Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Crunch!
"AAAAAHHHH!"
The boy upstairs screamed like he was dying.
But it probably wasn't that painful.
Delam's experience—having broken human bones thousands of times, give or take—told him as much.
It was a clean break.
'Wait, does it still hurt just as much even if it's clean?'
Even as that frivolous thought crossed his mind, Delam moved.
He struck the boy's Adam's apple.
"Gah— cough!"
The noisy brat slumped over like a ragdoll.
Once again, Delam had carefully avoided the spine and vocal cords.
He caught the collapsing boy and gently laid him down.
"D-Delam! What the hell are you doing?!"
A sudden tragedy had unfolded!
The boy's father, belatedly realizing what had happened, shouted in shock.
But Delam's response was utterly calm.
"Uncle, you know how your son is, right?"
"......"
That alone was enough.
The shocked man clamped his mouth shut.
Not long ago, after the mercenaries had visited, his son had been spouting nonsense about going to the battlefield to earn glory and whatnot.
"Since it's a clean break, it'll heal quickly with just a splint. Take him home and let him rest. I'll explain things to the village chief."
"...Still, this seems too harsh."
"Don't you know your own son? With his troublemaking personality, if he gets dragged off this time, he'll die in the first battle without even getting a chance to ask questions."
"That's... true!"
"From what I've heard, the conscription officers might come again around harvest season two years from now. So if he starts acting up then, break the other leg too."
"...Thank you."
"Don't mention it. You only have one son, Uncle. What kind of tragedy would it be if he got dragged off to war and died?"
Delam flashed him a grin.
This was the same man who had always shared food with Delam and his mother, even when his own pantry was bare, just because Delam played along with his dimwitted son.
Thanks to him, Delam's mother had suffered less from hunger.
How grateful must he have been to remember even now?
It had been over forty years.
'My way of repaying favors might be a bit odd.'
But wasn't everyone happy?
That was all that mattered.
With his head held high, Delam strode toward the chief's house.
Having saved one person, it was now time to save humanity.
Re-enlisting was the first step toward that glorious task!
"Haah..."
Delam let out a deep sigh.
Up ahead, he could see the conscription officers and soldiers.
Normally, people in rural villages didn't gather easily.
Everyone was too busy trying to survive—who had time for that?
But today was different.
A dense crowd had gathered in front of the chief's house.
"Ugh..."
The atmosphere, however, was unbearably heavy.
A young man knelt at the center, his face a mess of bruises.
Glaring down at him was an armored knight.
Blood dripped from the knight's gauntlet.
The young man had probably been caught hiding and beaten as an example.
'A warning.'
Conscription officers usually consisted of one knight and a few soldiers.
In other words, their numbers weren't particularly large.
Moreover, since they weren't familiar with the local geography, if the villagers were determined to hide or flee, there was practically no way to catch them.
So they usually resorted to this method.
Beating the first one caught like a rat.
Schiiing—
The knight even drew his sword.
The well-polished longsword hissed as it left its scabbard.
Naturally, the young man, who had spent his whole life herding sheep, was terrified out of his mind.
He scrambled backward in panic, nearly pissing himself.
"U-Uwaaah..."
"Tell me where the others are hiding or fleeing. Do that, and I'll spare you. I'll count to three. One—"
"T-There's a pit over there! It looks like just bushes, but if you poke it with a stick, there's a cave underneath!"
"Good."
The soldiers headed toward a field on the village outskirts.
Soon, young men were being dragged out one after another.
Two of them glared at the snitch as they were hauled in.
"Chief, the numbers should be accurate this time, right?"
"Y-Y-Yes."
"Thirty-five in total. By His Majesty's boundless grace, we'll only take fifteen. Bring the lots."
The soldiers, as if accustomed to this, immediately brought out a long tube.
Inside were several sticks.
Drawing a black-tipped stick meant immediate conscription.
Of course, the two who had tried to flee were disqualified from drawing.
Thus, thirty-three men lined up before the soldiers.
Soon, the moment of fate arrived.
The men wept or rejoiced at their results.
Surprisingly, the bruised young man wasn't chosen.
One might have thought he'd be forcibly taken for his insolence, but the knight didn't seem inclined to do so.
"Ah, damn it..."
Then, a disappointed sigh rose from among the men.
One young man, having drawn a normal stick, looked crestfallen.
He immediately offered to swap with the person next to him, who had drawn a black-tipped one.
Naturally, the other man eagerly agreed.
"Hey, you crazy bastard—!"
"Father! I'll return a noble!"
