Chapter 319
Chapter 319
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 319
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
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“Impressive.”
Ignoring the dry tone of admiration from behind, the 98th Batch Vice Squadron Leader entered the strategy room and sat down with a displeased expression.
For one, he wasn’t particularly fond of strategy games. But when push came to shove, he wasn’t bad at them either, and he took great pride in his strategic skills. So the reason he wasn’t in a great mood now had less to do with the game itself and more with something else.
In his own view, that something was the fact that the 101st Batch Vice Squadron Leader had joined as his sub-player.
‘...Of all people, I have to team up with Ascanien.’
Hadn’t he personally handled every single punishment that junior had received so far? They might not have been proper punishments, but even so, if you asked that junior who the worst senior from the 98th Batch was in his eyes, it would undoubtedly be him.
‘Not that it matters.’
If anything, Ascanien needed more mental reconditioning. They couldn’t overlook that rebellious streak of his. The way he smirked cynically at the 98th Batch every time, the way he let Albert’s words go in one ear and out the other—it was intolerable. For brothers to be so perfectly, diversely insufferable in opposite directions... no family scratched at people’s nerves quite like that one.
[Round 1 begins in 1 minute.]
The thought only soured his mood further, but now was the time to focus. The 98th Batch Vice Squadron Leader sat at the strategy table, clasped his hands together, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Ascanien’s voice drifted over as he leaned on the glass railing, surveying the Mimesis field below.
“The floor’s glass too, I see. Who thinks to put the game board right under your feet like this...”
“......”
“The view’s stunning. They’ve shrouded it in clouds because the game hasn’t started yet, right?”
“Could you be quiet? You need to concentrate before the game.”
Ascanien was acting like someone who’d never played Mimesis before. They were in the sky right now—or at least, that’s what Mimesis made it feel like. The field below was a replica of the real world. Instead of a traditional wooden board, they used the actual world as their game board, with wizards manifested on the ground as pieces.
Ascanien smiled faintly and leaned forward slightly.
“You used to favor Duzen for training, but now it’s Gezen. Anyway, what do I do?”
“When I give an order, just write it down exactly and send it to that declaration table. You’ve never done this?”
He’d heard the manual had been provided in full. The 98th Batch Vice Squadron Leader pulled out a yellow sheet from the strategy table and pointed to the declaration table. “Table” was just a figure of speech. Far off, a circular glass railing controlled movements, and the empty space inside it was called the declaration table. As expected, Ascanien caught on without acting like a non-wizard for once.
“The declaration table... so I just launch it into the air? Right?”
“Yeah. Now be quiet... Oh, and how accurately you transcribe my words is a decisive factor in win or loss.”
“Got it.”
Ascanien’s curt reply came with an expression as if the vice leader’s words had been mere wind. Irritated, he slapped the table. A spark of defiance flared unbidden, twisting his face and sharpening his tone.
“Did you study Clausewitz’s On War before coming here?”
“Yes.”
“Good. If you didn’t even know that much, I’d doubt you could understand my orders properly. You can write and send them accurately, right?”
“Yes, without errors.”
Ascanien straightened up, wearing an expression just like his brother’s. That didn’t sit well either. He’d said more than necessary, and seeing even a hint of a smile in this situation felt disrespectful. He was convinced that’s exactly why the junior was smiling.
[Begin.]
Beeeep—
The starting buzzer sounded, and a map and various pieces materialized on the strategy table.
The 98th Batch Vice Squadron Leader was grateful for the timely buzzer. Otherwise, he might have been set on dragging Ascanien out for some proper mental education. A fleeting thought crossed his mind that he might be paranoid, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on.
“I’m on the Pleroma side.”
The flag that appeared on the strategy table with the buzzer was black. Taking the position of the nation’s enemy usually granted the first move.
‘First move is nice, but it bruises the pride a bit.’
Moves were assigned by skill level, so winning this one meant he’d play white next game.
The field was a 10x10 grid, using the first quadrant coordinates directly. Ascanien could see the Mimesis field firsthand, but the vice leader planned via the coordinate grid on the table, not the view.
