John Maslow Had the Makings of a Great General!

John Maslow Had the Makings of a Great General! John felt that he had to be cursed by terrible luck.

Other than that, he truly could not think of a second reason to explain his current predicament.

He had clearly just tossed out a random remark—so why had it turned into a prophecy?

Did good omens really fail to come true while bad ones always hit the mark?

Were those Allied Forces people all little geniuses or something?

If they had simply continued dragging things out under the current situation, the Imperial Army would certainly have been defeated. Why did those people have to stir up trouble at such a critical moment?

"Idiots. They're nothing but a pack of idiots!"

Inside the tent, John lay curled up on his bunk, cursing madly in his heart.

Whenever he recalled how, upon returning to camp last night, Captain Olaf had led an excited welcome for him and publicly praised him before the other senior officers of the battalion, John wanted nothing more than for his soul and body to die together on this rock-hard bed.

What bullshit Empire's Hero? This was completely the opposite of what he had hoped for!

Didn't that mean his grand plan to slack off until retirement had completely gone down the drain?

"I'm tired. Let the world end."

John sprawled dejectedly across the bed, his eyes completely unfocused.

Even with his toes, he could guess that the Allied Forces had probably learned everything that happened last night through their spies by now.

His personal files might even have been placed on the conference table at Allied Forces headquarters.

Their commanders might already have begun discussing whether to send professional agents to dispose of this newly minted "Empire's Hero."

Clearly, events had already reached the scene he least wanted to see.

At the thought of the silver-haired witch—the game's protagonist, known as the Empire's Undertaker—approaching him under Allied Forces orders before beheading him in his sleep on some pitch-black night where one could not see their hand before their face—

John felt phantom pain creeping across his neck beyond his control.

Cold sweat had already drenched him.

Damn it, he could not just lie here and wait for death.

He had to do something.

"Fix this. Right, I have to find a way to fix this!"

John muttered to himself. Yet before he could figure out how someone like him, who had ruined the Allied Forces' plan to cut off the supply routes, could earn the regular army's trust—

The next second, the tent flap was lifted, and Wendy's lively voice reached his ears:

"Good morning, Warrant Officer John! The sun's already shining on your backside—it's time to get up!"

Is that so? Because from where I'm standing, you're not good at all.

Can you, my troublesome bastard subordinate, get the hell away from me?

John shot Wendy at the entrance a resentful glance, then replied weakly:

"Good morning, Sergeant Wendy. But if you don't have anything important, it would be best not to disturb me. I need some quiet time to think. Also, did you forget to knock again?"

"Understood. I'll correct that next time. However, although I personally don't wish to disturb this sacred moment in which you are concentrating on the Empire's future, I'm afraid I have no choice but to play the villain this time."

Wendy shrugged helplessly. Then, under John's puzzled gaze, she explained her purpose with a hint of envy:

"General Dormammu wishes to see you. So, Warrant Officer John, you'd best get up and tidy your appearance quickly."

Half an hour later, at the temporary command headquarters on the Empire's Walden Front.

"Tap, tap!"

"General, Warrant Officer John Maslow, commander of the 14th Mage Soldier Mobile Squad, reporting to you. May the Empire's glory be with you."

"At ease."

Looking at the young man respectfully saluting before him, Dormammu nodded imperceptibly, though his expression remained calm as he said:

"Warrant Officer John, I have learned of your active performance on the battlefield last night. Not only did you see through the Allied Forces' scheme and help our army successfully resolve a major crisis, you also intercepted a batch of vital enemy intelligence and supplies."

"Your outstanding achievements have greatly pleased me. The Empire has not seen such an exceptional young man as you in a long time. Therefore, Warrant Officer John, having rendered such meritorious service, what reward would you like? Speak freely. So long as it is within my power, I will satisfy your request as best I can."

A reward? Can you let me retire? I'm begging you.

John grumbled inwardly, but he also knew that such cowardly words would accomplish nothing except draw the attention of the inspection corps.

Thus, despite the helplessness in his heart, John could only decline with righteous conviction:

"No reward is necessary, General. This is the duty every Imperial soldier ought to fulfill!"

"Compared to the Empire's great cause, I am nothing. Moreover, the key to resolving the Allied Forces' attack this time was the members of the 14th Squad. I merely offered a few insignificant suggestions."

