Silver Star and the Secret of Biche

The complete capture of Olba Island was a massive achievement for the Kakyul forces. Air force anti-aircraft batteries moved in right away, setting up anti-air positions, while the 10th and 11th Regiments landed to secure the outpost.

Our 7th Regiment pulled out of Olba Island. We got two weeks of leave.

"Private Dos, your merits have been approved from above. You're getting a medal—the 1st Class Silver Star Medal, along with a promotion to corporal! Congratulations."

Captain Johnson extended his hand for a shake. He was up for promotion too, thanks to his exploits in this battle. The 1st Battalion's 1st Company had shone brightest in the Olba Island fight, so his advancement was a well-deserved reward. Everyone came out ahead.

A medal, huh. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Do medals come with buffs too?

The medal packed some seriously juicy buffs. Score.

Our 7th Regiment boarded a transport ship and headed south. Even though it was leave, we weren't heading back to the homeland of the Kakyul Republic. Instead, we were spending it in our ally, the Elmon Federation.

The Elmon Federation was down in the southern hemisphere. They'd taken a beating in the war against the Kyrria forces too, judging by the roaring cheers from crowds of civilians as we pulled into the harbor. News of the Olba Island victory had spread like wildfire here.

"Man, this is peaceful. Not hearing those damn mortar blasts is pure bliss."

Sergeant Rostador muttered around his chew.

"I can still hear cannon fire ringing in my ears. Even in my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dreams."

Private Wooster chuckled as he chimed in. The mood was way looser than back on Olba Island. I felt it too.

"Lucky you. I keep dreaming I'm charging through the battlefield. Even with my eyes closed, I see illumination flares flashing."

"Classic soldier's curse. Same here. Can't sleep without night-lights."

War left more than physical scars—it carved mental ones deep. But I had no such trauma. Probably thanks to my passive skill.

PTSD's got nothing on me.

Everyone carried their exhaustion, but it was leave, so the vibe stayed upbeat.

"Anyway, now that we're in the Elmon Federation, maybe we'll spot those weird animals. What're they called? Koalas?"

"We come all this way to see animals? Just stock up on smokes, Sergeant."

"Right. Priorities."

The transport docked. Seals yanked hard on the mooring lines as work kicked off. Once our boots hit solid ground, we swapped ideas on what to do next. Plans varied as much as the headcount—but they all shared one thing.

"Gotta hug a woman. Been waiting forever for this."

"Don't you have a girl back home, Sergeant?"

"That bitch is probably rolling in the hay with someone else by now. Time rusts affection."

"Never thought I'd hear the guy who wrote her letters non-stop talk like that. War's scary shit."

"Fuck off. And you—don't get caught in the brothel again by the MPs. Don't drag us down with you."

"Th-that was just bad luck!"

The ship was fully secured. Burning with magma-hot lust, we hit the docks. Until muster, we were free to do whatever. Miss muster, though, and it's AWOL—straight to the stockade.

"Officer! Wanna tag along?"

Coren piped up. Still a private, while I was corporal now.

"Nah. Just call me Corporal Dos. Half-talk's fine."

He'd been around since basic—not like the clueless seniors. Licked ass just right, so I cut him slack.

"Uh... really cool?"

"You think I'd bullshit? Anyway, I'm going solo. Lots to see. You got plans?"

"My aunt lives here. Catch you later?"

"Don't go AWOL."

"Guh! No way."

I split from the crew. First stop? Brothel, obviously. Soldiers caught with whores go straight to the brig. Doesn't stop anyone, though. Naval ports crawl with hookers working the trade.

Grabbed a decent-looking one and headed in. Ran into 7th Regiment guys there—reunion time.

"Hey, the hero arrives! Dos! You'd look good up front."

"Heh! That fucker even banged the Kyrria officer. And the Marine lieutenant!"

"What!? I got reamed for just talking to one. Heroes are built different."

My face was known across companies now. My part in the Kyrria HQ assault was huge—I'd planted the Kakyul flag first.

Their faces killed my appetite. Still, I'd paid for the whore—pumped four loads into her front hole in half an hour. Shame she didn't do ass.

Stuffed a fat tip between the passed-out whore's cheeks on the bed. I don't skimp on sex.

Stepping out, my stomach growled. Time to load up on grub. Feet carried me to the grocer.

The shop was pathetic next to modern megamarts. Wartime shortages? Who knows.

Blew my pay on rations. Combat MREs taste like ass. Field chow's no better. Stock up when you can.

Sure, my inventory brimmed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with gourmet stuff, but sampling local eats was part of the fun.

That's how I spent two weeks vacationing in the Olba Federation.

Two weeks passed. I made muster on time with the guys at the harbor. Our ride was already docked.

Muster was over, but one face was missing: Private Wooster. Sergeant Rostador's expression hardened.

AWOL? Not my problem. Couldn't even recall the guy's specialty. Two MPs in uniform approached Rostador from the side.

"Corporal Dos. Over here a sec."

One came for me too. Familiar face—Sergeant Helman from the Olba meat grinder.

"Got news."

"Good?"

I glanced at Rostador chatting with the MPs.

"Depends how you take it."

"Bad news, then."

"Maybe. Straight to it: Corporal Dos, you're reassigned to my special ops team from now on. Met with the commander last week for this."

"Commander? Typhoon Division Commander? Four-star general?"

"Yeah. Hard to believe, right? I'm a 1st Class Gold Star recipient."

He proudly flashed the gold star badge from his uniform pocket. Nicknamed the "corpse medal"—only a handful got it alive.

Item effect? VIP access?

"Special ops out of nowhere? Lieutenant Berica too?"

"She's on mortars. I'm team lead—five total, you included. All survivors from hellish fields, clutch heroes."

"Why form it now?"

"We'll talk inside. Told Captain Johnson already. Hop on."

He nodded to a speedboat beside our regiment's transport. I followed Helman aboard. The rest of the team was there. Quick scan:

Jackpot! A woman's here! Face is solid B-minus?

Everyone else sergeants and up. In Kakyul ranks, sergeant starts NCO.

"Team intros. This is Sergeant Trevino—best shot I know. Hits two birds mid-flight with one bullet."

"Don't exaggerate, Sarge."

"Humblest in the world too. Plus, demo expert. Kyrria scum vaporized by his bombs? Countless."

Trevino shrugged, bushy beard, over 180cm, built like a tank, cig in mouth.

"That's Sergeant Klein. Only one who speaks Kyrria. From intel—cracks their codes cold."

"Heh, so you're the famous Corporal Dos? Took on dozens of Kyrria trench-chargers solo? Most tales are bullshit, though."

"Not Dos. I vouch."

Klein screamed college boy—clean-cut but jacked, muscles bulging. Studious jock vibe.

"Sergeant Walters. Our token female. Chase her like Berica and you'll regret it. 1st Class Silver Star holder."

Walters glanced up, short ash-gray hair, uniform straining over thick tits. Wolfish aura. Taming potential.

"Team's full. Time for the op brief. First, background: Corporal Dos, heard of Biche?"

Biche.

There it was.

[Checkpoint setup requires acquiring un-stagnant Biche.]

The mystery material from the checkpoint condition. I only knew the name. Play dumb.

"Bee... what?"

"Intel's tight. Even frontline grunts don't know."

"Orders from on high to zip it."

Klein pointed skyward. Intel guy.

"Guess I gotta explain. Might be long."

Helman sighed deep. I leaned in, ears open.