"Damn it, how long do we have to keep running?"

Frederick asked, unable even to wipe away his streaming sweat. But Erich could not answer.

All Erich could do was gather the surviving squad members and soldiers, and escape with them.

Even at this very moment, a considerable number of people were becoming prey to the dead, who popped out from all directions. It was the result of being caught off guard.

"We even took down the golem, but what about that thing? Can't you do anything?"

"If I could handle it, I'd have done it already. That thing is nothing like a golem. Not even I can do anything about it now."

It was, after all, the very 'Death Knight' that had delivered death to Erich in the first place. Of course, back then there had been dozens, and he had also faced the Lord of the Dead.

The point was that this creature was one of the dead that could inflict serious damage, even on Erich, who, before his regression, had reached the pinnacle of strength.

Its condition was crude, and compared to the death knights of before his regression, it was an unfinished product; still, for the current Erich, even half a death knight was tough, let alone a whole one.

"Gyaaaah!"

"P-please, save me!"

The constant screams of soldiers echoed from behind. The dead chased after Erich, relentlessly, as if never intending to let him escape.

'... Damn it. I should have expected this, too.'

Erich had, of course, thought that the one behind all this would be laying traps to put him in danger.

However, he had not, even for a second, imagined a death knight would appear here.

But, at that very moment, Erich realized.

The countless coffins of the dead stored here. And Morris Village, which could be used to smuggle things beyond the Great Wall.

That 'mastermind' had been smuggling the dead inside the Great Wall. Those monsters were likely the dead that couldn't be brought in back then.

'So that's why the Great Wall was breached around here during the invasion of the dead...!'

Erich gritted his teeth.

He had thought he was one step ahead, but his opponent had been two moves ahead this time.

Erich looked at the squad members and soldiers gasping for breath beside him.

In this state, Erich could probably escape alone, but the others would inevitably be left behind.

He locked eyes with Frederick.

"At this rate, not only the badly wounded, but most of us will be bitten to death by those things!"

"And yet, we can't fight them."

"So you're saying we should just abandon them all?"

A knot formed between Frederick's brows. For a moment, sparks flashed in his eyes and then vanished.

Well, Frederick had always been one to mistrust his superiors.

― Clack.

Frederick reached for his sword as he ran. He was probably about to turn around and fight head-on.

"Don't do it."

"Damn it. If we keep running like this, we'll all die."

"If you stand against them, you'll die just as quickly, and won't last long no matter what."

"So you're telling me to just watch and do nothing as everyone dies!"

Frederick shouted so hard that the veins stood out on his forehead. Erich stared straight at Frederick and said,

"Trust me, and wait."

Frederick's eyes filled with disbelief.

Trust him? Was there really a way out of this situation, just because he asked for trust?

Before long, after running for some distance, they reached a thicker, steeper area overgrown with brush. There, Erich shouted,

"Frederick! Barnes! Lead the soldiers back to the Black Citadel!"

"W-what are you saying?"

"That's an order!"

As everyone kept running, only Frederick came to a halt.

― Clack.

Frederick watched Erich draw his sword.

In Frederick's eyes as he looked at Erich's back, something was reflected. It was a memory of some moment in the past.

When was it? Probably the time when he was first called a superior officer killer.

***

The northern night was harsh beyond words. The cold would instantly freeze any snot that dripped down, impossible to ever get used to.

"Achoo! Damn it."

They were men who had seen all sorts of things everywhere, but no one who came here could have had an experience like this.

Grumbles rose from the rear.

"... Are we really on the right path? Jimmy, something should be visible..."

They were trained Watchmen, not the kind of men to openly complain like this.

But that day was just damned cold.

Frederick shot a glare at the complaining member. But seeing the deep distrust and resentment in their eyes, he fell silent again and turned his gaze forward.

Ahead of them, the outpost captain strode silently toward their destination.

'... Feels like we're all going to die at this rate.'

It was hard to blame the men; even Frederick himself harbored such doubts. Yet Frederick kept silent.

He was right on the cusp of being promoted to senior member. He didn't want to anger his superior over this kind of thing.

