John Warrant Officer Was a Genius

John Warrant Officer Was a Genius

"Colonel Jett, how is the interrogation of that Allied squad we captured last night going?" Early that morning, inside the frontline command post on the Walden Front.

Hearing footsteps, Imperial General Dormammu Filot slowly shifted his gaze from the sand table on the desk. His hawk-sharp eyes looked calmly toward the subordinate entering the tent.

"Sir, just as you predicted, the secret mission carried out by that squad dispatched by the Allies was indeed to intercept our supply lines."

The man known as Jett Slaifute, commander of the Third Mobile Mage Corps under the Imperial Seventh Air Force and hailed as the 'Imperial Black Wing,' wore an especially grim expression at that moment.

At the thought of the intelligence the interrogation department had submitted after questioning the prisoners through the night, his granite-like face, carved with hard lines, could not help turning somewhat savage. His fists clenched tightly.

"There is a traitor within the Empire. Our supply routes have been completely exposed to the Allies' eyes. Forgive my bluntness, General, but I fear this attack is only the beginning."

"Mm. The roots of flourishing trees always draw a few dark crawling insects. There is nothing more natural than that."

Listening to the colonel's reply, Dormammu's expression remained calm, as though he had long expected this outcome.

He raised a hand, lit the pipe in his hand, and took a puff.

Then he slowly exhaled a cloud of bluish smoke. Looking down at the sand table before him and the tense battle situation upon it, he could not help sinking into thought.

In truth, as the commander of the Imperial Seventh Air Force and the highest-ranking commander on the Walden War Zone frontline,

Dormammu understood the current stalemate in the Walden region better than anyone.

Their headlong advance had left both flanks without the protection of friendly forces, forcing them to face the Allies' three legions alone.

Moreover, the residents of the kingdoms within the territories they had conquered were naturally resistant toward Imperial troops like them. It was impossible for them to voluntarily escort the Empire's transport convoys.

Although the Empire's air force was unmatched in the world and could face three legions at once without pressure,

without supplies, especially when magic stone consumption had exceeded the military budget, even the cleverest housewife could not cook without rice.

To make matters worse, the northern war zone had recently encountered the Steel Warband led by that female Sword Saint, placing its border defenses in urgent danger.

To prevent the Empire's battle line from being torn apart by that female Sword Saint's terrifying martial prowess, His Majesty the Emperor had ordered the Imperial Third Navy, currently stationed in the western war zone, to go reinforce them last night.

This also shattered his original plan to use the Imperial magic cannons from the sea to seize the Walden region in one stroke with absolute firepower.

Now, the Seventh Legion not only had to face the Allies' three-sided assault head-on, but also the risk of its supply convoys being cut off.

Under such circumstances, let alone taking Walden's Lake of Magic Power to cultivate more mage soldiers for the Empire, even leading the Seventh Legion away intact had perhaps become a distant hope.

If no change occurred on the battlefield, then under the attrition of this tug-of-war, defeat was likely the Seventh Legion's only outcome.

Dormammu had already sensed that this would probably be the final battle he could command as the Seventh Legion's commander.

After all, those nobles of the Empire who occupied their positions while stuffing themselves had found him, a thorn in their eyes, unpleasant for a long time.

This exposure of the Empire's supply routes to the Allies might even have been their handiwork.

Was this the retribution brought about by his slaughter of nobles in his younger days?

What utter absurdity.

Dormammu shook his head, casting away the tangled thoughts in his heart.

He sighed, then looked toward Colonel Jett, whose expression was equally ugly, and casually asked,

"Come to think of it, the reason our forces managed to capture that Allied squad this time seems to have something to do with our newly arrived warrant officer?"

"Yes, sir. Warrant Officer John Maslow was the top graduate of the fifty-ninth class of the Imperial First Military Academy. He was also awarded the Iron Wreath by the current academy head. He is an outstanding junior of mine."

When the general brought this up, Colonel Jett's expression eased considerably. He then took the initiative to explain the events to his superior.

