Chapter 92
Chapter 92
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: The Commander's Summons
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"Report."
A voice heavy with gravity. Dark green eyes flickering like flames. A massive frame topped with silver-gray hair.
Supreme Commander Reinhardt. At his prompt, the leaders of the assembled regular subjugation units began their reports, one by one.
"Commander, supplies are running a bit low."
"Commander, the vice-commander keeps harassing the female squad members."
From straightforward supply updates to accusations against incompetent superiors.
Unlike the usual reports, Reinhardt's head turned at the update from 3rd Subjugation Unit Leader Layla.
"Commander. We've spotted a Count-rank Cyclops. It's due to awaken soon. With you here, I request an immediate muster of all unit leaders."
A muscular woman. As Layla scratched at the scar on her neck, Reinhardt echoed her words.
"A Cyclops, you say."
"And one more thing. Among the new 1777th batch, there's an outstanding one. Outstanding to the point of suspicion."
Even Reinhardt, long seasoned on the monster borderlands, found it repulsive: cruel human sacrifices and the reappearance of missing scouts, spinning tales like ghost stories—false reports, no doubt.
On top of that, a squad member suspiciously skilled, alongside a Count-rank monster unobserved for ages.
Despite his youthful looks in his early forties—thanks to vast aura reserves—Reinhardt had served here for people far longer. He furrowed his brow at the odd sensation.
Decades of routine: periodic large-scale subjugations to prevent monster waves, scattering small teams across border zones, hunting beasts, selling them to sustain operations.
When embezzlers siphoned scant funding, he'd remind them of his vitality with a trip to the capital, then back to subjugations, and more subjugations.
Lately, though, peculiarities cropped up, one by one.
Change.
Reinhardt didn't welcome whatever future it heralded. In these barren borderlands, change always brushed too close to calamity.
"Light the signal beacon for rapid subjugation team returns. From now on, all returning teams stand by—no subjugation requests accepted, except the 12th. And..."
His deep gray eyes sharpened.
"The 1777th batch, was it? Bring that one to me. Now."
* * *
Even among the same batch, unless they'd subjugated together—or even then—no one had truly witnessed Cain's prowess.
Perhaps that's why he had so many enemies.
In the hellish runs circling endlessly until only one remained to test endurance limits, even as the last comrade besides Cain collapsed vomiting and cramping, Cain merely glistened with sweat.
In team sparring where victors kept rotating opponents, Cain claimed total victory; kids grouped with him endlessly praised his strength.
But people are like that. If they haven't seen it themselves, haven't lived it, they won't believe—and they'll even demand retesting.
Because the world runs on common sense. A fresh-faced adult just stepping into maturity has natural limits to their power.
'And normal folk call guys like that muscleheads.'
Jay, stuck on Cain escort duty for the crime of subjugating together once, rubbed his face with both hands.
"Did you kill them?"
"Nope."
Jay sighed at the bloodless Cain, beckoning him over.
"The Supreme Commander summons you. Follow."
Somehow silencing the groans of the downed foes without a fuss, Jay ignored them and moved with Cain.
Looks that could sell out the nation for good reason, yet a temper blind to rank.
Not a perfect army, sure, but regular subjugation units could punish insubordination. Ballsy.
Yet Cain remained here for one reason alone.
He was simply too strong.
'Cain absolutely cannot sit out this Cyclops subjugation.'
Jay prayed inwardly that Commander Reinhardt would nail Cain in place as he raised his hand to knock on the office door. Cain grabbed his wrist.
"No need for a guide from here."
A chill prickled late.
That faint pressure seeping through the door. An invasive discomfort, like being scanned to his core. Jay recoiled a step as Cain pushed inside.
Creak—
Prioritizing monster hunts over base maintenance, the unoiled hinges groaned as the door swung shut slow.
No candles lit inside. Only the curtainless window served as light's path.
There sat a hulking man with his back to the window, a woman leaning diagonally beside him, pushing up her slipped glasses.
Cain met those piercing dark green eyes head-on and saluted per protocol.
"1777th batch recruit..."
"What are you, really?"
Before Cain could finish introducing himself per subjugation unit etiquette, Reinhardt spoke.
He'd seen tens of thousands in these borderlands over the years.
From those cast out by clans or punished into exile, carrying inherited bloodline trait strength, to the lowly born who'd forged pure power through their own grit.
