Chapter 86: The Second Variable (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 86: The Second Variable (2)
Inside a building at the Southern Training Camp.
McBurney leaned against the wall, his chest heaving with heavy, ragged breaths.
"Haa, haa."
He was in a wretched state.
His chainmail was torn to shreds, exposing the bare skin beneath, and blood poured from a deep gash across his abdomen. It was a miracle his entrails hadn't spilled out. An ordinary man would have clutched the wound, but McBurney didn't have that luxury. His one remaining arm was busy pointing his sword at the enemy.
"He'll die even if we just leave him alone."
"Why don't you just give up? We'll give you a painless death."
The Hector soldiers sneered as they approached.
There were three of them left.
They slowly closed the distance, surrounding McBurney with their weapons raised, ready to strike at the slightest opening.
It was a hair-trigger standoff.
McBurney’s mouth was bone-dry.
Dizziness blurred his vision, but he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, using the pain to force himself to stay conscious.
Crunch.
"Fuck you, you bastards."
A metallic taste spread over his tongue. The warm blood was at least liquid, and it slightly quenched his parched throat.
"The first bastard to step forward—I'll take him down with me if it's the last thing I do. So come on. If you're ready to die for your buddies, put your life on the line and charge. I'll personally rip your throat out with my teeth."
He growled savagely, his eyes gleaming with pure, unadulterated malice.
Seeing McBurney refuse to give a single inch, the Hector soldiers hesitated.
It wasn't an empty threat.
The soldier who had underestimated him earlier and rushed in was currently growing cold on the stone floor.
Damn it.
He swallowed a curse.
Though he did his best to hide it, his body was at its absolute limit.
It wouldn't be surprising if he collapsed right this second.
He was holding on through sheer willpower alone. The Hector soldiers knew this, which was exactly why they were playing it safe and biding their time.
If only my right arm were intact, I would have slaughtered them all.
Despair crept in as reality set in.
Back when he was active on the Western Front, McBurney could easily handle two or three enemies with a single sword. He hadn't learned swordsmanship systematically; it was a practical, brutal style forged in the mud of the battlefield. His aggressive, unpredictable strikes had claimed the lives of countless Kronos soldiers.
But now, things were different.
His left arm wouldn't move the way he wanted it to, and he had been beaten to a bloody pulp after killing just one.
It was over.
Death was staring him right in the face.
Knowing his end was near, McBurney resolved to drag at least one more bastard down to hell with him.
I wonder what happened to Lord Roman Dmitry.
Suddenly, the face of the man who had left such a deep impression on him flashed through his mind.
Roman Dmitry was the first proper noble he had met at the Southern Training Camp. Unlike the others, he had actively prepared for war. He was the only one who remained vigilant, even here on the Southern Front. Although Roman had been assigned to the 5th Defense Line, McBurney felt that if it were him, he would have somehow accomplished something.
He was curious about what Roman was doing right now.
It was absurd—at the threshold of death, the person who came to mind wasn't his family or his friends, but Roman Dmitry.
I guess it just shows how much my soul is still tied to the battlefield.
He gripped his sword tightly.
He lowered his stance, ready to spring forward at a moment's notice.
Ignoring the blood dripping from his abdomen, his sharp gaze scanned the enemy's defenses for a gap.
It was then—
Crash!
"Aaargh!"
"Attack!"
Shouts and the clash of steel suddenly erupted from outside the building.
* * *
Roman was a step too late.
By the time he arrived, the Southern Training Camp was already in ruins. The corpses of soldiers were strewn everywhere.
It was a gruesome sight.
However, the sounds of battle still echoed nearby.
Judging that the enemy hadn't completely withdrawn, Roman issued a swift command.
"Sweep the area for any remaining enemies and rescue the survivors immediately."
"Understood."
Chris and the soldiers dispersed in all directions.
Roman carefully surveyed his surroundings.
Just as the dying soldier had warned, the Southern Training Camp had been decimated by the Hector Kingdom. Among the dead were Hector soldiers clad in light leather armor, likely outfitted for rapid mobility. However, the vast majority were the bodies of Cairo Kingdom soldiers. The sheer disparity in casualties made it clear just how devastatingly effective Hector's surprise attack had been.