"Just hold on a bit longer. I'm sure he has a plan."

Frederick rubbed his bloodshot eyes, trying to reassure the others.

But internally, he too thought the whole thing made no sense. Attempting to cross such rough terrain—at night, no less—was reckless.

Yet, the outpost captain made this foolish choice.

It was for the sake of synchronizing quickly with the other encirclement forces in the operation to surround and wipe out the barbarians.

'Damn encirclement operation.'

To Frederick, there was no more foolish decision. A night march, especially here in the barbarians' own front yard, was suicide.

The territory they had to cover to complete the encirclement was absurdly large.

If that weren't enough, with food supplies almost depleted and no hope of further support, trying to tighten the encirclement by moving at night was pure stupidity.

But he was not a commander; he was the Watch's arm, a soldier bound to obey orders.

― Rustle. Rustle.

As time passed, the men's pace slowed even further. The snow, now hard and slippery at night, contributed, but even worse was the suffocating darkness.

The night belonged to the barbarians, and this was the dead center of their frozen domain. Nothing favored the Watch.

After much hesitation, Frederick decided to say something and cautiously sped up to match the outpost captain's pace.

"... Sir."

"Hmm?"

"We have no visibility at all. If we were to be ambushed here—"

But before he finished speaking—

― Smack!

A stinging slap came down on Frederick's frozen cheek. The outpost captain scowled and barked at him.

"You weak bastard. What are you doing here at the Wall with that attitude?"

Displaying his displeasure openly, the leader shouted even louder so all could hear.

"A man about to become a senior member, and this is the kind of talk he's making? No wonder everyone else is breaking down!"

"......"

With that, the leader spun around and picked up the pace. Frederick turned to survey the men's faces.

In their eyes, deep anxiety was clear. Frederick understood. Before them stood a commander who, in every sense, could not be trusted.

And so, they trudged onward—until a sudden blizzard forced their march to a halt.

― Smack!

"Damn you bastards. If you'd walked even a little faster, this wouldn't have happened!"

The outpost captain kicked a hapless subordinate. Then, he ordered,

"Light a fire. Warm yourselves, and as soon as the blizzard dies down we move again."

But Frederick once again offered advice.

"We can't just light a fire here. The barbarians can see in the dark. If we light a fire, we'll become targets—"

But he was cut off. The leader's eyes pierced him with a vicious glare.

"What's more important now? If we don't reach the rendezvous before dawn, everything we've done is pointless, don't you get it?"

He jabbed Frederick in the chest.

"Stop dragging your frozen ass around."

― Thud.

"Light a fire."

― Thud.

"Once you've warmed up, hurry and get those bastards moving again! You think this is a vacation?"

― Thud.

With each retort, the leader's boot thudded into Frederick's chest.

After that, Frederick said nothing more. He sat and built the fire as ordered. The grueling march and mounting stress had drained all desire to protest.

He sat by the fire with the others.

Still, to minimize risks, he set up sentries and told everyone else to rest together. It was the least he could do.

"... That bastard was a parachute, wasn't he?"

"Shut up."

Frederick brusquely silenced the man. Inside, mixed emotions swirled. Anger like molten wax seeped out, but it wasn't just that bastardly leader's fault.

'... All for a damn promotion.'

He hadn't really wanted the senior member position that badly. But all his fellow trainees were already senior members.

Frederick's promotion had lagged behind, mostly because he didn't know how to curry favor with incompetent superiors.

After being passed over again and again, he became cautious without even realizing it.

But to think he was enduring such nonsense for that alone—was he always this petty? His anger was directed less at the leader and more at himself.

'... Just tolerate it one last time.'

Once he returned to the outpost, he'd no longer need to worry about promotions. No need to climb higher. The title of veteran, senior member, that alone would suffice. Anyway, with his short fuse and narrow vision, he'd never be a commander. He knew his limits.

'Just one more time.'

Wearing a grim, steely expression, he accepted a steaming stew from another soldier warming himself by the fire.

"Here, have this. If we have to put up with such a shitty fire, might as well get something out of it."

