Lance Charge on the Arkship, but No Mount

Sasha climbed out from his hiding place, nodded to him in greeting, and walked over.

There was no obvious joy on his face, but judging by his suddenly light footsteps, he was clearly thrilled. The other twenty-nine people, marked with red traces on their bodies, came forward to greet him.

"Sasha, you were incredible!!!"

The white-haired boy rushed over excitedly, grabbed his hand, and jumped up and down like a child seeing his favorite idol.

Ino's expression suddenly changed. "Sasha, why is your hand so cold?"

His hand was as stiff and cold as ice. If Ino had not seen him standing there perfectly fine, he might have thought it was a corpse's hand.

As if he had suddenly realized something, Sasha yanked his hand back.

"It's nothing. Don't forget, my body temperature has always been low. It doesn't affect me." He lowered his head, about to continue, when a warm coat was suddenly draped over him.

He looked up and saw the captain of the other squad. He was a gray-haired Lupo, and a sincere smile appeared on his face as he looked at Sasha.

"You did well, Sasha. You're amazing, but next time, we won't lose!"

"I was just lucky. You didn't manage to catch us. As for you, Aisen, you nearly wiped us all out."

"A loss is a loss. I won't make excuses for myself. If this had been a real war, you would still have won in the end," the other man told him in the stubborn manner characteristic of Siracusans.

The others came over as well, surrounding them and chattering as they congratulated and discussed the match. The winners did not mock the losers, and the losers showed no negative emotions, only a little regret. The atmosphere was jubilant and lively. Even Sasha, whose face rarely showed strong emotional fluctuations, wore a happy smile as he stood surrounded by everyone.

"Has a winner been decided?"

A voice they all knew well and deeply revered rang out. Everyone instinctively turned toward it, raising their right hands to their shoulders and bowing.

"General!!" Their voices were filled with incomparable fervor and awe.

"I told you not to call me General anymore. There are only a few dozen of us in total. Calling me that would only make us a joke." Claude walked over with a helpless smile.

He looked down at Sasha, whose face had gone pale from the cold. The blue-black-haired Fidia boy stiffened all over in excitement when he saw Claude looking at him.

"You did well, soldier. You completed the mission excellently." A faint smile appeared on the boy's face at Claude's words.

"But." His body tensed again.

"Although your achievements were brilliant, and although your actions deserve praise, they should not be encouraged. You nearly froze yourself to death in the snow."

"But sir, I think it was worth it. Even if I had died here today, I achieved enough."

"No, I don't think it was worth it. People who succeed like you are in the minority; most will fail in the end. What you should have done was send the information back and join forces with your comrades to eliminate the enemy. Your life can be preserved for more worthwhile things. Do not throw it away so casually. Tactics like this, gambles with an extremely high failure rate, should not be encouraged." Claude reached out and adjusted the boy's collar.

"Of course, even so, I still want to tell you that you are a soldier who makes me proud."

Sasha instantly became the center of everyone's attention. He could clearly feel the envy and jealousy in those gazes. A rush of heat surged from his chest into his head, making him feel dizzy.

In that floating sensation, he was dragged back to camp by his friend.

"Mr. Claude, you truly are remarkable. In just half a year, you trained such elite warriors."

Talulah stood beside Claude, looking at the elite soldiers in the camp. They wore weapons and armor seized from the patrol force. The Ursus markings had been dug off, and white armbands served as identification.

"We have no craftsmen of our own right now. If we want weapons and equipment, we can only rely on seizures. That puts us at a serious disadvantage." Claude frowned as he looked at the standard-issue Ursus Empire equipment on the soldiers. Its quality was decent, but since it had been seized in battle, it was damaged to varying degrees.

But since they had no craftsmen capable of repairing weapons, they could only make simple repairs and make do with them. This was not a long-term solution. Claude could not help thinking of Master Kowal and Miss Maria in Kazimierz. Both of them possessed outstanding mechanical manufacturing skills and extensive knowledge. But whether he should invite them to such a dangerous place left Claude hesitant.

Moreover, the organization's development required support from all kinds of supplies. During this time, he had developed good relations with the surrounding settlements, whether infected or uninfected, and could buy supplies from them, but they were also desperately short of funds.

