Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Crisis is Opportunity is Crisis (6)
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***
"Major... major, huh..."
Crunch!
Waldorf stepped out from the ranks and grabbed me by the collar without warning.
"Hey, you old kid. You think you're hot stuff just because we've been humoring you? What did I say this morning when I dragged you along?"
"I know, I get that, but..."
"You know? Oh, really? So you knew and still spouted that crap? If you're gonna gamble, empty your own pockets. Don't drag everyone else's money into the pot. Right?"
'...Looks like the first battle was tougher than expected. Everyone's got that "I wanna bail" look in their eyes.'
Gambling... sorry, but this game's such a dumpster fire that I might need to scrape together my cash, other people's cash, even capital just to go all-in and maybe break even.
"There's gambling and then there's gambling, right? I'm human too. I'm not asking you to just charge headfirst into those crazy monsters..."
Shing!
Waldorf's sword cut off my words and hovered at my throat.
"The pot's our lives."
"And we're mercenaries, aren't we?"
Listen, old man. You look like a seasoned merc yourself, but I've done my fair share of merc work in World 2.
I know exactly what it takes to convince mercenaries.
"Isn't our life hanging bait on a fishing line to reel in treasure? Earlier, we were all in the same boat slugging it out with those mute bastards, but things are different now. Don't you see those knights literally 'grinding' those mute fuckers over there? If the battlefield earlier was a gamble, this one's a rigged game! A sure win! You all know the pay scales wildly between those who hold the front till the end and those who hang back, right?"
First. Gold, the very essence of a mercenary's life.
"Sure, but those knights won't stick around just for us..."
"Take a look around right now. My memory's fuzzy, but I see all the faces from yesterday. No one's dead, right?"
"...We got lucky."
"No comrades dead on the battlefield, and on top of that! A knight order swoops in to save our asses without a single pinch? You really think that's all luck? Not Gundar-Pasa's gaze upon us? And you're just gonna bail from a battlefield like that?"
"Hmm..."
Rustle-rustle.
Rustle, rustle.
At the mention of Gundar-Pasa, god of mercenaries and wanderers, the mercs listening nearby slipped their hands behind their backs and started stroking their right thumbs with their left thumbs. A quick prayer invoking Gundar’s blessing, the mercs' go-to.
Second. Superstition, the thing that makes even the toughest mercs shake.
"...You might have a point, old kid. But I'm the head of the Turan branch of the Mercenary Guild. Right now, they're treating us well because we’ve got numbers, but if we show even a hint of weakness, they'll shove even shittier contracts down our throats. The risk is..."
"Ah, come on! Your sword's so long it's dragging on the ground? Ugh, look at that dust! Just admit you're scared! What, those mutes charging like maniacs made your balls drop off so you can't walk?"
Crack.
"...What the fuck, you little shit?"
"Hey, we're all mercs risking our necks for pay. Why nitpick? Situation's good, payout's good, no dirty work."
"...Ha! Look at you talking big."
"Body's beat to hell, but that mouth's lively."
"Must've skimped on the booze last night."
The mercs who'd been prepping to retreat started cracking their necks and loosening up one by one.
Mercs are folks wrapped tight in pride scarred by scratches and dents, thanks to the world's shitty view that they'll do anything for coin.
"Fuck it. Fine! We're in! Don't know what the hell you're planning, but if it goes south, I'll chop your head off and drag you out myself! Got it?"
Third. Provocation, something pride-driven mercs can't just let slide.
"Tch. You survived a spot set up to kill you, so maybe you've got some chops. I'll bite. But what now? What's your next move?"
Ding-!
[Information Update: The 'Silver Roar Mercenary Group' temporarily follows your control.]
A welcome system chime and message brought a smile to Professor's lips.
'Finally. One small piece on the battlefield chessboard is in my hands.'
"Oh, that? Nothing special. Probably won't even need to fight."
Professor stepped forward, drew a straight line in the dirt with his shield, then stared at the second wave closing in almost point-blank.
"Break the circle formation. Form a straight defensive line here and make as much noise as possible."
***
GG is loaded with negative traits. No, not just loaded—most traits are negative.
But negative doesn't mean useless. Take [Senility], the signature trait for Twilight-era characters over 60: it cuts all physical stats by 30%, but grants the special skill [Elderly Wisdom].
[Pyromaniac] boosts fire affinity and resistance, [Cannibal] amps damage against humanoids, and my [Mental Fragility] gives broad info acquisition—though I can't control it.
Normally, it's useless junk info overwhelming my thoughts, just headaches and annoyance. But out here on a battlefield craving intel from all angles, minus the headaches, it's surprisingly handy.
