Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Orders from Command
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“…Captain.”
“It’s tragic and infuriating enough that he became undead. How much more miserable would he be if he couldn't even go home? We have to get him home.”
“Hah.”
Carlyle let out a heavy sigh and asked Begman.
“By any chance… do you have athlete's foot?”
“A-Athlete’s foot?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”
“Just answer.”
“This bastard, I've had just about enough…!”
Begman flared up.
“It seems Private Carlyle has a reason for asking. Let’s hear him out first, Captain.”
Kudo calmed Begman down.
“Do you have athlete's foot or not?”
“I don’t!”
“You’re sure.”
“Yes!”
“That's surprising.”
“What?”
“Isn't it normal for soldiers with long careers to have athlete's foot?”
Combat boots were tough and sturdy, but they weren't well-ventilated.
Living and fighting in such boots often led to athlete's foot.
And for soldiers, athlete's foot was one of the milder foot ailments they could get.
‘Athlete's foot would be a relief.’
Other foot diseases, like cellulitis or trench foot, could be severe enough to require amputation or even lead to death from sepsis.
“I take good care of my feet, so I don't have it!”
“I'll trust you, then?”
Carlyle took off the [Ranger's Spirit] he was wearing and handed them to Begman.
“Why are you suddenly giving me your boots?”
“They're not ordinary boots. They're an artifact.”
“They're too small.”
“They'll adjust on their own. Just try them on.”
“Alright.”
As Begman carefully slipped his foot in, the [Ranger's Spirit] automatically resized to fit him.
“With those, you should be able to keep up even while carrying Private Derek.”
“R-Really? Thanks. And I'm sorry for getting angry earlier. You just brought up athlete's foot out of nowhere…”
“It's fine, don't worry about it.”
Carlyle said, then looked back at the group.
“Let's get moving. That evil necromancer is probably chasing us.”
“Right, let's go.”
Begman quickened his pace.
[Notification: progress has reached 50%! (5/10)]
Carlyle swiped away the notification window that appeared before his eyes and followed Begman.
* * *
Carlyle's party pressed on through the darkness, marching as fast as they could back to Bowden Fortress.
“*Gasp, gasp!*”
Begman, though panting for breath, kept pace without falling behind.
Running for kilometers on a mountain path late at night while carrying a heavy load was a nearly impossible feat.
Even for the physically fit captain of a reconnaissance team, a human has his limits.
Normally, he would have fallen behind long ago and would have likely been forced to abandon Derek's body.
The living couldn't die for the sake of retrieving a fallen comrade's corpse.
Nevertheless, the reason Begman could endure was thanks to the effects of the [Ranger's Spirit].
As boots designed for traversing mountainous terrain, the [Ranger's Spirit] lessened the wearer's fatigue and enhanced their stamina.
Furthermore, they reduced the strain on his waist, knees, and even his ankles and soles to one-third of the normal level.
‘If we get caught, it's over.’
Meanwhile, Carlyle's mind was racing.
Crowley was an extremely powerful necromancer, one who even commanded an army of undead.
Depending on the scenario, there was even an event where Crowley would conquer this area and lead his undead legion to invade Decaron.
Of course, this was about nine years and a few months before the starting point of the game [Overlord], so the chances of a chaotic battle as terrifying as he'd expected were low.
However, there was no doubt that Crowley was a formidable necromancer, and it went without saying that if they ran into him, they would be annihilated.
‘I have no choice.’
Carlyle knew this all too well, so he took a drastic measure.
“Let's each take a sip of this before we go.”
Carlyle handed a bottle filled with a white liquid to his seniors.
It was one of the potions he had swiped from the Sigmund family's secret vault.
“Is this a stamina recovery potion?”
Kudo recognized the contents of the bottle at a glance.
“Yes. It's good quality, so one sip each should be enough.”
“W-Well, you really are a rich young master. Carrying something like this around.”
Russell said in admiration, as if seeing Carlyle in a new light.
“Right. Our rookie is a rich kid. Captain, you drink first. You must be the most exhausted.”
Marder recalled the fact and turned to Begman.
“Alright, thanks. I'll pay you back handsomely for the potion later.”
From Begman to Kudo, from Kudo to Marder, and from Marder to Russell.
The recon team drank the potion in order of rank and seniority.
*Gulp, gulp!*
“Hey, you crazy bastard! Why are you chugging a potion like it's water!”
“*Gah!*”
“You think this is some kind of health tonic? Huh?!”
A minor incident occurred where Russell, not knowing any better, overdrank the potion and got a slap on the back of the head from Begman, but…
‘Geez. One sip would have been enough, but he drank almost half the bottle.’
Finally, Carlyle downed the rest of the stamina potion.
The potion's effect was outstanding.
Even with just one sip, his fatigue vanished, and he could feel his depleted stamina rapidly replenishing.
As expected of something stored in the Sigmund family's secret vault, the potion's purity was exceptionally high.
“Now that we've recovered our stamina, let's get a move on.”
“Yes, Captain.”
The party resumed their march.
* * *
Thanks to the stamina recovery potion and the [Ranger's Spirit], Carlyle's party conducted a high-speed night march through the mountains and successfully returned to Bowden Fortress.
‘We were lucky.’
