Chapter 660: Choices and Cowards
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 660: Choices and Cowards
Through a telescope with a cracked lens, Abel clearly saw a long train of horse-drawn carriages being driven into the outpost camp by the Demon Race.
The harsh climate of the Abyss made it impossible to breed horses. Most Low Demons didn't even know how to drive them; they relied on intimidation to keep the animals moving. Occasionally, a horse would bolt in terror, rearing and neighing, only for a demon—longing for the taste of horseflesh—to step forward and hack it down with a blade. The demons would then howl with excitement, falling upon the carcass to gulp down the warm, pungent blood.
The procession moved fitfully, stopping and starting, occasionally descending into chaos as the demons brawled over looted goods. Progress was agonizingly slow. Abel did a rough count and realized at least a hundred carriages were being hauled into the camp.
"Damn it! Our supplies!"
Abel slammed his palm against the ground. He was fuming; some unit must have forgotten to burn their logistics and rations during the retreat, leaving a windfall for these animals.
Of course, there was another possibility, but he instinctively ignored it.
"Over a hundred carriages of food and supplies... that’s no small amount."
Abel did some quick mental math. Though he was only a squad captain, he’d been close with a logistics officer—the poor fellow the demons had hacked into several pieces—and could estimate how long those supplies would last a force if the wagons were full.
"That’s enough to sustain a thousand-man unit for an entire month!"
As the realization sank in, a look of agonizing conflict crossed Abel’s face, as if he were wrestling with a choice he couldn't quite make.
"Wait a minute."
Guri stared at Abel’s face, seemingly reading his thoughts. He hissed urgently, "You aren't seriously thinking about the five of us raiding that camp, are you?"
"Not raiding the camp. I just want to find a chance to burn those supplies..."
"Are you for real?"
"Dead serious." Abel lowered the telescope and turned to him with a strange look. "Do I look like the type to joke about something like this?"
"I think you’re goddamn joking!"
Guri’s temper flared. He grabbed Abel by the collar and pinned him to the ground. The scars on his face twisted with his rage, making him look even more hideous.
"Abel! Get your head on straight! There are only five of us! That’s a camp of at least a hundred demons, and they have sentries on high alert! Burning the supplies? How is that any different from a suicide mission?"
"It is different. At least if we succeed, more people won't have to die. Do you have any idea how many lives those supplies will indirectly cost us? We can't just let those demon scum have them for free."
"Succeed, succeed... have you even thought about the odds of success? I’d have a better chance of digging a nugget of real gold out of your ass!"
"We can do it!" Abel said quickly. "The demons just won a victory; their guard is down. Besides, those bastards have no discipline. There’s clearly no High-Class Demon stationed at this outpost. Those Low Demons have the IQ of dirt; they’re just a pack of howling animals. If the five of us sneak in just to burn the supplies... I won't say it's a hundred percent, but I promise you, we have a real shot!"
"If they’re that distracted, it’d be even easier for us to sneak past the outpost and stay alive!" Guri’s voice rose in a desperate, low growl. "I see what this is. You just want revenge. You don't want to live anymore!"
"..."
Silence fell.
As if a raw nerve had been touched, the calm Abel who had been explaining himself just moments ago suddenly flared with anger.
"Yes! I want revenge!" Abel gripped Guri’s wrist, squeezing until it turned beet red. He snarled, "Guri, you’re a veteran who’s been with me a long time. You know how many men this squad started with... Twenty-three! Twenty-three real men! And now? There are five of us left! They were the sons of merchants, farmers, and fishermen. They were placed in my hands, and I failed to bring them back!"
"Do you know? Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces. They’re crying, they’re blaming me, they’re screaming in pain... Some of them weren't even as old as my son! They hadn't even taken wives! If it meant avenging them, I’d tear those demon bastards apart with my bare teeth!"
"Then you should stay alive to go back! You'll have plenty of chances to tear them apart later. You don't have to throw your life away here!"
"But!!" Abel’s eyes were bloodshot, his tone shifting abruptly. "If I just walk away now and let those demons eat that grain and grow stronger, I’ll be even more consumed by guilt. Because even more sons of merchants, farmers, and fishermen will die! Even if I don't see their faces, I’ll know they died because of me!"
"Stop acting like some goddamn saint! Whether those people die or not has nothing to do with us!" Guri was so incensed he actually raised a fist to strike.
"Both of you... please, calm down!"
Seeing things spiral out of control, Vik rushed over to pull them apart. However, Polly, standing to the side, blocked him. Polly looked at Vik and shook his head.
"..."
The two men panted, glaring at each other as if time had frozen. But the punch never landed.
Guri stared at the incredibly foolish man beneath him, and the man stared back. Despite days of grueling travel across this barren wasteland, the fierce edge in Abel's soul hadn't been blunted one bit.
