Chapter 122 - Through the Night (7)
Relying on the pale, razor-sharp light of the Balt Light as it sliced through the darkness, Ernest raced ahead of the 2nd Company.
In an instant, he reached the front line formed by the 3rd Company.
"The 2nd Company is here to support the 2nd Battalion! The 2nd Company is supporting the 2nd Battalion!"
"We're friendly! Friendly! Don't shoot—hold your positions!"
Ernest shouted sharply.
The voice of the seventeen-year-old young man thundered across the chaos, fierce as a clap of lightning.
The 3rd Company, who had been panicking in confusion at the sound of gunfire from the right flank, nearly breaking under the rising shouts from the left as well, managed to snap back to their senses thanks to his cry.
"2nd Company! Where are you? What are you planning to do!"
A desperate shout came through the darkness.
It was likely the 3rd Company Commander.
"The 2nd Company and the 1st Company will support the 2nd Battalion! 3rd Company, cover our flanks and rear!"
"Damn it! That bastard Vendermere! Understood!"
The 2nd Company had moved on its own without any discussion, and on top of that, had assigned the 3rd Company to guard the flanks and rear.
From the 3rd Company's perspective, it was enough to drive them mad.
But there was no time to argue over command now, and if they didn't follow Yurgen's plan, their only option would be to turn and flee.
"2nd Company!"
"Yes, sir!"
"2nd Company!"
"Yeesss!"
As Yurgen ran through the darkness, he kept shouting for the 2nd Company, and his soldiers screamed their responses back to him at the top of their lungs.
Soon, even as they rushed forward to retake the friendly lines that had been broken by a sudden night attack, they felt their fear melt away as if it had never been there.
Their hearts pounded as if about to burst, a wave of heat surged from their chests to their heads, making them dizzy.
Yet, strangely, their minds were clearer than ever.
"Waaaaah!"
The 2nd Company followed after Yurgen, charging after him with wild shouts.
Even when they stumbled and fell in the rain-soaked forest night, they leapt up without feeling tired and sprinted on.
"Reinforcements! Reinforcements have arrived!"
Someone at the far right end of the 1st Battalion's 3rd Company cried out perceptively.
"Reinforcements are coming! Hold out a little longer!"
The news quickly reached the 2nd Battalion, still locked in fierce combat.
After being caught off guard and broken through, the 2nd Battalion had split in two, stumbling backward as they desperately tried to form some kind of line.
But in their confusion, the soldiers could barely fight, and some even fled in a panic, running blindly away from the sound of gunfire.
"Hold the line! We have to keep the front together! If we retreat, we all die!"
"The 1st Battalion is on its way! Just hold out until they get here!"
"Kill them! Kill them!"
"Aaaargh!"
Even with word of reinforcements, the 2nd Battalion couldn't shake off the chaos so easily.
Most of them were new recruits, barely trained.
Still, some started to fight, following their commander's orders, and the front line that had been collapsing so helplessly began to stretch out again, awkwardly forming a defensive line that ran from east to west.
"Krieger! Baltracher!"
Up ahead, Ernest flinched when he heard Yurgen shouting their names.
He wasn't sure if he had correctly understood Yurgen's plan, or if he was just imagining things.
But in circumstances like these, all Ernest could do was follow the orders of his company commander, Captain Yurgen Vendermere, and do his own part.
Besides, even if it seemed crazy, Ernest had to admit—it was an incredibly effective way to turn things around.
"Baltrachers! All Baltrachers, gather up! We're charging!"
Ernest shouted at the top of his lungs.
At his call, two of the 2nd Battalion Baltrachers—who had been desperately focused on maintaining the front line with barriers—ran over to him.
"What's the plan!"
The Baltrachers, completely rattled, asked Ernest this without even realizing he was the new platoon leader.
Ernest glanced over his shoulder.
Seeing Yurgen and the 2nd Company still running toward them, he quickly made up his mind.
