What the Hell?
“……What the hell?”
“You got drafted too?”
“What kind of operation is this all of a sudden?”
Northeast Front, 4th Line.
After all this time here, you’d be hard-pressed to avoid running into the same faces again and again.
And for soldiers with any real skill in the unit, it only got easier to recognize each other.
Private Bruel, of the 1st Platoon, couldn’t hide the doubt in his eyes as he scanned the assembled troops.
‘What kind of operation could possibly need… only the sharpest blade from every platoon…?’
The so-called special unit… whatever that was supposed to mean.
But then—
“All of you, form a horizontal line in two ranks!”
The booming voice from the front sent every soldier snapping into perfect order in the blink of an eye.
Two lines of troops, and Lieutenant Arteon strode forward to meet them.
Everyone looked bewildered.
He was a face none of them had seen, and his features were far too youthful for the rank he carried.
Almost immediately, Arteon stepped in front of them and unleashed the aura he had been gathering.
Puff!
“……!”
With the release of his mana, the pressure exploded outward and swallowed the entire field in a heartbeat.
These were soldiers the unit itself had recognized as capable, yet under the sheer weight of Arteon’s aura, they couldn’t help but jolt.
“Greetings. I am Sergeant Arteon, commander of the hastily assembled special unit. You all know why you’re here.”
“We heard it was to stop the Kar tribe’s advance. But… are all the people here from our unit?”
“Correct. This operation only has a higher chance of failure if too many troops are involved.”
Arteon scanned the faces of the men gathered around him.
Every single one wore the same look of doubt and disbelief.
To Arteon, it was a familiar situation, but there was no time for lengthy explanations now.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking, but we’re short on time. No complaints will be tolerated. You all know I don’t look reliable. But throw those doubts aside. Right now we have to become one unbreakable unit and win this operation.”
“May I ask what kind of operation it is?”
A soldier’s question earned a nod from Arteon.
“Of course. I’ll explain the plan right now.”
His words were met with a sudden sharpening of everyone’s gazes.
The situation was just as mysterious and doubtful as he had warned, yet it was still an order from their superiors.
A commander’s word meant absolute obedience.
‘But…’
Risking your life for a mission was one thing. Following an upstart who looked barely out of his teens to his probable death was another thing entirely.
Arteon continued.
“Those herbs you see here are called Pimacho, a common northern plant used to relieve pain. You’ll find it everywhere near the lake, and even along our forward lines where the enemy is currently moving.”
The Pimacho plants were so thick they looked like nothing more than weeds carpeted across the ground.
But these soldiers knew nothing of what was to come.
“If we burn the Pimacho, the smoke will carry a hallucinogenic component.”
We’ll create a thick cloud of smoke, drive the enemy into madness—
“Then, while they’re disoriented, we strike only the officers and vanish. Without their commanders, the Kar tribe will descend into chaos. We’ll hide in the mist and darkness, picking them off with javelins and arrows until they have no choice but to retreat.”
Before Arteon could finish, one soldier raised his hand.
Arteon glanced at him and nodded.
“The plan is solid, but it requires fire, doesn’t it? Marching with torches means no cover. How is that possible?”
Several soldiers nodded in agreement.
They had reached the same conclusion.
At that moment, Arteon reached into his pocket and pulled out a stone that glowed with a faint blue light.
“……What is that?”
“Flint?”
A heavy sigh echoed through the ranks.
One of the men spoke up. “Near the lake and along the entire 4th Line, the air is too damp for regular flint to spark. Even if we carried oil-soaked wood, the smell would give away our position.”
The Kar tribe, living off the land, possessed sharp senses of sight, smell, and hearing.
No way to mask the scent of oil.
Arteon nodded. “Good point. That method won’t work. But this is Cheonilseok, a stone commonly found in the north.”
He reached into his other pocket and produced a stone that burned red.
The soldiers’ eyes locked onto the crimson rock in Arteon’s grip.
“This is Jeokyeolseok. It doesn’t exist in the north and is extremely rare even in the south.”
It had come from Almers through Lisiven’s contacts.
It had clear utility and couldn’t be obtained here, so he had stockpiled it in advance.
‘I never expected to need it this quickly…’
Arteon gripped one Cheonilseok and one Jeokyeolseok in each hand.
“If I rub these two stones together like this…”
Grind. Grind. Grind. Grind. Grind!
