Chapter 14

The trench raid had been a success.

What else could it be called when only nine soldiers had wiped out dozens of Imperial troops and reduced an entire trench to ruins?

Of course, it hadn’t come without losses.

Two members of the assault team had been killed.

Buffon was one of them.

The corporal who had always argued with Aethlyn at every opportunity.

‘You idiot. I told you to shave so many times.’

Buffon had suffocated after inhaling the poison gas.

His bluish corpse was proof enough.

‘Growing a beard… your mask couldn’t seal properly. I warned you over and over.’

“…Idiot.”

Aethlyn muttered again in a hoarse voice.

Unlike the other soldiers, she hadn’t suffered so much as a scratch.

It was all because Sergeant Vilev had shielded her the entire time.

The sergeant had repeatedly insisted that it was simply the proper tactical choice.

Even so, her heart refused to settle.

There was nothing she could do about it.

Not long after the fighting ended, the poison gas filling the trench gradually dispersed into the air.

At the same time, dawn broke, exposing the battlefield in all its horrifying detail.

“Urgh…”

“Ghh…”

Unable to bear the sight, the soldiers tore off their masks and vomited onto the ground.

Even Aethlyn stood frozen in shock.

“…Ah…”

The bodies of the Imperial soldiers she’d blown apart with her explosion spell were scattered in forms too gruesome to describe.

The scene itself felt like an insult to humanity.

But this wasn’t the work of worshippers of the Golden Dragon.

Nor was it the atrocity of monsters.

She had done it.

Aethlyn, who had been born with the noble calling of a mage, had swung her left hand…

…and caused all of this in an instant.

There was no denying it.

Stomach acid rose into her throat.

But she couldn’t bring herself to vomit like the others.

As an officer, she’d rather die than let them see her like that.

Clenching her trembling fists, she barely managed to remain standing.

Then, from behind her, Sergeant Vilev spoke calmly.

“We should withdraw now.”

“…Right. We don’t have time to stand around.”

The moment she heard his voice, her thoughts snapped back into focus.

Immediately after capturing the position was when they were at their most vulnerable.

The Imperial Army could counterattack at any moment.

Besides, there were only seven of them left now.

There was no way they could continue holding this trench.

They had already accomplished everything the operation had set out to achieve by throwing the enemy into chaos.

Aethlyn turned toward the sergeant.

Her expression immediately shifted into one of confusion.

“What is that you’re carrying?”

Like the others, Sergeant Vilev had removed his face covering.

Slung over one shoulder was a sack she’d never seen before.

It was stuffed full of flat, silver aluminum cans.

“Canned food.”

Realizing that wasn’t much of an explanation, he cheerfully added,

“Imperial canned rations taste pretty good.”

“…”

“They’ve got plenty of meat too. We can share some with the platoon later.”

Her stomach churned again.

She couldn’t tell whether it was simple nausea…

…or revulsion at a man casually talking about the taste of meat in the middle of a battlefield strewn with blood and torn flesh.

“Let’s go back.”

Her voice came out colder than she’d intended.

Turning completely away from Sergeant Vilev, she looked down at the recovered bodies of their fallen comrades.

“We’re… taking everyone home.”

Kran Trench was in a festive mood.

Aethlyn accepted the flood of praise directed at her with a blank expression.

“Now that’s what I’d expect from a mage!”

Major Brandon, the battalion commander, looked thoroughly pleased.

“I’ve been asking headquarters for a Magic Army officer for ages. It’s a crime they took this long to send someone as capable as you.”

“Exactly, Major. Second Lieutenant Wintercrown is the pride of our battalion.”

Listening to the major and captain praise her back and forth, Aethlyn swallowed her bitterness.

‘You didn’t even know I was a mage until after I arrived.’

Still, she had no intention of correcting them on that.

There was something else she needed to correct first.

“Sergeant Vilev played a major role. If he hadn’t guided us, we never would’ve even reached the enemy trench—”

“This deserves a medal. We should bring in reporters. A newly assigned officer leading a successful trench raid? That’s a perfect story!”

“Sergeant Vilev—”

“For now, we’ll grant special leave to the brave members of Fourth Platoon who volunteered for the raid. One week from now, they’ll be sent to Parieri for some well-earned rest instead of remaining at the rear!”

