For a moment, I thought I'd misheard—but Freen's eyes were filled with certainty.
"...Give me the binoculars."
"Yes, sir!"
Taking them from Freen, I scanned the entrance of the gorge, frowning.
Just as she'd said, a company-sized force was advancing.
But why were they entering Edelkrall Gorge, which we had mined?
Puzzled, I studied their formation—and let out a hollow laugh.
They're marching in a single-file column. Two soldiers are far ahead of the rest...
Those two were being used as mine detectors.
If they passed safely, the rest of the troops would follow in their footsteps.
And those two... they definitely didn't volunteer.
I zoomed in. Their faces were pale with fear.
Trembling like that? No one would do this willingly.
It was obvious they were forced—likely under threat.
Just behind them, a soldier stood with his rifle aimed at their backs, maybe 30 meters away.
Leave formation, and you'd be shot on the spot.
Jeremy had almost certainly given that order.
He's using his own men's lives to clear mines...
A cold, calculated cruelty born of war.
Not surprising—history had seen far worse.
With a sigh, I lowered the binoculars and gave the order.
"Target approaching. All squads, prepare for combat."
Immediately, the soldiers crouched, readying their rifles and checking the mana cylinders on their shoulders.
These cylindrical devices—packed with gauges and internal magic arrays—were the Empire's latest invention.
They stored excess mana, allowing a soldier to fight with nearly double their normal reserves.
In theory, that made Imperial troops twice as effective as their foreign counterparts.
That was the power of the mana cylinder, the Empire's magitech masterpiece.
No nation can win a head-on war against the Empire...
But that overwhelming strength had only bred resentment in the nations that bordered us.
As I adjusted my own mana cylinder and checked the gauge, I couldn't help but remember why I wanted to escape this place to begin with.
Once I confirmed everything was working, I lay prone at the cliff's edge and aimed my rifle.
The others followed my lead, spreading along the ridge.
Watching Jeremy's company descend deeper into the gorge, I gave my orders in a low voice.
"I'll take the enemy commander. Once I fire, cut off their escape with suppressive fire. Prepare magic rounds."
"Prepare magic rounds!"
The soldiers echoed the command, infusing mana into their ammunition.
Magic bullets—enhanced by a small amount of mana—boasted superior power and penetration.
They'd outclassed most battlefield spells, requiring no incantations, just raw mana.
Just like how guns replaced knights, magic bullets had reduced most traditional spells to a relic of the past.
A sobering reminder of how brutal progress could be.
Still...
If I killed Colonel Jeremy here, wouldn't that just earn me another damn medal?
With the princess watching, I couldn't stand idly by. But winning again would only bind me tighter to the Empire.
What should I do?
Feeling Selvia's gaze on my back, I opened the scope on my rifle.
I braced the stock to my shoulder and peered through.
There—Colonel Jeremy. Center of the formation.
Even with limited magnification, the officer's uniform was unmistakable.
If I killed him, I'd probably be promoted.
No way. That wasn't happening.
Then...
I just had to miss—deliberately.
Looking like an idiot who blew his chance.
I adjusted my aim slightly and focused on the soldier walking beside Jeremy.
Breathing deeply, I held it, infused mana into the bullet, and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The shot ripped through the air and slammed into the soldier's skull.
Instantly, gunfire erupted behind me—our platoon unleashing a deadly volley.
Glancing down, I saw about 17 enemy soldiers collapse in sprays of blood.
It was a clean, lethal opening.
But Jeremy was still alive.
If they realized we were just a single platoon, it wouldn't take long for them to regroup.
And Jeremy wasn't stupid. He'd throw up a mana shield and either charge or retreat.
Many of his men would die, but a commander who used subordinates as human shields wouldn't care.
If he escaped, I'd fail—and get discharged.
Come on, Jeremy. Run for your life...
I watched through the scope.
Confusion spread through the enemy ranks.
But then, to my shock, one officer shouted something and dropped his weapon.
What? Why are they...
One by one, the soldiers began to kneel—hands raised in surrender.
Freen blinked beside me.
"...They're surrendering?"
"No. It might be a trick. They could be trying to lure us down…"
Before I could finish, the officer shouted again—and threw his rifle into the minefield.
The others followed suit.
"…It's a genuine surrender."
What the hell...?
I didn't get it, but the battle was over.
"Everyone, move in. Secure the prisoners."
*
We descended into the gorge. I ordered the troops to bind the prisoners, then approached the man in Jeremy's uniform.
"Explain yourself. Why did you surrender?"
"You killed the colonel!"
The man—definitely not Jeremy—snapped at me.
"We were ambushed! And if you knew enough to pick off the real commander first, we didn't stand a chance. Go forward, and we'd hit mines. Retreat, and we'd be shot. What else were we supposed to do?"
In short—Jeremy had disguised himself as a regular soldier, and I'd killed him with my opening shot.
They thought we had perfect intelligence and superior firepower.
So they broke.
"…Damn it."
Running a hand over my face, I heard one of the prisoners growl.
"Damn it… You Imperial dogs! If we'd known you were just one platoon—!"
Thud!
Freen cracked him in the neck with her rifle butt, dropping him to the snow.
Cold-eyed, she looked down at him before turning to me.
"Sir! We've captured 87 prisoners. 18 confirmed dead."
The numbers hit me like a cold wind.
A single platoon had just broken an entire company.
I exhaled slowly, snow misting in the air.
Then Freen asked, carefully,
"...Aren't you happy, sir? Ah—of course, this must be nothing special for you, Lieutenant. I apologize!"
What the hell is this woman talking about...?
Before I could answer, I heard a click.
A camera shutter.
I flinched and turned.
There stood Selvia—imperial princess, holding a camera.
Lowering it, she smiled at me.
"Congratulations. Your planning and execution were flawless. Even your opening shot."
"Wait—that photo..."
"When we return, I'll request it be printed in the capital's papers. A war hero taking down a company with a single platoon? You deserve recognition."
I wanted to beg her not to.
But you don't argue with the imperial princess.
With a look of growing admiration, she stepped closer and nudged my side.
"So? How does it feel to be a hero?"
"..."
It felt like hell.
But I couldn't say that.
Forcing down my emotions, I answered as calmly as I could.
"I only did what was expected. Calling me a hero is too much. This was just one skirmish among many. Publicizing it might be... inappropriate."
A polite way of saying: Please don't.
But Selvia paused, then gave a soft smile.
"I see. You're every bit the model soldier I've heard about. It makes me want to recruit you even more."
...Why did that sound like she misunderstood something?
Was it just my imagination?