Chapter 8
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Childhood, the Prelude to Summer (7)
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Year 1696, December.
Despite the valiant efforts of each FakeWarrior Corps, the front lines gradually fell back with the passage of time.
Head Marshal Krausen finally decided to withdraw all forces behind the Inferno Line.
The White Skull Corps, which had been serving on the front lines, was no exception and was eventually integrated into the Inferno Line’s defense forces.
The Inferno Line.
This was the first time since the siege of Fortress 7 that I had the chance to observe this mysterious structure up close.
“Don’t stand there gawking like a country bumpkin. You’re making the rest of us look bad.”
“Shut up, Jin.”
“Haha, it’s enough to make your eyes go wide. To think they built a string of fortresses along the banks of the Velisor Grand River, which trisects the old Republic. Who could have imagined such a thing?”
The brutal and miserable experience of the ‘Black Summer’ had led the old Republic to adopt a tactical doctrine of minimizing friendly casualties behind defensive walls while forcing a war of attrition on the demons.
The permanent defensive installation created by that doctrine was this very Inferno Line.
It was fully equipped with artillery batteries, barbed wire, trenches, and bastions, and even had underground food and ammunition depots.
Furthermore, each fortress was connected by a rail network, allowing for the smooth operation of troops and logistics in both emergencies and peacetime.
This is how the world described the iron barrier:
The greatest facility, the strongest fortress, and the longest defensive line, created using the essence of Dwarven technology.
“They called it a grand river, but you can’t even see the other side. Isn't this practically a sea?”
The boy spoke as he stared at the opposite bank, where volcanic ash danced and scattered chaotically.
“If they intercept the Uruk trying to cross the river from the batteries lined up here, any invasion would be over before it began.”
The fortresses were the color of steel, yet the soldiers polished and oiled them with such care that not a speck of soot from the volcanic ash stuck to them; they gleamed brightly.
From a distance, it looked as if the horizon was menacingly girded by a black band.
As the White Skull Corps crossed the grand bridge, sappers bustled back and forth along it, planting magic bombs on each of the bridge’s piers.
The plan, they said, was to detonate them as soon as all units had returned from the front line, or if the Uruk attempted to cross the bridge.
“Is this the last grand bridge?”
At Long Rifle Jin’s question, a sapper who still looked like a boy replied.
“Yes, sir! This is the last grand bridge on the central front! There’s one left in the west and one in the east.”
“Whew, you guys are working hard in this sweltering weather.”
“Not at all, sir! We’re happy to be able to welcome the FakeWarrior Corps! Aren’t you soldiers hot?”
The combat uniforms of the soldiers fighting on the front lines were all imbued with ‘Temperature Control’ magic from first-rate mages.
Without that magic, it would have been impossible to fight in the heat that felt like the sun itself was having a seizure, combined with the internal heat of the Prisvia Core.
Even with the magic’s help, the moment a battle ended, the corpsmen would gather around the ice magic Wolf created to cool off.
“Camilla Alter Aradamanthel.”
As they finished crossing the bridge, the fortress commander, standing in front of the fortress command post with his bicorne hat tucked under his arm, clicked his boots together and gave a respectful salute.
Several men who appeared to be officers stood beside him, and their rigid discipline made it clear they were highly trained regular army, not Haltene.
“We heard the news of your victory at Fortress 7. Congratulations.”
“Just give me the situation report.”
“It’s safe to say that the fortresses south of the Inferno Line have been annihilated.”
Camilla grumbled at the commander’s report.
“The hell are the Republic’s witches doing? Did they all go on vacation or something?”
“It seems they’re having a hard enough time just protecting the major cities.”
“Ah, so they’re in the capital, drinking with some men they picked up?”
“Why must you say such things… In any case, we’re in a situation where we’re even conscripting student soldiers into the Haltene to defend the Inferno Line.”
Camilla gazed at the far-off horizon.
It was now summer.
The volcanic ash that blackened the southern sky was thick and inescapably dark, as if the world itself were being devoured by darkness.
“What about the others?”
“The Sixth Seat, Alesia Alter Solang, and the Seventh Seat, Ryunel Alter Gaumris, have been deployed to the defense of <Tervenople>.”
“You’re telling me they entrusted the most important front, the capital, to those kids? What about us?”
“Your orders are to hold the central front.”
“So we’re just supposed to be stuck with the grunt work out here?”
“This is also a vital front.”
“You know, if you Republic cowards had built a proper military, we could have pushed all the way down to the southern sea by now, instead of wasting funds on this piece of shit defensive line.”
“Watch your mouth, Camilla. The Republic has long served as humanity’s breakwater. This is a small repayment. The Commander always said so.”
