230 - Memories Of A Certain Ghost (1)

Where had we gone wrong?

Leading a defeated army in retreat, I thought that as I looked at the exhausted wounded soldiers withdrawing with me.

Strategically, there should have been no problem.

However, given that this disastrous scene was the result, we must have made a mistake somewhere.

Even if the Republic’s strategy had surpassed ours, the Empire held the advantage in military strength.

That was the conclusion I had reached after seeing numerous battlefields, and the current situation, in which the Republic had only achieved local victories, could be called proof of that.

“What is going on?”

I had ended up commanding an army without its superior officers in this manner, and though I had managed to gather our retreating allies, we lacked enough vehicles to carry the large number of wounded. No matter how far we withdrew, we never reached a safe place, and I voiced my doubt.

If the information had been accurate, we should have already fallen back to the position where our own forces were deployed long ago.

But our forces were still nowhere to be seen, and on this dark plain, there were not even signs that a battle had taken place.

(Most likely, they moved under new orders. Since our communications equipment was destroyed, the information never reached us.)

In a situation where we might even have already been treated as wiped out, there was little hope of rescue.

The Empire currently had no spare manpower to send out for the recovery of routed soldiers.

With every surrounding nation turned enemy and hostile armies pressing in from every direction, there was no way we would find reserve forces no matter how hard we looked.

If just one front were settled, some leeway would be born, but the surrounding nations, seeing this as an opportunity, would not give up so easily. Despite every battlefield except the west ending in decisive victories for us, we had yet to confirm even an intention for a ceasefire, let alone surrender.

They probably believed that if they continued enduring, eventually one of our fronts would collapse, and that would trigger the breach. But the Empire was not so weak that it would collapse from that alone.

In particular, I had heard that against Haile and Reberen, which had broken the ceasefire treaty and struck us from behind in response to Canaan and Seizeria, the Empire’s attacks were extremely fierce, and our advance continued with enough momentum to destroy them.

“The west is now at a time when we must endure,” I muttered with a sigh at the helpless situation.

Fortunately, we still had supplies to spare, and there was no worry of running out of food or water before joining our allies.

The problem was that we lacked medical supplies, and there were few medics still able to move.

It was obvious that if we took too much time, lives would begin slipping away.

As only impatience gathered in my chest, the fact that there was no pursuit was the one blessing amid misfortune.

Yes, until that moment, I had thought we had shaken them off.

I had thought they had avoided the risk of venturing deep into Imperial territory.

Just as I began to nod off while walking, perhaps from exhaustion, I saw the moment an arrow pierced the head of the soldier driving the vehicle carrying the wounded.

“Enemy attack!”

Someone’s shout overlapped with mine.

We had been caught in a night raid, but from the small number of arrows raining down, I understood that the enemy was few in number.

I immediately had the vehicles carrying the wounded go on ahead, and those still able to move protected their retreat route.

I would not let them die.

Those who had been wounded protecting the Empire must not be allowed to end in this manner.

I calmed the soldiers who were firing wildly in the direction the arrows had come from, reorganized the formation, and strengthened our vigilance of the surroundings.

“Increase the lights! The enemy is few in number. We can overwhelm them with volume of fire! They must be hiding with magic. Do not miss even the smallest oddity!”

We had only a little over two hundred people who could still move, but even so, against elves who likely numbered fewer than ten, there was more than enough chance of victory.

I judged so, intending to end the pursuers’ lives here.

If there had been one mistake—it was that the enemy coming at us was not a small elite unit of elves, but a single person.

And that elf was the holy sword wielder called the Sword Demon.

The first to be cut down was an old soldier from another unit whose name I did not know.

The instant he noticed the approach and pulled the trigger of his gun, his arm was cut off, and the returning blade ended his life.

Gunshots followed the scream.

The Sword Demon stepped even deeper into our ranks, as if luring us into friendly fire.

Each time the sword was swung, lives were taken.

Dodging the fired bullets and using soldiers as shields, the Sword Demon cut his way forward.

He ran in all directions, and each time, blood danced.

Seeing that sight before my eyes, anger welled up inside me at my own inability to do anything.

“Captain!”

Shaking off the voice trying to stop me, I stepped forward and pulled the trigger.

(I won’t let you! I won’t let you kill any more than this!)

