Chapter 13

While changing her clothes, one ominous thought refused to leave Aethlyn’s mind.

‘What if that same pain hits me in the middle of the operation?’

But she quickly calmed herself.

Pain didn’t mean she couldn’t use magic. And if it really happened, she could always take the portable painkillers she carried.

In the end, there was nothing to be afraid of.

She had already been examined by doctors countless times. Her magic circuits were perfectly normal, and the occasional pain like she’d just experienced was nothing more than phantom pain left behind by the memory of a severe injury to her circuits.

In other words, it wasn’t a real injury.

Before stepping outside, Aethlyn took one last look at herself in a small hand mirror.

Reflected in it stood a flawless officer of the Esta Magic Army, dressed in combat uniform and helmet.

She looked thinner and paler than when she’d first arrived, but her noble elegance remained unchanged. No one would ever guess that just moments ago she’d been trembling and drenched in cold sweat.

“…Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

She murmured the words to reassure herself.

The moment she stepped outside, a massive shadow closed in around her.

“Ah!”

She jumped.

It was Sergeant Gennadi Vilev.

Without giving her even a moment to catch her breath, he asked,

“What happened just now?”

“What?”

One of Aethlyn’s eyebrows rose.

This was beyond questioning. It felt more like an interrogation.

“I… heard you scream.”

“I asked you to wake me up after two hours, not eavesdrop.”

“Even if I don’t want to hear it… I still do. Are you… hurt somewhere?”

“I’m not.”

Aethlyn cut him off immediately.

The nerves she’d just managed to settle tightened again.

At least he sounded genuinely worried rather than merely being nosy.

Otherwise, she might have completely lost her temper right before the raid.

“I had a nightmare. I just talked in my sleep.”

At her firm reply, Sergeant Vilev said nothing.

His face returned to that unreadable expression as he gave a small nod.

“Then… that’s all.”

Avoiding the man’s gaze that still lingered on the side of her head, Aethlyn said,

“Focus. We don’t have much time left before we move out.”

The shotgun in her hands felt as heavy as a steel beam.

Before leaving for the trench raid, Aethlyn addressed the soldiers one last time.

“I’ll cast Silence Magic ten minutes before we reach the enemy trench.”

She repeated the briefing she’d already gone over several times.

“As I explained earlier, the enemy position consists of a single trench line running east to west. We’ll enter through the western entrance, where their defenses are weaker. Once we’re inside, combat begins immediately. Don’t hesitate. Shoot first, no matter what. Don’t bother aiming carefully. Just fire. Understood? I’ll deal with any enemies coming around the corners.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

She looked at each of the soldiers in turn.

“If their resistance is stronger than expected and the mission becomes impossible to complete, I’ll fire a retreat flare into the sky. The enemy will think reinforcements are arriving. We’ll use that confusion to withdraw.”

The soldiers nodded almost in unison.

There wasn’t a trace of the subtle disdain they’d once shown toward Aethlyn.

Every one of them looked at their platoon leader with solemn, serious expressions.

Aethlyn swallowed hard.

The trust in their eyes weighed heavily on her.

‘I don’t know that much either.’

She was only pretending to know.

Pretending to be confident so the soldiers wouldn’t lose heart.

Finally, her gaze shifted past the soldiers to Sergeant Vilev, who stood at the rear with his hands clasped behind his back.

Their eyes met.

Like the others, Sergeant Vilev now wore a face covering that concealed the lower half of his face.

Somehow, it made him look even darker… almost frightening.

He gave Aethlyn a single nod.

She nodded back.

“Alright. Let’s move.”

It was three in the morning.

Silence blanketed the battlefield.

No crows cawed overhead.

No distant artillery shells exploded.

It was as though the battlefield itself had paused to catch its breath…

The final breath before even greater death and bloodshed.

Gripping her shotgun tightly, Aethlyn followed behind Sergeant Vilev.

Ordinarily, the commanding officer would take the lead.

But this time, the sergeant led the formation.

It had been decided after several hours of discussion between Aethlyn and him.

Or rather…

It was closer to Sergeant Vilev insisting on it.

“We have to do it this way. During operations, the werewolves always take point while the mage provides support from the rear.”

