Lance Charge on the Arkship, but No Mount

The girl's eyes lit up at once. Her answer was obvious.

"Then how do you plan to become a general? You aren't a noble. If you want to rise through the ranks in the military, you'll need several times more military merit—and, most importantly, a superior who won't embezzle your achievements. Do you know how much luck that takes?"

Watching the hesitant girl, Claude continued.

"Also, do you know what the Ursus military does besides fighting other countries?"

"You don't know, but I've seen far too much. On the snowfields in northwestern Ursus, village after village was razed to the ground. Civilians were hanged from the beams of their own homes. Children froze to death in the snow because they no longer had their parents' protection. Countless Infected were sent into the mines. They had no food to fill their stomachs, no clothing to keep out the cold. Most didn't survive more than a few months, but that didn't matter, because Ursus had no shortage of Infected. Every day, a constant stream of people became Infected and were sent into the mines. Batch after batch of Infected was sent into those mines, and every piece of Originium they extracted was stained with their blood and lives. Their suffering souls wailed within it through endless nights. I've seen this far too many times. Were they not citizens of Ursus? Then who turned them into this?"

"I saw their suffering. I saw the deep misery and chaos of this country. So I wanted to change it. At the time, it might have seemed like nothing more than my arrogant ramblings, but I would have done it without hesitation. Now, I can also say that it is no longer absolutely impossible. But from beginning to end, I have been able to tell anyone openly and with a clear conscience: what I am doing is right."

Stars seemed to glimmer in the young man's eyes, so dazzling that they did not dare meet his gaze.

"I've told you all this because, ultimately, I want you to understand that we are not some terrorist organization. And don't go thinking about saving the world or anything. Students are the most likely to get carried away in the heat of the moment."

An hour later, Claude rose to his feet. Only after looking at the dark clouds that the mobile city had left far behind did he finally relax completely. He turned back toward the two girls before him, both of whom wore thoughtful expressions.

"All right, it's time to eat. Our people will bring the food over soon. Keep your students under control, and don't let them cause trouble. If bloodshed breaks out, we will use force. You should go back and prepare to eat as well. Sorry for making you stand in the cold for so long."

"You are too kind, sir. Your words today have benefited me greatly." Natalia, with her long, fluffy white curls, looked seriously at Claude with her beautiful red-and-blue eyes, then bowed in a noble's salute.

"You're an amazing person. I can't compare to you." Donia looked at Claude just as seriously.

"No need for such courtesy. We will be managing this city from now on. I sincerely hope outstanding young people like you can join our cause, and I also sincerely hope more people can come to understand our ideals."

Claude fastened his cloak tighter. The evening sunset softened his deep-set features. After formally bidding the two students farewell, he walked back among the Iron Guard.

"Sir, Rhodes Island sent word five minutes ago. Their Doctor has awakened."

Claude, in a fairly good mood and about to have dinner with his subordinates, was suddenly told this by Char. This unexpected good news made him abandon that plan. Rhodes Island's camp was rather far from here, and he would probably miss dinner if he walked there, so he had Char find a car.

Most of the Iron Guard returned to camp under his orders. Only Char and five squad leaders stayed behind. Otherwise, there would not have been enough room in the off-road vehicle.

Claude rarely had the chance not to drive himself. He sat in the back seat, while his guard captain Char sat in the driver's seat, driving while carefully watching their surroundings. After all, they had only just taken this city. It was difficult to say whether any resistance forces remained. Still, overall, he was quite excited.

From today onward, the Infected had a true home.

Rise of the Reunion Movement: The Interesting Doctor

Centaurea looked over the city beneath the setting sun. Every fire had already been extinguished. At this moment, the entire city possessed a peaceful, tranquil atmosphere. The clusters of buildings that resembled tombstones somehow even looked a little cute now. Under the arrangements of a tight and efficient command system, soldiers patrolled the city in an orderly fashion, leaving no corner unchecked. They had been granted every necessary authority and stood ready to stop any act of sabotage at any time.

The city did not look as though it had just gone through a war. Even the most experienced elder, after seeing it, would tell others that this place was peaceful and orderly.

