I Laugh at the Allied Forces' Lack of Wit!

I Laugh at the Allied Forces' Lack of Wit! As John advanced toward the trench occupied by the "friendly forces," Colonel Jett led three hundred members of the Black Eagle Special Forces to the tree trunk where John had previously stopped. He then studied the marks on it with a grave expression.

At the center was a circle carved with a knife, with a small pit at its core. To the left of the circle was an arc drawn in some unknown white liquid, while directly below it, John had left an inconspicuous horizontal water stain.

It all looked rather abstract, like a child's doodle, making its true meaning difficult to discern.

But Colonel Jett, a graduate of the Imperial First Military Academy, instantly realized that this was no meaningless scribble at all—it was a complete military operation plan!

Given their current situation, didn't that circle represent the Allied Forces, who had prepared an ambush in advance and intended to encircle and annihilate them?

And that point at its center, coupled with John disguising himself as a civilian and walking alone toward the enemy, clearly meant that John had no intention of letting the Black Eagle Special Forces reveal themselves and draw fire.

Instead, he intended to draw the Allied Forces' attention all by himself, buying the Black Eagle Special Forces time to infiltrate the trenches and successfully destroy the magecraft equipment!

That much was proven by the faint, intermittent water stain below. Had Jett arrived a few minutes later, it would likely have dried up and vanished already.

After all, the subtle symbol left by Warrant Officer John clearly possessed qualities corresponding to the ghostlike combat style of the Black Eagle Special Forces.

With that, the meaning of that white arc became even clearer.

After all, in combat symbols, an arc had always represented flanking around the rear. There was no need to think twice about it!

Still, though he had been mentally prepared, he had never expected this, John—that for the Empire's victory, you would sacrifice yourself to such an extent!

Even if it meant putting yourself in danger, even if it meant facing thousands of enemy soldiers—one tiny misstep, and you would die without even a burial ground.

Yet in the face of such danger, you chose to entrust your entire back to me without reservation?

You had never even met me!

And yet you could trust me this much?

Just how loyal to the Empire did one have to be to make such an awe-inspiring decision?

Such absolute trust, such courage that feared no death.

Such loyalty to the Empire, dazzling like a star.

It was simply—simply breathtaking!

Even the most hard-hearted being would likely be unable to keep from being moved!

"Truly... you win."

Watching the figure in the distance stroll leisurely toward the enemy trenches, Colonel Jett could not help but feel an unprecedented admiration for this man.

He had truly been won over by John Maslow.

But he did not intend to follow the "plan" John had left behind completely, just as he had promised General Dormammu before setting out.

Having confirmed John's abilities and loyalty to the Empire, he could not allow such an outstanding junior to face danger alone.

No matter what, he had to find a way to protect this genius, even if it meant abandoning this mission!

With that thought, Colonel Jett immediately made up his mind. He took a deep breath, told the adjutant beside him about John's plan, and ordered him to lead the Black Eagle Squad into the Allied Forces' trenches, locate where the magecraft equipment was stored, and use the Demolition Spell upon receiving the order.

After arranging everything, he used the Phantom Spell Formation to catch up alone with John, who had reached the Allied Forces' trenches ahead of him, then found a suitable position and crouched down.

His gaze fixed on John's back, he waited for this gifted junior to stage a grand show before the Allied Forces with that astonishing wisdom of his!

"Who goes there? Stop immediately!"

As soon as John approached the trenches, the patrol soldiers guarding the perimeter noticed him. They immediately raised their firearms in vigilance and shouted sternly:

"Civilian, state your identity and purpose at once, or I'll open fire!"

"Soldier, immediately inform your commander that Warrant Officer John Maslow, commander of the 14th Magecraft Soldier Squad of the Imperial Seventh Air Force, has come to pay a visit."

Facing the patrolman's challenge, John smiled faintly and calmly stated his identity.

But to be honest, with those pitch-black gun barrels pointed at him, he was still more than a little nervous.

But he also knew that if he showed fear now, his future colleagues would definitely look down on him.

After all, a person without backbone on the battlefield could never earn anyone's respect.

What was more, he had come here to change sides. If he showed some ridiculous, kneeling-and-begging-for-mercy appearance, then John could think with his ass what awaited him—it definitely would not be the appreciation of his prospective superiors.

It would be contempt and disdain instead.

That was absolutely not the outcome he wanted.

So even though he was scared stiff inside, John could only keep brainwashing himself. At the same time, he imitated the Godfather from films in his previous life, clasping his hands behind his back with feigned composure. Under the stunned gazes of the patrol soldiers, he smiled and said:

"Soldier, if I were you, I would not continue pointing that foolish firearm at the other party. After all, the weapons in your hands are nothing more than toys to me, and I believe you should understand that clearly."

"So, if you are smart enough, you should understand that what you need to do now is call someone with sufficient authority to speak with me. For example, the person in charge of this stronghold of yours—isn't that right, Captain of the Allied Forces?"

"..."

Looking at the man before them, who was clearly being targeted by dozens of their guns and could be riddled with holes like a honeycomb the next second, yet still wore a smile on his face, the captain of this Allied Forces patrol broke out in cold sweat. His gaze toward John became extraordinarily grave.

As a veteran, he was naturally no stranger to the Empire's notorious Demon Corps.

Thus, he knew very well just how terrifying those magecraft soldiers were—soldiers who had undergone special modifications and mastered the Demolition Spell.

And the civilian-clothed man before him claimed to be the commander of those magecraft soldiers. Even thinking with his ass, he understood that this was not someone a mere patrol unit like his could handle.

Though he did not know the other party's true intentions, the current situation had already exceeded the scope of his responsibilities.