"We'll keep a tight formation, break through the enemy, and reach our allies who are cut off on the other side! Get ready for the Balt Wind! We'll take care of stopping the enemy Baltrachers ourselves! Just keep moving forward and push through!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Company Commander! We're ready!"
Ernest shouted as loudly as he could to Yurgen.
It was only then that everyone realized this towering, fearless officer was actually the very young new platoon leader.
"2nd Company!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Let's go! Chaaaarge!"
"Uaaaaaah!"
"Are those maniacs really going to charge?"
"Get out of the way! Move!"
The 2nd Battalion commanders, who had barely managed to form a defensive line and hold their ground, were stunned when Yurgen actually gave the order to charge and came running at the head of his company.
This was a battle that had started with an ambush in a rainy forest.
Not only did he issue a charge in this situation, but none of them expected there would actually be a madman leading from the front.
"Charge!"
"Charge! Charge!"
"Kill them all!"
When Yurgen got close, Ernest, who had been waiting on standby, shouted "Charge!" with all his might and joined the 2nd Company, running with them.
The two 2nd Battalion's Baltrachers also screamed at the top of their lungs, whipping up the Balt Wind as they charged.
Swoooosh!
"Aaagh!"
"Get down!"
Two Imperial Army Baltrachers unleashed the full force of the Balt Wind with everything they had.
The pale Balt Light raced through the dark forest, driving away the shadows and sending the Belliang Army tumbling with immense force.
"Waaaaaaaah!"
Bang! Bababang! Bang!
"Those maniacs!"
The Belliang commander, who had just broken through the 2nd Battalion and seized the rear, was left aghast when, after the Balt Wind came roaring through, the 2nd Company charged at them with wild shouts.
It was shocking enough that they'd dared to launch an all-out charge in this situation.
Even the soldiers, who should have been fleeing in terror and confusion, were instead charging forward with fearless cries.
For a unit whose flank and rear had been exposed by a nighttime ambush, it was hard to believe their morale could be this high—if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it.
"Charge! Charge!"
"We have to save our isolated allies! Go! Don't stop!"
Two Baltrachers at the front conjured the Balt Wind to clear the way and, at the same time, pushed back the darkness with the Balt Light.
The 2nd Company members followed closely behind, sprinting and opening fire on the Belliang soldiers swarming all around.
Faced with the fearless charge of the 2nd Company, the Belliang Army couldn't hold their ground.
In the end, the Belliang lines were split in two as the 2nd Company broke through with little resistance.
In truth, it was all thanks to the power of the Baltrachers.
Without them, the 2nd Company would have been cut down in a hail of gunfire the moment their charge began
In any case, the 2nd Company managed to break through the Belliang Army with overwhelming force.
However, such a reckless charge inevitably put their rear in danger.
The Belliang forces tried to attack the rear of the passing 2nd Company.
"Charge! Protect the rear of the 2nd Company!"
"Charge! Chaaaaarge!"
"We have to protect our allies' backs!"
"Waaaaaah!"
But just before the attack could fall, a roar like a tiger's echoed thunderously through the forest.
Following the mighty shout of 1st Company Commander, Lieutenant Ferdinand Hartmann, Georg and Baumann also cried out the order to charge.
Without fear, they charged valiantly to defend their friends who had gone ahead.
The soldiers were in a near frenzy.
Even though they were making such a reckless attack—surely out of their minds—it was as if courage itself was contagious, and they felt no fear.
"We have to recapture the front line! We're charging too!"
"Damn! They've lost it completely! Charge! Chaaaaarge!"
"Uaaaaaah!"
The 2nd Battalion, which had fallen back to focus on defense, now followed suit and charged forward.
However, their direction differed.
While the 1st and 2nd Companies of the 1st Battalion charged from south to north to rescue the isolated allies at the northern edge, the 2nd Battalion, who had been retreating, rushed west to reclaim the collapsed front line.
"Die! Die!"