The funds keeping them afloat had always come from part of Claude's remaining prize money. Kazimierz's knight competitions really were profitable. Even though Claude had not been the champion, the prize money he had earned earlier was enough to cover all of Master Kowal's expenses, with some left over.

I need to find a way to secure funding. I wonder if I can find someone willing to support us.

"Mr. Claude, you were right. We treated the uninfected according to your methods and won their support. Our cause is thriving now. Our guerrillas can easily find supplies wherever we go, and old Mr. Patriot's attitude toward you seems to have changed as well."

"Well done, Talulah. This is what I told you before. We are merely a spark; the dark reality of the Ursus Empire is the true kindling. All we need to do is ignite it."

"Even if we are ultimately defeated by Ursus's powerful military forces, it would only be like smothering a fire with heaps of kindling. The flames will not truly go out. As long as we struggle in the right way, even if we fail in the end, we will plant that spark in people's hearts. It will always burn again."

"However, Oripathy is a major problem. If we cannot find a way to suppress it, our non-combat losses will be severe."

At the mention of this, Claude's brow furrowed as well. Oripathy was more serious than he had imagined. Last month, one of their soldiers suddenly suffered a sharp worsening of his infection. Before transforming into a massive Originium bomb, he voluntarily ran out of camp and headed into the distance. By the time Claude led a team to find him, all they found were fragments of Originium and scraps of flesh.

Once infected, without Oripathy suppressants, an infected person did not have long to live. Their condition would often suddenly deteriorate at some moment on some day. Without a professional medical team, there was simply no way to save them. All they could do was watch them die.

"You're right, Mr. Claude. We have no stable source of funding, and Oripathy suppressants are extremely expensive. This is an exceptionally difficult problem for us." Talulah lightly tapped the pommel of her longsword with her fingers.

"If it comes to it, we'll rob them."

Talulah nearly lost her footing at those words and staggered.

"Rob them?!" The gray-white-haired Draco girl's golden eyes widened in shock.

"That's right. It might expose our organization early and alert the enemy, and it is not a long-term solution, but it should relieve our immediate needs."

"For example, there's a main Ursus patrol force camp I discovered two days ago. There's a good chance the money they extorted has been gathered there." Claude continued explaining to Talulah.

"O-oh, I see." Talulah looked a little embarrassed.

"So that's how it is." In a hidden place, a mass of black mist floated in the air, and a cold voice emerged from within.

"So ruthless, with no regard for the Empire at all. That person must also be an ancient being. Hmph, his disguise was excellent. He almost fooled me."

From his tone, it seemed that he had suddenly convinced himself and grown a little more confident.

PS: Thank you all for your support. Updates resume from today.

A New Beginning: Joint Operation

"Is that what he said?"

A deep, hoarse voice emerged from his throat. The towering Boccas looked at his daughter. The two of them were currently inside a huge white tent supported by logs. Firewood burned in the cast-iron stove at the center, while the kettle on top whistled as steam continuously poured from its spout.

Patriot held a huge steel mug in his hand, but there was no tea inside. On the resource-starved tundra, one could not ask for much; it held nothing more than hot water. He considered his daughter's words in silence, and only after a while, as though suddenly remembering, did he raise the huge steel mug to his lips and take a sip.

"Yes. Claude wants to join forces with us and attack a patrol force branch." Yelena also held a mug, but it contained not hot water, but a liquid as cold as snow. A temperature that would make anyone else's teeth ache was just right for her.

Claude.

He could not help glancing at his daughter. He was somewhat worried about her growing closeness with Claude. During this time, Yelena had constantly been going to that camp, and whenever she returned, she would often talk about that young man.

"That branch will not be easy to attack. There are at least three hundred patrol force troops inside. Does he have a complete plan?"

"He did not tell me the specifics. He only said that once we arrive, he will tell us the detailed plan."

The towering Wendigo sat on a stool made of logs and began to ponder. He always liked to think quietly by himself. Once he entered that state, he looked like a pitch-black mountain rock that had remained silent there for thousands of years.

"We will take part as well," he suddenly said.

