Chapter 16
Chapter 16
A week had passed since Delam regained consciousness.
Surprisingly, he had no external injuries whatsoever.
Considering the brutal battle with the barbarian warrior, it spoke volumes about how refined Delam's combat skills had become.
Most of the damage had been internal.
There was no need to stay long in the medical tent.
After just one day, he was transferred to the 1st Unit barracks to continue his recovery.
Mark had been the one tending to Delam.
Though "tending" was too grand a word—it mostly involved bringing meals and running minor errands.
Still, his earnestness showed that even a troublemaker like him understood whose efforts had saved his life.
Shock therapy truly worked wonders.
Nothing better for knocking sense into immature brats.
'My body's mostly recovered now.'
Delam observed his internal condition.
The damaged tendons and mana roads had completely healed.
In fact, they'd grown tougher and more resilient during recovery.
Normally, restoring mana roads to this extent would have been impossible.
But Fleurex Arts represented the pinnacle of stability.
"Stable" meant no breaks in the flow—even the slightest visible strand could be reconnected.
Delam asked Rubian walking ahead of him:
"Sir Knight, where exactly are we headed?"
"The Military Merit Office."
"That's where they hand out awards, right?"
"Correct."
Rubian nodded.
Battle merits were ranked from 1st to 5th class.
1st through 3rd class were reserved for knights and mages.
No matter how hard they tried, regular soldiers could only achieve 4th or 5th class at best.
Delam was to receive a 4th class merit.
'I thought they'd deny it, but they're actually giving it.'
A 13-year-old boy killing a knight-level barbarian warrior?
It defied all logic.
Even with testimonies from the soldiers he'd saved, it sounded absurd.
But what couldn't Delam kill at this point?
If he claimed to have slain a dragon, they'd have to believe him.
Rubian's appearance changed everything.
She'd witnessed the aftermath firsthand.
Though she missed the actual fight, when the eldest daughter of the prestigious Bistache family—one of the kingdom's five great houses—vouched for him, who would dare dispute it?
The Merit Office, initially skeptical, discovered something peculiar.
This 13-year-old had originally been appointed as a squad leader.
When they contacted the training camp—
A flood of astonishing testimonies emerged.
After that, the decision was easy.
With everything lining up, there was no reason to deny the award.
"Boy, achieving a battle merit comes with a standard monetary reward and medal," Rubian explained. "Beyond that, you can request weapons or martial arts manuals if needed. Speak up if there's anything you want."
"Could I transfer units?"
"Transfer... Hmm, I understand."
Rubian nodded sympathetically.
His first battle had been nearly a defeat, facing a natural disaster of an enemy like that barbarian warrior, barely escaping with his life.
After enduring such an ordeal, no one would blame Delam for wanting safer rear-line duty.
Though she couldn't hide a tinge of disappointment.
That heroic spirit—evacuating his comrades while buying time!
She'd thought they'd finally found knight material after so long...
"To answer directly—yes, transfers are possible. Though specialized units like the blacksmith corps require particular skills."
"Then I'd like to join the Special Forces."
"The Special Forces...? Are you certain?"
"Yes, the elite unit for special military operations."
Each unit had clear roles.
Frontline units served as meat shields holding formation.
Archer units functioned as arrow-firing machines.
Supply units were essentially living carts... and so on.
The Special Forces operated differently.
They handled any mission requiring elite combat skills.
Mostly forward reconnaissance, searches, scouting, and infiltration.
The name alone told the story.
They lived with their lives constantly on the line.
Their survival rates were worse than frontline troops.
This wasn't running away—it was walking straight into hell.
No wonder Rubian's eyes widened as she asked:
"Why choose the Special Forces?"
"To achieve greater merits as a soldier."
"Admirable! But... the Special Forces don't accept just anyone. You need the unit commander's approval to join."
"I'm confident about that."
"Good. Any other requests? Having your Special Forces transfer count as your reward seems unfair. How about leave? We could arrange up to a month."
"No need. Excluding training camp, I've only been enlisted about two weeks."
Rubian grew increasingly restless at Delam's refusal.
Should she offer swordsmanship or spearmanship training?
Perhaps a quality weapon?
But Delam declined everything.
Finally, he said:
"Ah! One thing does come to mind."
"What is it? I'll make it happen."
"Could you transfer my hometown friend to a rear-line cavalry unit? He's utterly useless in combat. But he was a shepherd, so he'd handle horses well."
"That much... Consider it done!"
Rubian assured him with confidence.
They soon arrived at the Military Merit Office.
Inside, the lavishly decorated space impressed.
Thick carpets covered the floor, with an elegant podium where honorees would stand.