"You bastards! Die!"
"Aaaagh!"
As the 1st Battalion charged in, the enemy was split in two, and the tide of battle completely turned.
The soldiers of the 2nd Battalion, with eyes gleaming from rage and thirst for revenge, fired at the backs of the fleeing Belliang soldiers, trampling the fallen and finishing them off with their bayonets.
"Huff! Huff!"
Ernest ran right beside Yurgen, emptying his bullets into the enemy.
His breathing grew ragged as he shouted and sprinted wildly.
"It's a Baltracher, near the enemy commander!"
Even in the chaos, Ernest kept sweeping his deep, dark eyes over the battlefield, making every bullet count, one life per shot.
Thanks to his vigilance, he spotted a pale blaze streaking through the darkness in time.
"Isaac! Bruno! It's the enemy Baltracher!"
"Yes!"
"Bruno! Focus on supporting Isaac! If you mess around and make a mistake out there, you won't be the only one who gets killed—it'll be all of us!"
"Y-yes!"
Bruno, who had been desperate to make a name for himself, found his mind in utter chaos since it was his first time experiencing real combat out in the field.
However, Yurgen's shout snapped him back to his senses.
Bruno abandoned any thoughts of showing off for now.
The fear that he might get himself killed in the blink of an eye if he tried something reckless was overwhelming.
"Where is it!"
"Get down!"
Unable to spot the enemy Baltracher, Yurgen called out to Ernest.
Ernest, in his urgency, yelled back at Yurgen and tackled him, sending them both rolling across the ground.
"You…!"
The Baltrachers, who led the charge by summoning the Balt Wind at the front, suddenly felt as if sharp iron skewers had pierced right through their outstretched hands, arms, and shoulders. The enemy Baltracher had forced her way through the Balt Wind head-on.
Startled, they tried to respond, but their opponent was simply too fast—unbelievably fast.
KWAANG! (A thunderous crash/explosion sound)
"Gasp!"
"Argh!"
Fortunately, before the pale blue light could crash down like a shooting star and pierce through Ernest and Yurgen, shattering them to pieces, Isaac and Bruno managed to throw up a Barrier in time, saving both men.
Even though her attack was blocked by the Balt Shield, the Green-Eyed Baltracher stubbornly pressed forward, maintaining a pointed shield as she advanced, her eyes locking with Ernest's once again.
"Grab him!"
Ernest yanked Yurgen back by the scruff of his neck, pulling him away, and Yurgen shouted like thunder.
The two Imperial Baltrachers who had been summoning the Balt Wind unleashed their Balt Psychokinesis at full force.
Tap.
The spiked Balt Shield protecting the Green-Eyed Baltracher vanished.
At that exact moment, she kicked off from Isaac and Bruno's Balt Shield and soared into the air as lightly as a feather. Whether or not she used psychokinesis, her body glimmered faintly blue for an instant before vanishing into the darkness.
The Imperial Army Baltrachers' psychokinesis grasped nothing but empty air.
"Clear out!"
Ernest shouted loudly.
At some point, he'd tossed Yurgen to the ground and was aiming his gun into the darkness.
Isaac and Bruno reflexively dropped their Barrier, and in that instant, Ernest pulled the trigger.
Bang! Thud.
As Ernest fired, a blue flash sparked within the darkness.
Ernest had dropped and taken aim at the enemy Baltracher hiding in the shadows, firing with pinpoint accuracy.
But at the very last moment, the enemy Baltracher conjured a brief shield, blocking the shot just as Ernest pulled the trigger.
Beyond the fading glow of the Balt Light, the two locked eyes, both frowning slightly.
Ernest knew exactly what his opponent was thinking—because he was thinking the same thing.
"What a monster."
Ernest shoved his hand into his Bullet Pouch, grabbed a handful of bullets, and got into a rapid-fire stance.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Ernest unleashed a torrent of shots.
