My squad sergeant scoffs when I walk through the door. "Sir." I remark over my shoulder after passing by. Both ranks and etiquette seem too much like the United States military back on Earth. There's a lot of "hurry up and wait," and meaningless customs followed by people worth nothing to the top brass. Morale is reasonably low for people just about to die. Even Jason, the group's happy-go-lucky clown, lies on his moldy cot with his head to the ceiling.
"Jason! What's up?" I try starting a conversation. He scoffs me off. The grim gesture strikes past my emotional guard. Anyone else could act depressed- not Jason. Our entire squad glances over to see my confrontation. Sure, Jason kept our moods high, but everyone knew I meant to keep them alive. "Lock in, you know." Jason jumps up as if to fight me, then suddenly freezes. He's always kept a hidden temper. My calm expression meets Jason's fist.
He quickly finds himself once more, then apologizes. "Sorry- just been wondering what the point is." Jason retorts. I wait for his next words. "Not everyone's capable like you. Making money by side-hobbies to pay for proper meals is just beyond us. Every day we train we'll just get skinnier and more frail." Jason explains with desperation. His eyelids are baggy- clothes forcefully wrinkled after he lay down sulking for days. The dire scene refuted every counter I'd been thinking of. Giving false hope is often worse than handing a short lie.
"Don't die on me Jason. You've got goals, all of us do. At least give it your best shot. Whether you die or not, we tried. Are you really gonna die quietly or will you show them who the fuck you are?" Jason groans. A few squad members stand up early. Everyone knew what I meant. The only option to combat low morale is a confidence boost through training. My team knew I could fight well. Our whole squad received special benefits simply because I caught many criminals by myself. Nobody knew about my mana core, but they did see my results.
Still, I remain doubtful about our chances. Unlike most deployments, the squad leaders will not be joining us. Each "SL" has been power-tripping or riddled with guilty expressions. I'd even snuck behind the Legion Lieutenant's office to hear murmurs about unprecedented genocide. Death loomed around in whispers and grim rumors.
Side by side our squad moves towards the empty training hall. Multiple squad leaders dash quickly past us, sweating puddles and shouting fast commands. For better or worse we always seem diligent. Our squad marches to the training grounds often enough for the officers to feel safe ignoring our presence, just as planned. In a world where lives are worthless, effort becomes just as priceless.
Soldiers like us could be considered the crème of the crop among people doomed for deployment. High ranking officers had their eyes out because if any one of us survived, they'd be recruiting us right away.
Value becomes the only alibi in a world like this. I knew word about my fight should've reached the corps by now, so luck will just have to roll on my side. Hopefully the corps will find someone outcast who fits a killer's description.
Familiar stench washed over my squad as we entered the training hall. At first I assumed the warm air was an incentive for lazy soldiers, until my stealth training revealed stone ducts that connected to the officer's quarters. Our grunt-level training center took the brunt of heated air from noble facilities, anything from jacuzzi pools to simple bathroom vents. I tossed my bow aside and started training like usual.
By condensing my mana-veins to the limit, I can train mana control and strength at normal speed. "Condensation," as I've decided to call it recently, helps add my last layer of alibi. People see me for a sword-prodigy. Some officers have hinted at me becoming a true-slayer if I survive deployment. Such offers are legends among commonfolk, and usually the founding story of a noble family. For me it shows just how effective my bluffing really is…
"Atten~tion!!"
Our brief training session halts when a high ranking officer steps inside the training grounds. He glares knowingly over my team who freezes, biased like usual. I greeted him with the only respect I'd pass around base. Such a man deserves the credit, since he treated us well based on our efforts. "General Hartman, Sir." I said after dropping mid-pull-up. My side glance turns short in panic.
General Hartman stands formally with multiple officers. Between those executives, stands an athletic noblewoman with straightened purple hair, and one familiar insignia. Her insignia is depicted using purple whips that surround a dark purple rose.
For better or worse she lacks the interest to inspect my gear, more in shock by our training hall's stench than interested about our identities. "Jack here is our best problem solver around base. He's got countless connections in the underworld so finding your Fiancé's killer may take no time at all."
Blame shifting is common practice for reputable officers, and though I appreciate the opportunity, General Hartman's order is the criminal's equivalent of a suicide mission. To hide my identity, I'll need an opposite personality, and to never use a bow again. Those two options are equally limiting, so…
My plans fall short as I take a second glance at the noble. Her dark purple pupils make stern eye contact with my face, my heart beating quicker by the minute. "-beautiful…" I say in surprise over the eye contact. Of course, my careful plans could always be matched with the dumb façade of a naïve commoner.
