The Wounded Taman
Screeeeech!
I can’t dodge…!
In that instant, Ulgraak’s past flashed before his eyes in a rapid blur. Was this the moment people spoke of—the one that came just before death?
As Arteon’s strike drove straight for his heart, Ulgraak poured every ounce of strength into heaving his axe upward.
Clang!
The haft of the axe barely caught the spear and deflected its path. The blade that had been racing for his heart twisted aside and punched through Ulgraak’s left shoulder instead.
Thuck!
“Ghk…!”
The moment Arteon’s spear punched clean through the shoulder, a pained groan forced its way past Ulgraak’s lips. He was a man who normally did not so much as twitch an eyebrow at ordinary agony, yet the complete shattering of his scapula and collarbone brought a pain he could barely endure.
In that same breath—
“Tamaaaaaan!”
“You basaaaaard!”
The Kar warriors who had been watching the duel let out raw howls and charged straight at Arteon.
“Hyaaaaah!”
“How dare you!”
But right then—
Swoooooosh!
Screeeeech!
A razor-sharp current of air sliced past from beyond the brush. Three spears flashed forward in the same instant, cutting off the Kar warriors’ path to Arteon.
Thud! Thuck! Clang!
One buried itself in a warrior’s thigh; another grazed the flank of the man beside him and drew blood. The third was blocked, but even that was warning enough.
In the precious seconds his men had bought him, Arteon wrenched the spear free of Ulgraak’s shoulder.
Shluk!
The grinding scrape of bone as the weapon came free told the whole story. After that blow, the left arm was as good as ruined. Proof enough: the hand that still gripped the axe hung limp and useless toward the ground.
I can kill him.
A Kar commander bearing no fewer than four feather tattoos.
Arteon’s eyes flashed. The mana that had been blazing like fire around him was sucked into Iglis in a single breath, and the spear erupted with a murderous gleam of killing intent.
In that moment the word death was carved into Ulgraak’s eyes as well. This next strike—
I can’t stop it…!
His instincts screamed the truth.
“Never set foot here again.”
Arteon twisted his hips and drove the spear he still held straight forward. No flourish, no fancy technique—only a pure, unadorned thrust. Iglis, carrying every scrap of Arteon’s power, once more lanced toward Ulgraak’s heart.
But in that instant—
Swoooooosh!
“……!”
A thick wave of killing intent flared from the side. Arteon twisted on pure reflex and swept his spear toward it.
Clang!
The impact numbed his palm. Something rocketed skyward, then clattered back to the ground with a dull thud.
A double-bitted hand axe.
Barely fifteen meters away, a Kar warrior glared at Arteon with bloodshot eyes. A clear wound from a thrown spear marked his left arm—proof he had already been under fire from Arteon’s men—yet he had still hurled the axe with nothing but the single-minded will to save his Taman.
“Protect the Tamaaaaan!”
“Uwaaaaaah!”
The Kar warriors, fully free of the hallucinations at last, snapped into formation and charged. From the brush, Bruel shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Commander! Fall back!”
No throwing spears remained. Each man had brought only five of the short weapons, and every last one was spent. Others tried to provide covering fire, but—
Pa-bat!
Arteon gave not a heartbeat’s hesitation and stepped back. Leaving the enemy’s throat uncut stung, yet the true objective had always been to force them to withdraw.
Objective achieved.
The regret could be settled later.
Tak!
He snatched up the fallen hand axe. Even for a one-handed weapon it was surprisingly heavy. Mana flooding his limbs, Arteon hurled it at the nearest oncoming Kar warrior.
Thud!
The axe buried itself dead-center in the man’s forehead. In the brief stagger that followed, Arteon fell back and met Bruel’s eyes.
“Move to the next point. Signal the other positions.”
Piiiiipe!
Bruel blew the whistle around his neck without pause. The order would already be racing through the unit. Arteon and the First Squad melted away from the position at once.
No matter how recklessly the enemy charged, they would have no choice but to pull back after taking losses like these.
No…
Arteon’s eyes glinted as he sprinted toward the next rally point.
If they forced a reckless advance anyway, he would simply devour them on the spot. But even the Kar would not be that foolish.
Their feet are on fire now.
With this damage, even their grip on the lake itself was in danger. If they withdrew—
Next, we take Elbarphiel Lake.
On the road back, Arteon’s mind was already crowded with the next operation.
Frost-laced dawn.
On the 4th Defense Line the soldiers watching the front held their breath, faces tight with tension. The fog lay deep and heavy, a curtain that swallowed sight; the sentries stared ahead in silence.
“……Hah.”
A soft breath escaped, white vapor scattering into the air. Hadel still stood at the forward position, calm eyes fixed on the direction the special unit had gone. A great deal of time had already passed since the operation began. Before long the sky would begin to pale.
They should be back by now…
Had the mission failed? He hated even imagining it, yet if the special unit had been wiped out, he would have to prepare for what came next. Despite the cold northern wind, cold sweat slid down his spine from sheer strain.
Advance, contact, return—all of it remained unknown. Only a suffocating wait hung in the silence.
Then—
“Th-there! Something’s moving!”