Carlyle figured their safe return was because the party's combat power and movement speed had exceeded Crowley's expectations.
‘He underestimated us.’
Carlyle thought this because, from Crowley's perspective, hunting the party should have been an incredibly easy task.
What if Crowley hadn't chased them but had instead lain in wait near Bowden Fortress?
If so, Crowley would have been able to capture Carlyle's party with ease.
But Crowley didn't do that.
He had likely assumed Carlyle's party would be wiped out by his corpse soldiers and moved at a leisurely pace.
Thanks to that, their paths had crossed without meeting, and Carlyle's party had the good fortune of returning safely to Bowden Fortress…
“Looks like something's going on.”
Kudo commented, observing the atmosphere inside the fortress.
“You're right. It's not even time for reveille yet.”
Begman agreed with Kudo.
“Move, move, move!”
“Heighten the alert status!”
It was around five in the morning.
Though it wasn't yet time to wake up, the soldiers were bustling about.
“Hey, you.”
“Yes?”
“What's all this commotion?”
Begman stopped a passing soldier and asked.
“A terrifying undead monster apparently broke in.”
“What?!”
“I only heard about it, so I'm not sure if it's true, but… some huge undead monster flew in and took the head that was on display…”
The soldier pointed to a pike that stood right next to the fortress gate.
“…We were one step too late.”
Carlyle understood the situation and squeezed his eyes shut.
He had planned to smash that bastard's head the moment he got back to the fortress, but to think it had already been taken.
“The rest of you go get some rest. I'm going to report the mission outcome to Commander Helen.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“And you, rookie, come with me. You know more about this than I do. I don't know a damn thing about magic or any of that.”
“Alright.”
“And… thanks for the loan.”
Begman took off the [Ranger's Spirit] and gave them back to Carlyle.
“Thanks to these, I was able to bring Derek back. The effect is amazing, probably because it's an artifact made by a mage. Thank you. I'll repay this debt, for both myself and for Derek.”
“You don't have to.”
“But…”
“Isn't that just what we do for each other as members of the recon team?”
“Huh?”
“You'd do the same for me if I died, right?”
“Well… yes, of course.”
“So you don't need to repay any debt. Oh, and if I die, just leave my body behind. I'll be fine.”
“What???”
“I wouldn't want to see you die trying to retrieve my corpse. I can't speak for others, but I wouldn't want that. If I caused that much trouble, I'd feel sorry even in the afterlife.”
“What are you talking about? I'm bringing you back no matter what.”
Begman said, as if it wasn't even a question.
“But I'm fine with it?”
“Don't say such foolish things. I'm still bringing you back.”
“I'm really fine with it…”
Having already died once, he was of the opinion that a corpse didn't matter.
He just hoped the form of his death wouldn't be miserable or grotesque.
“You think I'm doing it because I like you?”
“Then why?”
“What about your family?”
“...?”
“If they can't even recover your body, what are the Grand Duke and your brothers supposed to do? How heartbroken would they be if they couldn't even hold a proper funeral?”
“Would they even care?”
“Hey, you punk.”
Begman gave him a very light rap on the head.
“Don't say things like that so carelessly.”
“But…”
“Even if he's the child you've cast aside, losing a son is heartbreaking. That's what family is.”
“I don't think so…”
“Shh. Enough nonsense. Let's go make our report.”
“Yes, well. Let's go.”
A cold smile formed on Carlyle's lips as he followed Begman.
‘I can guarantee it. My old man probably held a half-assed funeral for me and then went off to play golf with his new wife.’
As he thought of the man who was his father in his past life, his thoughts drifted to Grand Duke Guntram.
How would Grand Duke Guntram react if Carlyle van Sigmund died in battle?
‘He wouldn't be sad that a good-for-nothing punk like me died. I'd be lucky if he wasn't happy about it.’
Family?
To Carlyle, family was nothing more than an object of resentment and hatred.
* * *
“…So that's what happened.”
Helen's expression darkened further as she received the report.
The sudden appearance of the undead Bjornsen—or rather, his body—storming the fortress and taking his own head was no ordinary incident.
But to think there was an evil necromancer behind it all…
“We should withdraw.”
Carlyle suggested to Helen in a strong tone.
“The Butcher Tribe alone is hard enough to handle. If that necromancer joins them…”
“An order just came down from high command, as a matter of fact.”
It seemed a messenger had arrived while the reconnaissance mission was underway.
Carlyle's party had been through a lot, but for a messenger to travel in the dead of night, they must have had it rough as well.
“There will be no withdrawal. The order is to continue the magic stone mining operation.”
“What…?”
Carlyle couldn't believe his ears.
They've become the target of the Butcher Tribe, a barbarian tribe of considerable size, and they're being ordered to press on with the mining?
“It seems the magic stone supply is critically low.”
“What about reinforcements?”
“Fighting is breaking out in other regions as well, so they replied that they can't send reinforcements immediately. However, they said they'll send them within a few days, and to do our best to secure magic stones until then.”
“Who the hell gave that damn order?”
“It came directly from Command.”
“Command…?”
“The 2nd Army Command. It would be safe to say the order came directly from Commander Rebesk... your uncle.”
“Ah.”
Carlyle felt as if he'd been struck in the head with a hammer.