When nobles received awards, commanders would present decorations there while subordinates applauded below.
For 4th and 5th class merits? Far simpler.
Just unit members gathering to chat briefly.
Thus Delam stood alone.
Only eight others had shared his barracks—
All either dead or severely wounded.
"You've endured much."
Accordingly, the ceremony was brief.
Rubian simply pinned the medal to his chest.
He received his monetary reward too, though nowhere to spend it immediately.
Might prove useful for bribing superiors later.
"Sir Knight, where should I stay now?"
"First, let's visit the Special Forces. If the commander accepts you, you'll stay there. Otherwise, we'll assign you elsewhere."
"Understood."
Rubian wrapped an arm around Delam's shoulders.
Her proud expression was unmistakable, yet...
Oddly, the distance between them seemed to have shrunk—or was that just his imagination?
"Sir Rubian, welcome."
Rubian personally escorted Delam to the Special Forces.
Fortunately, the unit commander was present in the barracks.
Delam quickly assessed the man.
'Let's see.'
Forties in age.
The weathered face typical of career soldiers, yet still handsome.
With an easygoing charm to boot.
The occasional glint in his eyes revealed mana light.
'A commoner who mastered mana to this level. At this rate, he might soon become a junior knight.'
Overall, a favorable impression.
At least this type didn't rigidly enforce rules blindly.
They wouldn't throw you into certain death just to prove your worth.
"What brings you to the Special Forces?"
"I've a soldier to introduce."
"The boy behind you—Squad Leader Delam, by chance?"
"You know him?"
"First meeting. But with achievements like his, word spreads fast. I'd been considering how to recruit him... Is this...?"
"Correct. He wishes to join your unit."
"Excellent!"
The commander approached beaming.
The Special Forces only accepted elite soldiers from regular units.
While this brought honor, it also meant receiving missions only true elites could handle.
The abysmal survival rates proved this.
But there was one way to improve those odds:
Having exceptionally skilled comrades!
He'd been pondering how to recruit Delam when—
The prey walked right into his den.
"Mind if I examine you briefly?"
"By all means."
With permission granted, the commander inspected Delam.
His probing hands moved carefully over arms, waist, and legs.
Soon, astonishment colored his expression.
Delam's physique was nothing short of extraordinary—perfectly structured for maximum efficiency.
Not just raw strength, but especially agility and stamina.
Flawlessly balanced between these attributes.
The ideal form any Special Forces member would desire.
What more was there to consider?
The commander immediately extended his hand.
"Welcome to the unit, Delam."
"Thank you."
"Your straightforward personality pleases me too! Do you know what our Special Forces does?"
"I know they're the kingdom's finest."
"Hahaha!"
The commander laughed heartily before continuing.
"Our missions fall into five categories: Reconnaissance, search, scouting, infiltration, and covert ops... Any preferences?"
"The names alone don't tell me much. But I want dangerous, meaningful missions."
"Wisely said. High risk, high return—that's why we exist. Personally, I'd recommend scouting or covert ops for you—your undeveloped physique could be an advantage."
"I'll consider that."
"Come along. I'll show you the barracks......"
Delam toured the facilities with the commander.
As an elite unit, the quality impressed.
Barracks, mess hall, even recreational areas.
No comparison to frontline units.
The supplies particularly stood out.
Special Forces members saluting as they passed carried equipment nearly knight-grade—just one tier below.
Same for the training grounds.
Unlike the empty frontline areas where soldiers faced imminent death, here the yard bustled with activity.
Members practiced with their primary weapons.
Their faces burned with ambition.
"Impressive, no?"
"Yes, living here feels like a dream."
"Hahaha! May that feeling last."
The commander teased.
But Delam felt little excitement.
Because this wasn't his first time here.
In fact, he was sickeningly familiar with it.
Delam had once served as a Special Forces member.
Right here.
Not fond memories—no one enjoys being treated like a pawn.
Yet he'd returned because—
'It's the fastest elite track available to regular soldiers.'
Sword Master Roel.
Rubian belonged to the knight order led by such a legendary warrior.
Moreover, as a mid-rank knight and eldest daughter of a great house, she held considerable status here.
Yet even she couldn't casually disrespect the Special Forces commander—not even the unit commander, just a battalion leader.
The strongest evidence lay in mana.
Despite being commoner-born, the commander had learned a mana technique.
The near-impossible odds of someone teaching him privately meant the kingdom had officially granted it.
Marking this as a crucially important position.
'First goal... Become the youngest Special Forces commander. For now, just stand out in training.'
Youth demanded speed.
He'd simply complete the training in record time.