Battle in the Ashen Forest

The next dawn, 3rd Platoon marched toward the Ashen Forest. Fatigue from the hellish training still weighed on their bodies, but their military bearing was razor-sharp.

The forest lived up to its name. Trees blackened by relentless bombardment stood in silent rows, and with every footstep, the gray ash covering the ground puffed up in soft little clouds. Not a single trace of living life could be found anywhere.

I kept my eyes fixed on the Minimap, but there were no red dots—not a single enemy in sight.

Nothing out there, then….

From time to time, I didn't forget to use Status Analysis on my platoon members either. The skill, now upgraded to Level 2, was far more useful than before.

Most of the readings fell comfortably within the range of what I'd expected. But one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠soldier's information window stood out above all the rest.

Mana Sense?

She was the squad leader of 3rd Squad. Until now, I'd thought of her as nothing more than a quiet, hardworking senior soldier—I'd never dreamed a talent like this was hiding inside her.

So this is what Level 2 Status Analysis buys me.

A brief explanation is in order. Mana is the energy that forms the very foundation of this world. It's said that only special beings—mages, priests, and the like—can handle it, and ordinary people live out their entire lives without ever feeling its flow.

But a vanishingly small number of humans are born with an innate sensitivity to mana, and through training, they can bring that ability to full bloom. Those people are the bearers of Mana Sense.

Corporal Hanna had been carrying an extraordinary talent without even knowing it.

I made my way to her at once. She was sweating cold, her brown hair neatly tied back, her face drained of color. Her wide hazel eyes flickered with anxiety.

"Corporal Hanna."

At my call, she jolted as if struck by lightning.

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"Y-yes, sir! Lieutenant!"

"Feeling unwell? Your color looks terrible."

"No, sir! I'm fine!"

She answered on pure reflex, but I shook my head.

"Don't lie. Lying to a superior is a violation of military law. I'll ask again. What's the problem?"

At my firm tone, Hanna's eyes wavered. She chewed on her lip for a moment, then finally confessed in a small voice.

"…I don't really know, sir. It's just… ever since we entered the forest, something's been ringing in my head and my stomach feels sick. It's like… like I keep hearing an unpleasant sound."

The sound Hanna was perceiving had to be the flow of mana, detected by her still-dormant talent. If it felt unpleasant to her, then whatever was causing it was decidedly unnatural. My instincts were screaming a warning. This looked very closely connected to the vanished scout teams.

"That unpleasant aura—which direction does it feel strongest from?"

"Over there, sir. The northeast… beyond the valley. It keeps pulling at my attention."

"Good work, Corporal Hanna. That's extremely valuable information."

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gave her head a single pat.

"E-eeh…!"

At the unexpected contact, she let out a strange little hiccup of a sound. I could see her cheeks flushing scarlet, like ripe pomegranates. Paying it no mind, I turned back toward the platoon. This was an opportunity I couldn't afford to pass up.

"Everyone, advance on me."

With Corporal Hanna leading the way, we pushed deeper and deeper into the forest. Once we crossed the valley she'd pointed out, a certain sinister presence seemed to seep into the air. A faint, fishy odor hung over everything.

"It's getting… stronger. My head feels like it's going to split open."

Hanna spoke, swaying on her feet. That was when it happened.

"Lieutenant! Look over there!"

Where the soldier pointed, boot prints remained—prints that clearly belonged to the missing scout team. But something was wrong. The footprints simply stopped, cut off clean at a single spot. As if the people standing there had shot straight up into the sky.

I immediately used Status Analysis on the spot.

A spatial trap….

So that was why not a single corpse had turned up. The scout teams hadn't been ambushed by the orcs—they'd stepped into these traps and been spirited away somewhere. And this was not something ordinary orc soldiers could have set up on their own.

"There's a shaman."

I muttered under my breath, and the soldiers who overheard began to waver.

"Hey… did you guys just hear what the platoon leader said…?"

"A sh-shaman, he said…."

"Damn it, an orc shaman is more than a match for a single platoon in a straight fight… it was right there in the field manual…."

"Quiet."

At the sound of my voice, the chattering soldiers fell silent.

"Corporal Hanna."

"Ugh… yes, sir!"

I looked for Hanna again. By now, she was trembling so badly she could barely stay standing.

"Where does the aura feel strongest right now?"

"…Th-there. That way."

After a long groan, Hanna pointed a finger in a single direction.