Maybe the adrenaline from my wounds is sharpening it—things feel easier to parse than before.
Whoosh-!
Whoosh!
Professor clutched his throbbing head and rapidly scanned the info flooding his vision.
'...No orders, as expected. No flags, horns, not even shouts from command getting through.'
From the hasty battles he's seen, no set strategy. Probably just knights in command roles making snap calls on the fly.
But central command, where the brass is, is swamped—right flank's collapsed mutes hitting them from two sides now. They'll likely leave it to the centurions in each unit and focus on fighting.
'And no control here means... our centurion's KIA.'
Charlotte de Agate's knights didn't charge our side for nothing. A hero unit like her has busted stats—strength, defense, vision, all maxed.
She spotted our commander wiped from the hill, soldiers going berserk or routing without control, so she came here to plug it. Even our merc buddies were just gonna grab their own and bounce. That'd leave center flanked on both sides, three-way crush.
And being pinned like this? For someone with her firepower, it's gotta be frustrating as hell.
'Grade 9-7 troops would scatter like bowling pins to one charge from her knights, but they can't, so she's fuming.'
That's our opening with the mercs and me.
"Hey, hey! This for real?"
"I told you! Just hit it!!"
"But we're what, a handful? Forming a straight line by ourselves! Can't you see the gaping hole in our side? They'll smash us flat! How's more attention helping?!"
"Just trust me! Come on! Louder! Hit 'em hard!"
Clang! Clang! Claaang!
Bang bang bang, twaaang!
"Over hereeee!!"
"Heyyyy!!! You monster fuckers!!"
They said they'd bail if it didn't feel right, but with the system locked in, these mercs—eyes glued to the approaching mutes in pure anxiety—were pounding the biggest shields scavenged from the dead with their weapons.
"Raaaahhh!!!!"
"Graa! Kyaaak!"
"Ugrooooohhh!!!"
"Hey, old kid! They're all piling on us for real! Now what?!"
Professor glanced at the main left-flank force, well behind him and the mercs. First wave mutes mostly cleared.
'Trust it. Not just any hero—the Sun of the Battlefield. She grasps the field a hundred times better than me.'
"Stop! Cut the noise! Left line, ten paces left! Right line, ten paces right! Clear the center wide!"
"What? Straight defense, my ass! You're making a hole? You nuts—"
"Now!"
Professor kept checking behind even as he moved. Come on... she has to come... she has to!
...Thud thud thud thud—
Finally, the sound he'd been dying for reached Professor's ears.
"She's coming! Everyone, five paces left and right—no, just keep going!"
"But tell us what's—"
"Hahaha! Look behind! I told you! No fighting needed!"
At Professor's ear-to-ear grin, Waldorf and the mercs whipped around—
Neighhh!!!
"Out—of—the—waaaay!!"
Rumble rumble rumble!!!!
"Wing Knights—chaaarge!!"
Creeeeak-!
"W-whoa!"
"Move! Get the fuck aside!"
"Hahaha! Why fight when they've got our backs? Just lay out the red carpet!"
They wanna reinforce crumbling center, but leaving left flank means facing second wave leaderless—total clusterfuck. So what does a knight order crave most?
'Frontline's bulged forward 'cause of me, first contact with enemies—might as well mop 'em quick, right?'
Mutes? Even if that's not her personal guard, one buff from her turns low-grade mutes passing by into meat paste. Numbers don't matter—pure asymmetric beatdown.
'That big a gap? Time for a sweep hunt!'
That's why he rallied the mercs. Low-grade mutes charge anything they see, so spread the formation wide, plus that racket?
"Groooarrr!!!"
"Woooaaargh!!!!!"
Mutes swarming near left flank all bunched toward us,
Huuuuh—
"For the!!! King!!!!!"
"For the king!!" "For the king!!" "For the king!!" "For the king!!" "For the king!!"
"Break throuuuugh!!!!"
Krakakakakaka!
Mission 'aggro pull' complete—the knights blasted through our merc group's gap, shredding mutes as they advanced. Damn, they push clean!
"Kekeke! See? Told ya. Rigged gamble, right? Easy."
Waldorf and the mercs gawked, flicking between airborne mute chunks and my face.
"You... planned all this?"
"What’s to plan? Figured the knights back there were itching bad—lance-charge fiends, just set the stage and their eyes roll back, charging in.
Decent distance from main body. Enough runway for speed, herd 'em tight, one shot clears it."
Lance charge textbook: loop to enemy rear or flank. But scattered approach? Breach all you want, minimal damage.
So he poked forward for accel space, herded mutes bunched. Lay it out this blatant? Armored horse boys can't resist.