"Ahem. Jack, why don't you show Mrs. Kilo a tour of the base?" General Hartman interrupted me from nearby. He awkwardly maintained composure, shocked that I would act blunt in front of a noble. The silence felt deafening, and I felt even more proud to believe that I'd be one of the only people who'd be allowed to blurt ridiculous words around base.
The noble from house Kilo nodded quietly. Our General sighed in relief. "Then, I'll leave you in Jack's care. As of now, Jack has been allowed full access to the base's infrastructure. Surely he'll be done with the tour by the time we find your fiance's killer."
Flabbergasted with my situation, I simply bow and put my hand to my chest. General Hartman returned the salute before he leaves with his officers. Right away I could hear the soldiers mumble in worry about putting me in charge of a noble.
"She's not a big deal." Said the general from the side. "Relax, she can't even use mana, so she can't hear a thing. Just been told word that house Kilo would take care of her drama, so we'll just buy time to prepare for their visit."
How worrying. Even without a mana technique to hear the soldier's conversation, I caught every word. Once they stood out of earshot I turned to the noble and asked, "Shall we?" She nodded once before I decided on taking the lead.
Barracks are not a pretty sight for nobles. The cramped quarters and low discipline results in disease, dirt, and stench. General Hartman ordered me to showcase the base with full access, likely intending me to display the noble's quarters.
Faced with choice, I decided on asking instead. "The soldier's barracks or the noble's quarters, which one sounds more interesting to you?" I said knowingly.
She froze, hand stuck to her chin. The shocked expressions from my squad gave me a chuckle. I'd long been past speaking my welcome. Still, despite my squad's terror, I knew my gut.
The lady's expression seemed pale. Bags tucked beneath the woman's otherwise flawless asian complexion. "The soldier's barracks." She decided after deep contemplation. Facial qualities like malnutrition, and exhausted eyes, only appear after weeks of repeated lifestyle. A noble who craves peace would never leave her investigation to anyone else. S
he followed behind while I gave my squad a hidden look of terror. They simply smirked and pointed upwards. No one knew how close I'd be walking to death incarnate. She curled a few strands of her dark purple hair, lost in deep thoughts.
The noble staggered as we moved forward, holding her stomach at times. Starting a conversation crossed my mind at first. I quickly decided on silence, but the noble woman spoke freely after a glance.
"I know who you are." She admitted with a frown, eyes forwards. The comment attacked me so directly I found myself staggering back. Zero soldiers or servants could be seen within earshot. "No need to be afraid." Further explained the noble woman, before she blocked my path. "My name is Rosa Kilo. Regardless of your identity, I'm here to offer you a deal."
She says in full confidence, though she barely resists a collapse from exhaustion. Now is the first time I earn a chance to examine Rosa's appearance clearly, as I'd been avoiding eye contact since we first met.
Again she wore a custom white suit and tie, insulated by thick fur. Black cleats protected her feet much better than our goblin-leather shoes. Spoiled, as I'd love to call her, she seems anorexic up close. The custom tailored suit feels wasted when every wrinkle of cloth drips loosely on her bones.
My joking sarcasm tells me that she followed diet advice from modern bullies and social media. Sadly, if my past life lacked its trauma, I may never have recognized her anorexia. The diet condition called anorexia became common with Earth's modern palette, but food seemed so scarce in this world that I'd completely forgotten about it.
"You're asking the wrong guy. I'm just your average infantry draftee." I explain before taking a sigh.
"Do average draftees jump rooftops with a mana core?" She leans in to admit with a forced sneer.
"Do nobles often recruit their Fiancé's killer?" I quickly admit. One small test could reveal the mana core in my chest. She'd have every chance to prove I was responsible, and she'd be capable of framing me too.
"So, you admit?" She clenches her fists, opting for a glare instead of strong words. We stand eye level for a moment, tensions too high for either person to back down.
"I'm confident I could kill you before escaping…" I admit in full confidence. Rosa backs away by reflex. Though, it only takes a moment before she realizes my threat was simply a crude negotiation. Rosa regains her composure before I could finish my comment. "-but, why not have me killed right away? Earlier, near General Hartman, you had every chance to reveal my identity. Instead you waited until we stood alone, risking your life to offer a deal."
