Every squad leader’s gaze sharpened and drilled into me.
To just wave it off with a “something happened, that’s all”—
with everyone having heard my conversation with Morzan,
the squad leaders, too,
took the stance that this time they needed a more detailed account.
“...Hrm.”
Under those looks,
I couldn’t help but hesitate.
“Compared to the others, I do have... a fair bit of information only I know.”
Most of it I have shared with the squad leaders.
From the start, most unit matters were things we experienced together.
But—
there were a few pieces that weren’t like that.
Things I learned not with the soldiers,
but by going through them alone.
And—
I’d deliberately kept those to myself.
For a simple reason.
“Because there’s nothing good to be gained from knowing them.”
Not to boast,
but once the world turned into this,
I learned that my mental game was on the sturdy side.
The problem was—
“Even for me, those were stories that almost pushed me into despair.”
Other worlds in the same plight as ours,
that still fell to ruin despite the protection of divine beings—unlike us.
That Earth’s god—
was, at the very least, not in any state one could call “alive.”
Even if things were comparatively decent around our unit,
still,
people who had been living normal lives—in a single day—
saw civilization shatter and lost those dear to them.
“For people to crack like those Demon Contractors did... that’s the normal reaction.”
Right now, the only reason our unit’s psyche is holding together
is thanks to my cooking.
“If they learned anything darker than this... never mind mental care via food—someone’s going to warp for real.”
To survive,
I have to keep our unit strong.
On that front, minding the soldiers’ mental state is the job I value most.
The reason I’ve kept information I deemed too sensitive to myself until now—
was practically part of that mental-care regimen.
“...But, well.”
“Commander?”
I recalled
what I’d thought a little while ago while talking with those Contractors.
“If the unit members trust me, then I will trust this unit.”
Up to now, I’d treated them like glass that would shatter
if handled even a little roughly—
but if I think about it, a military is supposed to be robust enough to take some rough handling and not break.
The unit I raised has grown into something quite fine.
It shouldn’t be so weak anymore that I have to fret over it endlessly.
“And besides, I’m in the middle of planning to leave the unit for a while, anyway.”
While I’m gone,
there may come a moment when they need those pieces of information.
“Alright, fine. It’s not like it’s unsayable.”
“...!”
Hugging it all to myself
probably isn’t good, either.
“So then... where do I start.”
I
opened my mouth to the squad leaders.
The things only I had known—
what other worlds had suffered, what our world had suffered,
and what we were forewarned we would suffer in the future—
despair-laden accounts.
****
“...I see.”
When I finished,
Minjae murmured, sweating coldly.
“So those Martial Arts Instructors had a past like that.”
“Judging from what you said, that ‘master’ of theirs sounds incredible too... and even so—they fell.”
Things I’d heard from Seohwan and Miho,
and things I’d experienced firsthand:
ruin in other worlds.
“...To think that was the true nature of that miasma.”
“The volume of mana gushing up from underground was strange; so that’s why.”
The broken-down divinity we met beneath.
And—
“...”
“Good Lord.”
what that divinity told us—
like the whereabouts of Earth’s god.
Having heard it all,
the squad leaders murmured with cold sweat beading.
“Honestly... that was worth hiding.”
While most of them fell quiet in thought,
the one who seemed most shaken was unsurprisingly Sergeant Lee Minjae.
“Minjae knows how my cooking works... which means it affects him less.”
Even compared to the other soldiers, he needs less mental care.
He only held up because he was the sort who, on the Day of Ruin, could casually check the comms net.
Mentally, compared to the others, he’s at a disadvantage.
Minjae ran a pale hand down his face.
It meant the shock hit him that hard.
“Up to now, I thought getting through each day somehow was enough... apparently, that won’t cut it.”
“Well, yeah.”
“So that’s why you sometimes pushed yourself in ways that seemed absurd.”
If you’ve seen how other worlds met ruin,
then you know that just enduring day by day will never save you.
At best that adds a day to your lifespan—or [N O V E L I G H T] two.
“That’s why I choose the path to grow stronger even if it means pushing too far.”
If we want to live, mere normal endurance isn’t enough.
Sometimes I do things that, in the moment, look like I’m throwing my life away—
because that is what helps long-term survival.
“Sounds like those Demon Contractors heard something similar.”
“Mm. Remember what he said then? That he’d heard a lot from the demon.”
“I see. Now I understand why they were in such despair. No wonder... for people who said they’d sacrifice their lives to save humanity, they seemed strangely quick to give up.”
Corporal Seo Suhyeok kept his tone relatively calm,
but the knit of his brow said it didn’t leave him untouched.
“By the way—I naturally assumed you fought that god underground and killed it.”
“As if that’d fly.”
“Well—judging only from the lines we heard, there’s no other way to take it.”
“Good grief. It’s dizzying enough hearing the others say that, and now you too?”
I may have reached considerable heights as a chef,
and even if we posit an Awakened of a combat line equal to—
no, far beyond—me right now,
something like that is flat-out impossible.
“The soldiers are mistaken in that way... but leaving it be seems fine.”