He circulated his mana.
Expanding his senses, he listened closely to the ambient noise.
...McBurney?
Amidst the clamor, he caught a familiar voice.
McBurney was fighting someone, and judging by his ragged breathing, he was in grave danger.
Roman immediately kicked off the ground.
He burst through the door of a nearby building, and the scene inside was exactly what he had anticipated.
"W-What?!"
"Did Cairo send reinforcements already?!"
The Hector soldiers flinched in panic.
According to their calculations, there was no way reinforcements could have arrived at the Southern Training Camp so quickly.
With the frontline defense posts currently under siege, they hadn't expected Cairo to dispatch troops to a place of such little strategic value. So who on earth was this man? As the Hector soldiers pointed their weapons at him with open hostility, Roman quickly assessed the situation, his gaze shifting between them and McBurney.
He's still alive.
McBurney was indeed one of the survivors.
Though he looked like he was on the verge of death, he still had the strength to stand on his own two feet.
Ignoring McBurney's astonished gaze, Roman advanced toward the enemies.
I will capture them alive.
The decision was made.
Just as the Hector soldiers shouted at him to stay back, Roman materialized right in front of them.
Whoosh!
Crack!
A fist slammed into a Hector soldier's face.
Blood sprayed violently as the soldier's eyes rolled back. As the man collapsed, Roman struck his pressure points. Even if he regained consciousness, he wouldn't be able to move a muscle. When another Hector soldier lunged forward in a fit of rage, Roman effortlessly deflected the attack and subdued him in the exact same manner.
Thud!
A heavy punch landed, followed by a rapid volley of fingers striking pressure points.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
Though they were veteran soldiers in their own right, two of them had been completely neutralized in a mere fraction of a second.
The last remaining soldier tried to flee.
Abandoning his comrades, he bolted toward the opposite door, only to be yanked backward by the scruff of his neck by an unexpected force.
Grab.
"Kegh..."
"I told you. I'm taking at least one of you with me."
It was McBurney.
He had been quick on the uptake.
Realizing Roman wanted to capture them alive, he didn't slash the soldier with his sword. Instead, he locked his left arm around the man's throat in a chokehold. Since McBurney only had one arm, the soldier resisted fiercely. However, McBurney gritted his teeth and held on, squeezing the man's neck with everything he had until the Hector soldier finally blacked out.
Thud.
"Haa, haa..."
McBurney collapsed onto the floor.
He had reached his absolute limit.
His vision was fading, and a sickening wave of nausea washed over him.
Through his blurring sight, Roman's face came into view.
"You did well. Leave the rest to me and get some rest."
Trickle.
Roman poured a potion over McBurney's grievous wounds.
McBurney couldn't even muster the strength to utter a word of thanks.
As the soothing energy of the potion spread throughout his body, he finally surrendered to the darkness.
* * *
The situation was quickly brought under control.
After securing the perimeter of the Southern Training Camp, Chris reported the results to Roman.
"There weren't many Hector Kingdom soldiers left. We found twelve of them and eliminated them on the spot, and we managed to rescue five survivors from the camp. Also, according to the survivors, Viscount Veil was wounded while fighting the Hector soldiers and fled into the mountains."
That was unexpected.
Viscount Veil.
Roman had assumed the man would flee immediately like Baron Bruce, but he had actually put up a fight against the enemy.
But that was the extent of it.
It didn't change the outcome.
As a consequence of their complacency, the vast majority of the soldiers at the Southern Training Camp were dead. There were fewer than ten survivors in total.
The main force of the Hector Kingdom attacked the Southern Training Camp and then moved on. According to the survivors, the enemy numbered at least several hundred. There must be a reason they're employing a strategy of feinting to the east to strike in the west.
A single possibility came to mind.
His suspicion grew stronger.
Although he had a rough idea of the enemy's true objective, he couldn't afford to make a hasty judgment.
A single decision from him carried the weight of countless lives.
Knowing the gravity of his choices, Roman did not rush.
"Where are the Hector captives?"