Frederick grinned.

"Careful, kid. Aligning yourself with me will wreck your prospects. I'm a rotten branch."

"What branch? I just respect my seniors, that's all—"

But then—

― Swish.

A terrifying tearing sound came from behind the speaking soldier.

― Bang!

Blood spurted from his lips. A spear, having pierced through his body, unleashed a torrent of blood.

"We're under attack!"

Frederick sprang up and drew his sword. But it was a sudden ambush, and with the fire blazing, their position had been completely revealed.

― Thud.

"Ugh!"

Colossal barbarian spears rained down without pause, impaling the soldiers mercilessly. Frederick instantly realized the enemy's logic.

'They're punching through our encirclement!'

The Watch had been closing in around a barbarian horde. By morning, those barbarians would be completely surrounded and killed.

But apparently, the enemy had decided to break through the encirclement before that final moment.

And right here at the encirclement's center, where men were waiting, defenseless, around a fire, it must have seemed the ideal spot to break through.

Screams, chaos, and carnage erupted. The white snowfield was stained red with blood. A bloody melee ensued, man stabbing and being stabbed. And at the end of it all—

― Shlunk.

Frederick pulled his sword from a barbarian's chest. His whole body was covered in wounds. His face was savagely torn. His side was mangled from an axe blow.

The few remaining soldiers were little better. The only one largely unscathed was—

"Is it over?"

The outpost captain, who had faked death by rolling in the snow at the very start of the fighting. He brushed the snow off, grumbling.

"If these idiots were imperial soldiers, this would never have happened."

He began to count with his eyes. Apparently, he was counting the survivors. A smile crept onto his lips.

"No, actually, we repulsed these barbarians with barely any strength? That's great, really."

He gave a satisfied laugh. The remaining soldiers glared at him, faces hard as stone.

"...."

One man's sword trembled. But Frederick quietly pushed down his weapon and spoke.

"Sir, what's your plan now?"

The outpost captain answered lightly, as if it were nothing.

"We head to the rendezvous point. There's an officer from the fortress there. We need to report how fierce the fighting was, don't we?"

"... Let's go back."

"What?"

The outpost captain's face twisted.

"What are you talking about?"

"We don't know how many barbarians are left. We can't guarantee we won't be attacked again. We can't continue fighting in this state. We need to go back."

"Ha... bastard..."

The leader drew his sword, tapping it against Frederick's neck.

"Can't you think? This is the perfect opportunity! How many barbarian heads did we claim here? With this credit, you'd be promoted on the spot. Or should I count the heads of our own men as barbarians to boost the numbers?"

Frederick closed his eyes. Counting his own men's heads as what?

He was a man with a short fuse, but for the last time, he clung to his patience.

"So, you refuse to go back?"

"Crazy bastard, are you trying to mutiny? Your brain's as empty as those fools lying over there..."

The leader ranted on, but Frederick no longer heard him. Tinnitus roared in his ears, drowning out the man's voice.

Beeeeeep—

There seemed to be only one cure for this condition. Frederick decided to give up any pretense of being a 'proper' senior member.

"Guys."

A nasty smile touched his lips.

"I did this alone. Understand?"

His sword flashed.

That was the moment Frederick earned his infamous reputation, having committed mutiny for the tenth time or more.

*

Frederick's focus blurred. What brought him back to the present was someone's urgent scream.

"Frederick! Get a grip, you dumb bastard!"

"... So you do know how to swear?"

"What? What are you on about?"

Erich glanced anxiously between Frederick and the approaching dead. The monsters were dangerously close.

Frederick considered something, then, instead of grabbing his sword, turned toward the soldiers.

"... You're too much."

"I can't hear what you're saying. Get out of here, quick."

"Be careful. 'Boss'."

Erich was left speechless for a moment at Frederick's words.

And then, a small smile formed on his lips.

"I'm not going to die."

Frederick left those words behind and ran powerfully toward the soldiers.

A strange feeling welled up.

It felt as though something had changed; something he had always known was now different.

From the direction where Erich was, the savage roar of monsters and the clash of iron echoed.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】

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