In the darkness, the enemy Baltracher darted between the trees, as supple as a snake and as swift as the wind.
To dodge and block Ernest's fire, she was forced to raise a Barrier, the pale blue flash of Balt Light giving her position away.
"Damn it! All Baltrachers, hold position! Fire at that bastard! Drain her Balt!"
Yurgen, who had suddenly scrambled to his feet, quickly scanned the area and barked out commands.
The 2nd Battalion's troops desperately needed to be rescued, but because of that one enemy Baltracher, the 2nd Company's Baltrachers couldn't advance even a single step.
The enemy Baltracher was spending Balt left and right, showing no sign of falling back.
Unless she had a surplus of Balt Batteries, there was no way she could keep this up.
Maybe the isolated troops hadn't been completely wiped out, but at the very least, one of their Baltrachers had probably been killed by that bastard, and even their Balt Battery would have been stolen.
They couldn't easily split their forces, either.
Not even two of their own Baltrachers could be sure of stopping that enemy.
Right now, there were four Baltrachers in the 2nd Company.
If they split up and got picked off one by one, that monstrous Baltracher—with a refilled Balt Battery—could slaughter all the Baltrachers in both the 1st and 2nd Battalions, kill the commanders, and end the battle on her own.
"Where did a monster like that even come from!"
With trembling hands, Robert fired at the ghostlike flickers of Balt Light weaving through the forest.
But Robert, who wasn't much of a shot to begin with, had no hope of hitting her.
"Ernest!"
Realizing what he had to do, Robert rushed over to Ernest.
The moment Ernest, down on one knee and firing rapidly, ran out of bullets and his hands came up empty, Robert quickly handed him his own gun and his bullet pouch from his waist.
Ernest tossed aside his own gun—its barrel overheated and its battery nearly drained—and grabbed Robert's weapon.
He pulled bullets from the pouch and immediately resumed firing.
"Damn it! Damn it!"
Cursing under his breath, Robert swapped out the gun's battery and, to cool the overheated barrel, scooped up mud with his hands and smeared it all over the steel.
Despite her incredible speed weaving between the trees, the green eyes of the enemy Baltracher locked on Ernest with uncanny precision.
Ernest's gaze tracked her just as sharply, and once again, their eyes met dead-on.
In that instant, a chill shot through Ernest's entire body.
Goosebumps ran up his arms, and his limbs felt cold, as if frozen.
From the enemy Baltracher's green eyes, Ernest could see pure certainty.
It was the absolute certainty of Ernest's death.
"Get down!"
Ernest shouted and threw himself to the ground.
He grabbed Robert, who was smearing mud onto the barrel beside him to cool it, and together they rolled across the dirt.
A split second later, a faint wave of Balt Wind erupted over a wide area from the enemy Baltracher, and a pale burst of Balt Light pushed back the darkness.
Tiiing...
A clear, sharp metallic ring.
Thud.
A thin, long blade grazed the edge of the barrier Isaac had hastily raised and pierced right through Ernest's right arm, stopping only when its tip pressed against his throat.
The Balt Wind masked the light of the psychokinetic force controlling the blade.
Even Ernest couldn't see the blade.
He'd only tried to instinctively shield his unarmored, vulnerable spots—his neck and face.
"Tsk."
When the Green-Eyed Baltracher locked eyes with Ernest—who, despite his pierced arm, still glared back at her with cold defiance—she finally scowled and clicked her tongue in frustration.
She'd thrown the blade with such blinding speed that even using Balt Psychokinesis to react was nearly impossible, and she'd also changed its trajectory mid-flight.
Even though Isaac's Balt Shield had formed just in time, the blade brushed its very edge and zeroed in straight for Ernest's throat.
It shouldn't have been possible to block.
And yet, it had been blocked.
It was almost laughable.
On the other hand, Ernest himself was just as stunned.
He never imagined there could be a Baltracher capable of handling Balt with such finesse—let alone one among the Belliang.