The opponent had 11 wizard pieces and 5 Old Human cavalry units, 6 Old Human infantry units. He had 16 Pleroma-side wizard pieces. Wizards could attack up to 3 squares in cardinal and diagonal directions from their center without terrain advantages; Old Humans, 2 squares.
Bases were at coordinates (5,0) and (5,10), with pieces lined up in rows 0-1 and 9-10 at their respective bases. Capture the enemy base or eliminate all their pieces to win instantly.
‘Mark first.’
The 98th wizard placed enemy base markers on the grid and erased unwarpable coordinates from them. All coordinates within 3 rows of the enemy base were unwarpable, only allowing step-by-step advances. From the 98th’s view, rows 10 to 8 at the enemy base were unwarpable.
Wizard pieces could warp anywhere else; Old Human cavalry moved 2 squares at once, infantry 1. A single “move” allowed up to five pieces to one spot—but it wasn’t as overpowered as it sounded. Designed after real combat, unlike chess, it didn’t involve capturing and occupying in one go. It split into 1. moving to a position, and 2. attacking from there or disrupting warp points, as separate turns.
Each piece was worth 1 point, so eliminating enemies required summing points of all enemy pieces in attack range and comparing totals.
Thinking this way from the Pleroma perspective felt off, but the 98th Vice Squadron Leader’s goal solidified: annihilate them all.
Ascanien, who’d been leaning on the railing overlooking the field, returned to the strategy table and placed terrain pins on the grid. He pointed into the air with his finger, then positioned green mountain pins from (0,7) to (2,6) and (5,5). The mountains stretched from the y-axis diagonally down to the center of the first quadrant.
‘...Mountains, of all things...’
Handled right, they could turn advantageous, but the enemy would desperately block any favorable use. Attacks through obstacles like mountains or forests only counted half the attacking power against enemy pieces, reflecting real-world hindrance.
Just then, Ascanien pulled out an orange pin and placed it in the lower right.
“There’s a cliff at (7,3). Pretty high.”
“Close to the (5,5) ridgeline.”
“Indeed.”
Nodding in satisfaction at Ascanien’s words, the 98th Vice Squadron Leader closed his eyes and muttered to himself.
“The cavalry can’t enter mountains, so they’ll swing right to block Vitriol... If I position Pleroma on the high ground, they’ll pour attacks there.”
Even anticipating their attacks, he had to weigh if holding the high ground outweighed the risks—obviously, it did! Magic was faster than them, and these Pleroma were all wizards; they could quickly dispatch dozens of Old Humans. Assuming the Old Humans weren’t guarding Vitriol.
Plus, high ground massively expanded wizard attack ranges, mirroring reality.
The issue was the enemy’s New Human units. Where would they place wizards? Bound in units, but wizards’ nature meant they’d move independently. Their individual power overwhelmed multiple Old Humans, so clumping them was inefficient unlike Old Humans.
Stroking his chin, the 98th Vice Squadron Leader spoke.
“Securing the high ground first is priority. Are these all the terrain features I need to know?”
“There’s a village behind the mountains.”
“......”
Ascanien placed a gray pin.
Villagers could turn partisan depending on location. Near Pleroma, inducible to frenzy and conscripted; near the nation, they became militia. Stepping on suspected village areas risked militia traps inflicting casualties at a probability. Raiding to convert or frenzy them was good, but by then, you’d be at the enemy barracks.
‘Headache from mountains, high ground was a relief, now militia too...’
“I’ll relay your orders.”
“......”
Even with visibility drawbacks, mountains exerted influence over surrounding plains. Thus, denying the enemy mountains while seizing field control was key.
‘Got it.’
To control, seize high ground first. Magic’s long-range nature meant dominating here controlled most of the field.
“Move the five Pleroma from row 1 to high ground (7,3).”
“Yes.”
Ascanien pulled out an order sheet and scribbled with a mana-infused pen.
Soon, the strategy table’s grid flushed red—the attack range of the just-placed pieces. Centered on (7,3), it secured attacks across 5 squares cardinally. Attacks only counted fully occupied squares. Like the high ground’s 5-square range, mountains granted 4 squares—vision harder in mountains.
Thus, the enemy would head to the mountains now.