"Dammit!"
Guri shoved Abel away and slumped back onto the ground, stumbling slightly. "An idealistic bastard like you is actually the captain?"
"Yeah. An idealistic bastard like me is the captain."
Abel straightened his collar, his gaze calm yet pained as it swept over Vik, Polly, and Morris. "The rest of you, if you want to curse me, go ahead. I deserve it. If you don't do it now, you might not get another chance."
The three of them shook their heads simultaneously. Polly and Morris, veterans who had spent years in the army, said nothing and silently began checking their gear. Vik, on the other hand, stepped forward, puffing out his chest and clenching his fist.
"I believe in you, Captain!"
"..."
Abel patted Vik on the shoulder and let out a long sigh. "Then let's start the planning and assign tasks."
Abel drew his dagger and began sketching in the sand. "From what I saw, the carriages were taken to this area of the camp. There are two sentry posts nearby, here and here..."
"They're that far apart? Those demon bastards really have gone soft," Polly noted.
"Holding a formation was never their strength. Those scum are more like wild beasts; they just mindlessly bite whatever’s in front of them when driven by a High-Class Demon. We've been fighting them this long—don't you know that by now?"
Abel drew an 'X' in an area on the opposite side and said solemnly, "Even so, they far outnumber us. To be safe, we need someone to create a distraction and draw their attention. Polly, Morris—how many alchemy bombs do you have left?"
"None," Polly said, shaking his head.
"Me neither," Morris replied. "Used the last of them ages ago."
"Is that so?" Abel frowned. Without alchemy bombs...
"I have some!" Vik suddenly shouted with excitement. "Captain Abel, I still have alchemy bombs!"
As he spoke, Vik actually pulled three black, spherical objects from his tunic.
"That many?" Abel was shocked. Alchemy bombs were a hot commodity in the army; a squad was lucky to get ten a month. He usually left them in the care of Polly and Morris. Where did Vik get three?
"Hehe... I scavenged them during the chaos," Vik said, scratching his head sheepishly.
"You brat, you were running for your life and you still had time to pick those up!" Abel feigned anger and gave Vik a playful clip over the head, but he couldn't help but smile.
With three whole alchemy bombs, they could cause enough of a ruckus to throw the entire camp into a panic. Their success rate had just shot up significantly.
"The distraction is sorted, but what about burning the supplies?" the usually silent Morris asked. "In a situation like this, those demon bastards aren't going to let us take our time lighting fires. And since the goods are spread across different carriages, it'll be hard to ignite them all at once."
"True, that is a problem." Abel nodded. Morris had raised a critical point.
However...
"That’s actually the part I’m least worried about. Because I have this!"
As he spoke, Abel reached into his waistband, fumbling around the small of his back. After a moment, he pulled out a cylindrical object about the size of a finger.
"That’s... a small magic scroll!"
The men were stunned. They hadn't expected Captain Abel to be hiding something like that.
"Yes, a small magic scroll. It’s inscribed with a combustion spell. That logistics friend of mine slipped me an extra one under the table. It’s only a small one, but it’s enough to turn those supplies to ash."
"I see."
Everyone’s spirits lifted. After putting it all together, they realized that with the alchemy bombs and the magic scroll, the plan actually had a chance.
"Only..." Vik looked at the small scroll and asked curiously, "Where exactly was the Captain hiding that?"
"..."
The group fell silent, their expressions turning complicated. A cylindrical scroll, pulled from his backside... it could only have been hidden in...
"You really did pull gold out of your ass," Guri scoffed.
"What are you thinking?!" Abel said, perfectly serious. "I took it out of a small pouch on the back of my belt! It’s not what you think!"
"Oh, I get it, I get it!" The men nodded solemnly, but their meaningful looks made it very clear that they "got" something else entirely.
The banter helped ease the suffocating tension.
"Alright, enough of that. The tools are ready. Now for the most important question... who’s going to be the bait?"
Returning to the matter at hand, Abel’s gaze swept over Polly and Morris. Both were experienced veterans perfectly suited for the task, but there was a problem... one had a wounded calf, and the other still had a bandage wrapped around his thigh.
Asking two men who could barely run to act as bait was asking too much.
Finally, Abel’s eyes landed on Vik. He hesitated, debating it over and over, until...
"I'll do it."
Suddenly, Guri snatched the alchemy bombs from Abel’s hand. "I’ll be the bait."
"You?" Abel was stunned, staring at Guri, who had been the most vocal opponent of the plan just minutes ago. "Why?"
"Heh, what do you mean 'why'?" Guri spat, though nothing came out because he was so dehydrated. He gave a cold smirk. "I might not be stupid, but I’m no coward. If I let a green little brat like him go out and die before me, my old lady back home—who’s too timid to even kill a chicken—would call me a spineless piece of shit."