"Therefore, if you insist on granting a reward, please bestow it upon the soldiers of the 14th Squad."

After saying that, John straightened his back, his face filled with generosity and justice.

He truly did not want this so-called reward. Once the Empire's reward cemented his damned identity as the "Empire's Hero," John did not even need to use his ass to think to understand—

He would definitely be placed on the Allied Forces high command's assassination list.

But heaven knew, he genuinely wanted to defect.

If not for that inexplicable accident, he might already have been assigned by his superior to scrub toilets according to the original plan.

Instead of standing here before this villainous ringleader, receiving this damned reward!

"!"

Yet upon hearing that answer, even the well-traveled Dormammu could not help being taken aback.

The look in his eyes as he regarded John gradually became complicated.

Before asking that question, Dormammu had envisioned all manner of answers John might give.

But he had never imagined that John would voluntarily yield his merits to his subordinates.

After all, Dormammu had climbed from a mere trainee soldier to his current position, cutting through every obstacle and crawling out from mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

He had seen far too many absurd things, so he had long understood the rule that military merit belonged to superiors while responsibility was borne by subordinates.

That notion had even become common knowledge that everyone in the Empire's military accepted.

Yet this common sense, accepted by everyone, had been broken after so long by this young man named John Maslow.

John Maslow, were those polite words of yours a retreat in order to advance, or were they the true words from the depths of your heart?

Dormammu's gaze flickered, but outwardly, he merely nodded slightly at John.

"I see. Though I do not know why you think this way, as the initiator of the plan, you have the right to distribute the mission's rewards."

"As you wish, Warrant Officer John. I will distribute the credit for this achievement among every member of the 14th Mage Soldier Mobile Squad. How does that sound?"

"Thank you for your benevolence, General."

A sincere smile appeared on John's face, and his gaze toward that old bastard Dormammu became more respectful than ever before.

It had to be said that this was the best news he had heard since crossing over!

He had not shown even the slightest anger or loss of composure. So this was truly what he thought?

What purity and fairness!

Dormammu's heart brimmed with amazement. As an old general who had lived for seventy-four years and seen countless people, he could say that he had never misjudged someone when it came to reading character.

Thus, he could be certain that John's words had come entirely from the bottom of his heart.

Exceptional wisdom, sharp vision, and the courage to act—those qualities alone were destined to make him an outstanding commander.

But if he also possessed the support of his soldiers and impartial discipline, then without question, the soldiers under such a commander would all become fearless in the face of death. Even when confronting an army several times, or even more than ten times, their own size, they would not collapse easily. Instead, they would continue resisting tenaciously.

And such a peerless commander, one whom every soldier would instinctively follow and support wherever he stood, like the soul of an army, was precisely what the Empire—currently besieged by numerous Allied Forces—desperately needed!

As for the possibility that his actions were merely a disguise, leaving aside the fact that even the Allied Forces' strongest spies would struggle not to reveal flaws before Dormammu—

If John could truly conceal himself to such an extent, then he would also possess value worthy of Dormammu's attention.

So young, yet already so deeply calculating—if given the chance to develop, he would surely become an expert at manipulating hearts. Compared with the former "benevolent general," he would only surpass him, never fall short!

Did he truly need to place such a talent in that dangerous situation for trial?

A trace of hesitation flashed through Dormammu's eyes, but it was swiftly replaced by calmness.

The war before him no longer allowed him to consider the future. If they could not win this war, then the Empire, unable to obtain a new Lake of Magic Power and continue producing powerful mage soldiers, would see its brilliant radiance grow ever dimmer beneath the combined attacks of the Allied Forces, perhaps even vanish altogether.

That was something he would never allow to happen.

So, if you truly possess the qualifications to become a banner leading soldiers forward—

Then, John Maslow, prove it to me through your actions!

Prove that you are true gold, tempered by every hardship and only growing more dazzling.

And not a counterfeit!

Determination flashed through Dormammu's eyes. He slowly set down the pipe in his hand, and his eagle-like blue eyes stared directly at the young man before him, who seemed to shine in his sight.

His faintly purple lips moved slowly as he revealed the true reason he had summoned him:

"Warrant Officer John Maslow, I have a special mission for your 14th Mage Soldier Mobile Squad to carry out."

"The danger rating of this mission is: Deadly Class."

(End of Chapter)