Despite row 0, he’d left row 1’s five from (1,1) to (5,1) empty because they had 4-square ranges. Max five per move, but moving many wasn’t always best. Forces moved to disparate points A and B couldn’t regroup to C in one turn; it took two.
Why five then? They’d naturally target (5,5) ridgeline; from (7,3), attacking (5,5) yielded 2.5 attack power, so enemy needed at least three wizards to defend—matching his five.
‘Let’s see if they follow predictions.’
Opponent’s turn now. They couldn’t hear enemy orders; Ascanien would report from watching the field. Straightening from the railing, he spoke.
“Enemy sent five wizards to (5,5) ridgeline. From (0,10), (1,10), (2,10), (9,10), (10,10).”
Beeeep—
Light signaled his turn.
As predicted, target (2,6) ridgeline over (5,5) mountains. Plains irrelevant for now.
Eyes closed, thinking via coordinates—not board—sharpened insight.
“(0,0), (1,0), (2,0), (7,0)—four to (2,6) ridgeline.”
Ascanien silently wrote the order and sent it.
Opponent took long; no buzzer. Makes sense—they’d pulled wizards to (5,5), leaving no defense for (2,6)’s 4-square attack on left rows 10-9. Without recalling (5,5) wizards or shifting right wizards/Old Humans, left base row 10 risked breach.
Then, Ascanien approached, removed one (2,6) piece—killed by militia, evidently. But militia gone too; they died after one attack.
If enemy’s five at (5,5) attacked Pleroma three at (2,6)... Mountain halved their 2.5 attack to ineffective against 3 defense. Obvious what they’d choose.
Beeeep—
“Enemy moved (8,10) wizard to (2,10).”
“......”
Exactly. Recalling (5,5) would’ve been better for Pleroma, but he was content. Without this, they’d sabotage (5,5) warp point—letting them warp there endlessly while he couldn’t. Blocking that sufficed.
‘Best now would be warping to (5,5) ourselves...’
No manpower. Already committed; couldn’t spare base defenders. Caution needed.
‘Must infiltrate enemy base directly somehow.’
Left half blocked by mountains, right risked enemy Old Human push. Fortunately, high ground secured right visibility. But they could sabotage mountain warps and attack row 1 Pleroma. His side could hit row 8 from row 3 high ground, but enemy basics all in rows 10-9. What would others do...?
“Move two Pleroma from (7,3) high ground to (10,6).”
He decided to whittle enemy forces. Ascanien paused mid-order-sheet, staring.
“......”
“What, not relaying?”
“What next?”
What next? The vice leader squinted, incredulous.
“Why do you need to know that?”
“Planning to strike their Old Human units from (10,6)?”
“......”
Perfect timing—enemy New Humans gone from row 10 right; Old Humans’ shorter range made it ideal. They’d retreat next, but limited move kept some in range for hits. Culling before they strengthened was smart. Before he could reply, Ascanien set down the sheet.
“You’ll lose soon.”
The vice leader couldn’t process it.
Silence fell. Then, absurd, he gaped.
“...How do you know my plan...”
“Same as I said earlier. If you move there, instead of evacuating Old Humans as you predict, they’ll sacrifice them to destroy (5,5) warp point, blocking us. That hands them the game—no need to explain the picture in your head.”
Ascanien snatched a baton from the desk, slashing across the map.
“With (5,5) warp destroyed, your Pleroma dispersed to (10,6), only one max-5 unit left. You’ll have to take the five base defenders. But where to?”
“......”
Where? No answer. Any simulation led nowhere. Moving left base exposed; they’d advance to his base via (5,5); late return, base lost. As if reading him, Ascanien picked up exactly there.
“Then, total defense only. Prep row 1 remnants against (5,5) attacks by shifting to row 0 first—they’d eliminate otherwise. No limit per coordinate. Next, predict theirs: pull forces elsewhere, warp closest to base possible. Latter likelier? Downgrade for you: they warp from (5,5) to (5,3). Recall all (2,6) or (7,3) Pleroma to row 0.”
“......”
“Then repetitive drudgery. Mountain line breached; they ferry forces, skirmish, ferry more...”
Spot on. Could he counterattack weaknesses mid-that? Question rose but stuck. He hadn’t even considered shifting row 1 from (5,5) range. Realizing he’d die faster solo shocked him utterly.