The palm of my hand rests on a crude metal dagger, hidden behind my back. I knew each word we exchanged may decide my fate. Nobles are far more dangerous than Titans, because their blood runs colder than ice.
Rosa steels her resolve with one hand tight, clenched behind her back. "I would like you to protect me during your deployment next week." Rosa bit her lip.
The comment broke my guard and let a surprised expression peek from my face. Since when did a noble join commoners during deployment? I'd never heard about such a precedent. "You.. Why are you joining us for deployment?" Rosa scoffs at my obvious realization. She paces around me like a shark.
"While I'd love to say you're the reason my family wants me dead…" Rosa pauses her walk for a second to recompose herself. She faces me with a twirl. "I'm born with a mana-deficiency. Unless I use weapons imbued with runes and power, I'm the same as a commoner." Rosa explains with a stern glare. I get a feeling she'd explained herself so many times that her glare became a habit.
I took a deep sigh, weighing my options. Towards the risky end stands the decision of murder. After killing Rosa Kilo I could flee the barracks, and hope I'd escape unscathed. By the sound of her family, there's a chance they might let me go.
Still too risky. I have no guarantee of long term survival. Her family could just as easily take my life to save face. What annoys me the most is how my best options play right into Rosa Kilo's hands. My best choice is to either help Rosa survive this next deployment, or simply take her life during the week-long tour.
"What's to say you won't betray me after two weeks?" I questioned.
"Aren't you curious about how I noticed your mana core? Surely, a person with mana deficiency won't be able to sense it." Rosa hinted about a third party. For some reason, General Hartman came to mind.
He often invited me for tea. Perhaps it wasn't just a formality, but the way he checked on my progress. I didn't even know that was possible. Eye-based mana infusion is called "visual suicide" for a reason. The high difficulty of control made only true experts capable of reading mana with their eyes. I groan, hand massaging my neck.
"Somebody told you… General Hartman?" Rosa flinches when I guess correctly.
"T-That's right. He intended for me to expose you as a gift to my family. It's like killing two birds with one stone. You get convicted and he disposes of me through deployment." Rosa summarized her thoughts. I felt the full brunt of a headache.
Not only was my fake identity compromised, but a man I once trusted wanted to use me for building his reputation. I knew by instinct that my only option for survival would be Rosa testifying as a false witness. She, with her limited cards, cornered my approach in just a few sentences. Fucking nobles..
"Hah… Fine." I wearily conceded.
Rosa smirks at my forced decision. Worst case scenario I can just kill her with nobody watching. "Since you're tagging along I need to prepare you by training." I grumble with annoyance. Protecting someone who is malnourished and sleep deprived will end in failure.
Titans were larger, stronger, and deadlier than humans. They often reminded me about prehistoric dinosaurs, the giant lizards who grew excessively large for protection. At some point on Earth dinosaurs would hit a size limit from being crushed under their own weight. Here, Titans could always utilize mana, magic power, by instinct. Being crushed under their own weight was never a concern for them.
"... What kind of training..?" Rosa grimaced, refusing to make eye contact.
"You need to eat proper meals and sleep for the next four days. On the last two I'll be adjusting your palette to less appetizing meals, in case of survival." I groan. Nobody likes switching their lifestyle overnight. Even if Rosa agreed I knew I'd spend most of my time keeping her diligent.
Still, we need to try. I can't carry a second person on my back. She needs to be capable of running, at least. I decide to change the topic instead of dwelling over the issue. "Apparently not even our squad leaders are coming with us for deployment. Do you know what kind of trap we're walking into?"
Rosa looks my expression up and down. "Shouldn't you know? I thought you were a trained assassin." Her comment rolls my eyes. All that suspicion of hers… I hated how sharp it was. Each little word narrows down my identity to the point where lying is useless.
"Self taught." I groan with a glare. All these grunts and annoyed groans probably expose me more times than I'd like to admit. I continue with caution. "Learned mana control to keep myself from freezing. All my techniques are made from scratch." A few panicking officers rush past whose presence stops me from speaking any further.
The dim frozen hallway echoes when they close a door behind themselves. Rosa continues. "Self taught?! So, how do you think you'll train me then?"
"Your chance of surviving is nearly zero percent, Rosa. Even if your family allows you to bring that fancy weapon of yours, Titans are deadly. I can't pick you up each time we run."
Rosa grits her teeth. I was right, though she kept looking for new options. Time to change the subject. "For now, follow me. Let's use those permissions General Hartman granted us.."