At Johan Wolf Frost’s rebuke, Camilla spat on the ground in annoyance. The commander, watching them warily, spoke.
“Lastly, there is a message from the Papal Office…”
“Then hurry up and say it, you peasant.”
“They say that your time is running short, Camilla-nim, and they command you to take a disciple at once. This is the list sent by the Church.”
The scroll the commander offered was a golden one, sealed with the insignia of the Papal Office. Holy power pulsed from it, as if the golden light of the sun were leaking out.
“Camilla…”
Wolf watched with despair as Camilla took the scroll.
He knew better than anyone.
He knew that Camilla’s hair was turning completely white.
‘Proof of how ferociously she has fought…’
FakeWarriors were swordsmen who shaved off their own lifespans, converting that life force into power.
Their average life expectancy in wartime was their late twenties to early thirties. Even in peacetime, the longest recorded lifespan was merely in the early forties.
Camilla, the same age as Johan, was now approaching her late thirties.
Having become a FakeWarrior after Raminea’s death, she had lived a relatively long life thanks to an era of peace, but now, that journey was nearing its end.
“…”
Camilla stared down at the scroll with an emotionless face, then handed it back to the commander without opening it.
“Tell those old geezers I’ve already found someone. Haven’t decided for sure yet, though.”
“Pardon?”
The eyes of the commander and Wolf widened simultaneously. The commander asked in a flurry.
“Wh-who might that be?”
This was tremendous news.
The unshakable First Seat FakeWarrior, who had never taken a disciple, was finally getting one? What great family did this prodigy hail from?
“What was the name… what was it again? Was it Ka-moron? Ka-dunce? Or was it Ka-trash?”
“A person’s name is Ka-trash? Humor aside, I’ve never heard of it.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
“Pardon?”
Sensing that the conversation had taken a strange turn, Wolf immediately shouted at Camilla.
“Camilla, don’t tell me!”
“Come back later. I’ll decide after I see whether the kid has any potential or not.”
Only after the commander had been dismissed did Wolf, who had been glaring at Camilla, speak.
“If you’re thinking of using Kaisen as an excuse to not take a disciple, then stop.”
“Why?”
“The sword style the Commander taught you, the Sipmunjado, is a treasure of humanity. Do you think it’s right to let it be lost to history because of your personal feelings?”
Camilla turned sharply away from Wolf, her hand stroking the master’s shortsword hidden by her cloak.
‘As if I’d ever take a disciple…’
She would never again give her affection to anyone.
She wouldn’t even give them her attention.
That was Camilla’s way of dealing with this pitiful world of farewells.
“You’re teaching Kaisen well. You could teach the other children too, I’m sure of it!”
“I probably could. But what if I don’t want to?”
“Why is it okay for Kaisen, but not for the other children?”
*Well, why is that?*
As Wolf grabbed her shoulder to stop her, Camilla drew the shortsword hidden at her waist.
Then, in a voice that sounded like it was being squeezed out of her, she said.
“This shortsword, I gave it to Master as a gift. Before the final battle.”
Kaisen’s mother’s memento.
The gift Camilla had given her master.
The moment those two meanings merged in his mind, Wolf’s knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed on the spot. His breath unknowingly quickened.
“Th-that means… C-Camilla. Kai-Kaisen, that child is the Commander’s s—”
“—Of course that’s a lie. You actually believed that?”
Naturally, just before he could reach a conclusion, Camilla cut him off with a deadpan expression.
“What?”
Wolf stood there for a moment, stunned.
A long moment later, he steadied his breathing with a sigh, pressed his temples, and spoke in a low voice.
“Don’t ever joke about the Commander again. Aren’t you the one who suffers the most whenever he’s mentioned?”
There was no reply.
Camilla just gave a small smirk, turned, and walked away, leaving Wolf to blink in bewilderment.
‘When was the last time Camilla smiled like that…?’
She hadn’t even smiled as a joke since the Commander died.
Wolf didn’t say it out loud. He wouldn’t have had the time.
Just then, a griffin landed on the grassy field, kicking up a cloud of sand from above.
“Camilla Alter Aradamanthel!”
The rider leaped from its back and hastily prostrated himself.
“What is it now.”
“We’re losing communication with the rear posts, one after another.”
“They’re probably all throwing a drinking party.”
“The search parties we sent are the same. The White Skull Corps has been ordered to uncover the truth behind this phenomenon.”
*From the rear posts…?*
Camilla felt the vague anxiety she had been harboring slowly stir and take shape.