A single Baltracher was toying with an entire Imperial Army company, even though that company included four Baltrachers of its own.
She was single-handedly overturning their tactics through sheer personal power.
It was an unbelievable display of strength.
"Ernest! A-are you alright?"
"I'm fine. I'm not dead."
Ernest replied to Robert in an unruffled voice as he carefully pulled the long, thin blade from his arm.
Calling it a blade… no, it would be more accurate to call it a flat skewer.
Two handspans long, its width no more than a finger joint, and so thin it could be snapped in half by hand.
It was a tool crafted solely for surprise psychokinetic attacks with Balt.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the enemy Baltracher, Ernest pulled a tourniquet from his pouch.
He rolled up his sleeve and quickly wrapped the tourniquet tight.
When he removed the blade, he confirmed that no bones had been damaged.
After tying the tourniquet firmly enough to stop the bleeding, Ernest—surprisingly—didn't feel a hint of pain.
Once again, the words of his great True Mentor, Senior Instructor Captain Thomas Kohler of the Imperial Military Academy, had proven to be true.
If Ernest hadn't seen with his own eyes that a blade had been driven through his arm, and then removed it himself, he might not have even realized he was injured.
Whether his mind had snapped, or his senses had simply sharpened to a terrifying degree, Ernest couldn't feel any pain—as if his pain receptors had been cut away—despite everything else being razor-sharp.
Yet even so, he kept his composure, as cold and still as a frozen lake.
"E-Ernest! Ernest!"
"I'm alright, Jonas. I've stopped the bleeding too."
"This isn't the time to say you're fine!"
But Jonas couldn't keep calm no matter what. Distressed by his friend's injury, he rushed over and practically collapsed beside Ernest, dropping to one knee to check the wound.
But there was nothing more Jonas could really do.
Ernest had already quickly assessed the extent of his injury and taken care of it himself.
Still, as Jonas's trembling hands touched the area around the wound, Ernest could feel just how worried his friend was, and the tension inside him—wound as tight as a blade—began to ease a little.
He knew he couldn't relax too much, but being too tense wouldn't help either.
He had to remain sharp, but also flexible.
"..."
The Green-Eyed Baltracher kept glancing over at Ernest, as if reluctant to let him go after injuring his arm, pacing around nearby.
She clearly wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to finish him off, the one who kept giving her so much trouble by seeing right through her.
She judged Ernest to be more dangerous than even Company Commander Yurgen or the other high-value Baltrachers, making him her top priority for elimination.
It was proof that she held him in high regard, but it didn't feel like much of an honor.
She circled around the area near the 2nd Company, and then in an instant, like the wind, dashed off and disappeared into the depths of the forest.
"Why are you stopped here!"
Ferdinand, having led the 1st Company in pursuit, shouted loudly.
The Green-Eyed Baltracher had withdrawn upon seeing the 1st Company arrive.
Had she not, she would have had to face six Imperial Army Baltrachers all on her own—a perfectly reasonable decision.
Still, the speed with which she both made the judgment and acted on it was astonishing.
She was able to do this because she had an exact understanding of where her limits lay.
She didn't look any older than Ernest, and yet she was as cold and resolute as a sword.
"That monster showed up! She's retreated for now! Move out and keep to close formation!"
"Join up with the 2nd Company and form a dense formation!"
Without any complaints, Ferdinand immediately merged the 1st Company with the 2nd Company and tightened up their formation.
As he glanced around, surveying the area, his eyes twitched when he spotted Ernest using his officer uniform to brace his right arm, which was covered in blood.
"We have to keep moving! Charge! Charge!"
"Charge!"
"Waaaaah!"
Yurgen cast a brief glance at Ernest, but said nothing to him. He simply carried out his duty as a commander and led the charge.
Likewise, Ernest didn't complain about his injury or fall back; instead, he ran after Yurgen, calling for the charge.
Robert and Jonas were so worried about Ernest's injury they could hardly stand it, but for now, all they could do was follow orders and join the assault.