Without regard for the bullets fired from my muzzle, the sword continued to swing.

A lone rider rampaging without even being wounded despite fighting in the very heart of the enemy formation—there was no other word for it but a nightmare.

(Don’t screw with me! There cannot be a battle like this, a battlefield like this!)

A single person trampling an army.

This was no fairy tale. There was no way such a thing could happen in reality.

Then what was the sight before my eyes?

I could not even spare the time to change magazines, so I pulled the pistol from the holster at my waist and took aim.

However, there was no way I could aim at the Sword Demon as he continued running at abnormal speed. The bullets I fired only flowed off behind him, and even the bullets fired by my allies were dodged, cut down, and at times stopped by what seemed to be magic.

At this point, I had no choice but to acknowledge it.

With our current equipment, we could not win. The soldiers were not to blame.

There was no room to doubt the training of Imperial soldiers, and this result should be viewed as a matter of armament compatibility.

No, rather, specialized weapons for fighting the Sword Demon should have been prepared.

At that moment, I understood why the western front had been pushed back.

At the same time, I also understood who the being we had to defeat was.

That was a definite gain.

A path to victory obtained atop noble sacrifices.

I would connect it no matter what—at the same time I resolved that, I gave the order to retreat.

I had to keep as many soldiers alive as possible and inform them of the true threat, of who the enemy we had to defeat first was.

But at that moment, the worst situation arrived.

The sound of something cutting through the air grazed my ear.

When I turned around, there was a soldier whose throat had been pierced by an arrow.

Because our formation had collapsed, the archers who had likely been waiting in the rear joined the attack.

After being thrown into disorder by a single person, we were struck further by a rain of arrows.

“Anyone will do! Follow me!”

I stripped a weapon from a soldier’s corpse and ran against the flow of my fleeing allies.

(Even if the holy sword wielder is impossible…!)

If we defeated the others, that many more soldiers could be saved.

The unit was annihilated.

If they scattered and fled, there would surely be some who survived.

Then, to raise that probability even a little, I would reduce the enemy’s numbers by even one more.

The ones who understood my intent and accompanied me into the jaws of death were three of my subordinates.

They were irreplaceable comrades who had supported me this far—and because of that, they understood what I was trying to do and what the result would be, yet followed me anyway.

I apologized in my heart, took aim at the elf drawing his bow, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet missed its target but struck his shoulder, and even so, I learned that he could be hit.

I sent my subordinates a signal to fire a volley at the elf, who clutched his shoulder and leapt backward.

Fire—before I could shout that, I was pulled backward.

“Get back, Captain!”

My subordinate pulled me back and stepped forward as if switching places with me, taking the descending blow of the holy sword head-on.

The slash passed from his shoulder to his waist and bisected him as if there had been no resistance at all.

I took the hand of my collapsing subordinate, and just before I could speak his name, an arrow pierced my knee.

At the same time, my remaining subordinates fell to the ground with small screams.

When I looked, arrows of ice were embedded in their heads and chests, and I could tell at a glance that they had died instantly.

“So this is as far as I go,” I thought, hanging my head. Immediately afterward—a great explosion erupted ahead.

Then came the sound of vehicles.

What echoed was the growl of machine guns mounted on vehicles.

“Allies…!”

Apparently, we had managed to reach the vicinity of our allies after all.

Most likely, the wounded soldiers we had sent ahead had told them our location and requested rescue.

Seeing that the arrival of reinforcements had turned the situation against them, the elves immediately decided to withdraw.

It was admirable that they made quick decisions to minimize their own losses, but when that became an enemy trait, it was truly troublesome.

If only we had caused even a little loss on their side, I thought, looking up at the heavens after suffering a crushing defeat before the Republic’s unconventional tactics.

I had survived, disgracefully.

(But with this, the Empire can move one step closer to victory!)

I would not let the lives of the soldiers we lost be wasted.

Their noble sacrifices had to be rewarded.

Had the thread of tension snapped?

Or had my exhaustion reached its limit?

I did not know.

I simply collapsed to the ground, and when my allies lifted me up, perhaps from the relief of it, I let go of consciousness.

(Aaron, Hammond, Leonard… I will avenge you without fail. So wait just a little longer.)

Once I woke, there would be a mountain of things to do.

I would definitely return.

That would be your end, Sword Demon.