Max Jäger, Who Cherishes His Comrades

"...I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be apologizing to me — you should be apologizing to the men you got killed."

Serafina's words skewered Erika like an ice pick. Erika's lip was bitten so hard it was on the verge of bleeding. The atmosphere had gone deathly cold. Then, Serafina's gaze turned toward me.

"Lieutenant Jäger."

I answered her call without a moment's hesitation.

"Yes, Captain."

"Report."

I launched into the report immediately.

"3rd Platoon reporting on the enemy-line infiltration mission. We bypassed the enemy's patrol teams and magical traps and reached the ridge near the enemy camp — our designated objective — without incident."

Serafina nodded quietly. Walter frowned as if something didn't add up.

"However, upon reaching the objective, we confirmed that the enemy's numbers exceeded estimates by more than double. I judged that a frontal assault — and even an assassination operation against their command staff — would have been reckless."

"T-twice the size?"

This time it was Franz who flinched and blurted it out.

"So?"

Serafina asked briefly.

"So, I changed the mission objective. As it happened, the camp contained a large stockpile of abandoned captured gunpowder. I determined that instead of striking the enemy command directly, it would be far more efficient to detonate the powder magazine — throwing the entire camp into chaos and paralyzing their supply lines."

The moment I finished, the air in the barracks stirred.

"...A stockpile of gunpowder?"

Lieutenant Walter muttered, looking dumbfounded.

"...Given how clever those orcs are, leaving it unguarded tracks."

Franz ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nodded vigorously. He alternated between staring at my face and the map, his eyes gleaming. I continued the report.

"We detonated the powder stockpile with a single experimental mana round. As a result, a quarter of the enemy camp was obliterated, and their armory and food warehouses burned to the ground. The enemy didn't register it as an attack — they concluded it was some supernatural calamity and descended into severe disarray."

"All of that... with a single shot?"

Franz murmured, unable to help himself. I nodded and pressed on.

"That's correct. We accomplished the objective with a single shot, withdrew immediately, and fired our signal flare. While moving to the rally point, we detected an engagement in progress on the Western Ridge."

My gaze shifted to Erika. She couldn't lift her head.

"Expecting an offensive larger than anticipated, I decided not to rest on a completed mission and instead move to support the 2nd Platoon at once. We seized the high ground, struck the enemy's flank, and assisted the 2nd Platoon in re-forming their battle line amid the chaos. As a result, we successfully annihilated the enemy survivors."

"Wha...?"

"......!"

The atmosphere shifted entirely. Walter stroked his chin and let out an incredulous sigh of admiration. Franz was lost in a daze, mechanically nodding at every word I spoke. His eyes sparkled like a boy hearing tales of heroes.

"Reporting the 3rd Platoon's final casualties: one lightly wounded. Ammunition expended, less than five percent of individual firearms allotment. That concludes the report."

Just as the status window showed, she nodded curtly, evidently satisfied with my report. Her voice carried a rare note of sincerity.

"Good work, Lieutenant. Thanks to your flexible judgment, this operation was brought to a flawless conclusion."

The reports from the 1st and 4th Platoons followed in turn. At the end, Serafina swept her gaze across the platoon leaders and spoke.

"The 3rd Platoon will take two full days of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rest starting today. Focus on recovering from combat fatigue. The 2nd Platoon will handle the fallen and repair the equipment. And Lieutenant Stahlberg — you will write a detailed after-action report on this engagement and submit it by end of day."

It was transparent favoritism in reverse — a clear act of discipline. Erika couldn't manage a word in reply.

"Dismissed. That is all."

The instant Serafina finished speaking, I stepped forward.

"Captain. Lieutenant Max Jäger — I have something I'd like to say. I ask that you reconsider your disposition of Lieutenant Stahlberg."

The air in the barracks froze. Walter's admiration turned to open disbelief. Franz's ceaseless nodding stopped dead. But the most violent reaction of all came from none other than Erika herself.

"...What?"

Her head snapped up. In her eyes burned the humiliation of being pitied.

"Are you... mocking me right now, Jäger?"

But I ignored her growling and looked only at Serafina. Eyes as cold as ice. She opened her mouth.

"...Lieutenant Jäger. However impressive your performance, there is a time and a place to step forward. But—"

Serafina paused, closing her eyes briefly before reopening them and continuing. In that short moment, she seemed to have crushed her anger beneath her reason.

"But — speak. I'll hear you out."

At that permission-not-quite-a-permission, I began calmly.