"We will take part as well. It is a place we will have to face eventually. We might as well destroy it while we have this chance," he added.

Yelena nodded, set down her cup, rose, and left to notify Claude.

The entire camp was in motion, and everyone was busy. Warriors in heavy armor used their powerful bodies to load supplies onto transport wagons. The archers checked their arrows, longbows, and crossbows, ensuring nothing would malfunction when fired.

"Move faster. Check your armor and weapons carefully. Don't let them fail you at a critical moment. That will cost you your life." Watson Carl, the Lupo, berated his soldiers and urged them to hurry.

"Don't let debris get into your crossbow mechanisms. It can jam them, prevent them from firing, and damage them." The blue-black-haired Fidia boy stood among his crossbowmen, checking their bolts one by one. Since winning the previous match, Sasha had been appointed commander of the crossbow squad. His squad had ten members, all gifted in shooting. They were now the most important ranged force in this small unit.

"Sasha, are you leaving first?" His closest friend, the white-haired boy, walked over and asked.

"Yes. We need to reach the designated position first and set up an ambush, so we have to leave early." He looked at Ino, who had been appointed commander of the logistics squad due to his outstanding performance in logistics and medical care.

"Then I'll cheer for you, Sasha. Sasha is so amazing, so you'll definitely come back safely this time."

The Fidia boy looked firmly at his close friend and nodded hard.

"Faust, it's time for you to leave. We'll follow right behind you. Don't worry about your good friend; we'll protect him." Watson called Sasha by the codename he had given himself. All of Watson's men were heavily armored warriors armed with tower shields, war hammers, and great axes. Even Watson himself wore thick armor over his unusually sturdy Lupo frame, carrying a long-handled battle axe.

Faust nodded to his comrades and donned his camouflage. His crossbowmen did the same. Wearing only light armor, they rushed toward the front line far faster than their comrades.

Ivan reached into the bucket, scooped up a handful of clean water, and splashed it over his face. He could only enjoy treatment like this indoors. If the bucket had been placed outside, it would freeze into a block of ice in no more than an hour or two, let alone overnight. His name was ordinary, just like that of any ordinary villager on this tundra. Every village had a dozen people named Ivan, but his standard of living far surpassed theirs.

Just like yesterday, he had merely told an old man that he was checking for infected, and the man had been so frightened that he hurriedly handed over his savings. But Ivan had not stopped there. He searched the man's house carefully and, as expected, found more things. Ignoring the old man's desperate pleas, he also took his daughter away for questioning.

He cut off his train of thought, put on his equipment, pushed open the door, and prepared to continue "searching for infected" in the village.

They excitedly left the building and arrived at a small road outside. But before entering it, Ivan suddenly felt that something was wrong. In the past, he would not have worried so much, but now insurgents made up of infected had appeared on the tundra. They attacked important Imperial facilities everywhere and ambushed patrol force teams sent out to search for infected. Although these insurgents would eventually be wiped out under the leadership of the great Emperor of the Ursus Empire, they were still dangerous and terrifying to him right now.

After thinking it over briefly, he led his squad away from the small road and chose the main road, which required a detour, to reach the village.

"They've taken the bait. Notify the captain and tell him to get ready." In the shadows atop the trees, one dark figure spoke to another. The other nodded and took out a radio.

Two hours later, the patrol squad returned to their branch. The guard at the gate joked with them.

"Why are you back so early today? Don't tell me you never went at all and turned back halfway because you got scared."

One squad member made a gesture at him and cursed in Ursus fashion. The guard was not angry. He laughed heartily and stopped paying attention to them.

The squad quickly made their way deeper into the building. Whenever they encountered other patrol force members along the way, one Ursus member of the squad casually brushed them off. Since they all wore the patrol force's distinctive breathing masks, which covered most of their faces, no one noticed their true identities. But their good fortune did not seem to last.

A patrol force officer suddenly walked over and called out to the man leading them.

"Ivan, why are you back so early today? Perfect, I have something to discuss with you." As he drew closer, he suddenly seemed to notice something, and his steps became hesitant.

"Ivan, why did you suddenly get so short?"

As the suspicious words left his mouth, he belatedly sensed that something was wrong with the atmosphere around him. The members of the other squad had surrounded him, studying him with cold eyes.

