The Great Subjugation of Scheat (4)
"Wh-Where did they go? They were just here..."
"Where do you think?! Those selfish bastards...!"
"Ha, haha... They ran away...? No way. All the comrades they were fighting with are right here."
"..."
They demanded an explanation, but truth be told, I already knew the answer.
None of them were seasoned combatants. They were green recruits, hastily assembled into makeshift squads and thrust onto the front line. Even Professor Muniherr's stern discipline had only steadied their nerves for a fleeting moment.
"Did they really abandon us? Leaving just the rest of us behind...? Tell me you're lying!"
"No... they'll come back. They will! They're coming back, I know it!!!"
"Then what about us...? What are we supposed to do...?"
"Shut up! Stop saying they ran away! They'll come back!!"
Desertion under fire.
It was the inevitable fruit of primal terror. The creeping doubt over whether they could survive against such an endless swarm had shoved them down into an abyss of panic, and physical exhaustion had only dug that hole deeper. I had anticipated signs of desertion, yet having fought demonic beasts for so long with a numb heart, I had failed to truly grasp their vulnerability.
I should have been firmer. I should have acted decisively, if only to avoid reaching for this disastrous Plan B whose bitter aftermath was already plain to see.
"...Everyone, manifest your Magic Armament. Draw your secondary weapons, too."
"Manifest them...? But earlier, you said—"
"The situation has changed. We're no longer looking to mount a counterattack. We need to carve out a path to escape."
"Magic too...?"
"Yes. Anything goes. Throw every trick you have at them."
I bit my lip so hard it bled.
I knew all too well this was the worst possible outcome. But now that the line had broken, the only option left was to keep them from being devoured alive—even if it meant exposing them to infection. Knowing full well that my karma for withholding the truth would return with bitter vengeance, I had pushed them into this desperate skirmish anyway.
"Damn, holding back was killing me! Why didn't you just let us loose from the start?"
"It was probably because of that exploding fluid. He must've had a plan."
"Whatever. What was the point of learning Magic Armament if we weren't allowed to use it?"
With mana flaring in every direction, the Scourges' internal magic circuits whirred out of control, triggering relentless chain reactions of self-destructive bursts. Though everyone grimaced and swore at the foul liquid splashing over their gear, relief colored their voices now that they could unleash their full strength.
Yet...
Am I... using them to survive? And just to save my own skin?
Using them. No, it was worse than that.
Eventually, every single person here would point a finger at me with the same contemptuous glare as in my past life. They would resent me, screaming why I hadn't warned them beforehand. I knew that once the ugly truth came out, not a soul would look at me with kindness—and no one would ever care to understand my reasons.
"Hey! Hey, conserve your mana! Do you have any idea how many are left out there?"
"What's the point of hoarding it if we end up dead? We have to pin them down while we can!"
"Noel is right! We're running for our lives here!"
"Listen to yourselves! The only reason we even have the mana to cast spells and run right now is because Junon told us to save it earlier! Look at the bigger picture instead of just what's right in front of your faces!"
"Uh, hmm... Is that so?"
"Yeah. So stop burning through it like idiots."
That wasn't it at all.
I had ordered them to hold back because mana was precisely what triggered the Scourges' deadly dispersal. But hearing John and Noel defend me so earnestly, I couldn't bring myself to confess the real reason.
Even amid the chaos, the two of them remained different. Neither John nor Noel had drawn upon their mana; they stubbornly clung to the physical techniques we had practiced.
...Damn it all.
"Whoa, hey! Junon!"
Before I realized it, my body was already lunging out ahead of everyone else, tearing into the Scourges. Both my hands, wrapped in raw mana, relentlessly crushed the beasts' magic circuits before they could ignite. I couldn't even register what support spells were landing from behind or what buffs were washing over me.
How many among us had already contracted the parasite?
And if I threw myself forward like this, how much more time could I buy for the others?
Drenched from head to toe in foul Scourge fluids, those were the only thoughts screaming in my head. Before long, a brief opening emerged amid the exhausted demonic beasts.
"The rear path is open! Fall back! Vanguards, flank the perimeter and shield the other positions as we move!"
Was this truly an orderly retreat, or had I simply sacrificed them so I could survive?
I didn't even know anymore.
The commander raised one hand, giving the signal. The moment the gesture was confirmed, orders rippled through the ranks.
"That's the signal! Everyone prepare according to your directives!"
A barrage of spells erupted into the air, meeting the ferocious charge of the swarming rodents head-on. Amid the thunderous detonations tearing across the blood-soaked battlefield, the line refused to yield an inch. The assessment of Muniherr, a strategist of peerless renown, had proved entirely accurate. Had the vanguard collapsed, the main force would have been forced to pull the defensive perimeter back rather than hold their ground.
Returning to his post after issuing orders, Muniherr scanned the front while listening to the incoming reports. Even at a glance, the situation was precarious.
"Any change at the rear?"
"None, Commander. Still no signs of swarms breaking through behind us."
"Understood. Maintain surveillance."
Yet even with a brilliant tactician directing the lines, they could not punch through the Scourges' ferocious assault. The sheer volume of the horde was staggering—more than enough to explain why apex predators like the Canolatl, mole-like beasts that preyed on Kud Rats, and swarms of Orthoptera had fled south into Schytz Province in utter terror.