Waldorf eyed me like I'd grown a second head after my rundown.
"You thought all that in this short time? Fresh off a fight, wounded?"
"Heh heh. I use my head a bit."
Truth: Mental Fragility radar caught Charlotte whipping her head centerward three-four times a second while swinging her blade.
Thud thud thud thud!!
"Wow. Already mopped up."
Knights wrapping a skirmish turned back our way.
Low-grade mutes rock for this. Lure the front, backsides follow blind. One lance charge wiped the left-bound wave.
Neigh!
Returning knights slowed before us. A golden-haired knight, noon sun haloing her back, looked down.
"Who's in charge here."
"Uh, Silver Roar Mercenary Guild Master, Waldorf Topric—"
"Merc guild, huh. No military plate armor, so all mercs. Then you led 'em here?"
Topric hesitated. Obvious: not some rando knight. Say 'yes,' and old kid claims the major all his. Tempting, but...
[Kekeke! See? Rigged gamble? Easy.]
Glancing at the dopey-shut-mouthed kid beside, a chuckle slipped out instead.
Some knight blasts hundreds of life-risk monsters with a dozen riders.
Reads the field in a blink, persuades doubting mercs, sets perfect op for us, calls it easy.
'Ha, never thought myself a moth.'
"...Moths eat pine needles."
"Hm? What?"
"Uh, muttering. On your question: I'm guild master, yeah, but he planned and positioned us here."
"Hm... Right? You there. Name?"
"Uh? Oh, yes. Professor. Lost my family name. Just Professor."
"Lost your name... Noble blood. Figures. Knew someone here knew strategy. You."
"H-ha..."
Clang-!
Lady knight Charlotte thrust her sword at awkwardly grinning Professor's throat.
"Then you know what you've done. No orders, no command, you moved attached troops, abandoned post, led them into rogue strategy risking frontline chaos. Grave crime by military law. Do you confess?"
At the knight's blade-cold words on Professor's neck, Waldorf lunged forward unthinking.
"W-wait! Knight ma'am! Misunderstanding! He didn't mean—"
"Quiet."
Click.
A knight beside Charlotte blocked Waldorf.
"Name-lost Professor. Confess?"
"...Yes."
"Good."
Charlotte raised her sword high the instant he answered, like time was gold—
Tap. Tap.
Flat-side tapped both his shoulders.
"Crime absolved by merit. By authority of King's Knight Charlotte de Agate, I appoint you interim centurion commanding left flank forces."
"I accept."
"Good. Narik, that thing you grabbed earlier."
At her call, the knight blocking mercs tossed Professor a horn from his horse.
Ding-!
[Item Acquired - Turan Army Advance Horn: Horn issued to each unit's commander. Used mainly for muster, symbolizes command authority. / + Cracked and chipped. Took a hard hit. / + Caked in blood. Previous owner didn't hand it over nicely.]
"Advance horn. Should mark you as their commander decently."
"Sufficient."
"Good. My knights and I peel mutes off the defense line now."
"We'll hold rear, open the flank."
Her smile bloomed at the seamless reply.
"Heh heh. Professor... Memorable worth."
"Overpraise."
"Then. I entrust it."
With that, Charlotte and knights wheeled and charged center in a flash.
Mercs stared blankly after, heads slowly swiveling to Professor.
"Wh-what just happened."
"You... what'd you..."
"Heh heh heh. What happened?"
Ah, can't laugh like this anymore. Centurion. Modern equivalent's captain—gotta keep dignity—
"Keh heh heh heh! What else! Rigged gamble hit jackpot! Come on, no time! They won't follow 'cause I toot alone! Help hype the vibe!"
No time to bask. Professor grabbed Charlotte's horn and blew hard.
Bwoooo-!
"Front liiiine!!! Left flank's mine now! All troops! Swing wide behind the leftmost file and wheel! We're hitting the mutes fighting center in the rear!"
His bellow, squeezing every ounce, stirred the awkwardly standing left-flank soldiers post-fight.
"Waldorf! Move! Glue to the far left!"
"Huh?"
"These things, start upfront and they follow! You there, line up with our old-timers next door, step in sync, slow wide turn!"
"Uh, y-yeah."
Waldorf hustled mercs to the far-left of the murmuring ranks per Professor.
"Hey, ready?"
"Bro, we really doing this?"
"No chit-chat. Do like the kid says. In step. One, two!"
Step. Step. Step. Step.
Mercs in position marching caught soldiers' ears,
"Shape up!!! Defy orders, military law! While your fat asses twitch, center bleeds to monsters! Eyes front, attach!"
One by one behind mercs, soon sloppy steps outpaced the soldiers' clamor.
***
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