One of the forward sentries shouted. Hadel and every soldier nearby snapped their gazes in that direction. Faint shapes were taking form beyond the fog. Something—no, a whole group—was approaching.
“Ugh…!”
Hadel’s breath caught. He narrowed his eyes. The soldier cried out again.
“F-friendly unit! Our unit is returning!”
The cry raced through the ranks like wildfire. The tight knot of anxiety in every chest loosened; sighs of relief spilled out. Hadel stayed where he stood and watched them come.
They looked better than he had dared hope. At their head walked one man—armor battered, blood and dirt caked over every surface—yet somehow his eyes seemed sharper than ever.
……Arteon.
He entered the formation with his men and halted before Hadel. With unshaken eyes Arteon saluted.
“Hearts of Steel! Staff Sergeant Arteon, reporting return from the operation with thirty men.”
He looked exhausted, yet his posture remained straight. The reek of the battlefield still clung to his shoulders, but his gaze never wavered.
Hadel asked, “How did it go?”
Arteon’s eyes dipped a fraction. Hadel’s pupils trembled.
Surely not…?
But then—
“The operation… succeeded.”
A brief silence. When Arteon lifted his head again, a faint smile touched the corner of his mouth.
“The Kar have withdrawn. Approximately thirty were killed during the operation, and more than fifty were wounded.”
And the greatest prize of all—
“Their overall commander sustained a severe injury. Even allowing for variables, I estimate he will be unable to fight for at least a week, possibly ten days.”
“…….”
Hadel stared at him in blank disbelief. Simply stopping the Kar advance would already have been an enormous achievement—an absurd feat of merit. Arteon had accomplished something miraculous, yet his report remained utterly calm and composed.
Just what is this man…?
The youthful face no longer registered. It felt as though the person before him had grown immeasurably larger. Like a man facing something vast, Hadel could not hide the shock in his eyes.
He recovered himself and gave a short nod.
“Well done. Effective immediately, all of you are to sleep. Rest until further orders.”
“My thanks for the company commander’s consideration. Then…”
Clack!
“Hearts of Steel!”
Salute completed, Arteon turned with his men and headed for the tents. Hadel’s gaze followed the retreating figure. Even in the cold air, those eyes had not cooled. Watching the back of a soldier who could no longer be called a boy, a strange trust and awe began to rise from deep inside Hadel’s chest.
Word of the 4th Defense Line’s success reached legion headquarters in no time.
Inside the legion commander’s office, finished in cold marble, Velkain’s fingertips paused while he leafed through documents with an expressionless face. He stared down at the papers in silence for a long while before slowly lifting his gaze at Claw’s next words.
“You’re saying Arteon forced the operation through?”
“Yes, sir. He declared he would take full responsibility for failure and pushed ahead. Company Commander Hadel threw his support behind it.”
“……Major Leon was testing the waters, no doubt.”
A man who cared nothing for soldiers’ lives so long as his own power remained intact. He was far from qualified to command the critical northeastern 4th Defense Line, yet there had never been a clean pretext to remove him, so he had been left in place.
Velkain looked at Claw. The glance meant: continue the report.
“They set fire to the pimacho growing near the lake, used the smoke to poison the Kar.”
“Poison?”
“I only learned of it myself this time… inhaling pimacho smoke induces hallucinations.”
“Hah. So that was the clever trick.”
“Yes, sir. Afterward they ambushed from three sides with throwing spears, then immediately struck the enemy commander and inflicted a severe wound, stopping the advance.”
“……Is that so.”
Velkain fell silent. As always, he rarely showed emotion on the surface. Yet his eyes were clearly unsettled. Beyond his turned head hung the map of the northern front. At its center: Elbarphiel Lake.
Until now the Imperial Army had been steadily pushed back around that vast body of water; reclaiming it had been regarded as an all-but-impossible goal.
And yet—
“There is one more matter to report.”
“……?”
“They are… already preparing to retake Elbarphiel Lake.”
That single short sentence. Velkain’s brow twitched as though in a spasm; the corner of his mouth curved, just barely. Surprise. He stared into the empty air for a long moment, as if he had heard an unexpected wall come crashing down. Then he rose quietly from his chair.
“……Interesting.”
The single word spread a faint heat through the cold conference room. Velkain, always so taciturn and cold-blooded—yet now a clear glint of anticipation flickered in his eyes.
If Elbarphiel Lake could be reclaimed, the entire front of the 4th Defense Line would transform. Exactly as with the northwestern 1st Defense Line. No longer merely defending—they would gain a foothold from which to attack into Kar formations.
Velkain’s gaze cooled and settled. As though he had reached a decision, he drew out a fresh sheet of paper and began to write.
“Deliver this to the northeastern 4th Defense Line.”
“This… sir?”
Claw looked at the document Velkain held out, a flicker of surprise on his face. He had not expected so bold a choice.
“There may be pushback.”
“I am issuing it precisely so that such pushback can be ignored.”
Velkain’s tone was absolute. Claw nodded.
“I will send it at once.”
“Report back afterward.”
“Hearts of Steel! Understood.”
Claw withdrew, leaving the office empty. Velkain rose and stared fixedly at the northern map hanging on the wall behind him.