The enemy was close, and there was intelligence from the Magic Alliance that the army that had laid waste to the south was massing at various forward bases.
The Republic’s command was blindly confident in the Inferno Line’s ability to hold… but against demons, complacency was forbidden.
Camilla stood, brushing the dirt from her backside, and gestured to Johan with her eyes.
“Get Kaisen. I have some homework for him. And I’ll teach him the final sword technique while I’m at it.”
* * *
“This little brat is a messenger for the FakeWarrior Corps?”
Jack, the Haltene militia captain, scoffed.
The boy soldier who had just been dragged before his barracks was a truly pathetic sight.
“Don’t make me laugh, you brat! A snot-nosed kid like you?”
“Light the beacon, and the FakeWarrior Corps will launch a pincer attack.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Do as you please. If you want to die here. Then we’ll leave to report to the Marshal.”
“What?”
“Reporting the discovery of an Uruk detachment inside the Inferno Line is more urgent than persuading an old geezer like you.”
“D-don’t be ridiculous! Aren’t you the Uruk spy here? You’re setting a trap. That’s it.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you! Isn’t the mark on your cheek proof of that!”
The militiamen glanced at Kaisen, then looked away, feeling an incomprehensible fear.
‘What’s with this kid?’
He was tall, but he was still a kid. Yet, from beneath the shaggy black hair that fell over his eyes, his gaze was as sharp as a blade.
“Dammit, why are Uruk showing up inside the Inferno Line… Take his sword. We’ll hold him and interrogate him.”
As the soldiers moved to take the sword from his back, the boy’s hand was on the hilt in the blink of an eye. The blade was halfway drawn.
“I don’t mind convincing you with force.”
The militiamen’s bodies froze in terror.
A cold chill pierced their spines. The killing intent radiating from Kaisen was quiet and frigid.
It was enough to inspire instinctual fear.
“How is it that everyone living in this country is such a coward?”
Here, Kaisen’s homeland was a republic governed by a coalition of three city-states.
Witches and consuls, selected as elders, managed the affairs of state, and aside from the standing army, militias called the Haltene defended the land.
“Weak, cowardly, and a disorganized rabble.”
Though their homeland had been ravaged by the summer a dozen years ago, the Republic, which always engaged in administrative debates that were little more than armchair theories, had made no real preparations for war.
Wasn’t pouring an enormous amount of military funds into building the fortress line called the Inferno Line all they had done?
The Inferno Line was outstanding, but it would have been better to use that money to maintain a large, elite standing army like the Empire.
Because that hadn’t happened, most of the units currently active on the front lines were the FakeWarrior Corps.
“What did you say, you brat?”
“Wait, Captain!”
As the situation grew tense, the soldier who had brought the boy spoke up urgently.
“Believe it or not, I saw this kid kill two Uruk with a single sword with my own two eyes.”
“What did you say?”
“It’s hard to believe, but it’s true. I was dumbfounded myself. That’s why I brought him here.”
Militia Captain Jack’s eyes widened. The militiamen began to murmur amongst themselves.
What exactly was an Uruk?
Weren’t they monsters that only those who had learned to wield mana or beastkin soldiers could fight on even terms? Jack swallowed a dry lump in his throat.
“What are the corps’ numbers?”
“One thousand spearmen, fifteen hundred riflemen, fifty long-riflemen, and nineteen beastkin soldiers.”
“Barely twenty-five hundred?”
“They’re stronger than thirty thousand rabble like you. The riflemen are all grenadiers. Now shut up and do as you’re told.”
The militia captain deliberated.
Then his senior men, who served as his staff, each offered a word.
“We can’t wipe out the Uruk on our own.”
“We’re almost out of bullets, and more importantly, our morale…”
The situation in the barracks was at its worst.
Believing the Inferno Line had been breached by the Uruk, deserters were appearing one after another.
This unit had been a rear supply unit to begin with, hadn't it? Most of its members were old men and student soldiers.
“What do you need us to do?”
“Open the gates as if you’re fleeing. Attach empty carts to horses and send them out like you’re escaping. Then, hold out against the ones that come in.”
“Is that all?”
“That’s all. We’ll handle the rest.”
Jack’s fingers drummed restlessly on the table.
If they were going to die anyway… In the taut silence, everyone stared only at Jack’s face.
Even if they did nothing, they would die anyway… In the next moment, Jack shot to his feet, slamming his hands on the table.
“Wake up everyone who’s sleeping. Full assembly.”
“Hmph. At least you’re decisive.”
Kaisen sheathed the sword he had half-drawn and spoke as if giving a command.
“I need two soldiers to carry fire and oil. You can spare that much, can’t you?”