“Well... considering Taejun’s advice, that’s sensible.”
Even with only a thigh left,
that was the level it showed.
“Complete divinities have to be unimaginably powerful.”
And it’s that sort of divinity
that couldn’t be stopped and fell to ruin—
this invasion we’re suffering now.
It’s only natural to judge that humanity’s power alone can’t stop it.
If people realized that, they’d only despair.
For a while, it’s better to let the soldiers simply believe that their commander is a staggering being.
Someday the day may come to reveal the truth to them all—
but that’ll be far down the road.
And only if we’re still alive then.
However,
fortunately—
“Well... one way or another, we’ll manage, won’t we?”
“...What?”
The big-bodied soldier who’d been quiet throughout,
Corporal Jeon Gwangil, spoke lightly.
“Sure, it’s a despair-flavored prophecy... but since when did our future not look bleak?”
“That’s true.”
“Like I told those Contractors: in the end we still have only one job. That hasn’t changed.”
Even if we lose one day—
until the day comes, we fight like hell and flail like mad.
“Grit our teeth and brute-force it till the day we die!”
“...Heh. Not wrong.”
At Jeon Gwangil’s words,
Corporal Seo Suhyeok pulled a face like he couldn’t believe this, but nodded.
“As expected of the squad leaders...”
It isn’t just that they Awakened first.
They were the first to adapt to this world,
and thereafter never let the latecomers catch up, proving their prowess.
It was a despairing story—
but soldiers at the squad-leader level could, to some extent, weather it.
“Hm... that said.”
“Mm?”
And
when everything had been said—
“I always thought this was how it should be... but hearing that, I’m convinced.”
Pale from the shock,
Sergeant Lee Minjae seemed to be weighing something,
then spoke.
“Youngjun. I have a proposal.”
“A proposal out of nowhere?”
“Our unit... to be precise—”
Sergeant Lee Minjae’s gaze pinned me.
“—a proposal about you, Youngjun.”
“Uh-huh.”
“The Wall of Black Heat along Gangwon’s outer rim. You said you could cross it.”
“...?”
The barrier blocking forays into other regions.
With sufficient prep, I could cross it.
But—
“Why is Minjae bringing that up?”
Me crossing the barrier and heading to another region is a loss for the unit.
Naturally I expected the squad leaders to oppose it.
I’d have reassured them it was possible but would never happen.
“At the time, you said you’d stay in Gangwon for our sake.”
“Uh-huh. So why bring that up now...”
“My opinion is this: I’m against you staying in Gangwon.”
“...Huh?”
Expecting opposition,
I’d planned to slip out of Gangwon quietly.
Keep it as secret as possible until conditions were in place,
build an environment where I wouldn’t be needed, then vanish without a word.
“Desertion,” literally.
To be honest—
even I thought it was a pretty selfish plan.
And yet—
“If you can reach other regions, then the sooner the better.”
Sergeant Lee Minjae came out in official support
of the desertion plan I’d kept as my private secret.
“Out of the blue, why...”
“He’s right.”
The one who backed him was Corporal Seo Suhyeok.
“Frankly, up to now I only thought about our own unit. But after hearing you, Sergeant Shin, I’m certain.”
He was never one for strong attachment to outsiders.
Thanks to my cooking, he’d managed to form comradeship at least toward fellow unit members,
but outside the unit he was still prickly.
“The ruin overtaking this world... is not something our unit can resolve alone.”
“...”
“For our unit to survive, we must save as many humans as possible and secure as much power as possible.”
And
from that perspective—
“You don’t have a reason to stay long in Gangwon, Youngjun.”
“Sergeant Park Taejun’s prophecies are just that strong. If it’s something happening within Gangwon, our unit will likely meet it without much trouble. Everything Gangwon can offer—we’ll secure it given time.”
“Whether you’re in Gangwon or not.”
As long as Sergeant Park Taejun’s Astrologer line holds,
conquering Gangwon, securing the weapons stockpiles scattered across its military bases—
becoming strong within this region is a matter of time.
But—
“Other regions aren’t like that.”
We have no idea
what’s happening elsewhere.
“Right now, this very moment, humans may be dying in other regions.”
“That’s true.”
“Bluntly, some regions may already have been eaten by monsters. Take the [Green Manes] alone...”
If Taejun hadn’t jammed the Green Manes’ astrology and delayed their invasion,
our guild in the early days would have fallen in a heartbeat.
At this point, unlike us who’ve only just occupied a quarter,
they might have taken half of Gangwon already.
“That can’t be allowed. I thought things were already the worst—if what you say is right, then it’s worse than I thought. Ideally, we’d dispatch reinforcements to save humans in other regions and secure the power to be gained there.”
“But thanks to that barrier, we can’t send reinforcements...”
Arms folded,
Minjae looked straight at me and spoke.
“The conclusion is simple, Youngjun.”
“Uh...?”
And that conclusion—
“We will actively support your desertion.”
“...”
For a senior in the unit’s leadership to say,
it was a line far too irresponsible.
