Chapter 22
Chapter 22
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Primmer Plains Battle (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Before the captain arrived, the squad leaders and executives who had gathered started chatting.
“Fuck, I heard that this time, that dirty bastard Count Philorang dumped a shitload of money to hire some seriously tough guys. Shouldn’t we break the contract and bail right now?”
“You got rocks or hunks of bread rattling around in your skull? Always flapping your gums with that same stinking breath.”
“No, Platoon Leader Walter. Fuck, did I say something wrong?”
The platoon leader called Walter grabbed another squad leader’s head with a faint trace of aura and smacked it.
No, calling it a smack was generous—it was basically a full-on punch with his fist.
“You fucking moron, don’t you know what happens if a mercenary company signs a contract and then breaks it on a whim? You’ve been a merc for over ten years—did you shit out all your experience through your asshole?”
In novels or comics, you see mercs openly colluding with clients, half-assing fights, or just pocketing the cash and bailing like it’s no big deal.
In reality, fuck that—if you pull shit like that, word spreads, and no one will ever trust or hire you again.
Once you take someone’s money and sign the contract, then bail at the most critical moment, there’s no guarantee you won’t pull the same stunt again.
The squad leader knew it too and clammed up, sulking quietly.
That’s when I felt someone tap my back in the most irritating way possible.
“Hey, you piece-of-shit Martin.”
Turning around, there was Pior.
From the first time we met, he’d acknowledged my skills to some extent, and after I shone in the Chiptin Plains battle, he’d bought me booze and meat, saying let’s do well together—I thought he was a decent guy.
But the moment I got promoted to squad leader, he realized I wasn’t useful for his career anymore and turned into a trash old-timer who harassed me over every little thing.
He’s been stuck as a squad leader for over ten years without promoting to platoon leader, probably pissed about being a perennial ten-man leader, that’s why he’s like this.
“Why’d you call me, Squad Leader Pior?”
“You heard the news, right? Count Philorang losing his fucking mind and pulling this insane shit.”
“Yeah, I heard he hired three thousand mercs just to swallow up the Zaltzheim barony. And they’re way stronger guys with real reputations, not like those Tristan punks we faced last time.”
The Tristan guys I fought in my first battle were about average for mercs, but these ones we’re up against this time are from companies with some actual clout.
And while the main story of this game world hasn’t kicked off yet, according to the side story where you romance Lucia, the ‘Black Bear Mercenary Corps’ that shows up later as a mid-to-late-game boss is in the mix too.
‘Meaning they’re not brainless scrubs like the Tristan idiots I could hack through carelessly—they’re the real deal.’
Pior looked at me and laughed exaggeratedly.
“Fuck, this guy’s got balls of steel, huh? I’ll give you props for skill, but these bastards are no joke. And here you are, bluffing your ass off. What, does Karin cream her panties when you talk big like that?”
Hearing that, I gritted my teeth.
I wanted to straight-up kill that fucker right there, but if a newbie like me fell for this petty provocation and punched his face, I’d be the one screwed.
‘If that dog-shit coward swings a fist at me, I’ll turn him into ground meat on the spot.’
He knew he couldn’t take me in a fair fight, so he never kicked or hit outright, and I hated him for it.
The other guys weren’t jumping in to help, just rubbernecking in case a fight broke out, while Pior’s dumbass buddies snickered behind their hands.
Fucking pricks—if you’ve got balls, laugh out loud like men instead of that pussy shit.
“Don’t drag Karin into this. She’s under my command now, after all.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure thing. Must be nice being such a hotshot. Congrats, Squad Leader Martin, hitting ten-man leader in just a month since joining. Guess I’ll have to bow my head from now on.”
At least now we’re on the same rank, so I could fire back at his snide remarks.
“Forget the count being nuts—what’re you gonna do about it? Contract’s signed, so might as well bluff it up. Fuck, life’s short—better to strut like a lion than cower like a mouse in front of a cat, right? Real men go out with a bang.”
“Look at this little shit grown up.”
“I owe you big time.”
