108. Let Me Give You a Piece of Advice
108. Let Me Give You a Piece of Advice
The excavation zone stretched the entire length of the mountain range, where dragon bones were being unearthed.
In a quiet corner of this so-called Dragon's Tomb, modest funeral rites were held from time to time—bodies recovered from the field were cremated and laid to rest.
With casualties among both soldiers and adventurers during the process of clearing out the undead, honoring their sacrifices was the bare minimum that could be done.
"...It's said that a funeral expresses the life a person lived."
But unlike the usual ceremonies, where comrades from the same party or unit would come to pay their respects, today's funeral had a single mourner in attendance. Just one.
That one person being the Legion Commander who oversaw the garrison zone was unusual enough, but the words he spoke while gazing down at the urn were closer to rebuke than remembrance.
"Jang Cleo, the life you sent forth was a hollow one indeed."
If any of the people who had come with him to this garrison zone had bothered to show up, perhaps he wouldn't have felt such bitterness.
But those very people had not only skipped the funeral—they'd left nothing but a brief note before vanishing somewhere without a trace.
[If you go to the place written on this note, you will be able to recover his remains. Please, on behalf of Hyosung, hold a funeral for him.......]
It was heartless, when you thought about it.
But if the truth of the matter was that it was all to resolve a foolish comrade's lingering regrets, then he couldn't exactly blame them outright either.
Even though he knew full well that clinging to the heroes of the past meant nothing in an era like this.
"...I'll at least watch over things. But don't expect anything more than that."
Yes, the man who left was surely still carrying out his so-called training somewhere even now.
Many complicated emotions were tangled up in his death, but Marcus ultimately pressed them all down and resolved to see his own path through.
What was needed to protect humanity wasn't an outstanding Hero—it was an army so powerful that even such Heroes would be reduced to a mere fraction of its strength.
That conviction remained firm even after witnessing his death, and it led to a resolution to coldly evaluate the existence the man had left behind.
"It seems you saw some kind of potential in that man, but to me, a Hero is nothing more than one capable soldier in the end."
For now, simply watching over him and having his back would suffice.
With that, Marcus concluded his brief condolences and prepared to turn away, to recommit himself to his mission.
"...So you've gone after all."
At least, until he heard someone murmur, as if filling the empty space he was about to leave.
"What in the......."
Right. Before he knew it, a woman had taken up position there.
The apron wrapped around her body and the tools hanging from her belt marked her as one of the artisans working in this garrison zone.
"That brat who was waiting for the day I'd die day before yesterday has gone and left before me... Is time just flowing too fast, or did I drag my feet too long and let this happen."
But what stood out even more was the cigarette in her mouth.
The acrid smoke that drifted with her flat murmur was so potent it swallowed up even the faint scent of ashes that lingered over the funeral site.
"...Are you acquainted with him?"
The presence of a person like this, visiting a funeral to which no one had come—it was impossible not to take notice.
With that thought, he stopped his departing steps and asked, but the woman simply stared down at the urn in silence.
As if he didn't even register in her eyes.
"Hey, can't you hear what I'm......!"
The moment he bristled and raised his voice, her gaze shifted.
The second their eyes met, his breath died in his throat, and his vision froze onto the two eyes that stared back at him.
"...Did you call me?"
A fatigue-laden voice and eyes steeped in decadence.
Just facing them, he felt his rushed temper settle and the military discipline he ought to uphold as Legion Commander wane.
Only for an instant.
But that instant was enough to make him think that to the one standing before him, everything one might call authority could well be meaningless.
"...Refrain from smoking at a funeral."
Dismissing that fleeting sense of dissonance as illusion, Marcus carefully spoke while averting his gaze from her.
Was it because of some inexplicable sense of wrongness that his voice had fallen quieter than usual?
Though his attitude might have seemed questionable, the woman simply plucked the cigarette from her lips and let the acrid smoke drift.
"Does it matter? Doesn't look like anyone else is coming anyway, except for me."
"It's a matter of basic courtesy. Showing irreverence at a funeral is disrespect to the dead."
Courtesy.
Even as he said it, he found the words laughable.
In the first place, coming to mock the dead was far more discourteous than lighting a cigarette, wasn't it?
"...A ridiculous thing to say. Telling someone to be solemn in front of a heap of ashes."
But the scoff the woman let out wasn't aimed at her own attitude—it was aimed at the words themselves.
She fixed her gaze on the urn, pulled the cigarette from her lips, and murmured bitterly.
"Well, I suppose funerals that humans hold are, in the end, nothing more than culture for the living. If you don't treasure even these ashes and look back on the past, all the time that's passed would just turn meaningless."
"......Humans?"
A meaningful murmur that slipped out alongside the smoke.
Sensing a wrongness there, Marcus felt the dissonance he'd been sensing all along begin to solidify into reality as he took a step toward her.
"What exactly are you talking about? Just what are you......."
Perhaps the one before him was not simply an acquaintance of the dead but something more dangerous.
"Legion Commander! Legion Commander, are you here?!"
Just as he was about to voice that suspicion, a shout rang out.
And right on its heels, clamorous bells began tolling throughout the garrison zone. Marcus's expression hardened in an instant.
This wasn't a simple notification.
This sound was reserved exclusively for one thing: a large-scale invasion from the outside.
"Commander! A force of undead is currently advancing on this position in military formation! Immediate command is required!"
'So it's finally come.'
Having annihilated the enemy vanguard not long ago, he'd already anticipated that the enemy side would feel threatened and launch a full-scale assault.
