The Duel for Command
A blade-like wind blew.
The air that brushed across his face was colder than anything he had felt in the northern cities where he had stayed before—beyond any comparison. The moment he drew a breath, the chill drove deep into his lungs.
“Hoo……”
A short breath slipped from his lips. White vapor spread into the empty air and scattered almost at once.
No snow fell, yet the ground was frozen hard, and the faint scents of iron and old oil peculiar to a battlefield hung mixed in the air.
Arteon raised his gloved hand almost without thinking and watched his own breath, then slowly clenched his fist.
……Still the same.
Preldior might be new to him, but the north—especially the atmosphere of the very front lines—was familiar. The feeling from three years ago, when he had fought in Belikezel, remained vivid: standing on the border of death, clashing with countless enemies.
Arteon recalled that time as he looked around. Beside him, Kairon smirked.
“Didn’t know you liked places like this.”
“Like them?”
“Anyone who’s not an idiot can tell. Your face is saying it loud and clear.”
“……It’s just a familiar place.”
Before long they stepped into the tent assigned to them. Arteon pointed to the cot beside his own.
“Use that one. Unpack your gear, and always keep your weapons and armor in good order.”
“……Haa. A battlefield, huh.”
Even after arriving, Kairon still seemed unable to believe it. He grumbled as he began unpacking the luggage he had brought.
Then—
Thud, thud.
The sound of boots on ground mixed with snow and dirt came in rapid succession, and the front of the tent grew lively.
And……
“Major Arteon!”
“Major Arteon!”
The tent flap was thrown aside as a crowd of men poured in. They were the soldiers from the old Silent Spear unit.
“Everyone, atten-tion!”
Barter at the front bellowed. The men behind him snapped their heels together into a perfect stance of attention.
“Salute to the Major!”
“Hearts of Steel!”
The thunderous greeting made Kairon flinch. He looked back and forth between Arteon and the newcomers. Just who was this guy that dozens of men would rush over to greet him like this?
Arteon, however, answered their salute with a faint smile and lightly tapped his left chest with his right fist.
“Hearts of Steel. More importantly—have you all finished today’s training?”
“We heard you’d arrived midway through and came running at once.”
“Then all of you go back and finish the training first. Not a single day can be skipped.”
“Hehehe. Still the same as ever.”
“No, we’ll do it later.”
A few of the unit members answered with sly grins. It was obvious at a glance.
They too……
All of them have worked hard.
Their presence was refined far beyond what it had been three years ago. Especially Barter standing at the very front. The man felt as though he stood at the very edge of the 3-star realm.
Barter stepped closer to Arteon. Then—
“Major Arteon!”
He seized him in a crushing hug.
Arteon struggled and shouted.
“Hey—hey, you bastard! You reek of sweat!”
He twisted and frowned, but Barter did not budge an inch.
“I really…… really missed you, Major Arteon.”
But—
Thud!
A dull impact rang out with no space left even for a fist.
“Guh!”
Barter dropped straight to the ground. Arteon looked down at him.
“Disgusting, you bastard.”
The surrounding men burst into snickers and open laughter. Barter, the spot where he had been hit clearly still aching, let out a small groan as he slowly rose.
“W-what was that just now……? It felt like my organs were tearing.”
Then his eyes widened a little at Arteon’s much larger frame.
“Compared to three years ago…… you’ve changed a great deal.”
The height that had once only reached about his chest now came up under his chin. Arteon merely tapped the man’s chest lightly with his fist.
One by one the other unit members came forward to greet him.
“Have you fully returned?”
“For three years we didn’t slack off—we really worked hard.”
One after another. Every single one of them was a precious comrade.
While Arteon exchanged greetings, a man approached through the crowd.
“Major Arteon.”
A low, familiar voice. Arteon lifted his head. Isaac stood there.
Unlike three years ago, a well-kept beard had grown in, sharpening the lines of his face, and his eyes gleamed with a fierce light. It was a look closer to the Isaac Arteon remembered from his past life.
Arteon smiled.
“It’s been a while, Lieutenant Colonel.”
“This is something…… the old look is completely gone.”
Isaac shook his head with a small laugh. Welcome, relief, and other tangled emotions lived in that smile.
Then—
“And him?”
Isaac looked at Kairon standing behind Arteon.
“A guy who trained with me under Master Rionhart. He’ll fight alongside us here.”
Arteon tapped Kairon’s shoulder. Kairon flinched and stepped forward. Isaac naturally extended his hand.
“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Isaac, commander of the Silent Sword unit. Looking forward to working with you.”
“Ah, yes…… well. Yes……”
Kairon took the hand with a dazed expression, still not fully grasping the situation. The firmness in that palm alone told him how much training this man had endured and how many battlefields he had crossed.
Isaac turned back to Arteon.
“Then…… can we talk for a moment?”
“Of course.”
The two of them naturally left the crowd and walked to a quiet spot beside the tent.
Outside the tent, the footsteps of soldiers preparing for the coming expedition came and went without pause. Inside the commander’s tent where Velkain stayed, however, an unnatural quiet reigned.
“……”
Velkain leaned deep into his chair with his eyes closed. The sigh he exhaled with his head tilted back carried heavier worries than mere fatigue.
