Charismatischer Sprecher

Harm yourself, Sergeant Gunter.

"Now."

At my command, Private Klaus's body went rigid for an instant. He held his breath, then pulled the trigger.

Crack!

The silence of the forest shattered. The bullet struck the orc shaman square between the eyes. The creature's massive head burst open like an overripe watermelon, brain matter and fragments of bone spraying in every direction, while the arm clutching its staff swept once through the air and went limp.

Kuwaaaaaah!

The magic the shaman had been maintaining began to run wild. The surrounding air warped and shuddered, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the black-stained altar lost its glow.

"Graaaaagh?!"

"G-Grimtusk!"

The orcs nearby descended into chaos. With their dull brains, it would take them an age to grasp what had happened. Now was the perfect moment to strike.

"Now! Throw!"

The soldiers lying prone along the ridge hurled their grenades in unison. The explosives arced through the air and dropped into the middle of the huddled mass of orcs.

Kwakwakwaboom—!

A chain of deafening blasts rocked the basin. Dirt, shrapnel, and shredded orc flesh rained down like a deluge.

"Commence firing!"

I re-gripped my rifle, took aim at the nearest orc's head, and squeezed the trigger.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!

Every soldier's muzzle flashed at once. A dense wall of fire crashed over the orcs. Caught between a sudden ambush, the death of their commander, and wave after wave of explosions, they plunged into utter confusion.

"Graah! It's the humans!"

"Where?! Where are they shooting from?!"

Some scrambled around hunting for their weapons. Some threw themselves at cover. Some, blind with rage, charged headlong toward our ridge. Every one of their movements was traced in vivid red dots on my minimap.

Take out the most dangerous ones first.

Through Status Analysis, I singled out one of the charging orcs — conspicuously larger and more ferocious than the rest.

"2nd Squad machine gun! Suppress that thing charging in from eleven o'clock!"

At my order, the gunner swung his barrel around instantly.

Dududududu!

Under the withering hail of bullets, the orc warrior's body was riddled like a honeycomb and toppled. With their focal point gone, the momentum of the other orcs faltered as well.

And then—

"Uwaaaaaah!"

"For the Empire!"

"Kill the orcs!"

1st Squad appeared on the flank of the basin and slammed rifle fire into the orcs' exposed side.

"Damn it all! Flank attack!"

"It's a trap! Run!"

Their morale utterly broken, the orcs tucked tail and scattered into the forest. The battle was, for all practical purposes, over.

"No pursuit! Hold formation and sweep up what's left of them!"

The platoon calmly kept shooting down the fleeing orcs. Within a few minutes the gunfire died out, leaving the basin thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood. I rose from my position and surveyed the battlefield. More than twenty orcs lay sprawled as corpses.

"Lieutenant, sir!"

Sergeant Gunter came running up, his face alight with excitement.

"Reporting casualties! Two wounded, no dead! A perfect victory, sir!"

"Well done, Sergeant."

Joy spread across the faces of the platoon.

Finally, I made my way to the spot where three green dots still lingered on my minimap. There, shivering in the cold, were the three reconnaissance soldiers — the ones reported missing.

"Rescue the prisoners and grab anything worth taking! We head back as soon as you're done!"

At my command, the platoon moved like clockwork.

We soon returned to base.

The moment the main gate came into view, the eyes of the sentries at the guard post went wide as saucers.

"…Is that really 3rd Platoon?"

"Those people behind them… aren't those the missing recon team? I can't believe they're alive."

"I heard they went out to scout the Ashen Forest, but surely they didn't… no, there's no way…"

I looked after the rescued scouts first.

"Get yourselves to the medical bay immediately and have your condition checked. Whatever you need will be taken care of."

Rather than leaving at once, the scouts came forward and saluted.

"Thank you for saving our lives, Lieutenant. This debt we owe you…"

"That's enough. Go get some rest."

I watched the scouts' backs for a moment, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠then turned my gaze to the men of 3rd Platoon.

"Good work. Anyone wounded goes to the medics; the rest of you, maintain your gear and get some proper rest. Dismissed."

"Sir, yes sir!"

And so my first mission since taking command of 3rd Platoon came to an end.

I returned to the barracks still in my combat fatigues, filthy with blood and dirt. Only after flopping carelessly into a creaking chair did the tension finally drain out of my body.

Di-ling─.

Right on cue, the notification chime sounded.

I knew it.

I grinned. Another level up. Venturing all the way to the orc altar had been well worth the risk.

Once again, the moment of choice had arrived.

I selected Acquire a New Skill first to review the options.

The skills were exactly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the same as last time.

So they don't change unless I pick one, huh?

I weighed it over for a moment.

Bullet Time was still a tempting option. Today's battle had been a flawless ambush with zero casualties on our side, but a battlefield never always goes the way you want it to. Had it been a straight fight, I couldn't have promised my own safety.

But what decided that battle was information and command.

I replayed the fight in my head. I had maneuvered the platoon based on the Minimap, and used Status Analysis to see through the enemy's weaknesses and the hidden talents of my own men. Building the optimal operation on that intelligence, I had led my soldiers to total victory.