"We locked them all in one of the buildings."
There was only one way to confirm the truth.
Roman spoke as he walked.
"Chris, from this moment on, do not let anyone inside that building until I give the word. That is an order."
"Understood."
With that—
Creak.
Thud.
The heavy door closed, swallowing Roman inside.
* * *
Inside the building, the Hector soldiers were tightly bound.
As Roman walked in, one of the soldiers, his face a bloody mess, spat and shouted, "Just kill us instead of keeping us alive like this! We have absolutely nothing to say to you Cairo cowards anyway! Ptu!"
A thick glob of spit landed right at Roman's feet.
Roman didn't care.
He didn't react to the soldier's provocations, nor did he offer a reply.
Instead, his expression remained ice-cold as he calmly laid out his terms.
"I will give each of you exactly three minutes. I don't have much time, so I cannot afford to give you a second more. The rules are simple. Answer my questions. If you give me the answers I want within three minutes, I will grant you a painless death. Otherwise, you will experience agonizing pain until the moment you finally die."
"You son of a bitch!"
"Just kill us! Kill us!" the Hector soldiers thrashed and screamed.
Unfazed, Roman looked at the first captive and asked, "First question. What is the Hector Kingdom's objective?"
"Fuck you!"
The soldier clamped his mouth shut.
The troops deployed for this operation were fiercely patriotic. They possessed an iron resolve, determined to never leak a single secret, even if it meant their deaths.
Time ticked away.
Once the time limit for the Hector soldiers' one-sided shouting match had expired, Roman pronounced his sentence.
"Three minutes are up."
Tap.
He struck a pressure point.
At first, the Hector soldier didn't understand what had just happened.
But a split second later, his eyes flew wide open.
The muscles across his entire body began to violently twist, and excruciating pain washed over him.
"Aaargh! Aaack!"
"I call this the Bone-Twisting Technique. You will suffer the sheer agony of having your muscles and bones forcefully twisted apart, slowly dying an excruciating death. You are enemies who invaded the Cairo Kingdom. I have no intention of letting such enemies off easily. The only exception I make is for those who cooperate with me."
Watching the horrific scene unfold right beside them, the other soldiers' faces rapidly paled.
Seeing their steadfast comrade screaming in agony with his eyes rolling back into his skull was enough to spread a contagious terror.
"Second question. Why are you here at the Southern Training Camp?"
It was the voice of a grim reaper.
The second soldier swallowed hard.
He wanted to scream his surrender, but the memory of the oath of secrecy he had taken held him back.
In the end—
"Three minutes are up."
"Aaaaaargh!"
He, too, was plunged into the depths of hell.
Now, only the last man remained.
As Roman approached, the third soldier began to scream hysterically before Roman could even ask his question.
"Do you think doing this will change the outcome?! It's already over! Even if you hear about Hector's operation from my mouth, it's already far beyond your power to stop! So do whatever the hell you want! The Cairo Kingdom will pay the price for its complacency, and you will all be recorded in a shameful history! Kuhahaha!"
He laughed.
He laughed like a madman, desperately trying to mask his overwhelming terror.
Roman looked down at him and let out an enigmatic smile.
"I was waiting for that answer."
"...What?"
"I never expected the truth from you in the first place. I only wanted to see how you would react. Since you are so absolutely certain of your success, I can deduce one possibility."
The soldier froze in panic.
Roman dropped a bombshell on him.
"The Rear Base. That is where your true objective lies."
At those words, the soldier completely lost his composure.
That was enough.
Roman's claim that he hadn't expected an answer was also nothing more than bait to elicit this exact reaction.
"Now, die."
Tap.
He struck the pressure point.
Leaving behind the agonizing screams of the last soldier, Roman stepped out of the building.
The simultaneous attacks on the Southern Front were merely a distraction. Their true objective lies elsewhere. If they have indeed succeeded in their operation, the Southern Front is as good as fallen.
His blood ran cold.
It was now an absolute certainty.
The Southern Front was in far greater danger than anyone had anticipated.
The exposure of the plan they believed to be perfect—that was the second variable the Hector Kingdom had failed to anticipate.