The boy's father, seeing this from afar, rushed forward in horror, only to be blocked by the soldiers.
The powerless man wailed, while the boy's mother paled, muttered something, and fainted.
The knight, of course, was pleased.
"A splendid sight. Volunteering, no less. I'll personally inform your assigned unit of your bravery."
"Thank you, sir!"
The boy saluted as if he'd already enlisted.
Had he learned that from mercenaries or retired soldiers?
The soldiers openly sneered at his clumsy posture.
In any case, all the lots found their owners.
The village square was a mix of despair and hope.
And then—
"I want to enlist too!"
"Hmm?"
The knight's head snapped toward the sudden voice.
The villagers in that direction scattered like startled mice, as if to say, "Not me!"
Left standing alone in the now-empty space was a single boy.
Delam.
"Who are you?"
"Delam. Thirteen years old this year."
"Thirteen is too young for conscription."
"Even so, I wish to serve. With the burning passion in my heart, for the kingdom! For His Majesty, who shall reign eternal!"
Swish!
With that, he spun a spear—where had he gotten it?—with perfect form before planting it firmly.
It was the kingdom's military spear salute.
And unlike the childish imitation from that other youth earlier, this was sharper than even a real officer's!
"Oh?"
"What the hell is with this kid?"
Even the soldiers were impressed.
The knight nodded approvingly and asked,
"That was an exceptionally fine drill."
"Thank you! My late father would be proud."
"Did your father teach you that?"
"Yes! Though he has passed, I heard stories of how my ancestor once wielded a spear and swept across battlefields like a storm!"
"Perfect. Welcome to the ranks!"
"Thank you, sir!"
The knight laughed heartily.
Delam laughed even louder.
The villagers stared at the two like they were insane.
And so, Delam became a soldier once more.
Fifteen days.
That was how long the conscripted villagers had been marching.
At first, even with the conscription officers, their numbers barely reached twenty.
But with each village they passed, the group grew, until it had swelled to over a hundred.
"......"
Despite the many people walking, the procession was silent.
Not from boredom, but from fear.
Conscription was terror incarnate.
As seen in Delam's village, there were a few who burned with ambition, eager to rise in rank and return.
But they were the extreme minority.
The overwhelming majority knew the horrors of war.
After all, almost none of those conscripted before had come back.
"Get conscripted, and you die."
That was the common knowledge.
And now, a hundred young men were backed into a corner.
All of them physically fit enough to be soldiers, with no disabilities.
So then... couldn't they just kill the conscription officers and flee?
Some had actually tried.
About ten of them had conspired and hatched a plan.
They'd flee in different directions.
Their reasoning was that the knight and soldiers were few, and if they ran, the other ninety wouldn't just stand there.
-Desertion is punishable by summary execution.
-Graaah!
-Furthermore, conscription is by royal decree. To defy it is treason! Send soldiers to this man's village and ship his entire family to the mines!
And so, all ten died.
In an instant!
The knight's sword cleaved three in a single swing, and he covered hundreds of meters in a flash to butcher the rest.
Survivors: zero.
After that, the procession became as silent as the grave.
'Yikes.'
Delam had clicked his tongue at the sight.
Of all the knights to get stuck with, it had to be this lunatic.
Knights came in three main types.
The commander-type, who knew how to be flexible.
The skill-type, who focused solely on honing their sword.
And finally, the stickler-type, who lived by principle alone.
Unfortunately, this knight was the stickler-type.
The kind who'd rather die than admit he was wrong.
That's why, despite being at the [Intermediate] level—worthy of welcome in any knight order—he was stuck doing conscription work.
Probably had a lot of enemies in high places.
'Hmm~ What a stubborn bastard. I should focus on mana training.'
Delam shut out the noise and concentrated.
From now on, he'd practice the Mana Ceremony.
What was the [Mana Ceremony]?
Literally, a ceremony (式) to gather mana.
And mana?
Sadly, no one knew exactly what it was.
But to put it simply:
[The root of all things, existing everywhere in the world.]
[The so-called key to transcendence!]
'In other words... the must-have for success.'
Humans couldn't naturally gather mana.
But with the Mana Ceremony, it became possible.
And from then on, new possibilities opened.
[Gather it in the heart, and wield mighty Aura.]
[Gather it in the head, and bend the laws with magic.]
Thus, knights and mages.
That's why the Mana Ceremony was so precious.
'I know forty-two Mana Ceremonies.'
The one he'd practice was the last one he'd acquired.
A treasure among treasures, bestowed by the emperor when he became Supreme Commander.
Delam whispered its name in his heart.
'Fleurex Arts!'