After the Allied Forces' Anti-Magic Device was destroyed, the Imperial Seventh Air Force, no longer facing any threat, launched a fierce offensive under the orders of commanders at every level. With unstoppable momentum, they completely repelled three Allied Forces legions within two hours and seized control of the Walden Region in one stroke. After assigning attached army units to conduct post-battle cleanup and inventory in the occupied territory, the victorious Seventh Air Force returned to camp and held a long-overdue celebration that very night.
When John opened his eyes in the tent again, it was already noon the next day.
At that moment, commanders of every rank from the Seventh Air Force lay sprawled all over the tent.
The air was thick with the overpowering stench of alcohol and sweaty feet. It was enough to knock anyone senseless.
It seemed the month-long stalemate had finally been resolved, giving these bastards a chance to vent all the frustration they had been bottling up.
So at last night's banquet, even those officers who were usually stern and reserved had completely cut loose.
Even Battalion Commander Olaf, whom John remembered as the most old-fashioned of them all,
had jumped onto a table at the height of his drunken revelry and demonstrated one of his signature tricks for everyone: opening bottles with his ass.
And with the sheer power of his buttocks, he single-handedly brought the entire party to its climax.
As the greatest contributor to the victory, John had not only received praise from officers at every level, but had also been the one forced to drink the most.
After watching his commanding officer's signature stunt, he had completely blacked out. He could not remember anything that happened afterward.
The massive amount of alcohol he had consumed left him with a splitting headache even after waking up, and he felt utterly drained.
Especially when he thought about how his carefully planned job-hopping scheme had been completely ruined by that damned fate.
And how he himself had now firmly earned the label of an Imperial lackey.
He became even more despondent.
This was absolute hell!
Looking at the half-naked men before him, lying on the ground in nothing but underwear and snoring away while occasionally muttering things like, "Drink up," and "Another round," John could not help sighing inwardly.
But after staying silent for a while, he still picked up his warrant officer uniform from the corner, put it on, and dragged his exhausted body outside.
The smell in the tent was truly unbearable. Compared to sitting in this shitty tent and thinking about where his future lay, he felt that getting some fresh air might sharpen his mind.
"Tap, tap!"
After leaving the tent, John began wandering aimlessly through the outpost.
Perhaps because many Allied Forces remnants remained in the Walden Region and required Mage Soldiers to help suppress them, there were not many people in the outpost, making it feel rather empty.
John walked for quite a while and encountered only a few unfamiliar soldiers who respectfully greeted him.
Retirement had failed, and switching sides had failed too.
What the hell was I supposed to do next?
Damn it, had the Goddess of Misfortune spotted me when I transmigrated here? Otherwise, why was I so ridiculously unlucky?
But although this world had magic and Beastfolk in the game's setting, there had never been any mention of gods.
Maybe I should build an altar later, greet the Three Pure Ones Patriarch, and try to get rid of this bad luck.
They were my ancestors, after all. They would not screw me over like foreign gods, right?
John pondered silently. Just as he tried to recall the exact procedures for a Daoist blessing ritual, the sound of gunfire by his ear snapped him out of his thoughts.
Curious, he walked toward the source of the shots. When he arrived, he discovered that he had reached the shooting range behind the outpost.
A figure he knew very well stood in the center of the range, holding a large revolver that John remembered as an M500 level in her raised right hand, carefully aiming at a target one hundred meters away.
As though she had calculated the firing angles in advance, she rapidly pulled the trigger several times the next second.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The six gunshots nearly overlapped, and the sounds of bullets striking the target rang out simultaneously a moment later.
All six bullets hit the target at once, with no discernible order between them, each one precisely landing in the central bullseye.
There was not the slightest deviation. The shots were so accurate that they seemed more like the work of a high-precision machine than a human being.
It was simply astonishing!
"Clap, clap, clap!"
John could not help applauding. His sudden clapping startled the figure, who had been concentrating on inspecting her results. She turned around in confusion, then immediately broke into a delighted smile when she saw that it was John.
"Captain? You're awake!"
"Not bad shooting, Wendy. No wonder Battalion Commander Olaf appointed you vice-captain. Though you're still far behind me." Of course, John was talking complete bullshit.
When he had created his current game character, he had received perfect shooting scores in the character's backstory.
But that applied only to John Maslow, the character. John himself had merely been a corporate slave living in a peaceful era. Forget shooting—he had only ever seen firearms on television. How could he possibly compare with Wendy, a five-year veteran?
Of course, that did not stop him from bragging in front of his subordinate.
He was the officer. Whatever he said was right.
"Hehe, thanks for the compliment, Captain! I'll work harder from now on and strive to surpass you soon!"
Rather than getting angry, Wendy looked at her captain with open admiration.
After the missions of the past two days, she had developed unconditional trust in her wise and mighty Captain John.
Forget John saying he was a better shot than her. Even if he claimed he could perform Battalion Commander Olaf's signature trick of opening bottles with his ass, she would absolutely believe him!
"Cough, cough. Speaking of which, Wendy, didn't 14th Squad have no mission? Why did you suddenly come here to practice shooting?"
Seeing this foolish girl looking at him with complete trust and not doubting his shooting skills in the slightest, even John felt his face grow hot. He hurriedly changed the subject, while secretly thinking that he needed to find time to practice shooting in the future.
Otherwise, if this idiot Wendy ever asked him to demonstrate top-tier marksmanship for the other members of 14th Squad and he fired completely off target, he would be humiliated beyond belief.
"No, it's just that I'm used to practicing every day, so I came to train a little. After all, our missions are all very important, and I want to become stronger too."
That way, I would not have to helplessly watch you walk into danger for the mission again, like yesterday.
Wendy said those final words only in her heart. Whenever she thought of how she, the self-proclaimed backbone of the squad, had failed to protect her captain yesterday and could only watch as he faced thousands of enemy soldiers alone, buying 14th Squad the opportunity to destroy the Anti-Magic Device,
her right hand tightened unconsciously around the grip of her gun.
Even though General Dormammu had made preparations in advance and assigned Colonel Jett to protect the captain.
Even though she knew that in a situation like yesterday's, only the brilliantly intelligent Captain John could have accomplished it alone.
Even though everyone in 14th Squad was cheering for their victory.
Wendy knew.
At the end of the day, she had still failed in her duty as vice-captain and as a soldier.
A soldier who could not protect her commander was not a qualified soldier.
And Captain John was the finest commander she had seen in her five years since joining the army.
Whether it was his astonishing wisdom, or his courage to never shrink from danger but instead face it head-on.
Or his gentleness and consideration toward his subordinates, all of it had deeply won her over.
In the past, Wendy had grown accustomed to being saddled with blame and dragged down by her superiors.
She had once thought her military career would continue like that forever.
But John's appearance had been like dawn, tearing through all the darkness of her past.
She had never wanted so sincerely, as she did now, to follow someone.
If it was Warrant Officer John, then he would surely let her see that sight someday!
Wendy murmured to herself, then looked at the captain before her, who was digging at his ear while endlessly lecturing her about balancing work and rest, saying things she did not understand about how people who overworked themselves were usually resented by their colleagues.
A smile appeared on her face. Just as she was about to say something to him,
a burst of hurried footsteps interrupted their conversation. Then a guard's respectful voice reached their ears.
"Warrant Officer John, General Dormammu has ordered you to proceed to the command post immediately for a meeting."
(End of Chapter)
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