Chapter 250: Bloody Battle (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 250: Bloody Battle (4)
After finishing our quick meal, we resumed the meeting right away. The atmosphere was noticeably different compared to before the meal.
Everyone reconciled their differing opinions in calm, measured voices. Was it the power of a full stomach, or was it thanks to my crowd control? Whatever the case, as long as the meeting proceeded smoothly, that was all that mattered.
Anyway…
As I quietly listened to the strategy meeting, I felt a yawn coming on. It wasn't because I had completely relaxed or anything. With a Corps Commander practically at our doorstep, I wasn't brave enough to play the big shot. The only reason I was blinking lazily was simply…
That's not how you do it.
I stayed quiet, assuming these people were at least more expert in military matters than I was. After all, they had several stars dangling from their armbands.
But how should I put it? Listening to what passed for a strategy meeting, I couldn't help but feel they lacked a sense of reality. Especially when I heard them blabbering about setting ambushes against a Corps Commander.
And it made sense—none of the people present had actual combat experience against a Corps Commander. The Sword Emperor and the Spear Saint were both absent, currently off boosting the soldiers' morale.
Therefore, I was the only person in this room who had actually fought a Corps Commander. And I'd slain two of them. So, at least when it came to Corps Commanders, I was practically a veteran. Or not, whatever.
“Everyone, please listen to me for a second.”
So I spoke up. If this went on, they'd still be holding a conference even with Permush right in front of their noses.
“Yes.”
Gratefully, everyone cut themselves off and gathered their gazes on me. Getting their attention was fine, but stopping so abruptly felt awkward. It felt like a ghost had just walked through the room.
I guess because they're soldiers, their chain of command discipline is strict.
I cleared my throat three or four times before beginning to speak. My coughs echoed briefly inside the sealed tent.
“First, to point one thing out: trying to ambush a Corps Commander from behind won't work. Even if it did, the casualties would be severe, so I won't allow it.”
“May I ask why?”
General Remi asked carefully. Her eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity, not as if she were trying to pick a fight.
A three-star general looking at a seventeen-year-old with sparkling eyes gave me a complex, subtle feeling. It reminded me once again that this was not Earth.
Then again, the fact that a three-star general was a young, pretty woman was already far removed from reality. The 'stars' I used to see were middle-aged uncles who preferred sweatpants to dress uniforms and loved military soccer.
When a two-star general showed up, the entire unit went upside down.
The General hath spoken: he wanted to play soccer. We grabbed entrenching shovels and headed straight for the mountain.
Young men called by the nation waged a fierce battle against the mountain. Night and day. Rain or snow. Eating dirt instead of rice for a late-night snack. Was that all? They bellowed military songs so loudly the mountains shook, draining what little stamina they had left.
Thus, the dense forest turned into a barren, bald mountain on the first day; by the second day, all traces of it ever being a mountain vanished. And on the long-awaited third day?
Ta-da! Where there was no soccer field, now there was one.
This was the cold, harsh reality. Sound like a lie? Since it's a lie, please go enlist and see it with your own two eyes. Please, I beg you.
“Fuck.”
“Pardon?”
“Slip of the tongue.”
“Ah, yes.”
Anyway, let's stop thinking about it. I was going to trigger my own PTSD at this rate.
I pressed my thumbs against my temples before speaking in a low voice.
“The magic of Corps Commanders is literally on a different dimension compared to regular Majin. Even with the lowest-grade magic, where a regular Majin creates a well of water, a Corps Commander creates a lake or an ocean. The lethality of their single strikes is fundamentally different. Suppose an ambush team tries to strike them from behind clumsily. What do you think happens if they catch the Corps Commander's eye?”
“…Annihilation would be nearly unavoidable.”
I locked eyes with General Remi, who had answered, and nodded.
“Correct. That's why gathering together for an open field battle will result in fewer casualties than splitting the army into small units for guerrilla warfare.”
“I understand what you are saying, Heavenly Sword. However, going head-to-head in a 'full power vs. full power' clash is a disadvantageous fight for humanity. If numbers are equal, humans are at an inherent disadvantage.”
