habit of personally encouraging even the lowest soldiers was the secret behind the almost frenzied morale and discipline he had commanded.

“I shouldn’t be compared to the military god.”

“Hah. Well, guardian chief Walm and company commander Friug, I’m genuinely grateful to you. My supply unit managed to retreat to the east because the monsters around Dandurg Castle were kept under control. Without that, we would’ve been crushed.”

“I didn’t know that,” Friug said in surprise. “Were you also assigned to the Felius front?”

That reaction was natural. Unlike infantry or cavalry, supply units were slow-moving, so escaping the Great Rampage would have been extremely difficult.

“Originally we were part of the eastern army. When the invasion of the Kingdom of Felius began, we were reassigned to the Felius front army. While transporting provisions to the Sarajevo Fortress, the Great Rampage started. After that, we focused on delivering materials for building defensive lines.”

Walm recalled that the defensive line built in Mayard territory had consisted of three strategic positions, including Dandurg. It seemed Hody’s platoon had worked on one of them.

“After the front collapsed, we formed a mixed company with whoever survived… different branches, different units… and retreated east…” Hody muttered, his eyes hollow. “I never want to walk that road again.”

The memories must have resurfaced. Having shared part of that nightmare himself, Walm said nothing further, as no explanation was necessary. It had undoubtedly been a road literally paved with blood.

After exchanging information about the corridor and sharing bitter recollections, the convoy continued marching. Over three days, they repelled five small monster attacks. Though several soldiers were injured, there were no deaths and no cargo losses.

At last, Walm and the convoy entered a granary that served as a midway supply base within the Flame Emperor Dragon Corridor. Beyond it was the Mayard territory, and the cursed memories sleeping within the ancient castle of Dandurg.

Translator – Lyxxna