Even the Ursus military police who had just surrendered were issued necessary winter clothing and hot food to keep them from freezing or starving to death. The reckoning against those guilty within this city had already begun. Officials and nobles, gang leaders, and people of that sort would all have their crimes investigated. This was not a one-time operation, but a long-term undertaking, intended to prevent oppression and injustice from taking root in this city again as much as possible.

All investigation results would be made public to every resident of the city in a few days, whether Infected or non-Infected. Those who deserved death would be publicly executed. In Claude's plan, this measure could effectively win over the people of the city. Even if non-Infected residents and the Infected loathed one another, that situation could not be resolved overnight. But no one failed to hate those high-and-mighty oppressors and criminals.

In just one day, more than ten thousand Infected had sought to join them. The war had barely ended when the mobilized Infected packed the Reunion Movement's recruitment stations, all demanding to join the Reunion Movement. Their eyes no longer held the ashes of despair, but shone with hope.

Of course, they would not directly join the Reunion Movement as soldiers. They did not know anything yet, and on the battlefield, they would only be slaughtered. The Reunion Movement's instructors selected among them. Candidates who were strong, physically fit, and free from serious illnesses would become recruits. After half a year of training camp and gaining basic combat proficiency, they would become the backbone of the Reunion Movement.

Those who were not selected would become the Reunion Movement's logistical force. They lacked the physical ability and talent needed to survive on the battlefield, and the Reunion Movement had never existed through war alone. The Reunion Movement needed the support of the people. Without those who worked in factories and fields, they could not possibly win any war.

At that moment, Centaurea was adjusting the string of her longbow. During today's battle, her arrows had killed three commanders in succession, completely severing Chernobog's remaining chain of command and leaving the military police who still had considerable numbers with no possibility of resistance.

Yet what she had done would not earn her a large monetary reward. No one would pay for the deaths of those commanders. If someone had told Centaurea a few years ago that one day she would fight without being forced to and without being paid, she would certainly have thought them mad. Who would do something so dangerous without receiving compensation?

Claude had still offered her the salary and bonus they had agreed upon, but this time she refused. She looked at the Infected who had been liberated because of them and cheered for them with joy. She watched the tide-like masses of soldiers surround Claude and his officers. Not one of them demanded high compensation. The only thing they could gain from this war was the honor of being soldiers, yet none of them felt dissatisfied, because they knew they had gained something more precious than money.

Centaurea envied those passionate warriors. She keenly realized that she should no longer deceive herself with that excuse. She had not remained at Claude's side for money. What she sought was far more than money. She wanted something greater, something better. She wanted, like those soldiers, to possess true honor instead of being a hyena chasing money. She wanted genuine ideals. She wanted the love and admiration of others. She also wanted...

"Centaurea?"

As though someone had caught her doing something, she became flustered, and even her ears turned red. Yet her excellent balance still kept her steady on the edge of the high-rise building. With a touch of embarrassed anger, she turned toward the culprit—a Draco girl with twisted horns.

"I didn't expect to see you here. Have you seen Claude? After the battle ended, he vanished somewhere. The electromagnetic interference caused by the Catastrophe has also made it impossible for us to contact him through our communicators."

"No. That guy has always been mysterious like this. He always has plans of his own. If you don't ask him directly, all you can do is wait until the plans are truly settled and he tells everyone."

"I'll go ask Mr. Boccas. The two of them are always close. Maybe he knows where Claude is."

"Everything has already been settled. Why are you in such a hurry to find him?"

An inexplicable emotion drove Centaurea to say those words. It felt unfamiliar to her, carrying a trace of unease and a measure of anticipation. She was waiting for the other girl's answer.

"I think you should know. He promised to teach me swordsmanship, and he's put it off for a long time."

Talulah answered as though it were only natural, but Centaurea felt an emotion rise within her. She knew exactly what it was. She could hide it from others, but she could not deceive herself. It was jealousy. She was jealous of the Draco before her, and that feeling frightened her terribly because it revealed a truth she had always avoided.

Talulah watched Centaurea's rapidly changing expression thoughtfully. A guess gradually formed in her mind, and her blunt personality made her say it outright.

"Could it be... you like Claude?"

"!!!"

Talulah rarely saw this efficient and elegant archer wear such an expression. Her delicate, fair face was flushed unnaturally red beneath the sunset, her pale golden eyes wide with panic. Her expression perfectly embodied the phrase "giving oneself away."