"They're our allies! Reinforcements have arrived!"
"Waaaah!"
The isolated soldiers of the 2nd Battalion shouted for joy when they saw the troops of the 1st Battalion charging forward along with the Balt Wind.
All together, their numbers didn't even reach twenty, and it looked like all their Baltrachers had been killed—none were in sight.
They were just huddling together, desperately trying to delay death by even a few moments.
Ferdinand's 1st Company swung around to attack the left flank of the isolated troops, while Yurgen's 2nd Company flanked to the right, striking the enemy's side and rear with gusto.
Driving the enemy back, they merged with their own beleaguered forces.
With his arm in such a state, Ernest couldn't shoot anymore, so all he could do was trail along behind the others, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"R–run for it!"
"Aaah!"
The Belliang Army soldiers attacking the isolated 2nd Battalion were caught off guard by the unexpected charge from the 1st Battalion.
Panicked, they broke formation and began to flee.
"Pursue them!"
Seeing this, Ferdinand ordered the pursuit without hesitation.
"We'll form a defensive line! Lieutenant Hartmann! Don't chase them too far!"
"Yes!"
Instead of chasing the enemy with the 1st Company or trying to stop Ferdinand, Yurgen focused on protecting his own men and reestablishing the collapsed front line.
Aside from a brief warning not to pursue too far, Yurgen had nothing else to say to Ferdinand.
He knew perfectly well that Ferdinand wasn't a fool blinded by glory.
If it was Ferdinand, he would inflict as many casualties as possible during the pursuit, then calmly read the situation and withdraw without unnecessary losses.
The 2nd Company protected their comrades who had suffered in isolation and slowly pulled back southward.
They formed up at the edge of the frontline retaken by the 2nd Battalion, extending their defensive line.
Occasional gunfire still cracked here and there, but to all appearances, the battle was now over.
Still, no one let down their guard; every soldier remained tense, muzzles pointed into the forest.
"Check for casualties."
"Yes, sir."
"Hey, you're injured right now. Sit down. That's what the Deputy Platoon Leader is for in situations like this."
At Yurgen's order, Ernest hesitated as he started to go check on the wounded, then reluctantly sat down on the ground.
"Just hang on a little longer. Once we've secured the area, we'll evacuate you and the other wounded."
"Yes, sir."
Tap. Tap.
"That's right, you should listen to your company commander as if his word were law."
"..."
Yurgen swaggered a bit as he tapped Ernest's helmeted head, who was sitting quietly and answering.
But his voice and gestures were full of concern.
"Ernest, are you sure you're really okay?"
"I'm fine. …Actually, I think I feel a little dizzy. And tired."
"Are you in any pain? Your arm, it's— your arm is like this…"
"…It didn't hurt before, but now it's starting to ache."
Ernest answered Robert and Jonas's worried questions calmly. He was so composed that even Robert and Jonas found themselves calming down as well.
The injury was clearly not minor, yet for some reason, they felt almost silly for making a fuss.
"Are you guys alright though? You're not hurt anywhere, are you? Instructor Kohler was right again. Earlier, I didn't even feel any pain. You might have gotten a scratch somewhere yourselves, so check carefully."
"Ah, yeah."
At Ernest's words, the two Platoon Leaders finally started to check themselves over.
Fortunately, neither of them had a single scratch.
Those who had fallen behind during the charge ended up joining other units to continue fighting, and once the battle was over, they returned to the 2nd Company.
Considering the 2nd Company had broken through a devastated frontline after a night ambush to rescue their allies and then reestablish the front, the number of casualties was surprisingly low.
Only eight had been killed, with a total of just fourteen wounded.
Most of the deaths happened to those who had gotten separated and fought at the front, and the injuries were mostly just scrapes or bruises from tripping while running.
"By the way, where are the Rangers? I don't see them anywhere," one person murmured.