There had never been any need for me to dodge bullets myself. Perfect command had cut off the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠danger before it could exist. Paradoxically, the surest way for a commander like me to survive was to never let a dangerous situation arise in the first place. Bullet Time was nothing more than a post-hoc remedy — a tool you only reached for after everything had already gone wrong.

What about enhancing Status Analysis, then? It was a perfectly respectable choice. Hadn't it demonstrated staggering power the moment it hit Level 2? But what I needed right now wasn't deeper information. I could already peer into people's innermost thoughts and latent talents. The problem was how to put that information to use.

Captain Serafina came to mind. She was carrying the lethal secret of Mana Overload. Enormous intel — but there was nothing I could do with it at present. Move too clumsily and let on that I knew, and I'd only sharpen her wariness.

And that was precisely where the value of Charming Speechcraft shone.

Beyond merely subduing disgruntled subordinates, it could draw out willing loyalty. It could charm a prickly superior over to my side. It might talk a battlefield opponent into an armistice, or coax vital information out of someone as if it were idle gossip.

Identify a target's desires and weaknesses with Status Analysis, then strike precisely at that soft spot with Charming Speechcraft — the synergy between the two skills I already owned was a natural fit.

Without hesitation, I reached my finger toward the second skill floating in the air.

With a soft di-ling, a new sense flooded into my mind. Which tone of voice to use, which words to choose, how to control my breathing and hold someone's gaze — the knowledge engraved itself into me as though it had always been there. It felt as if I'd become a seasoned politician who had spent decades handling people.

I should test this out, too.

But this wasn't a skill I could test alone. It needed a subject. And as it happened, an ideal test subject came to mind. I rose from my chair and opened the barracks door, then called over a sentry who had been pacing restlessly outside.

"Bring me Sergeant Gunter."

Before long, the hulking Sergeant came huffing and puffing.

"You called for me, Lieutenant, sir!"

As he snapped off his salute in that booming voice, an information window blossomed above his head.

Vague loyalty, is it?

A perfect test subject.

"Come in, Sergeant. Take a seat, make yourself comfortable."

I pointed to the wooden chair beside my bunk. Gunter sat down carefully.

Right. Let's begin the experiment.

I issued a rather out-of-the-blue order.

"Sergeant Gunter. Right here, right now — twenty squats."

"…Sir?"

Bewilderment spread across Gunter's face. His thick eyebrows twitched.

"Squats, sir? Here, right now… but why…"

The reaction I'd expected. No fool simply obeys a command with no context whatsoever. This was the moment to use the skill.

Charming Speechcraft.

I activated the skill, locked eyes with Gunter, and pressed on, weaving together words that sounded plausibly reasonable.

"After combat, adrenaline often masks fatigue and injury. I need to verify with my own eyes that my key NCO is in peak condition for the next mission. Your body is your squad's combat strength, after all. This is an order."

Even by my own assessment, it was flimsy nonsense. Would it actually work?

Di-ling─

The instant I finished speaking, the doubt and bewilderment melted from Gunter's face like snow in the sun. In their place, a spark of understanding flashed in his eyes.

"Ah…! Yes, sir, understood! I hadn't even thought of that! You truly are on another level, Lieutenant!"

Gunter sprang up from his seat and began doing squats without a shred of hesitation.

"One! Two! Three!"

His colossal bulk made the barracks floor groan with every rep. Watching him, I swallowed dryly.

…This ability is even more dangerous than I thought.

This went beyond merely earning goodwill. Not quite hypnosis, perhaps, but it was alarmingly close to subtle mental interference. Right now it was just squats — but what if I demanded something worse? What if I could force a command like harm yourself, Gunter?

Granted, the skill description suggested the success rate would drop for demands like that — but the odds would never be exactly zero.

"Twenty! Exercise complete, sir!"

"Good. Your condition seems fine."

Just how far will it go?

Gunter wiped the sweat from his brow. I threw out a far harsher demand.

"Give me your entire paycheck for this month."

"……Sir?"

Gunter's face froze in an instant — an expression worlds apart from a moment ago. The tendons in his thick neck stood taut.

"My paycheck… sir? Why would…"

His voice trembled. Of course it did. Asking a soldier to hand over his salary?

I took another deep breath and activated the skill.

Charming Speechcraft.

"3rd Platoon has just been reborn. But military supply alone has hard limits. I intend to take your paycheck and use it to privately purchase better equipment and supplies for our men — waterproof boots, warm winter underlayers, that sort of thing. This is an investment in the survival of the entire platoon. And I want my most reliable NCO — you — to set the example."

I laid out a plausible justification, mixing the noble cause of protecting the whole platoon with just enough sweet talk about how much I trusted Gunter personally.

Di-ling.

It had an effect. Gunter's eyes began to waver. I switched on Status Analysis to check his condition.

He kept his head bowed. I could see him agonizing hard. But unlike before, he didn't cave easily. The seconds kept ticking by.

And then—

Di-ling!

A sharp warning tone sounded, and a new system message appeared.

Gunter's head snapped up.

"…I can't do that, Lieutenant, sir."