“Difficult.”
A soldier who had visited a short while earlier had forced an unexpected decision upon him. Thought of simply, it was not a difficult problem—hardly even a problem at all. Yet on the eve of the advance, from the position of supreme commander, it could not help but weigh on him.
The tent flap opened and Claw entered. Seeing Velkain’s expression, he asked carefully,
“Commander, is something the matter?”
Without opening his eyes, Velkain called in a low voice.
“Sergeant Major Claw.”
“Sergeant Major Claw, reporting.”
Claw snapped to attention at once. Velkain slowly opened his eyes, let out a small sigh, and spoke.
“About the Silent Sword unit.”
“You mean the unit under Lieutenant Colonel Isaac?”
“Yes.”
Claw nodded. Silent Sword—an unusual name from the start. After Arteon left, the remaining forces of the Silent Spear unit he had led, together with elite personnel, had been reorganized into Isaac’s independent unit. Interestingly, it was Isaac himself who had chosen the name, as if declaring he would carry on the legacy of the Silent Spear.
In Velkain’s silence Claw felt a strange sense of déjà vu and spoke half in jest.
“Could it be that Lieutenant Colonel Isaac…… requested a change of unit commander?”
Since Arteon had returned, something like handing the command over to him? It was nonsense, but the heavy atmosphere made Claw toss the words out lightly.
But—
“A short while ago, Lieutenant Colonel Isaac came and made exactly that request.”
“……Yes? What request do you mean?”
“Exactly what you just said, Sergeant Major.”
For a moment Claw’s words stuck in his throat. Command of a thousand-man independent unit was no ordinary post. It guaranteed achievements, status, and future. To voluntarily step down from it was a choice almost unimaginable for an ordinary officer.
“Does that…… even make sense……”
Claw muttered without thinking. He had never imagined the joke he threw would return as reality.
Velkain’s words were not finished.
“Of course, he set one condition.”
Claw’s head snapped up.
“What is…… that condition?”
“A duel?”
“Yes. A duel. To check how much we’ve each changed over three years…… let’s confirm it with each other.”
There was not a trace of joking in Isaac’s tone. He slowly drew the sword he held and stepped back several paces. With a clear click the blade came fully free, and at the same moment the surrounding air subtly shifted.
When Isaac leveled his sword, his eyes changed as though he stood on a battlefield.
And—
Boom!
The presence that poured from his body surged forward like a charging chariot. The air pressed down as if crushed, and Arteon’s clothes twisted faintly.
“……Are you serious?”
“Of course.”
Isaac never took his gaze away.
“I met the Commander a short while ago as well. If you have changed greatly over these three years…… I want to hand the command of this independent unit over to you now.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Major Arteon.”
Isaac’s eyes sharpened further. At the look of a man truly standing on a battlefield, Arteon found his own expression hardening without meaning to.
“The war we are about to fight will be incomparably more dangerous and fierce than anything we have faced so far.”
His voice was low but unyielding.
“And the commander who stands at its center…… must be absolutely strong.”
He drew a quiet breath and continued.
“If not, once again many of our unit members will die.”
At those words the air grew heavy.
“If everyone can return alive, this mere command is worth nothing at all.”
The sword in Isaac’s hand trembled faintly.
“If I am lacking and cause the unit members to be lost…… even after the war ends, I will never be able to sleep with my legs stretched out straight.”
He looked straight at Arteon.
“So I hope you will show me. What kind of time the past three years were for you.”
Shing.
Isaac adjusted his grip and spoke quietly.
“I too will prove to you that I have not simply been playing around these past three years.”
After Arteon left, the three years in Belikezel. There had been no large-scale war, yet Isaac had driven himself and the unit members through training more brutal and relentless than when Arteon had been present—so that the same regrets would never be repeated.
As Isaac drew up his mana, the air began to vibrate. Grains of sand on the ground bounced lightly, and the earth beneath his feet compressed as though it might sink.
Arteon watched in silence.
……He’s serious.
At the same time he remembered that this was exactly the Isaac he had known in his past life: a man who chose victory over wealth and honor, and who thought first of the subordinates under him.
Arteon drew Iglis from his back.
Srrr.
The weapon cut through the air.
Pakang!
The moment he poured mana into it, Iglis regained its true form, blazing with light that traced golden lines. Instantly the surrounding air seemed to split.
Arteon’s eyes sank to a cool, sharp calm.
“Very well.”
He steadied his breath, then continued quietly.
“However…… you will need to be careful.”
Rumbleeeeeee!
The earth roared, centered on Arteon. As though something deep below were awakening, an absurd surge of power shot straight upward. The dirt trembled; the air compressed and warped.
“……”
Isaac’s pupils shook violently. He had expected great change over three years. Had he himself not pushed to the brink of death trying to catch up to Arteon?
And yet—
H-how…… this……
Golden sparks already leapt sharply around Arteon’s body. Invisible thorns seemed to fill every direction; a cool, bone-deep pressure seeped into the flesh.
From the center of that pressure, Arteon spoke in a low voice.
“I’m going.”
With those words, Arteon’s first strike after three years shot toward Isaac without the slightest hesitation.