Among that multitude, had there ever been one this strong at such an age? Clearly below him now, but in a mere decade...?
A late bloomer at peak already, perhaps. But if not?
And why would someone this strong and young choose this place?
'I can't help but suspect.'
Even if he tried not to. Those eyes screamed it wasn't mere guardianship of humanity, like Reinhardt's own vow.
"You seem to have your answer already."
At Cain's words, Reinhardt replied.
"The one beside me holds a trait that discerns truth from lies. Answer some questions, and I'll hear you out."
"Agreed? I need the subject's consent to activate my trait."
Cain smirked at Reinhardt, who looked ready to slit his throat at the slightest suspicion.
"Let's begin."
* * *
"So, the verdict?"
I crunched into an apple core and asked. Cain answered via Siren.
[I passed all checks. I'll join the Cyclops subjugation.]
No surprise—layer verification on verification, and Cain would still seem suspicious. But at a time like this, they couldn't afford to bench him.
I guarantee it: in these borderlands now, Cain's martial prowess ranked top five at least.
National unit or not, they were subjugators proper. Not a knightly order drilled systematically for over a decade on oaths and pride. Save a few pure volunteers who'd forsaken wealth and power, they were oath-bound mercenaries, really.
So plenty of decently strong, but few standouts.
Even mid-tier monsters popping up meant Supreme Commander Reinhardt himself dashed out to hunt.
A Cyclops emerges, and they sideline Cain over suspicion?
'No way.'
Request imperial reinforcements? The royals would dawdle till near the local fief, claiming border irrelevance.
Finished with Cain's chat, I cleared the apple core as Luna and Zero entered.
"Young master. The subjugation request you've awaited is up."
"What's this one he's been waiting for?"
Rachel paused mid-yawn, eyes sparkling at me and Luna. Guess our recent adventures amused her.
"Lord Adelrian. Official Cyclops subjugation request posted. Participation voluntary, but non-participants among mercenaries must withdraw from Gavioren border zone."
Obvious: failed subjugation turns the area to ruin. So pull back the uninterested.
'Heroes live up to the name, huh.'
I'd have drafted by force. No telling how far a Cyclops rampages if breached.
Then again, that unyielding integrity let him sacrifice to hold the line.
—Administrator, will you head out?
"Cyclops? We're joining this one too, right?"
Rachel cracked her knuckles happily, rising. I donned the robe Leaf offered, smiling slow.
"Join? If I said no, they'd grab my pant leg begging."
I strode out, utterly confident.
* * *
"No can do."
"What kind of talk is that?"
Getting prickly.
I lounged loose, ignoring Reinhardt's radiating pressure with a grin.
I'd submitted my Cyclops subjugation application—my identity long exposed—so instant rejection. But what could they do?
I already held the vice-commander's approved freelance participation form.
Kruger heir dying in a Cyclops hunt? Catastrophe. To deny that risk, you'd need vice-commander rank at least.
Hence facing Reinhardt now.
Alcaido swore to block it reaching Kaiman beforehand—prime opportunity.
Nail this right, and no need for big escalations awhile.
I grinned innocently at Reinhardt.
"This isn't child's play. I won't indulge mere curiosity seekers."
"Not playing. My party's strong—definitely helpful."
His captains behind Reinhardt scowled at my casual address.
"You...!"
One nearly barked, but Reinhardt raised a hand, silencing, and spoke again.
"I'll say it as many times as needed. I won't approve your participation."
"Come on, two hands beat one, right? Why keep refusing?"
My cheeky grin narrowed his brow faintly.
"That ring. Kruger family lord's seal. Meaning now, Adelrian Guardian Kruger—you're acting lord."
"So?"
"Such a figure dying here like a dog? The fallout hits the commoners the Krugers feed and shelter."
I spun the Kruger ring with a metallic clink.
I'd said it ages ago: my targeted acting schtick? Assumed wastrel, turns out competent type.
"Supreme Commander Reinhardt. You can't exclude me."
Ditched my usual ragged martial garb for the crisp one from the prior meeting. I glanced at Rachel standing sentinel like my guard.
"Among non-regulars, strongest solo: Rachel."
Pulled contracts from my bosom—Vincent, Leyren, Kicho, who'd joined me for a month—and waved them.
"Largest, strongest group: Vincent, Leyren, Kicho."
Legs crossed arrogantly, I smirked.
"Even Cain."
All in my pocket.
"Still think you can bench me?"