He had to report it immediately! "You lot, keep your eyes on him! If he makes any strange move, open fire at once! I'll report to the commander first!"

The patrol captain ordered his subordinates, then immediately tossed aside the gun in his hand and sprinted toward the camp behind him with all the strength he could muster. He fled in such a panic that it was as though some terrifying demon were watching him from behind.

"Gulp!"

Watching their captain's panicked retreat, the patrol members who had snapped back to their senses all swallowed involuntarily.

When they looked again at John's smiling, motionless figure, it felt as if a shadow had fallen over their hearts. Under that invisible pressure, they unconsciously slowed their breathing. Every nerve in their bodies was taut, and even the fingers gripping their gunstocks began to tremble without their control.

It could not be helped. They were merely an ordinary army unit, worlds apart from the Iron Wall Unit inside the trenches.

Making them face the Empire's Demon Corps was already forcing a duck onto a perch.

What was more, the person they were dealing with this time was the commander of a magecraft soldier squad!

Outside the trenches, John used the Analysis Spell Formation in his eyes to take in all the negative labels above the heads of his "friendly forces"—"panic," "fear," and more. Yet at this moment, just like them, he did not dare move an inch.

He knew that the "friendly forces" ahead were in a state of extreme tension. Forget stepping forward to talk with them.

Even if he merely moved his aching wrist slightly, they might take it as an attack and have those idiots shoot him until their magazines were empty.

Damn it, I'm fucking here to defect. Why are you all so damn nervous?!

You're making me want to piss myself too.

I'm clearly your ally. Can't we put down our guns and have a proper talk?

And that idiot who went to report just now—can you fucking hurry up? If I keep smiling like this, I'm really going to turn into a poker-faced zombie, damn it!

Feeling the apples of his cheeks starting to ache uncontrollably, John felt misery that he could not put into words.

After both sides had endured immense psychological pressure in their standoff for roughly five or six minutes, a fat colonel wearing an Allied Forces uniform finally appeared at the edge of the trenches under John's eager gaze. He had long hair and a bald patch in the middle, with a face full of flaws worth mocking.

He was accompanied by a well-equipped special forces unit that was obviously highly trained.

Upon arriving, the man did not question John immediately.

Instead, he swept his gaze gravely across the surrounding sky, then whispered a few words to the adjutant beside him. Only after confirming through the adjutant's response that no magecraft soldiers were hiding in the skies did he turn his attention back to John across the trench.

His pea-sized eyes narrowed, as though he were judging something.

After a long silence, he finally said in a deep voice:

"I am Colonel Bolter Master, commander of the Allied Forces 3rd Battle Group Army 75th Regiment and the person in charge of this front. Warrant Officer John Maslow of the Imperial Seventh Air Force, considering the current state of war between our two nations, explain your purpose immediately. Otherwise, I will order my soldiers to shoot you on the spot in accordance with the provisions governing the treatment of spies between our nations!"

Fuck, is this guy out of his fucking mind? I came here to change sides, and I still have to get shot?

So friendly forces are my military merit, and if I keep stabbing people in the back, I'll become a general?

Can't you, you dead fat bastard, act like a human being?!

John cursed furiously inside, but he knew that he absolutely could not show weakness before this future colleague. Nor could he proactively admit defeat and say that he had come to surrender.

Instead, he had to put on the appearance of a tough man and use rhetoric to portray himself as someone forced into surrender by circumstances.

Only then could the Allied Forces truly value him as an elite graduate of the Empire.

With that thought, John took a deep breath, stretched his numb arms, and cast a disdainful glance at Bolter ahead of him. Then, beneath the other man's puzzled gaze, he threw back his head and laughed uproariously:

"Hahaha!"

"...Why are you laughing for no reason, sir?"

Seeing John's strange behavior, even the well-traveled Bolter was somewhat at a loss.

His first thought was that he had encountered a madman suffering from hysteria.

Otherwise, it was hard for him to imagine why this man, who claimed to be the commander of an Imperial magecraft soldier squad, would come to the enemy trenches without even bringing a weapon—and even reveal his identity voluntarily.

How was that any different from courting death?

Just as Bolter frowned deeply and prepared to order his men to seize this unidentified madman and hand him over to the interrogation department for a thorough questioning later, John, who had been laughing for a long time, finally spoke:

"I laugh at the Empire for failing to recognize talent and maiming the loyal and righteous. And I laugh even more at you Allied Forces for your lack of wit and ignorance. You have clearly fallen into the Empire's trap, yet death is at your doorstep and you still do not realize it!"

Meeting Bolter's constricted pupils, John snorted coldly, clasped his hands behind his back, and assumed an unfathomable air.

"However, Colonel Bolter, you should count yourself fortunate now. Fortunate that I was plotted against and became a sacrifice in a power struggle, forced to lead the soldiers under my command on this so-called suicide attack."

"Fortunate that I value my soldiers' lives more highly than my loyalty to the Empire. Otherwise, every one of you would already be dead beneath the magecraft soldiers' Bombardment Spell Formation!"

"And rather than standing here unharmed, speaking with me as you are now!"

Seeing Bolter staring at him in shock, as though he had understood something, John knew the man had caught the meaning of his "defection." John could not help but praise the dead fat bastard in his heart for apparently not being too stupid.

But he did not state it outright. After all, in negotiations, whoever first proposed the terms of an exchange of interests would often fall into a disadvantageous position.

If he wanted to secure more benefits for himself, he had to make the other party eager first.

With that thought, John stopped speaking and merely watched Bolter, whose eyes were gradually brightening, with a faintly smiling expression. He waited for this "friendly force" to take the initiative and ask to recruit him.

(End of Chapter)