Ednfelt Wall (3)
[Will you stay longer in the summoned battlefield?]
[(Caution) Fees will be charged in Cron per hour of stay.]
Additional Stay Fee (3 hours): 150 Cron
Additional Stay Fee (1 day): 1,000 Cron
Damn, that's vicious.
50 Cron per hour? They even discount for a full day. Ridiculous. No, not even funny.
Central. What the hell are these people?
For now, though.
Let's think about the consulting contract first. If I head back like this, no contract, nothing. I'd have to wait until I'm summoned here again—who knows when that might be.
Yeah. 150 Cron is an investment. Just a 10% fee reduction from extra contributions nets me 200 Cron. Things clicked pretty well with Lena, too.
Anyway.
3-hour additional stay approved. 150 Cron deducted.
Remaining Cron: 1,750
The white light blanketing my vision fades. The barracks interior swims back into view. Spotting me, Lena half-rises from her chair, eyes wide.
“Be-Berga-nim? Weren't you... leaving...?”
“I'll stick around a bit longer.”
“Huh? Wait, more than that—is that even possible?”
“Yes. Perks of a pretty high grade.”
Might've come off cocky, but Lena seems to buy it, piecing together the internal logic.
“There's the consulting contract, and other things to discuss.”
Those follow-up words bring back that same smile from earlier. A strange heat flickering deep in her eyes...
No. Don't go there.
“Then, the consulting contract first.”
Lena plops back into her seat in that adorable flurry.
A notification pops into view.
Hero Slasher Berga (hereinafter “Party A”) enters into a consulting contract with Commander Lena Kraus (hereinafter “Party B”).
Party A shall, pursuant to the principle of good faith, provide advice to Party B on defense battle matters including but not limited to...
Hm? Looks just like something I've seen before.
Industry standard even here...
The consulting contract terms were straightforward. I offer strategy advice, deployment reviews, wave analysis—useful intel. Contributions stack up based on how Lena applies it in battle. The direct/indirect aid clause means any help, big or small, counts.
“Special provisions...”
I catch Lena's mutter.
There's a small slot for addendums at the bottom.
No need to add anything... right?
Before she can spout nonsense, I sign in midair. Lena hesitates a moment, then follows suit. Her handwriting's cutely un-commander-like.
Consulting contract concluded!
First consulting contract signed. (Lena Kraus)
Messaging function unlocked. Communicate with commanders from the Waiting Room.
Messaging function? Wondered how consulting would work. Guess this is it.
One more way to chat from the Waiting Room.
No need to burn stay time on commander crash courses. Just answer messages back home.
Contributions might dip, though.
“Thank you! Berga-nim! Sh-should I call you... teacher...?”
“Ah. Call me whatever's comfy. Name's fine.”
“Name? Then... Berga?”
Meant the current vibe's good, but straight to casual? Whatever—don't even know my age in this body.
“Berga... Then you talk casual too... please...?”
Sudden closeness has her shrinking again. I clear my throat on reflex.
“Ahem! Right. Lena. Got questions?”
Came here to consult, after all. Want to clear any hang-ups. Got some pride in Fortress of End.
Lena gazes down, pondering. Probably some gut-punch from the last wave.
“Um... what's your favorite food?”
What? Not that. Consulting, consulting.
She catches my look and flushes again.
“Ah, no... gotta know to treat you right...”
“Ahem! Anyway. Strategy.”
“Ah, y-yes!”
Lena straightens up. Ears still red, but ignoring for her sake.
I unpack battle observations one by one. Stake angles. Herder squad detachment timing. Killzone width. Wall archer range.
Lena listens intently. Shyness vanishes like a lie; questions sharpen. One word from me, she nods and jots notes.
Diligent beyond expectations. Gotta hustle if you wanna live, sure.
But seeing her as a hardworking junior? Kinda endearing.
“How'd you time the herder squad pullout?”
“Left it to the soldiers. Watch stamina, bail on their own.”
“Good call. Orders mess up timing, casualties spike.”
Lena's eyes sparkle. Lips quirk up. Feeling good?
Anyway. Light back-and-forth rolls on. Time slips by unnoticed. Sunset bleeds outside.
“Wanna head out?”
Catches my glance, points outside.
I nod.
Ednfelt's sunset is stunning. Same hues as my memories, even in this alien world.
No windows in the Waiting Room.
We watch in silence for a stretch. Savoring the peace a little longer. Etching it in memory a bit deeper.
“Commander! Banquet's ready!”
“Ah, time already...?”
Lena turns to me with a smile.
“Ednfelt tradition. After a brutal wave together... we gather. Celebrate, mourn the fallen... for tomorrow. For the next wave.”
Sunset gilds her face—affection laced with sorrow.
A festival, huh.
Game jumped straight to next prep post-wave. Never knew about this gap.
As a merc from beyond, might've stayed clueless forever.
Feels like peeking backstage at a show I never knew.
“If Berga joins... it'd be great. Today’s all celebration, right?”
Lena invites shyly, beaming.
Check remaining stay: about 40 minutes. Banquet means another payment.
~1,400 Cron per outing. Worth torching 150 more?
Hold up. Banquet means food.
Haven't had a real meal since possessing. No hunger in the Waiting Room, but doesn't kill the craving.
Call it grocery budget. Emergency rations run 20 Cron—dried meat, bread, cheese scraps.
150 for a lavish spread? Booze, meat, gorge till bursting. Profit.
3-hour additional stay approved. 150 Cron deducted.
Remaining Cron: 1,600
“Let's go.”
Lena lights up again.
The square boasts long wooden tables. Soldiers shed armor, clustered in groups, chatting away.
“Commander's here! And the prized merc!”
Heads turn at the shout. Lena and me? Atmosphere ignites. Cheers erupt everywhere—raised mugs, claps, some banging makeshift instruments.
Rowdy, but not bad.
My spot's clearly Lena's usual—head table by position, but nothing fancier. Perfect to eye the troops at a glance.
Right side: the bearded commander from the salute earlier. Nods at me. I nod back.
Slowly lifts his head, wordlessly offers a rough wooden mug. Frothy, murky yellow liquid. Beer-ish.
Everyone watches as I take it. Commander, officers, soldiers—all eyes.
Ah. Toast time.
Bad memory flashes, but I dredge up the usable bit, let it roll off the tongue.
“Great work today. Tough one tomorrow too.”
Light raise, and roars explode.
Got reamed at company dinners for implying drunk driving. But for folks who might die today or tomorrow? That cliché hits home.
Far off, a soldier's eyes glisten. Barely out of his teens.
Glance his way, bring mug to lips on autopilot. Bitter, sour flood. What ancient beer tasted like?
Not bad, though. Miles above those 10,000-won four-pack cans I choked down instead of meds in my old studio.
Suddenly, roast meat piles on my plate. Dunno the beast—tender, salty. Bread chunk on side. Tougher than chewy, but pairs killer with the fatty meat.
Chewy bread demands beer swallows; beer's bitter heft demands more meat.
“Hahaha! Ednfelt's endless loop—escape's a myth!”
A scar-faced soldier spots me, hollers laughing.
Lena chuckles softly beside.
One corner, booze-fueled soldiers kick off a song. Lyrics lost on me, but melody's upbeat. Victory tune, probably.
Others join one by one—soon the whole square's belting it. Torches sway, song swells, shadows dance across faces.
Lena quietly raises her mug beside me. Follow her gaze: big stone monument in the corner, dotted with a couple small flower bouquets.
She stares long, then sips deep.
The jubilant victory dirge shows no sign of stopping.