"The soldiers are rotating on barely three to four hours of sleep just to keep the line intact... Exactly how many of these things are out there?"
"Who can say? At the very least, there is no opening for us to push forward—even with the Arcab Party present."
They possessed an unyielding formation, disciplined ranks, and a veteran commander. Yet those three elements alone were not enough to reach the Moras Wetland beyond Mount Utulum. Although they knew they had to advance, the brutal reality pinned them down, forcing them to dig in and wait.
"...Commander, if this drags on much longer, will our men be able to hold?"
He was referring to the protracted subjugation campaign. Yet there was an underlying hesitation in his tone that Muniherr did not miss.
"Speak your mind. What is it you truly wish to say?"
Prompted by the direct question, the adjutant hesitated for a brief second before giving voice to his honest concerns.
"It feels as though everything is in short supply."
"In short supply, you say...? Such as?"
"While the Principality can dispatch material supplies, there are no reinforcements coming. The soldiers stationed here represent the absolute limit of our manpower. What's worse, we still lack complete intelligence on the Scourges, the apparent source of the Lemterte Plague. No matter how long we hold out, we simply lack the means to see this through, do we not?"
Looking at the front, they were barely maintaining the line. While weapons were not yet scarce, should an acute crisis emerge, they would have to risk high casualties to deploy experimental artifacts. The soldiers, surviving on scraps of sleep, were rapidly reaching their physical limits. Furthermore, to preserve morale, command had maintained total silence regarding the plague's transmission vector.
The moment blue spots began appearing on the soldiers' skin, panic would sweep through the ranks like wildfire.
"In short, you mean to say that time is not on our side. Is that correct?"
"Yes, sir."
The adjutant pressed further, voicing the doubt that had weighed on him most.
"And with numbers like these, I cannot help but doubt whether that single team can truly eliminate a Named Demonic Beast. Are you certain this was the right decision?"
The sheer density of the enemy required the full weight of the main force to break through. Allowing that small team to detach and push forward on their own seemed reckless. His gaze conveyed utter bewilderment as to why seven students had been entrusted with an independent mission of such magnitude.
"Demonic beasts gravitate toward where prey is abundant. Had our entire force pushed forward together, we would have been surrounded and annihilated to the last man."
"I understand that, sir. But wouldn't superior numbers make it easier to bring down the mother...?"
"It seems you fail to see that we are drawing their attention precisely so the detached force can slip past."
"A detached force? Sir, with all due respect, they are merely seven students! Outstanding as they may be, what justification is there for placing such immense trust in them?"
The adjutant's voice rose with genuine frustration.
"A veteran team requires at least five years of combat experience to hunt a proper Named monster. Do those youths possess anything resembling that pedigree?"
"They do not possess that level of experience. However, their subjugation of an Elite beast in Algenib Province is widely known. That feat alone earned them official recognition as an academy team."
"Yet they are crawling! They are advancing far slower than our main force would have! At this rate, when on earth will this onslaught finally end?!"
They could track the faint blue flames in the distance, confirming that Team Tembris was indeed making forward progress. But their pace was painfully sluggish. There was no telling how long it would take them to even reach the Named beast, let alone slay it.
Muniherr narrowed his eyes slightly, his voice dropping into a chilling register.
"Lieutenant, your words sound uncomfortably close to suggesting we abandon the rear unit guarding the approach to the Academy."
"Sacrificing the few for the greater good is an inevitable burden of war, sir! To protect the Principality—"
"Then does it not strike you as deeply peculiar? We have been watching our rear this entire time, yet not a single pack of rats has charged us from behind."
"...Excuse me?"
A strange dissonance, previously overlooked, suddenly surfaced in the adjutant's mind.
The eerie silence behind them. The commander's repeated inquiries asking if the rear was clear.
He had assumed it was routine vigilance, but it was nothing of the sort.
Watching the realization dawn upon the adjutant's dumbfounded face, Muniherr took quiet satisfaction in his subordinate's awakening.
"That is the reality of our battlefield. It isn't our main force that is holding the line. It is those children back there—barely able to manifest a Mirage State Magic Armament—who are holding the line for us."
"...I... see..."
Although the main force possessed the greatest sheer combat strength, the campaign was functionally divided across three fronts.
Team Tembris, the strike unit dispatched to eliminate the brood mother.
The main army, entrenched to block the horde from spilling into the heart of Schytz Province.
And the rear guard composed of Academy students, preventing the main force from being encircled while buying precious time for Tembris to slay Shanberesh of the Plague.
The true reason the main army had not been overwhelmed despite the monstrous swarm was, without question, the desperate, unyielding struggle of those academy students.
A fleeting memory surfaced in Muniherr's mind.
"What is this reagent bottle?"
It had happened during the gear inspection prior to the campaign's launch. The black-haired youth had casually retrieved a vial from his pouch.
"Ah, this? It's Mistellis Solution. I brought it along just in case."
The image of the boy, seeing several moves ahead of everyone else, remained vivid in the professor's thoughts.
I leave it in your hands, Junon.
In the end, everything had gone wrong.
To buy time for the main force and return without a single casualty—perhaps that had been an absurdly naive dream from the start.
"Whew, that's the last of them.