“That's true. I keep learning at the academy that no matter how strong a human is, they're helpless before magic.”
At my words, General Remi's eyes filled with flabbergast. Her expression practically screamed, 'Ah, right. You're seventeen?!'
That's the kind of guy I am. Like an onion that keeps revealing new layers the more you peel it. A seventeen-year-old whose inner core was pushing forty.
“However, we Heroes have 'Blessings' as a means to counter them. And think carefully. The enemy uses magic of a single attribute, but we humans have Blessings divided into three roles: Tanking, Healing, and Dealing damage. This means Heroes show their true value not individually, but when they gather together and divide into positions. Against a strong enemy, you shouldn't split forces—you must aggregate them.”
“I understand your point, Heavenly Sword. But our positions are already divided…”
Here, I delivered the core point.
“Simply dividing them broadly is meaningless. What matters is how you deploy those positions and assign roles so they can fully display their capabilities.”
I spread out a map of the Gate's surroundings on the table. Picking up a pen, I wrote words from top to bottom. General Remi leaned in close to inspect the map.
“Top… Jungle… Mid… Bottom…?”
She muttered hesitantly. The other officers sent puzzled looks my way as well.
Understandable, since this was a positional concept from another game entirely.
I tossed the pen over my shoulder and deliberately studied their faces. They were ready to listen. Good, gentlemen. I spoke with a grave, authoritative look.
“From now on, I will explain each position, role, and operational guideline for combat situations. Feel free to speak up anytime with feedback, and I'll take it into consideration.”
In Korea, there are two traditional folk games with deep roots.
One is Lgue of Legends.
The other is St*rcraft.
The generational gap between these two folk games is nearly twenty years. Enough time for mountains and rivers to change twice over, but they share one common trait: both are real-time strategy games.
I, too, am a Korean—a member of the gaming race. Naturally, I had mastered both games in my day.
Only I, a Korean, could show them such advanced strategies and tactics. Furthermore, even among Koreans, I was considered a high-level player.
My rank: Gold 4.
That's right. The upper tier.
* * *
The night was deep. Stepping out of the tent, Director Seong let out a long yawn. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched his stiff body.
“Exhausting, so exhausting.”
As he patted his own shoulder with his prosthetic arm, a figure stepped out of the tent. Director Seong checked who it was out of the corner of his eye. It was General Remi. Feeling his gaze, she turned her head as well.
And so began a brief staring contest. General Remi approached with brisk strides and suddenly extended her left hand.
“I apologize for earlier. I formally apologize for taking out my personal circumstances and emotions on others.”
“Ah, yes.”
Director Seong reluctantly shook her hand. Then his eyes widened slightly. He realized why General Remi had offered her left hand: it was a considerate gesture so that she could shake his real hand rather than his prosthetic.
Director Seong looked straight at General Remi. She was under pressure both internally and externally. Considering that, Director Seong thought, she had treated him quite politely earlier.
“I also offer my formal apology to you, General Remi. My remarks and attitude earlier were disrespectful. Despite the clear difference in rank, I was far too inconsiderate.”
“So you do know.”
“I'm sorry…”
General Remi smiled faintly and released her grip.
“In my view, Association employees are far too rigid. How can you be even stiffer than the military I belong to?”
“Pardon?”
“I meant that what I just said was a joke.”
“…Ah, right.”
Director Seong scratched his brow sheepishly with his prosthetic hand. At this, General Remi pulled a steel flask of whisky from her pocket. She gestured toward his prosthetic with a glance.
“That prosthetic arm works quite well.”
“Ah, you mean this?”
Before continuing, Director Seong picked up on Remi's underlying intent. She was subtly asking, 'How did a non-combatant like you lose an arm?' It was that typical Japanese way of speaking in roundabouts.
However, Director Seong was a master of corporate navigation. He caught on instantly. He smiled and said:
“You could call it my personal badge of honor. You know about the Joaquin Disaster a few months ago, General? The Association employee who barely escaped with his life on the news—that was me.”
“…!”