He immediately panicked, looking around in search of his own people. But he soon watched in horror as one member of the other squad suddenly covered another patrol force member's mouth and drove a sharp dagger into his back. With a hard twist of the blade, the body instantly lost all strength. The blood that gushed out was absorbed by their thick clothing, leaving little on the ground.

Just as he was about to raise the alarm, a powerful arm clamped tightly around his neck. The tremendous force nearly suffocated him, leaving him unable to make a sound. He could only watch helplessly as a dagger was calmly plunged into his chest.

Yakovlev was the commander of this branch. His duty was to clear all worthless infected from this land for the great Emperor. But he was not doing his proper work now; instead, he was sitting in his warm office.

Before him sat buttered bread and a steaming cup of coffee. He enjoyed this breakfast, which would have seemed extremely luxurious to others. After all, these products could not be produced in a place like this. If one wanted them, they had to be transported from other cities. And on this land, transport costs were never cheap.

He picked up an expensive cigar, cut off the end with scissors, and handled it skillfully. He placed it in his mouth, lit it, took a deep puff, and exhaled contentedly before reclining in his genuine leather chair.

This place might not be rich, but his post was undeniably lucrative. He had paid no small price to secure this position. Through his additional "taxes" and "infected management fees," he could rake in a sizable sum every year.

He never cared what happened to the villages under his jurisdiction. In his eyes, they were merely a pack of troublesome peasants. Once he had made enough money, he would transfer away, and what happened afterward would be none of his concern. He had worked tirelessly for the Empire's cause, yet those peasants did not support him and instead opposed him at every turn. This was the fate they deserved.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Who is it?" Someone knocked on the office door.

"Sir, it's Ivan. I have something to report."

Yakovlev did not suspect anything. He slowly replied.

"Just tell me what it is. You don't need to come in and report to me. I'm busy right now."

But as soon as he finished speaking, the door creaked open. Anger rose in his heart, and he looked toward the officer at the door and snapped.

"Are your ears deaf? I told you not to come in!!"

The other man calmly stepped aside, revealing the figure behind him holding a heavy crossbow.

Before Yakovlev's panicked expression could even form, a violet-glowing bolt nailed him to the wall.

A violent explosion suddenly rang out across the branch's square, blasting apart the patrol force soldiers gathered there talking. Other soldiers poked their heads out to look, only to see a halberd embedded in the crater in the square. Before they could react, another thunderous crash came from the main gate. The steel gate fell to the ground, its connections on both sides visibly torn apart by brute force. A towering figure stood there.

He raised his hand and recalled his halberd. Blinding red light spilled from his eye sockets, revealing a savage killing intent.

The other patrol force soldiers stared at the figure in terror. No soldier on this tundra was unfamiliar with that name. He was the patrol force's nightmare—Boccas.

With a wave of his hand, countless heavily armored warriors behind him surged forward like an unstoppable tide. In their despair, the defenders decided to fight to the death, but before they could reach cover, arrows fired from behind threw them into confusion. Some tried to contact their officers, but no sound came from their radios.

Caught in a pincer attack between Patriot's guerrillas and the crossbowmen, the leaderless patrol force was completely wiped out after only a brief resistance. Even the deliberately dispatched Yeti Squad never had a chance to act.

The squad's soldiers were clearing the battlefield, taking every useful supply, whether armor, weapons, food, or water. They did not have much time. Although they could ensure that the troops here had not sent out any message, their current strength could not withstand any gamble. They needed to pack everything up and leave as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, Claude looked at the opened safe and marveled at the astonishing corruption of this country's lower-ranking officials. This haul far exceeded his expectations. In his estimation, a branch of this size should not have possessed so much money, especially since this land was notorious for being barren.

With a wave of his hand, the soldiers beside him immediately gathered everything from the safe and packed it into bags.

He turned and looked at Boccas beside him.

"So, Mr. Patriot, even if you have not accepted my methods, we now have a foundation for cooperation, don't we?"

Patriot looked down at the young man before him, at his outstretched hand and gentle smile. After hesitating slightly, he extended his broad palm and grasped Claude's hand.