At the distant shout of his adjutant, Marcus steadied his composure and prepared to head for the front lines.
"Hey, kid. Let me give you a piece of advice."
That was the moment he heard the voice from behind him.
In stark contrast to her previously detached demeanor, the woman listening to the alarm spoke to him with a sharp-edged voice.
"If you can't stop that, everyone here is going to die. So do your absolute best to hold it back."
"What do you......."
What on earth did she mean by that?
Obviously, if they failed to stop the invasion, they would be wiped out. But why add the word "advice" to such an obvious statement?
"Legion Commander! You must hurry!!"
His adjutant shouted, as if not permitting even a moment's delay.
And in the moment his attention was drawn, the woman who had been standing at the funeral site had long since vanished without a trace.
Had he seen a ghost?
No—the unsettled feeling still stirring in a corner of his chest told him that he had, undeniably, registered her presence.
'Jang Cleo. What on earth were you....'
He wondered if the dead man might have known her true identity, but the dead tell no tales.
Realizing that no amount of solitary contemplation would yield an answer, Marcus ultimately suppressed the sense of dissonance he felt and moved to follow his adjutant.
He couldn't deny the possibility that she was a dangerous entity, but if he didn't act now, the danger threatening this land would have to take priority.
"Report the situation. Where is the enemy positioned?"
"We have confirmed a large-scale force breaching into the eastern ridge. Judging from their subsequent movements, they appear to be attempting to establish an encirclement centered on the eastern barricade."
"Given their swift movements, it would seem their probing attacks are already finished. Report on the number of troops and the core hostiles."
"Their size is roughly at the divisional level....... While their numbers are considerably smaller than our own forces currently stationed at this excavation site, we have detected one undead with immense magical power at their vanguard."
An undead with immense magical power. Did that mean a high-ranking leader like the Lich that had slain a Hero not long ago?
No—a single Lich could only command forces numbering in the hundreds.
Unless multiple undead had joined forces, this could only mean one thing.
"...Which of the Four Horsemen is it?"
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
The four knights who served the Corpse Lord—walking calamities capable of reducing an entire city to wasteland single-handedly.
"We have yet to directly confirm, but given that each of the undead is exhibiting higher-than-normal strength, we estimate it to be War's Red Knight."
"...The Red Knight, of all of them. It seems they're dead serious about taking this place."
Of all things, a calamity who embodied war itself in name, appearing for a defensive battle at a garrison zone.
Anyone who knew of her fearsome reputation would have no choice but to feel tense, wouldn't they?
"Commander, looking at confirmed numbers alone, it seems we could simply crush them with superior force... What will you do?"
Of course, in war, the difference in troop numbers was an absolute principle.
With the advantage of barricades and terrain, this defensive battle would be overwhelmingly in their favor—but only if this fight remained a straightforward war of attrition.
Their opponent, as her name suggested, was a specialist in warfare.
Even as an undead, her deep understanding of war meant that leading a relatively small force in a disadvantageous offensive had to have a reason.
"...In the east where the Red Knight has appeared, center your defense around the barricade and stall for time."
It wasn't certain yet, but caution was never a bad thing.
Marcus opted to postpone an all-out engagement, prioritizing stalling for time and discerning the enemy's intentions for the moment.
"And among the Heroes currently stationed outside the barricade, direct as many of those who are fit for action as possible to the northern zone."
"To the north, sir?"
"The north is the route used to escort excavated dragon bones to the Empire. Because a path has been kept open, the barricade's condition there is also relatively weaker compared to other areas."
If they were to strike, the north would be more suitable both in terms of breaching defenses and achieving their objectives than the heavily fortified east.
Assuming the enemy also recognized this, then flaunting their presence in a relatively disadvantageous position was highly likely to be a diversion.
And if a figure of the Four Horsemen's caliber was staging a diversion, the odds were high that someone of equal standing had come along.
"And relay this to the entire army. It's possible that the Four Horsemen targeting this location are not one—but two."
Two of the Four Horsemen—beings that warranted tension even individually—were targeting this place.
It was still conjecture, but with even a slight miscalculation capable of leading to annihilation, it would be wise to guide the battle with extreme caution.
'At least it's fortunate that we have well over ten Heroes on our side.'
The death of one man recently was a painful blunder, but even combining the remaining Heroes alone, they should be able to exert the combat power of a legion.
If all of them moved in accordance with his command, they could securely hold this location no matter what enemy came.
If all the Heroes followed his orders properly, that was.
"C-Commander! We have a serious problem! One of the Heroes has absconded from his unit without authorization and is currently charging toward the Red Knight's position!"
"God damn it! Bring him back now!"
Core combat personnel ignoring orders and going berserk.
Could there be a worse way to start a war?
*****
Of course, not all who are called Heroes are selfish.
While they are often prone to arrogance, drunk on their own power, it's not unheard of for that arrogance to manifest as a sense of justice and heroism.
Lee Jun-young was a man who, after coming to this world and becoming a Hero, had awakened precisely that kind of heroism.
'I was getting tired of only hunting small fry lately, so this works out. I'll earn merit in this battle and be recognized as a true hero!'
Yes, becoming a hero meant achieving a tremendous feat.
Recalling the days he'd played the carry machine in the games he used to play, Lee Jun-young stood alone before the undead legion and shouted boldly.
"Bring it on, you corpse bastards! I am Lee Jun-young of Anyang, Gyeonggi-do!"
-Kwaaaaaaa!!!
Immediately after, a torrent of power erupted from the Red Knight's blade.
Lee Jun-young's body, exposed to that torrent, was erased without a trace.