Centaurea did not understand why she was so flustered, but like someone drowning and desperately grabbing at anything, she instinctively launched a counterattack.

"Don't you like him too?!"

The blow was indeed effective. It successfully made the Draco reveal a thoughtful expression. The tough but somewhat inflexible girl seriously considered the question. She carefully thought through everything that had happened between herself and Claude over the past few years, every little interaction between them, and her own attitude toward him.

Then she came to a vague conclusion.

"You must be mistaken. I don't have those feelings for Claude. We are comrades resisting oppression and injustice. I deeply admire his actions and character, but I have not noticed any feelings for Mr. Claude that go beyond that."

"Really??"

Centaurea immediately went on the offensive, revealing a teasing expression. Talulah, who had always been unyielding, actually felt somewhat guilty at that moment. She did not know where that feeling came from, but she did not show it and chose to trust her conclusion.

"Of course."

"Forget it. Don't go spreading this around!"

Centaurea did not want to continue entangling herself in the matter, so after leaving those words behind, she leaped straight from the rooftop. In the instant she fell, she stretched out a hand and accurately caught the window frame, flipped into the room, and vanished in the blink of an eye.

Only a somewhat dazed Talulah remained on the rooftop.

Doctor was how this person was addressed. He could not remember his actual name. He knew nothing in response to Claude's questions, which disappointed Claude slightly. But during their conversation, Claude keenly discovered that this Doctor possessed an acute instinct for war—or perhaps it should not be called instinct. Claude's experience told him that this so-called instinct was more the result of summarizing and organizing experience than innate talent.

He could not determine the Doctor's gender. The Doctor wore a thick white coat and outerwear, along with a hood and mask that concealed every inch of skin. Yet the Doctor was not particularly tall, and their frame was rather slender. They spoke through a voice device inside the mask, producing a hoarse, androgynous voice. This was also a complete Rhodes Island secret, and they could offer him no answer.

Still, talking with the Doctor was a pleasant experience. The Doctor always patiently listened to others and offered opinions in an appropriate manner. They were a listener who could easily form good relationships with others and was highly skilled at making use of their own strengths. The two were speaking enthusiastically, and the topic soon shifted to military matters.

Claude also discovered something remarkable. Although the Doctor claimed to have amnesia, their knowledge had not been forgotten. They could still accurately name military terminology and strategies, and could identify the key point in a complex situation with pinpoint precision at any moment. Their brain was like a sophisticated computer, capable of considering every aspect of a problem. To them, war was the art of calculation: if every step was executed perfectly, down to the second, the greatest possible results could be achieved.

Claude's philosophy of war differed somewhat from the Doctor's. He did not agree with commanders engaging in excessively meticulous control. Such tactics completely stripped soldiers of their initiative, treating them as expendable goods and tools. It was torture for both commanders and soldiers. A commander's duty in war should be to oversee the whole picture, entrust suitable tasks to suitable people, and believe in the abilities of their soldiers. A commander's true role was merely to gather all of their side's strength and use it in the most appropriate place.

The two discussed matters for a long time, so long that Claude forgot about returning for dinner. It was only when the Originium energy streetlights automatically lit up according to their programming that he realized what time it was. Rhodes Island's squad had returned to camp and begun rotating with the next squad. There were many wounded in the medical department's camp. Many were Infected whose Oripathy had worsened because they had overused their Originium Arts today, and they had been promptly sent here. The medical team was busy as well.

Claude stood to take his leave. The Doctor also rose to see him off, but their legs weakened and they nearly fell. Their body was still too frail. That long conversation had nearly exhausted all their strength, and Claude hurriedly pressed them back down.

The Doctor's amnesia was something he had not expected. He even began to wonder whether he had damaged something when he put the Doctor's soul back into their body. Otherwise, he had never heard of someone coming out of a life-support device with amnesia. But he had been certain that he had made no mistake at the time. To be safe, he had even specifically set up runes to slow the process, all so the soul could enter that body completely intact. If it was not damage to the soul, then it might be a problem with the brain.

When it came to that, Claude had no way to help. He could only hope the Doctor would recover their memories someday and confirm some of the guesses and doubts in Claude's heart.