I paused to think. Should we pull back here? Even just reporting the presence of an orc shaman would count for a considerable military commendation. But now that we'd come this far, a part of me felt we might as well push further. Above all, the operation had only just begun. There would be no problem pressing on.

Even if the shaman is tricky, if we take him out first with a surprise strike, this becomes an easy win.

I made my decision.

"All of 3rd Platoon—combat readiness, and we move out now."

The soldiers shrugged off their rifle slings and began checking magazines and bayonets. A clatter of metal echoed through the trees. Once I'd confirmed the platoon was ready, I advanced.

We were still moving in the direction Hanna had indicated when I caught it—red dots flickering at the very edge of my Minimap. At first there were only one or two, but as the distance closed, they multiplied into a swarm.

This was an enemy position, no doubt about it.

Until now, they'd been beyond the Minimap's range, forcing me to rely on Hanna, but with the distance finally close enough, I could use it. From this point on, I guided the unit entirely by the Minimap.

The skill's borderline-cheat nature was laid bare. It didn't show elevation or obstacles, but for pinpointing enemy positions and tracking their general patrol routes, nothing else came close. Watching the movement of the red dots on the display, I led the unit along a path that threaded cunningly through nothing but the blind spots of the enemy's patrols.

After marching for a good while, we reached the region where the red dots clustered most densely. It was a small basin ringed by rocks and fallen trees—and at its center stood a grotesque altar.

I halted the men with hand signals and carefully peered over the ridgeline.

More than twenty orcs were entrenched in the basin. Most sat around a bonfire or stood watch, but before the altar loomed one orc with an unmistakably different air about him. Decked head to toe in animal bones and feathers, clutching a staff crowned with a skull—an orc shaman.

The shaman was chanting an incomprehensible incantation, performing some ritual atop the altar. The ground around it had turned pitch black, and a haze-like current of mana smoldered up from its surface.

Take out that one, and it's over.

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I used Status Analysis on the shaman at once.

A perfect opportunity.

Thanks to Strong Mind, the surge of excitement rising in my chest settled away, and my thoughts went ice-cold. I dropped low and signaled the platoon with my hands. Every man sank into position in perfect unison, bodies vanishing behind rocks and trees.

"Platoon Leader… y-you mean we're taking on all of that?"

Corporal Kurt, sprawled flat beside me, whispered with a face white as a corpse.

"We don't need to fight all of them."

I answered quietly, sweeping my gaze across the platoon. Who was best suited for this task? My eyes settled on one soldier—the quiet, unremarkable sort who never drew attention to himself.

Status Analysis.

Found him.

I beckoned Klaus over with a flick of my hand. He crawled to me, his face a mask of terror.

"Private First Class Klaus."

"Y-yes, sir! Lieutenant!"

"Do you know how to handle a sniper rifle?"

"Only what I… fired at the training camp, sir."

"Good enough. As of this moment, you're our platoon's sniper."

At my words, Klaus's eyes flooded with despair.

"H-how am I supposed to…!"

"You can do it."

I gripped his shoulder hard.

"You've got a family behind you, don't you? If you want to go home alive, this is the role you have to play right now. That shaman on the altar—blow his head off. Can you do it?"

Deliberately, I used what I'd read about his family from his Emotions data. The effect was immediate. The fear drained out of Klaus's eyes, and a cold killing resolve began to crystallize in their place.

"…Understood, sir."

Klaus nodded grimly and began fitting a sniper scope onto his rifle.

Next, I called over Sergeant Gunter and the other squad leaders.

"Here's the plan. The instant Klaus snipes the shaman, 2nd and 3rd Squads under my command throw grenades and fire a coordinated volley from the front. Sergeant Gunter."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"You take 1st Squad around that ridgeline and hit their flank while we draw their eyes. Maximum chaos is the objective. Understood?"

"Understood, sir!"

Gunter and the squad leaders radiated fighting spirit. I met each platoon member's eyes in turn.

"Any questions?"

"No, sir!"

"Then we begin."

I watched 1st Squad slip away, then moved to my optimal position. Right beside me, Private First Class Klaus lay fully concealed, his muzzle trained on the shaman's head.

"Fire on my signal."

I waited until 1st Squad had completed their flanking maneuver and settled into position. On the Minimap, I confirmed the green dots had completely shifted to the red dots' flank. Everything was ready.

I took one deep breath and gave Klaus the order.

"Now."

BANG!

The stillness of the silent forest shattered.