The Empire's Torrential Rain

"All that has gone before is a prologue."

At the Walden Front of the Norman Empire, within the temporary camp of the 14th Mage Soldier Mobile Squad under the Imperial Seventh Air Force.

Watching the relentless downpour outside the window, John Maslow suddenly recalled this classic line from the great writer Shakespeare in his previous life.

But unlike the broad-minded sentiment the literary giant had hoped people would grasp, John was filled with nothing but despair and bitterness.

Because as far as he was concerned, nothing could possibly be worse than his current situation.

He had originally been a young man of the new era living in the twenty-first century, spending every day shuttling between his workplace, foot massage parlors, and urban villages.

Just seven hours ago, after being scolded at work all day and left physically and mentally exhausted, he had gone to his usual roadside stall for pork trotter rice. He had planned to soothe his wounded heart with food while scrolling through the suggestive new videos posted by the "living Buddhas" he followed online.

But before he could even take a bite, a huge truck flashing with magic circles had rammed him headfirst into this damned otherworld, turning him into a rookie commander on the battlefield.

Most importantly, after sorting through the memories in his mind, he realized that this otherworld was not unfamiliar to him at all.

It was the setting of a single-player sandbox game he often played, called Fall of the Empire. Even his appearance and name were exactly the same as John Maslow, the character he had created in the game.

The difference was that, unlike in the game, he was not in the Allied Forces camp of the main storyline. He was part of the Imperial Army being crusaded against.

Simply put, he had become a villain.

More precisely, he was probably the kind of villain who, ten years from now, would be forced to die alongside the Emperor after the Empire's defeat.

"Bang!"

"What kind of joke is this, you bastard?!"

Overwhelmed by grief and indignation, John slammed his fist onto the wooden table before him. He practically wanted to start cursing on the spot.

Unlike the online users from his previous life who dreamed of traveling to another world to enjoy themselves, John, having experienced the vibrant and diverse life of the twenty-first century, had never entertained such thoughts.

Especially not traveling to this godforsaken game world and becoming a sacrificial offering to the Empire in a hopeless opening.

Sure, the author of Fall of the Empire had an utterly chaotic assortment of tastes. They had crammed practically every fantasy element imaginable into the game without restraint—beast-eared girls, seductive uniforms, everything was there.

But whenever John thought of how, ten years from now, the nearly ten-million-strong Allied Forces army, their terrifying skyborne warships that could blot out the heavens, and the overwhelmingly powerful protagonist party would crush the Empire, forcing him to shoot himself under the watch of a secret unit, he wanted nothing more than to grab a bucket and run.

But as a veteran player of this game, he knew perfectly well how the Empire treated deserters.

If he actually tried it, he would probably meet his end long before the day the Empire fell.

He could not run, and staying with the Empire meant inevitable defeat beneath the protagonist party's terrifying plot armor.

Either way, he was dead. What the hell was the point of playing this?

Thinking of that, John slumped weakly into his chair, looking utterly devoid of hope.

But soon enough, clever as he was, he found himself a way out.

Retirement!

He had to retire as an officer within ten years!

That way, even if the Empire was defeated in the end, he could still survive as a civilian.

Then, with the knowledge from his previous life and his advantage of knowing the game's plot, he could become a wealthy man and lie flat for the rest of his days!

"Retirement. That's right, retirement!"

Like a fish on the verge of dying from thirst taking its first sip of urine in its life, John, having found a path forward, instantly widened his eyes.

But before he could carefully consider his future retirement plan, the sound of a door opening interrupted his thoughts, followed by a slightly cold voice.

"Captain John, we have been stationed at this temporary base for a full seven hours, yet I have not received any instructions from you regarding the squad's next move. Do you have anything to say about that?" A young woman with chestnut-colored, ear-length short hair entered John's sight. She was beautiful, dressed in a black-and-gold Imperial Mage Soldier uniform. Her azure eyes were filled with anger and disgust, while her thin cherry-colored lips were tightly pressed together, as though she were doing her utmost to suppress her dissatisfaction.

John had some impression of this young woman. Her name was Wendy Brown.

She was the vice-captain of the thirty-person mobile Mage Soldier squad currently under his command, holding the rank of sergeant first class.

She was two ranks below him. In the game's fixed beginner background, he had graduated from the Military Academy and entered the army directly as the captain of an Air Force mobile Mage Soldier squad, starting with the rank of warrant officer. Nominally, she was his subordinate.

But she clearly did not think much of this superior who had been parachuted in, nor did she show him the proper respect. She could even be said to despise him.

John, who had been a proper corporate workhorse in his previous life, could understand that completely.

After all, we were always the ones doing the dirty and exhausting work. Not only did we get no benefits, but some well-connected brat got to sit above us. If it were him, he would also badmouth that backdoor-dealing bastard behind his back.

Of course, with his slick personality, John would never make it as obvious as she did. Being given the cold shoulder by a superior was no pleasant experience.

But that did not stop John from appreciating this young woman.

After all, his future plan for glorious retirement could not succeed without such a fine subordinate.

But for now, as her senior, he would properly teach this young junior the lessons she needed to learn in the workplace. Heh heh heh!

John maliciously muttered to himself. He calmly adjusted his collar, then assumed the posture of the dog-like bosses from his previous life and spoke unhurriedly.

"Wendy Brown, is it? Why didn't you knock before entering? I recall the Military Academy teaching basic etiquette. Even if you have already become a sergeant first class, you should not forget such rules. Have your years of military service made you forget that you must show respect to your superior at all times?"

"I..."

"For my question, you only need to answer yes or no. Is it possible that, as a veteran, you still do not understand a rule that every soldier should know? Frankly, that makes me start doubting the standards of your squad."

Facing Wendy's flushed face, John wore a mocking smile. Then, without hesitation, he humiliated her again.

"Now, get out immediately. Knock on the door, then wait for my reply. Do you understand, Sergeant First Class Wendy?"

"...Yes!"

Under John's cold gaze, Wendy ultimately lowered her head in humiliation. Suppressing the urge to beat him senseless, she obediently walked out of the room. After taking a deep breath, she viciously knocked on the door, then looked darkly toward her nominal superior.

"Knock, knock!"

"Enter!"

Ignoring the resentment radiating so strongly from Wendy that it was practically tangible, John calmly poured himself a cup of coffee and took a leisurely sip.

What a joke. It was not as though he had never faced this sort of thing before. In his previous life, when he had stayed up for three days straight revising company proposals as an elite corporate workhorse, his resentment had been far greater than Wendy's was now. He had even wanted to kill his boss.

And this woman wanted to intimidate him with that expression just because he had humiliated her a little?

At the end of the day, even if this young woman was a veteran who killed without blinking, she was still a newcomer to the workplace. She simply did not understand that one rank higher was enough to crush someone to death.

Otherwise, if she had even a little sense, she would probably already be groveling at his feet.

Not turning back until you hit a wall was a common bad habit among workplace newcomers. Once she got beaten bloody by capitalism's iron fist, she would understand how to submit.

Sure enough, she was still too young!

John looked at Wendy with faint sentimentality. Without saying anything, he left her standing there for a while longer. Only after finishing his coffee did he speak again.

"Not bad. You actually know to report only after receiving permission from your superior. It seems you are not quite as foolish as I thought. Now then, Sergeant First Class Wendy, you may formally deliver your report."

(End of Chapter)