"I'll take my leave now, Doctor. I look forward to working with you in the future."

"Mr. Claude, your thoughts on squad composition have also given me a great deal of inspiration. I too look forward to more opportunities to seek your guidance."

"If you don't mind, please accept this."

Claude took a hardwood amulet from his belt pouch. It had a hole threaded with black silk, allowing it to be worn around the neck. Carved upon it were two overlapping triangles at the center of a circle. It looked unremarkable, like the most ordinary trinket from a street stall. But after speaking with Kal'tsit, the Doctor knew that the man before them was far from simple. He possessed a power unheard of on this land—powerful and mysterious. This amulet could not possibly be so simple.

After hesitating slightly, the Doctor reached out and accepted the gift.

"Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Claude."

"You're welcome, Doctor. Remember to carry it with you wherever you go. It will be very useful to you in your current state. If it is ever damaged, please tell me promptly."

"I understand."

The Doctor nodded. For some reason, they had always been willing to trust the person before them. And those words had also revealed some unusual information.

"Then go back and rest, Doctor. We both have our duties to fulfill, but I believe our goals must be the same. You must be a kind and upright person."

In the nighttime Chernobog, Claude returned to his army.

Rise of the Reunion Movement: Shadow of the Empire

With a turn of the wrist, the blade of the longsword went behind his back and blocked an attack coming from behind. Sparks flew as the training swords collided. His feet crossed slightly, and he took a small step aside, evading a thrust aimed at his abdomen. Then, following the other man's blade, he slashed into his opponent's stomach.

The thick training armor let out a muffled thud, but it could not withstand the tremendous force. The man who had been struck immediately fell to the ground, clutching his abdomen, unable to catch his breath for some time.

But his companions did not dare lose focus in the slightest. The remaining three still circled their target in the middle, moving slowly, their sword tips cautiously leveled at him.

Time passed with tense slowness. At a certain moment, the three attacked at once. One unleashed a powerful downward slash aimed straight at the target's head. One used a plain, direct thrust at the target's broadest area, the chest. The last swung his sword at the target's knees.

The three attacks were launched almost simultaneously. For anyone wielding a sword, this was a dangerous situation. Though the attacks seemed straightforward, each attacker held back part of their strength, waiting for their shared opponent to respond before changing their moves.

Then everything ended in a flash.

The heavy downward slash was struck hard along the flat of its blade by another longsword. The remaining strength the wielder had held back was forced out by the impact, and his blade chopped directly into the floor. Meanwhile, the other sword sprang up from his own blade like a deadly viper and tapped against his helmet.

The thrust aimed at the chest was caught in an instant by the opponent, who trapped the blade in the right angle between his crossguard and sword body, then slid it toward his wrist. To save his fingers, he had no choice but to withdraw his sword. But then the opponent's shoulder slammed hard into his chest, making him stagger two steps, before his neck was seized and he was violently thrown. At the same time, the sword aimed at the knees was stepped on with terrifying speed. His fingers were trapped between the ground and the sword hilt. As he struggled desperately, a shadow fell over him, and then two bodies collided and rolled into a heap.

Only one person remained standing in the entire field. He removed his helmet, revealing a handsome face.

"All right. Fall in."

The soldiers removed their heavy training armor and quickly formed a single column. There were only twenty of them, but a closer look would reveal that every one was a tall, powerfully built elite soldier with sharp eyes. Those twenty men had just surrounded and attacked their general together, only to be defeated by him in less than a minute. Yet there was not the slightest hint of disappointment in their eyes. To them, Claude achieving this was only natural. They had long known the outcome of this match.

They were the legion's Iron Guard, and only they were qualified to have Claude spend time personally instructing them each day.

"When I knocked down the ninth person, you were clearly thrown into some panic. It was only a momentary disruption in formation, but against a true powerhouse, that would be enough for them to seize the opportunity. And you must remember one thing: panic is contagious. When you feel the unease of your comrades, you will become uneasy as well, and that will create openings. So you must not only wear steel upon your bodies—you must turn your hearts into steel as well. Only then can you truly be called Iron Guard."