“But normally officers are supposed to lead by example—”

“What does that matter? If someone’s walking in front of me, they just block my view and make it harder to smell the enemy.”

There wasn’t much she could say to that.

‘Smell the enemy…’

It amazed her that he could do such a thing even while wearing a mask.

But then again…

He was a werewolf.

Judging him by ordinary human standards was pointless.

Sergeant Vilev continued calmly.

“As you know, mages are the enemy’s highest-priority targets. I’ll meet them first. You support me from behind. That’s best for everyone.”

“…Alright.”

It seemed Sergeant Vilev had carried out countless operations alongside mages before.

That wasn’t surprising.

The Fenrir Detachment was rarely deployed on its own.

They must have fought alongside other units time and time again.

Thinking about it that way, it made sense why he possessed such exceptional leadership and why, at least when it came to missions, he communicated so well.

For years, he’d probably served as the bridge between the werewolf troops and the rest of the army.

‘Now I understand why headquarters considers him such a valuable asset.’

And as she followed behind Sergeant Vilev now, Aethlyn realized just how right he had been.

He was an outstanding guide.

He advanced through pitch-black darkness without the slightest hesitation, moving swiftly.

Despite his massive frame, he stayed low to the ground and made virtually no sound.

The other soldiers, much smaller than him, made far more noise than he did.

At last, they drew close to the enemy trench.

Sergeant Vilev raised his left hand and signaled to the squad behind him.

—Approaching the objective.

Matching his movements, Aethlyn whispered as softly as she could.

“[Hirmotium.]”

At the same time, she covered the back of her left hand with her right palm.

The glow from the magic circle could easily give away their position.

An instant later, the soldiers’ footsteps disappeared.

Their breathing vanished.

Even the sound of the wind was swallowed up.

The only sounds left came from the enemy’s side.

Unfamiliar voices drifted through the darkness.

Imperial soldiers chatting quietly in the Barbaros Language.

Then a faint glow entered Aethlyn’s field of vision.

Instinctively, she knew it was light spilling from the enemy trench.

The sergeant quickly looked back at her and gave a hand signal.

—Move in?

With half his face covered, she couldn’t read his expression, but his eyes were frighteningly calm.

Aethlyn nodded.

She then signaled to the soldiers trailing behind her like ducklings.

—Advance.

The battle had begun.

The first thirty seconds were a blur.

Too many things happened all at once, yet only one thing remained vividly etched into her mind.

Blood.

Dark crimson blood, visible even in the pitch-black night.

Breathing in short, ragged gasps, Aethlyn glanced down at her left hand.

Her bare hand was drenched in blood.

So much that the wedge-shaped scar on the back of it had completely disappeared beneath the crimson.

But there was no time to dwell on the shock.

Footsteps echoed only a few paces away.

At last, enemy soldiers rounded the corner with rifles in hand.

The cold steel barrels glinted in the moonlight.

Aethlyn saw the face of the soldier in front.

He was just a boy.

He looked just like Doist.

Just like Arthur.

…No.

That couldn’t be right.

She blinked once, and the illusion disappeared.

He was nothing more than an Imperial soldier from the Kingdom of Barbaros.

A frightened young man.

She watched in slow motion as he raised his rifle and aimed it at her.

Aethlyn curled her blood-soaked left hand into a claw and spoke the spell.

“[Atatria.]”

The enemies pointing their rifles at her burst apart like balloons.

Chunks of flesh scattered everywhere, some splattering across Aethlyn’s trousers.

Someone screamed in the Barbaros Language.

This time, it was a word Aethlyn understood.

“Mage!”

“There’s a mage! Target the mage!”

Sergeant Vilev’s warning flashed through her mind.

“As you know, mages are the enemy’s highest-priority targets.”

‘They’re coming for me now.’

Just as she raised her magic-heated left hand to cast another spell—

A massive figure stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“You mustn’t move ahead.”

His voice was frighteningly calm.

After shielding Aethlyn with his body, the man took a deep breath.

Then he shouted loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Keep your masks on properly!”

The next moment, thick black gas flooded the trench.

The battle was over.

Now the real hell was about to begin.