Rookie Enters the War Commanders' Gallery

"There's no law saying I have to die."

What...?

I froze, my thoughts grinding to a halt as I failed to process the sudden change. But that only lasted a moment. Once I'd grasped the situation, I let out a silent cheer inside.

That's right, you fuckers! I thought it wasn't there, you bastards.

A translucent window floating in mid-air. I knew exactly what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this was.

Status window.

And my savior. I had no clue why it was popping up now, but who gave a shit? As long as it was here.

"Hoo..."

It was hard to rein in the surging elation. But there was no rush. First, calm down and figure out how to use it slowly—

"Lieutenant...?"

Shit.

A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rookie mistake. Now I looked like some lunatic staring off into space mid-sentence. At least I hadn't spouted some cliché like 'You can't see this?' Thank god for small mercies.

Anyway, damage control was needed, so I schooled my expression and spoke.

"...Could you all give me a moment alone?"

But what the hell was I supposed to say? Need to hit the john?Forgot something, gotta step out?Status window just popped up, brb? Yeah, right.

"......"

One second. Two seconds. Three.

My brain was locked up, but time marched on mercilessly. Their stares burned as they waited for me to continue.

Haa... Fuck it. Just spit something out.

"...I know. How irresponsible this must sound. But this isn't me shirking my duty or trying to weasel out of this mess. I'll find a way through somehow... so please, bear with me."

Saying it out loud made me cringe a little. No real explanation to back it up—this was just emotional pleading without logic. No way they'd buy it.

But as I ducked my head in self-recrimination, an unexpected response came.

"Of course, sir. But you won't need to ask like this next time."

"Agreed."

"We've never once doubted your resolve, Lieutenant. We'll follow you to the end."

All they said was that they'd trust me. No hesitation in their eyes.

"...Understood."

Where did this unconditional faith come from? It made my chest ache faintly.

If I were some delicate maiden with a fragile heart, I'd probably be bawling right now. But I'm a testosterone-fueled alpha male, so no tears over something like this.

"Thank... you."

So if my voice cracked a bit, that was just your imagination.

Smoothly turning on my heel, I saw them snap crisp salutes—no words needed—as they saw me off. Leaving them behind, I headed straight for the tent.

Back in the tent under those circumstances. No signs of life, just the chirp of crickets—perfect for sorting my thoughts.

"Hooo..."

Finally time to check the status window?

If this turned out to be some worthless fake, I'd be well and truly fucked. All I could do was pray it wasn't.

Sweeping rain-wet hair from my forehead, I stared at the text hovering in the air.

War Commanders' Gallery.

A bit of an odd name. Especially "gallery."

Feels a little unfamiliar for a status window, huh?

I'm not usually the type to read manuals, but this time, I needed to scrutinize this "gallery" thing.

Without hesitation, I used the entry ticket to access it. What appeared was a UI strikingly similar to the communities I knew.

Oh, so that's what it is.

The mental barrier dropped instantly. Controls were a breeze—just think it, and it happened. I clicked the main gate and started browsing the gallery slowly.

"Let's see, time to scope out the vibe..."

Standard procedure for any community: lurk and check notices first. Under the sacred law of the doc-nun-sam—pure lurker—I spent three minutes poring over posts to figure this place out.

Starting with the top post...

"Uh... uhhh."

The more I read, the more my mind reeled. Yeah, communities are like this... but War Commanders? Did I expect too much? Thought it'd be full of dignified, meaty insights.

Doubts crept in, ominous thoughts rising.

...No, snap out of it.

Clap!

I slapped my cheeks to steady my rattled nerves. Even if it was a rotten rope, I had no choice but to grab it. No time to waste.

Keep moving forward, no stopping.

Alright, lurking done—time for notices.

Luckily, the notice was easy to spot, bolded title jumping out.

Fantasy War Gallery? What the hell?

Irrelevant to me anyway. Like my old world, no magic here.

I skipped to the next.

Pretty detailed.

A few more Q&A sections, so I went through them in order, filling out the survey.

......

Survey complete, I used the screenshot tool as instructed and posted a new thread.

Replies trickling in.

...Huh?

Something caught my eye, so I reread.

Retirement home for soldiers.

Valhalla.

Sounded like they were all dead.

Gulp.

A sudden thought made me swallow.

Wait, am I the only living one here?

To confirm, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠typed a question.

This reaction said it all without needing more.

"Tsk."

Dilemma. Do I spill my guts?

I know showing my hand without conditions is dumb. But can I play dumb, extract info, and not get caught? Better to confess upfront than get suspected later and complicate things.

Truth outs eventually anyway.

No point hiding it.

Hesitation hit, pausing my typing, but I decided quick.

Proof wouldn't be hard—a quick screenshot post.

I snapped the tent interior and my thumbs-up selfie, then started new threads.

The two posts filled with comments fast.

Initial backlash softened with hard evidence; doubters eased up.

Now the real part.

Final plea dropped; comments halted briefly.

What? Flopped?

Silence on screen. Heart pounding.

Tense wait... then:

Sigh of relief. That sparked the flood.

Thud!

The chair tipped back as the last comment hit.

"Fuck, the map. Where's the map?"

Muttering dumbly, I bolted to snatch the tactical map from the table corner.