"It is true that Lieutenant Stahlberg made an error in judgment."

I opened by conceding Erika's mistake outright. At those words, Erika's shoulders hunched once more.

"However, the course of this engagement diverged completely from the original operational plan."

Shifting the tone of my voice, I pressed on with the next point.

"What the 2nd Platoon faced was no mere band of stragglers. It was an organized rearguard force on par with their main body. Their numbers were clearly beyond what a single platoon could be expected to handle."

As my words fell, Walter and Franz exchanged confused looks. They had assumed Erika had simply picked a reckless fight — it hadn't occurred to them that a variable might have been hiding beneath the surface. Their gazes moved in unison, sharpening as they traced the point on the operational map where the 2nd Platoon had fought on the Western Ridge. Their eyes narrowed, as if trying to repaint the picture of the battlefield from scratch.

Sensing the subtly changed atmosphere, I began weighing my words with care. The problem was what came next.

Whatever the circumstances, the fact remained that Erika had failed to withdraw and regroup even though a better tactic existed. She had cost the unit casualties and ammunition for the utterly personal reason of a commander's pride. Punishment was warranted.

And no, my reason for covering for her was hardly vague sympathy. That woman Erika might be pretty enough to look at, but her conduct certainly wasn't. I had no particular obligation to shield her.

My intent, pure and simple, was to use my skills aggressively to grow my standing and influence within the unit.

Levelling up reduced the failure risk, too. ...Charming Speechcraft.

I continued in the most persuasive tone I could muster.

"But Lieutenant Stahlberg did not give ground. Because her platoon held the defensive line with their lives and pinned the enemy in place, the main force was free to concentrate on sweeping the remnants to the east — and my 3rd Platoon was able to withdraw and regroup without interference."

At my words, Erika's face flickered with momentary confusion. I was cleverly reframing her failure as a strategic sacrifice.

"Ultimately, the 2nd Platoon's desperate stand played a decisive role in halting and annihilating the enemy retreat. The sacrifice of the two fallen soldiers was not in vain — it was a heroic act that prevented far greater losses. I believe this should be recognized not as grounds for punishment, but as a merit."

Ding—

Ding, ding, ding, ding.

The sound of system windows popping up was deafening.

Serafina's status window had changed markedly. She was now turning over the implications of my words in her mind.

"......"

Erika, too, said nothing — but her expression was the polar opposite of Serafina's. Her face, flushed red as a boiled beet, now carried something other than anger or humiliation. Shame and bewilderment, maybe. Having the rival she envied most of all protect her honor as well couldn't have been easy for her to stomach.

At last, breaking the long silence, Serafina spoke.

"...Lieutenant Stahlberg."

Her voice was still cold, but it no longer carried an edge like before.

"Lieutenant Jäger has a point. I will take into account the unforeseen variable. However, the responsibility for losing personnel through a commander's poor judgment does not simply disappear."

She delivered her verdict.

"I will recommend a two-rank posthumous citation for the fallen. The 2nd Platoon will be granted special leave. But Lieutenant Stahlberg — submit your after-action report as planned. You will replay every detail of this engagement and carve your mistakes into your bones."

"...Understood."

Erika barely managed to answer. The punishment stood, but its meaning had changed entirely. It was no longer censure — it had become a measure for reflection and growth.

"That is all. Dismissed — for real this time."

The moment Serafina finished, Walter and Franz turned to leave first. On his way out, Walter gave my shoulder a thump and smiled meaningfully, while Franz looked at me with eyes that shone almost too brightly to bear.

"...This kid. I thought he was only good at tactics."

"Me too, I might just...!"

Each tossing off his own parting remark, the two of them left the barracks.

Next came Erika. She stood in place for a moment, then brushed past me. In the instant she passed my side, she whispered in a voice too quiet for anyone else to hear.

"...You didn't have to do that. And don't get any ideas. This doesn't mean I owe you anything."

"Really, now?"

At my question, Erika's shoulders went rigid as stone.

She spun around and glared at me. Her face was a vivid mix of naked flusterment and the shame of having her true feelings exposed. The crimson blush utterly betrayed her attempt to look tough.

"What, why you...!"

She tried to fire off another retort, but in the end nothing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠followed. Her lips simply quivered in frustration. Finally, clenching her fists, she bolted out of the barracks as if truly fleeing.

I watched the back of her jacket, torn and fluttering, and thought to myself:

I'll be collecting that debt — with interest.