John did not stay long at the victory banquet. After everyone swarmed him and forced several beers down his throat, he publicly commended each person for their contributions to the battle. Then, while the others resumed their contest to determine the king of drinkers, he quietly slipped away from the crowd.
After heading to the celebration site where Siegfried and the soldiers were gathered and following the same routine to praise several soldiers who had fought bravely in the Iron Horse Mountain Campaign, John, slightly tipsy from being plied with drinks, made his way to the stern of the Horst Battleship.
Splash!
The hot, damp sea wind struck his face and stirred his hanging hair. Leaning against the railing, he gazed with dark eyes toward the distant Starry Coast.
At the enormous gray-black pool exposed beneath the lights of their patrols on the shore, like a bottomless abyss.
At the edge of Starry Coast, clearly reflected in his vision through the magnifying effect of the Magic Eye.
At the mountain-like pile of corpses that their soldiers had carried and stacked together, which dozens of flame mages had burned for an entire afternoon, yet which still remained piled high.
At that moment, John could not help falling silent.
He had anticipated this scene when preparing the plan, and had even left early during the post-battle cleanup so he would not have to dwell on the deaths that had truly occurred.
But after seeing the exact casualty figures calculated by Lunebo for both sides, he still clearly realized something.
Because of his orders, at least fifty thousand people from both sides had been completely buried on this battlefield.
Not fifty people, nor five hundred.
Fifty thousand.
A full fifty thousand!
"..."
He looked at the gray faces in his field of vision,