Uncapping the whisky flask, Remi's hand paused. Her eyes went wide. Finding her reaction amusing, Director Seong cleared his throat with a chuckle.
“Though honestly, I merely survived. In truth, I didn't do anything. I'm no Hero, after all. While the Heavenly Sword was subjugating the 3rd Corps Commander, I was just crouched in a corner like dead weight.”
Director Seong spoke self-deprecatingly. Remi shook her head at him.
“Everyone who was at that scene is a hero and a soldier. Calling yourself 'dead weight' insults not only you, Director Seong, but also the Heavenly Sword who fought so desperately to save you.”
This time, it was Director Seong who was surprised.
“General… you're a much nicer person than I thought.”
“Hearing a compliment from someone I fought with makes the liquor taste even more bitter.”
General Remi replied with the flask pressed to her lips. Director Seong was bewildered. Bitter? Wasn't that a bad thing then? Taking a sip, she offered the whisky to Director Seong.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Gratefully.”
Director Seong took a sip as well. It was bitter yet sweet. Expressions that seemed impossible to coexist swirled in his mouth.
As Director Seong's expression brightened, Remi pulled up one corner of her mouth in a slight smirk.
“How does the liquor taste?”
“It's good. Sweet, to be exact. Though it seems like extremely strong alcohol.”
“Liquor tasting sweet isn't a good sign.”
“Pardon?”
“It means your life is just that bitter.”
Director Seong narrowed his eyes.
“…General Remi, you watch a lot of Korean dramas, don't you?”
“Isn't the world swept up in the grand Hallyu wave?”
Remi nudged Director Seong's prosthetic arm with her elbow.
“By the way, seeing as you recognized the line immediately, Director Seong, you seem to know a thing or two about dramas yourself?”
“…”
It was true. Director Seong was a real man who went crazy for dramas. Remi laughed, her shoulders shaking.
The moonlight deepened. Intimate stories and the whisky flask were passed back and forth. The topic of conversation naturally shifted toward the Heavenly Sword, Kang Geomma.
“I had no idea the Heavenly Sword possessed such deep knowledge of military tactics,” Remi said.
Director Seong nodded in agreement.
“I was so surprised earlier as well. I knew he wasn't just strong, but he really manages to surprise me time and time again.”
“Indeed. To think he could explain military strategy so simply. Top, Mid, Jungle, Bottom. It was so intuitive and stuck in my mind immediately. Once this subjugation war ends, I should consider introducing that system on a large scale.”
“I should write a report and submit it to the Vice Association President as well. That aside… where did the Spear Saint go—?”
It was at that moment. A heavy thud! landed behind them. Startled, Director Seong quickly whipped around.
“Speak of the devil,” the Spear Saint said, dusting off his hands. Dozens of boxes were scattered near his feet.
“I've been looking for you for a long time, Vice Association President.”
“Hearing that from Director Seong who was off knocking back drinks brings a tear to my eye.”
“…”
“…”
Remi subtly slid the whisky flask toward Director Seong. Not noticing her gesture, Director Seong quickly changed the subject.
“Where have you been? And what are all these boxes?”
“The Heavenly Sword personally requested them. He said we absolutely needed them for the subjugation war.”
Director Seong tilted his head in confusion and opened one of the boxes. General Remi also peered over his shoulder to check the contents. She was curious about what item the Heavenly Sword had insisted on having so earnestly.
“Daixo… Sashimi?”
Filling the box were bundles of sashimi knives. They were cheap sashimi knives sold at a 30% discount.
Remi looked at Director Seong with an utterly bewildered expression. Then she was startled once more. Director Seong was trembling with excitement. Beside him, the Spear Saint squatted down and grinned brightly. What was wrong with these two?
“Is a bunch of three-thousand-won sashimi knives really that significant?” Remi asked, feeling left out.
Director Seong suddenly calmed his excitement completely and spoke.
“General, have you ever seen a sight where knives fly through the air?”
It was a rather random question. Before she could answer, Director Seong added as if making a confident declaration:
“You are about to find out why Geomma is called the Heavenly Sword.”