Ascanien, gazing down, smacked (5,5) with the baton.
“You started wrong from move one.”
“...What?”
“Should’ve sent wizards to (5,5) first. You prioritized high ground, sidelining mountains. Enemy has three counters: one, seize our high ground for better view than mountains. Two, warp to (5,5) too, stopping our sabotage. One: high ground in our attack range—our win. Two: their warp gives us next turn to smash warp point; they can’t reinforce, we can.”
“......”
“Three, abandon (5,5) for (2,6). Militia helps block us—not bad, but you saw: stalemate. They know too. Yet it’s their best. Why these top options, why three likeliest? You know, senior—skipping. Correct me if wrong.”
“...Why say this now...!”
“Did I have speaking rights?”
“......”
“Even without, I assumed you knew.”
Assumed he knew... It sapped all will. Dazed, he stared at coordinates. Ascanien’s emotionless voice continued.
“Enemy’s using mountains to secure plains.”
Who didn’t know that obvious? Problem: he’d guarded it yet nearly erred. Realizing the mess bleached his mind. So, how... what to do. Nothing came.
“Not too late—withdraw, gather five Pleroma from rows 0-1 outside (5,5) range, warp to (2,6).”
“......”
“Now eight wizards at (2,6). Outbound mountain attacks full, inbound half—you must hold warp point. First button wrong, so expect slog...”
“Th-then odds of failure...”
Questions surged: abandon (5,5)? When use (7,3)? Plenty, but same reason silenced him. To his faltering query, Ascanien smiled.
“Well. Follow me, momentum shifts to you—not them.”
* * *
He hadn’t grasped it then, but the words were right.
[Round 1: 98th Batch A Erich Reichenau’s Pleroma wins.]
Name announced, but no joy. Bewildered by events, he stared blankly. His gaze drifted to Ascanien, who just nodded—handle it yourself?
‘...No good.’
Anxiety swelled. Started cocky, but Ascanien’s rapid-fire crushed solo confidence.
[...3, 2, 1. Round 2 begins.]
Beeeep—
‘No, let’s do this.’
Always mid-to-upper in strategy trials. Bad start tensed him; regain pace, he’d manage.
Five minutes later.
The 98th Vice Squadron Leader despaired.
‘...Fixed the earlier mistake perfectly?’
Yet his wizards were absurdly outnumbered. Unexpected losses accumulated fatally. Finally, arms-crossed Ascanien spoke flatly.
“Time for feint. Send two wizards to riverbank first. Numerical inferiority makes all moves seem genuine.”
“......”
“They’ll predict barrier on river, then cavalry push. Shatter that prediction properly.”
Relief hit the instant Ascanien spoke; he bit his lip. Helpful advice, worth trying.
Round 3, same.
Held advantage longer, but crumbling when Ascanien interjected.
“Should’ve led with infantry. Cavalry moves two—how could you yield that?”
“......”
“We’ll take hits too, no choice. Breach dike, remove central warp point.”
Fourth game identical. Midway through irreversible blunders, Ascanien intervened. By fifth, he showed true colors.
“Might as well go all in.”
“......”
No choice; Ascanien stood beside, sharing grid. Near-commands in strategy conference flowed.
How much time passed?
[...Round 9: 98th Batch A Erich Reichenau’s Prussian forces win. All games complete.]
Nine wins announced, Mimesis lights out. Vast plain vanished; tension released.
Beyond thin glass wall, opposite wizard—seeing opponent post-shutdown—showed bewilderment. Golden typewriter-like text scrolled on glass before him.
[1. 98th Batch A Erich Reichenau (B-Class)]
[2. 91st Batch A Magdalena Vizleben (A-Class)]
[3. 91st Batch C Frederica Hanover (A-Class)]
Who beside the 1? The 98th stared blankly at his top-listed name. No prior rivals here, none expected; its meaning felt uncertain now.
Ascanien’s red eyes turned to him. His lips curved faintly.
“We won.”
“......”
That gaze urged joy. The alien red eyes made him avert, awkwardly lifting lips.
That’s all he could do. He knew better than anyone: we hadn’t won.