Parieri was the capital of Pharos.

Aethlyn’s lips parted anxiously.

“…”

At first, she’d assumed her superiors were simply intoxicated by victory and talking without thinking.

But gradually, one thing became unmistakably clear.

‘They’re deliberately avoiding mentioning Sergeant Vilev.’

Whether they feared the credit their battalion deserved would instead go to the Fenrir Detachment…

Or they simply didn’t want a werewolf receiving public recognition…

She couldn’t tell.

It was probably both.

Normally, Aethlyn would’ve confronted them on the spot.

But she no longer had the strength.

She decided she’d bring it up properly once she’d recovered a little.

“I’ll excuse myself.”

“Of course, of course. You must be exhausted. Go get some rest.”

“You’ve done well.”

Dragging her weary feet through the trench corridor, Aethlyn came to an abrupt stop as she heard a chorus of cheers and clinking glasses behind her.

“Cheers!”

“…”

A quiet sigh escaped her lips.

Now that the adrenaline of battle had faded, all that remained was overwhelming exhaustion and biting cold.

‘So this is war…’

Images continued flashing before her eyes.

The terrified face of the young Imperial soldier.

The two fallen bodies of her own men.

Corporal Buffon’s swollen, bluish face.

Aethlyn slowly shook her head.

‘The first time is hard for everyone.’

Eventually…

She too would become accustomed to it.

Just like Sergeant Vilev.

She would probably learn to hum as she walked through scenes of slaughter…

Calmly collecting spoils of war without batting an eye.

‘But…’

Aethlyn made a silent vow.

‘I’ll never do something like collecting trophies of war.’

It wasn’t that Sergeant Gennadi Vilev had done anything wrong. He was a Wildman soldier, simply acting in a way that fit his circumstances.

But Aethlyn was a mage.

More than that, she carried the noble blood of House Wintercrown.

Their stations were different, and so the way they conducted themselves had to be different as well.

Only then could she continue believing in the duty she had been entrusted with.

The lingering heat still pulsed through her left hand.

Suppressing another wave of nausea, Aethlyn hurried toward the washing area.

She needed to clean herself up…

And then write letters to the families of the soldiers who had died.

‘I made a mistake.’

Like most werewolves, Gennadi tended to be in high spirits after a battle ended.

Perhaps “elated” described it better.

His amber eyes gleamed, the corners of his mouth lifted, and the harsh lines of his face softened ever so slightly.

In truth, it was simply instinct for a werewolf.

It was the reward system engraved into their blood.

If anything, humans were the strange ones.

After killing people themselves, acting nothing but devastated afterward seemed almost laughable to him.

Fortunately, after spending more than ten years in the military, Gennadi had grown fairly accustomed to dealing with humans.

He had learned countless little tricks over the years.

One of them was displaying the “appropriate emotions.”

When humans were happy, he smiled.

When they were grieving or gloomy, he kept a blank face.

In other words, he had learned to read human emotions and skillfully “act” in step with them.

His fellow werewolves often complained that he was “putting on airs” or asked why he cared so much about what humans thought.

Even so, Gennadi always chose to wear a mask around humans.

The reason was simple.

It made work easier.

There was nothing to gain from making humans even more wary of him.

But…

This time, Gennadi’s carefully maintained mask had slipped.

His enjoyment had shown.

Was it because the trench raid had gone too well?

No.

He had experienced victories far greater than this before.

Besides, this had been a relatively small-scale operation.

And yet…

He felt far more exhilarated than usual.

The blood flowing through every vein in his body seemed to boil like molten lava.

Everything before his eyes appeared astonishingly vivid.

A cheerful hum escaped him without him even realizing it.

‘Why… was I this happy?’

The truth was, Gennadi had known the answer from the very beginning.

‘Of course. Because I hunted… no, fought… and won alongside that woman.’

From a werewolf’s perspective, not feeling joyful would have been stranger.

There was no greater happiness for a werewolf than hunting together with the mate they had imprinted on and succeeding.

So he happily hummed to himself as he stuffed sack after sack with Imperial Army canned meat.

‘I’ll give a few to Fourth Platoon, then bring the rest back to the detachment. I should tell the guys to stop stealing the meat rations over here.’

But Gennadi’s good mood didn’t last very long after that.