The surfaces scraped and ignited with violent friction.
At that exact instant—
Fwoosh!
A flame no larger than a fist bloomed and set the Pimacho on the ground alight.
Even the damp herbs.
“Ugh!”
“Cover your mouths and noses!”
The Pimacho caught fire, and thick smoke rose in a cloud.
So little of the herb, yet it produced this much smoke.
Arteon stomped the flames out with his boot and smothered them in dirt.
He looked at the men. “Any more questions?”
“……”
No one answered.
Every soldier was staring in awe at the stone that could produce such power.
The most shocking part, however—
‘He prepared everything…’
‘What kind of man is he…?’
Arteon had been meticulous to a fault.
All the troops stared at him with newly serious eyes.
The skepticism and anxiety they had felt moments ago had vanished.
Arteon continued. “From now on, we move at the maximum speed toward the front of the 4th Line. We’ll conceal ourselves in the thickets near the lake and wait for the enemy.”
It wasn’t as dense as the fog around the lake, but the shallow mist combined with waist-high undergrowth provided plenty of cover.
After Arteon finished laying out the plan, he asked, “Everyone understand?”
“……We do.”
“Yes!”
“We do!”
Each soldier answered in turn.
To think such a bold operation was even possible.
But one thing was certain.
If this plan succeeded…
‘The entire flow of the 4th Line… can be changed.’
A mere thirty-one-man unit could shift the balance of the line.
Arteon nodded with satisfaction at the determined expressions on his men’s faces.
‘Good faces.’
A difficult operation, but if they believed they could succeed, their chances rose dramatically.
The old familiar thrill he had felt in his past life surged back.
He looked at the troops. “Move out.”
Almost instantly, Arteon and his thirty men vanished toward the front of the 4th Line.
* * *
It was a late night under a low-hanging fog.
The sky was a sheet of ice-blue clouds, and the heavy footfalls of the Kar warriors grew louder as they advanced between the dense thickets leading to the lake.
Stomp. Stomp.
Fully armed with thick leather armor and fur cloaks, the Kar warriors silently climbed the slope toward the lake.
Their eyes were sharp, unyielding, and full of the hunger to tear anyone in their path to pieces.
And in the silence broken only by their footsteps—
“……We’ve finally arrived.”
The forward region of the 4th Line, where the Empire’s troops had formed up along the lakeside slope.
Ulgraak, crouched in the front row, lowered his voice.
An axe hung at his back, his beard was thick and unkempt, and the scars across his body radiated raw power.
He had finally set foot on the side of the lake beyond the Empire.
Beside him, his deputy Moldur spoke. “A little farther and we’ll reach a spot to set up our camp. Once the formation is complete there, the enemy won’t be able to move near the lake again.”
The lake itself was a vital water source for the troops.
Cut off their supply and they would panic within hours.
Supplying fresh water from the rear was never easy.
Ulgraak nodded. “We’ll claim the ground before dawn. Before they can react.”
He pointed toward the 4th Line. “We’ll take this lake behind us and, beyond that, the rich lands of the Empire.”
If that happened, the warriors would never starve again.
And with a stable supply line, they could push deeper south and seize everything the Empire had.
“Everything they possess will become ours.”
The warriors’ eyes flashed with murderous light.
But then—
Grind. Grind. Grind. Grind. Grind. Grind!
A sound suddenly rang out from somewhere.
It was like burning wood and like stones scraping together.
Ulgraak’s eyes narrowed.
Then Moldur barked orders to the warriors. “Search the area! Now!”
The men scattered in every direction.
A moment later, a grayish mist drifted out from the fog.
It looked almost like the natural mist at first glance, but the moment it filled the air, Ulgraak poured mana into his senses.
‘What is this…?’
They had sent scouts ahead and entered carefully.
There was no position on this terrain where hundreds of Empire troops could have laid an ambush.
So this smoke—
‘They’re just trying to play a trick?’
Ulgraak’s gaze sharpened.
He had no idea what the enemy intended, but the Kar had no room for error.
“Come, you Empire dogs.”
Ulgraak activated his mana and heightened his senses.
But just then—
“Uwaaaaah!”
“Kyaaaaah!”
Screams suddenly erupted from beyond the fog.
Ulgraak sprinted toward the sound.
And what he found there was—
“……What is this?”
The warriors were slaughtering one another in a frenzy of madness.
[Movement/form description]