This country's name had long since been forgotten.
People generally called it the Land of Endless War now.
Although it was nominally a country, it had split apart decades ago.
The two forces occupying opposite sides of the island both claimed to be the kingdom's rightful heirs, and over the past century they had nearly fought each other to death.
Roa walked through a landscape of shattered walls and ruins.
According to Dylan, before the civil war broke out, this had once been the country's most prosperous port. Now, however, only ruins remained, long deserted.
Dylan, following behind him, spoke calmly. "Because of the prolonged warfare, both sides of the civil war have imposed strict military rule over their respective territories. All the country's residents have been forcibly gathered into various settlements."
Roa took a deep breath. The country's dark aura had grown so dense that even these uninhabited ruins were filled with it.
"Looks like they're doing a pretty good job, then."
Roa smiled. "Let's find someone and ask for directions first."
After passing through the ruins, endless farmland appeared before Roa. Green wheat seedlings stretched in the breeze, giving him the feeling that he had arrived on a grassland. It was quite refreshing.
Many farmers were watering and irrigating the fields.
Roa noticed that these farmers were either elderly people on the verge of death, sallow and emaciated children, or women with heavily swollen bellies.
There wasn't a single able-bodied adult.
Well, there were some young people.
Armed soldiers constantly patrolled the road beside the fields, while overseers wielding whips and long knives watched the laborers intently.
Roa saw several sluggish old people and children immediately draw the overseers' whips.
Roa drew a deep breath.
The dense dark aura immediately surged toward him.
"Oh!"
Roa narrowed his eyes in intoxication.
Wonderful.
But there was something even better.
Roa raised his head and looked toward the distant fields.
There stood a massive fortress surrounded by towering walls. That should be the settlement Dylan had mentioned.
The dark aura floating above the fortress was even denser.
Roa unconsciously licked his lips.
"Who are you people?!"
An angry and alarmed shout came from afar and rapidly approached. The patrolling soldiers had spotted Roa and the others. They aimed their rifles at them while advancing quickly.
Roa raised an eyebrow.
These soldiers were absurdly young, only fourteen or fifteen years old.
"Lord Roa?"
Dylan asked softly, his right hand already transformed into a blade-like palm.
"No, no, no."
Roa waved his hands repeatedly. "They're doing a fine job. We're only here to ask for directions."
As he spoke, he took one step forward.
Buzz!
An invisible aura spread outward, and the approaching soldiers collapsed at once, like wheat being cut down.
Feeling the powerful aura rushing toward him, Dylan kept his face calm, but his fists were already clenched in excitement.
Conqueror's Haki!
As expected, Lord Roa was also a supreme ruler who appeared only once in a million people!
It was only natural. Rather, it would have been strange if Lord Roa did not possess Conqueror's Haki!
"I'm sorry."
Roa looked gently at the soldiers sprawled on the ground, nearly unconscious. "Could you take us to meet whoever is in charge here?"
Later.
At the center of the fortress stood a luxurious castle.
Roa stood on the second-floor balcony, silently surveying the scene inside the fortress.
There were no residential buildings in sight. Instead, the fortress contained factory after factory.
Clothing factories, food-processing factories, weapons factories, pharmaceutical factories.
Dark aura rose from each one, creating a magnificent sight.
The only building that did not emit dark aura was one near the fortress gates.
When they entered, the soldier leading them had explained that it was a nursery.
After being born, the children in the fortress were all sent there to be raised collectively until they became useful.
"That's quite a system."
Roa said in amazement.
Both factions in this country had implemented the most thorough military rule possible, with everything under their command serving the war.
To both factions, the civilians were merely bullets to be fired at the enemy.
Those with combat ability became soldiers. Those without combat ability but with relatively high productivity—meaning most adult women—were sent to factories. Those with relatively little productivity were sent to farm and handle logistics.
"Lord Roa, it's done."
Dylan's calm voice came from behind him.
Roa turned and saw Dylan, both hands stained crimson, dragging a bruised and battered man onto the balcony.
"Thanks for the effort, Dylan."
Ever polite, Roa first sincerely thanked his follower.
Only then did he look regretfully at the battered man. "Can you answer my questions now?"
A few minutes earlier, the man had summoned troops and arrogantly declared that he would kill Roa. Now he was as humble as a house dog, prostrated on the ground with his forehead touching the floor and his body trembling constantly. "P-Please, ask anything!"
"Excellent. As expected, communication is the best way to reach an understanding."
Roa nodded in satisfaction. "Do you know a man named Douglas? He should be the commander of a boy-soldier unit."
"Douglas—"
The man paused, then immediately replied, "A-Are you talking about Douglas Gray? I know him, I do! The boy soldiers under his command are constantly active on the front lines. He's quite famous within our army!"
"Wonderful!"
Roa clapped happily. "Then hurry up and take me to someone who can lead me to him!"
Douglas Gray was unimportant. The boy soldier who inherited his surname was what mattered.
Cannons roared. Flames rose amid billowing smoke, while bullets whistled through the air, dancing a metallic storm.
This was a battlefield where two armies clashed.
Amid the chaotic battlefield, Douglas Bullet was charging forward.
He carried a sack of explosives on his shoulder as he charged toward the enemy fortress.
The only seven-year-old boy moved skillfully in a Z-pattern, sometimes rolling and sometimes diving forward. Bullets skimmed past his sides, and shells exploded nearby, yet they were always a step behind him.
The soldiers blocking his path could not even react to his speed. In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance and casually twisted their necks.
Bullet was a boy soldier.
He was an orphan abandoned by his mother. Commander Gray had adopted him, so he was supposed to serve the army as a soldier.
Bullet had no objections.
He had never seen the world outside the army, so he had no desire for it either.
The one thing Bullet desired was the "medal" awarded by Commander Gray.
Medals were awarded only to soldiers who had rendered great service. Every boy soldier yearned for one, because it was not merely an honor—it could also allow boy soldiers to rise to the rank of officer.
For boy soldiers treated as cannon fodder, sent only to lead the charge, step on land mines, or clear the way with explosives, the allure of a medal was irresistible.
Bullet did not particularly care about promotion. He only yearned for that honor.
Having grown up with nothing but weapons at his side, Bullet felt envious whenever he saw those who received medals surrounded and praised by everyone.
He wanted someone to draw close to him, too.
But only one medal was awarded each year.
So Bullet worked harder than anyone.
Far taller and stronger than his peers, Bullet suddenly leaped into the air and threw the sack of explosives into a gap in the fortress.
Boom!
Amid the thunderous blast, the fortress was blown straight into the sky.
As the oncoming shock wave swept over him, Bullet's half-long hair flew high into the air.
The young boy broke into a joyful smile.
He was getting close, wasn't he?
The medal!
The battle came to an end. The boy soldiers left the battlefield early. They were sent to lead the charge, but clearing the battlefield had nothing to do with them, and they could not even dream of claiming any spoils.
The boy soldiers gathered together again, each of them dejected. They had lost nearly a third of their number in that battle, and every survivor was wounded.
Bullet was the only exception. His face was filled with anticipation as he looked forward to the day he would receive his medal.
"Bullet!"
It was Commander Gray's voice.
Bullet abruptly raised his head.
What did the commander want with him?
Could it be that he was going to award him a medal?
Bullet looked over expectantly.
He saw his most respected Commander Gray approaching with two strangers.
One unfamiliar man and one unfamiliar boy.
"Yo! You're Douglas Bullet, right?"
The unfamiliar boy, who looked about the same age as Bullet, smiled and said, "Nice to meet you. From now on, you'll follow me."
Before you continue