"The reason our forces were able to capture that squad was thanks to Warrant Officer John's quick thinking. He took the initiative to change the patrol schedule to nighttime and used the fact that mage soldiers were difficult to spot at night. He arranged matters in advance and located the Allies' secret unit."

"Because of that, we successfully stopped those rats from penetrating deep into our battle line. By a lucky blunder, he solved a major problem for us. He is quite a lucky charm."

"A lucky blunder? I do not think so."

Dormammu shook his head. Meeting Colonel Jett's puzzled gaze, he removed the pipe from his mouth and smiled as he explained,

"As a novice commander newly arrived on the battlefield, especially a distinguished officer from the Imperial First Military Academy, openly defying a superior's orders on his first mission—Colonel Jett, if it were you, would you do such a thing without a certain degree of confidence?"

"I... of course not. Obeying orders is a soldier's duty. Wait, General, you mean..."

"Do not be nervous, Colonel Jett. Our warrant officer's background is clean, without a single point of suspicion. Furthermore, he has received the recognition of that academy head, so there is no need to question his identity. I say this simply because I think this young man is quite impressive."

Dormammu waved a hand, dispelling Jett's doubts. Looking at the sand table on the square desk, he recalled the report he had received not long ago, and a trace of appreciation flashed through his eyes.

"I must say, our warrant officer has truly exceptional strategic vision. Though he has only just entered the battlefield, he was already able to precisely analyze the situation."

"Furthermore, without ever engaging the enemy face-to-face, he inferred from environmental factors what arrangements the enemy commander might make next."

"More importantly, unlike ordinary commanders accustomed to obeying orders, after determining that the enemy might use the rain curtain and the cover of night to infiltrate our rear, this warrant officer did not turn a blind eye out of concern for punishment from his superiors. Instead, he risked being punished and dispatched soldiers to act."

"Though it was somewhat risky, our Warrant Officer John proved his judgment with facts."

"A vicious eye, outstanding wisdom, and the courage to act—every one of these qualities is rare and precious on the battlefield. Yet what gratifies me most is the last."

"Because not everyone has the courage to bear responsibility."

"It seems our Imperial First Military Academy has indeed brought me a surprise."

"There is no doubt that our Warrant Officer John Maslow is a true genius!"

"In this currently deadlocked Walden War, that is the only piece of good news capable of making me smile."

"!"

Hearing General Dormammu praise his junior, whom he had never met, so highly, Jett immediately felt honored as well. An idea suddenly flashed through his mind, and he quickly said with a smile,

"General, you praise him too highly. However, since you intend to nurture him, why not let me bring him..."

"There is no need. Only after being seared by raging fire can gold bloom with its own dazzling radiance."

Dormammu's smile faded. He understood his own circumstances clearly. If he could win this battle, that would be one thing. But if he lost, taking this promising young man into his command in advance would not help him—it would harm him instead.

That said, he did have a new plan to carry out, and this warrant officer who had displayed such astonishing brilliance upon first entering the battlefield seemed particularly suitable.

There was some risk, but if the young man could complete it outstandingly, that would prove he was indeed worth cultivating.

Of course, the premise was that Dormammu had to meet this young man first before making a decision.

After all, this plan would determine the course of the entire Walden campaign. He absolutely could not entrust it to an idiot.

However, considering the other man's unique identity, as well as his exclusive spellcraft that was not inferior even to the three great miracle spellcrafts,

perhaps he could place a little more expectation on this extraordinarily mysterious warrant officer?

Dormammu drew on his pipe, his gaze continuously examining the sand table before him. He said nothing more.

Only after pondering in place for a long while, as though he had finally made some decision, did Dormammu slowly exhale bluish smoke and issue a solemn order to the colonel before him.

"Colonel Jett, invite this young hero here. Tell him I wish to meet him. And while you are at it, I have a mission that requires this young man who dares to take the lead to carry out."

(End of Chapter)