Pior had the seniority but lacked the skill, while I had no tenure but enough talent to get knighted already.
In other words, as long as I proved my chops, no one could bitch about this level of bickering.
Pior twisted his face ugly in front of me, then suddenly flashed a bright, fake-ass grin.
“If you’re so confident, why don’t you volunteer for the vanguard, fucker? You know how it is—the front line’s dangerous as hell, but they score your merits big time. A real man like you, Martin, who’s dying to climb the ranks and even turned down a knighthood—surely you can handle vanguard duty?”
Mercs hungry for cash and promotion love vanguard spots in normal fights, but in a battle this lopsided in numbers and quality, standing at the front just makes you a perfect target.
So that fucker was egging me on, like you talked big, so go die—as if I’d fall for that.
Just as I was about to clap back, Captain Dalton walked into the tent.
“Fuck, what’s with all the noise? You all blow a collective gasket or what?”
One word from him, the company’s captain, and everyone shut up like clams in an instant.
Dalton grabbed his head, then flopped into his chair.
It was the telltale sign his mood wasn’t just foul—it was straight-up shit.
“Fuck, seeing my pillar guys chattering like a bunch of bitches makes me wanna cry. If you’re gonna whine, at least man up and ask me outright why I sided with Count Zaltzheim. Quit yapping like little kids behind my back.”
Dalton was the one who proposed fighting under Count Zaltzheim, but we’d all welcomed it eagerly.
To be precise, the other execs including Dalton figured we could make a killing under him, while I saw it as a chance to build fame getting through this crisis.
Dalton wrapped his body in blue aura and slammed the desk in that state.
A fist-sized hole punched right through the thick wooden desk.
“Well, strictly speaking, it’s my fuck-up in judgment. What can ya do? Pull your heads out of your asses, prep for marching out tomorrow, you worthless shits.”
We all nodded in agreement.
“Anyway, our company’s stuck leading the fucking vanguard for some insane reason. Whether Count Zaltzheim thinks highly of us or just wants meat shields, who knows. So I need some crazy bastard to step up front. Anyone volunteering?”
I’d drilled my squad like maniacs, so I trusted they’d fight well anywhere, but no point in a newbie like me piping up.
The others clearly didn’t want to die pointlessly up front and stayed silent.
Dalton sighed.
“Fuck, fine. I’ll sweeten it—told the count I want double combat pay for the vanguard. Think it over again, you idiots.”
Mercs get paid salary sure, but combat bonuses are a huge chunk too.
Even that damn Pior got three months’ pay upfront last time thanks to my performance.
“……”
“Fucking great, you shits. Fine, I’ll just pick randomly.”
That’s when Pior opened his mouth.
“How about putting Martin up front? He did great last time, so he’ll handle it this time too.”
I’m no idiot, and neither is Dalton with his knight and merc experience—he’d know exactly what that fucker Pior was gunning for.
To screw me over, or straight-up curse me to die leading rookies from the front, obvious as day.
Dalton shot me a look like what’s your play, fucker? and I just nodded.
“Alright, here’s the deal. Martin and Pior take the two vanguard slots. Martin’s strong, but aside from Karin his squad’s thin, so Pior, you cover if he fucks up.”
Pior’s face fell like his life was over, mouth gaping like a fish.
Dumbass—tried to fuck me over and got himself fucked instead.
But thinking back to how he ran things when I was under him, somehow I’d end up wiping all his shit anyway.
And Dalton didn’t even hear the others out before drawing lots.
“Palmer, Bond. You lucky fucks won. From now on, vanguard’s Palmer, Bond, Martin, and Pior squads unless shit changes. Dismissed. And fuckers, on any other day I don’t care, but any bastard caught boozing or screwing tonight gets his spine snapped so he can suck his own dick. Sleep it off.”
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The next day, I stood at the vanguard staring down the army Count Philorang had brought.
They were tough customers even in the game, and seeing them in person, their presence was overwhelming.
“Fuck, no wonder the White Beard Mercenary Corps gets its ass handed to it in the original game against these guys.”
Still, in my eyes, they were beatable enough.