"Trust your comrades. Only by standing united can you be called Iron Guard. No matter what weapons you use, heavy armor always has an advantage over light armor on the battlefield. More people have an advantage over fewer people. Well-trained troops have an advantage over a rabble. So trust your comrades absolutely. Only then can you gain the advantage on the battlefield."

Claude's instruction continued for a long time. They were all officers among the Iron Guard, and afterward they would need to teach what they had learned to their own soldiers. How much the soldiers could learn depended on how much they themselves had learned, so Claude's instruction was extremely meticulous. He did not train them merely by the standards of officers, but by the standards of generals. He hoped each of them would someday be able to stand alone and become the backbone of the Iron Guard Legion that would inevitably appear on this land in the future.

He would teach each officer individually, giving detailed guidance based on their coordination with comrades in battle, personal performance, tactical mind, and other aspects, with the care of someone crafting a work of art.

This would be his legion, and he was slowly cultivating it, allowing it to grow stronger and stronger until it became powerful enough to destroy everything that stood in their way.

"Hiss... Hoo..."

Deep, slow breathing sounded beneath the mask. The tall black figure looked upon the city, which had become completely different. Every part of his body was black, save for the red longsword at his waist, which stood out conspicuously.

His heavy black coat fell to his calves, tightly wrapping his body. The helmet's scarlet lenses emitted a chilling glow. Numerous tubes connected his head and shoulders, making him look like a monster altered through biotechnology.

The Emperor's Inner Guard—the most terrifying monsters in Ursus—was now filled with doubts. The plan had proceeded very smoothly at the start. Perhaps too smoothly. The Reunion Movement had occupied the city as planned, but that was all. That was the entirety of the plan that had gone smoothly. Everything afterward had slipped beyond control.

There had been no massacre in the city. The Reunion Movement's soldiers were not the ordinary Infected recruited on the spot in the plan, people without any discipline or quality who would create horrifying massacres in the city out of hatred. Nor had the city remained to welcome the arrival of the Catastrophe as planned. It had activated and moved away from the dangerous region seven hours before the Catastrophe descended.

Chernobog's core district had not been separated either, nor had it been sent crashing into Lungmen of Yan.

Thus far, they had gained nothing. Instead, the Empire had lost a city and all the people upon it for nothing, allowing those lowly Infected to take it.

But he had no reason to doubt Duke Koschei's wisdom, so he did not believe that an error had occurred. He thought perhaps that lord intended to alter his plan. But just in case, he still decided to ask. After all, if they paid such a terrible price yet gained nothing, it would be no different from digging out a piece of the Empire's bone and allowing the wound to keep bleeding.

The next moment, he vanished into a cloud of black mist.

Within Chernobog's towering communications tower, the Inner Guard obtained an opportunity to contact Duke Koschei. Using the signal tower's powerful communication capabilities, he sent his message out, then silently waited for a response. A large pool of blood had gathered beneath his feet, and six Reunion Movement soldiers lay on the ground. They had been the guards of this communications tower. Though well-trained, they were no match for an Inner Guard. Dealing with them had required no more effort from him than opening a door.

By the Inner Guard's precise sense of time, fifteen minutes passed before he received his reply. The reply was exceedingly brief, but its contents made him question his own eyes, so he could not help reading it again.

"THE PLAN HAS BEEN EXPOSED. EXECUTE TALULAH IMMEDIATELY."

An urge to ask questions arose within him, but he suppressed it in time. He knew very well what he should do now. He was an Inner Guard of the Empire. What he should do was obey orders. His mind immediately began operating at high speed. Inner Guards were not merely powerful war machines; they also possessed keen intellects.

The target was currently in the camp. Assassinating her would be somewhat difficult. She was not a helpless little girl, and there was also Boccas, a troublesome opponent. If he encountered that powerful warrior, it would be difficult for him to escape unscathed. But she was human, and humans always had moments of weakness. He could strike while she slept or rested, then leave this place immediately after succeeding and await his next orders.

What he needed was a complete plan. He believed he could execute it perfectly.

Looking at the six soldiers whose hearts had been pierced through, Claude wiped the blood from his hands. These soldiers had clearly discovered the enemy, but they had not had time to sound any alarm. That enemy had not even dealt with their bodies, as though he did not care in the slightest about exposing his existence to his foes.