"I don't know…"
"They didn't all die, did they?"
"I doubt that…"
It was only after the battle ended that people started whispering about the Rangers.
But the Rangers still hadn't shown themselves.
Now that the fighting had clearly ended and each Battalion Headquarters had quickly sent troops to secure the rear after the first clashes, everyone felt it was finally safe and focused on resting their exhausted bodies without worry.
"The wounded will be evacuated. Krieger, you take charge of our company men and make sure they're brought back safely."
"Yes, sir."
"Good work."
"Thank you, sir."
With his right arm injured, Ernest simply bowed his head to Yurgen instead of saluting.
In that moment, the atmosphere felt less like that of a superior and subordinate, and more like two brothers.
Ernest joined up with the wounded from the 2nd Company and the Evacuation Unit to return to the battalion campsite.
Because they had to cross the rain-soaked forest at night with the injured, their pace was painfully slow.
Ernest was starting to worry that the blood circulation might've stopped in his right arm, which might lead to necrosis.
"All wounded, over here!"
"Move, move, hurry up!"
All the wounded were headed for the 1st Battalion campsite—it was the closest one.
The soldiers transported them with both caution and urgency.
Soon, the large tent was filled to capacity, and people bustled about, tending injuries in the glow of Balt Lighting.
"Officers, this way please."
Ernest entered another tent along with the other wounded officers.
Inside, he spotted a woman who looked to be around forty, waiting for them, and darted a quick glance her way.
The rank insignia on her officer's uniform was that of a Major.
Since the only women allowed in the army were Baltrachers, and Second-Class Baltrachers could only rise as high as Senior Captain, this meant she was a First-Class Baltracher.
She had cut her brown, curly hair short like a man, and with dark circles under her eyes from exhaustion, she silently looked over the injured officers, then wordlessly waved her hand.
The officers with lighter wounds moved to the corner of the tent as she indicated.
"Sniff."
The First-Class Baltracher, either from the cold or fatigue, sniffled as she opened a Leather Box neatly organized with scalpels, scissors, saws, and forceps, then took out the forceps and scissors.
"Don't move."
"Yes... Aaaaaaagh! Aaaaaaagh!"
Then, using forceps, she grabbed the wound in the officer's thigh where the bullet had struck, pried it open, and began snipping away the surrounding flesh with scissors.
"Press down."
"Yes!"
As the officer thrashed about in agony, the First-Class Baltracher gave a cold order.
Soldiers rushed over and pinned the officer's limbs firmly in place.
The officers awaiting treatment exchanged anxious, pale-faced glances.
The Baltracher, indifferent to their worry, removed the bullet, excised any damaged or contaminated tissue, scraped all the way down to the bone, and then stitched the wound closed with mechanical precision.
During this process, she would sometimes stick her fingers deep inside the wound to probe around; when a flash of Balt Light was visible, it seemed she was using Balt for healing.
However, for the suffering officer, the experience was so excruciating it was impossible to tell whether this was treatment or torture.
He screamed, his whole body shaking, until at some point, he lost consciousness.
"Next. You."
...
"We don't have time. Get over here."
"Y-yes..."
The next torture subject—no, patient—was an officer who approached, clutching his arm, his face utterly pale with fear.
He was so terrified of the treatment that he hesitated to show his wound, but the exhausted Baltracher simply ordered the soldiers to pin him down, holding even his limbs and head firmly in place.
"Arrrgh!"
Another scream rang out.
Meanwhile, as the treatment ended, the officer, now unconscious, was being dragged away by the soldiers.
There was no need for special care; after all, a Baltracher had treated him.
Ernest's turn came quickly.
There weren't many wounded officers to begin with, and Ernest's injury was serious enough to warrant prompt attention.
"..."
"..."
Ernest's treatment was remarkably calm.
Even as Baltracher cut away living flesh and scraped the bone, Ernest barely flinched—just a slight tremor.
The baltracher glanced at him briefly before proceeding with machine-like efficiency, patching up the wound in no time.
She used a curved needle to stitch the torn flesh together, closing the wound tightly, then pressed her fingers in and channeled Balt to regenerate and fuse the tissue.
Once she pulled the needle free, there was nothing amiss except for a single bead of blood that welled up and trickled out.
But this method of treatment brought excruciating pain to the wounded.
It was only natural—she was ruthlessly poking and digging at the raw edges of the injury.
It felt almost as if he was being scourged with a red-hot iron chain
"Thank you."
"Yeah."
After his treatment, Ernest raised his treated right arm to salute Baltracher and expressed his gratitude.
The Baltracher gave him a sidelong glance and replied with a curt response.
Careful not to strain his arm, Ernest walked out of the tent on his own two feet.
"Oh!"
Just then, he made eye contact with a sergeant who had been waiting for him outside.
The moment the sergeant saw Ernest walking out, his face lit up and he strode over quickly.
"The Battalion Commander wants to hear a detailed report from the officers who fought in the field. You can head over right away."
"Understood. Good work."
"Yes, sir."
Listening to the sergeant, Ernest honestly wanted to curse.
He felt like he might collapse from exhaustion.
But from the perspective of Battalion Commander Levin Ort, Lieutenant Colonel, he couldn't pass up the chance to get a prompt report from an officer who had experienced the fighting firsthand.
It was even more of an opportunity when you considered how rare it was for an officer to return wounded, undergo what verged on torture at the hands of a Baltracher, and still be able to walk out on his own.
Urging his weary body onward, Ernest made his way to the Battalion Headquarters tent, where Balt Lighting shone brightly.
"…Isn't it the Fox?"
"..."
And right in front of him, Ernest encountered a Ranger who looked ten times more exhausted than he did.
The Ranger glanced at Ernest, offering a faint, blue-lipped smile, then hefted onto his shoulder a sack he had been dragging along the ground.
"…What's that?"
Ernest, eyeing the shape of the sack, asked the question.
The Ranger gave a thin, wheezing laugh.
"Belliang bastards' heads."
The sack was so large and so full of human heads that he struggled to carry it as he staggered into the tent.
It surely wasn't the heads of ordinary soldiers—those must be the heads of officers, maybe even commanders.
So that's it.
At last, Ernest understood why the enemy had reacted so sluggishly.
Even after the 2nd Company had charged through the enemy ranks and turned the tide of battle, the enemy never tried anything different; they just kept on fighting.
At the time, amid the chaos and darkness, he'd figured the Belliang side simply hadn't managed to relay new orders.
But that wasn't it—the friendly neighborhood Rangers had already gone in, cleanly beheading the commanders, leaving no one to give orders.
They must have rushed straight to the enemy camp the moment they realized our lines had been breached, knowing full well that no matter how skilled, a Ranger fighting in formation is still just a single soldier in the end.
Sending Rangers to fight on the front line would be a complete waste.
The Rangers probably experienced an even more hellish night than the 1st and 2nd Battalions did.
Maybe they even took heavier losses than we did.
It had truly been a grueling battle.
The Imperial Army, made up mostly of new recruits who hadn't received proper training, fought through the night after their lines were shattered by a surprise attack.
In truth, you could almost say the battle was over as soon as it began.
And yet, the Imperial Army ultimately overturned the battle situation and won.
Skilled field commanders quickly assessed the situation and devised tactics on the spot, the soldiers carried out those orders well, and the Rangers did everything they possibly could.
In particular, the commanders played a tremendous role.
Not just Yurgen, but the other company commanders led brilliantly, too.
This battle could serve as a textbook example when teaching the importance of command in the field.
"Hoo…"
With a sigh, Ernest spurred his exhausted body and forced himself to walk into the tent with as much dignity as he could muster.
He'd better finish his business quickly and rejoin the 2nd Company.
He honestly felt so tired, he thought he might collapse any moment.