Chapter 38
An Academy Field Exercise Is Guaranteed to Be Attacked (2)
The Annihilation Unit’s counter-ambush training program contained a wide variety of educational curricula.
For example, how to react to killing intent.
Or the optimal response after successfully detecting a line of fire.
Reading the terrain, analyzing the enemy’s numbers and armament, and countless other field doctrines remained within their vast collection of martial knowledge.
However, Ivan had prepared only one lesson for Isabel.
The simplest and most fundamental lesson of all.
[Keep ambushing her until she learns how to respond.]
And so Ivan was currently sitting atop a tree, quietly raising the muzzle of his gun.
Beyond the rear sight, he could see Isabel.
She still stood there boldly, apparently without the slightest intention of concealing herself.
Click.
He aligned the sights, then shifted his point of aim just before pulling the trigger.
Bang!
The problem when line-of-fire detection had only just awakened was that the user still did not fully trust their own senses.
After all, line-of-fire detection was essentially a sixth sense.
If one allowed sight and hearing to mislead them, they could not react properly.
“Eek!”
“…Wrong.”
Ivan sighed as he watched Isabel cry out in the distance and hurriedly duck her head.
Even though the bullet’s trajectory had clearly missed her, Isabel had attempted to evade it.
That disrupted her balance and exposed an opening.
Click, bang!
Ivan seized the opportunity, aimed directly between her eyebrows this time, and fired.
Isabel barely managed to dodge.
She stared at the bullet hole in the tree behind her and trembled.
“You’re firing live ammunition at my head! Seriously?!”
Her eyes snapped open.
The blue light blazing within them stared directly toward Ivan’s hiding place.
‘She’s gradually improving.’
Like the reasonable training instructor he was, Ivan nodded proudly.
Then he quickly abandoned his concealed position.
“Ha. Hahaha. I’m seriously going to kill him.”
Isabel walked forward, trembling as she gripped the hilt of her sword.
Live ammunition, aimed between her eyebrows…?
“I must have been insane. I’m an idiot. This was my fault. Yes, it’s all my fault.”
Had she felt slightly excited when he said they would train in the forest where “that incident” had taken place?
Had she been pleased because he readily dropped everything to help, even though she had asked so suddenly?
Yes.
That was all her fault.
She had imagined they would casually swing their swords a few times and smile while he gave her some feedback.
They could talk about what had happened that day as if it were now a fond memory.
She had even prepared sandwiches so they could share them afterward.
She had worn her favorite clothes, and had even put on makeup despite hardly ever doing so at the palace.
She truly was a complete fool.
Click.
Her grip tightened around the sword’s hilt.
She stepped forward.
Shing.
She drew the sword and glanced at its cold, gleaming blade.
Then she held it calmly but firmly.
Bang!
Clang!
She split the line of fire perfectly and deflected the bullet.
“You’re dead… You are seriously dead!”
The Hero’s righteous fury ignited.
She charged straight along the trajectory of the bullets, knocking every shot out of the air.
After all, the shooter had to be located in the direction the bullets were coming from.
She only had to avoid getting hit.
Just once.
She would hit him only once.
That was probably what she was thinking.
Ivan quietly withdrew as he watched Isabel charge toward him.
Locating an agent perfectly concealed within the shadows of the forest was an extremely difficult task.
Even possessing line-of-fire detection did not change that.
A shooter existed at the end of a line of fire, but one had to assume that the shooter was also fully aware of that fact.
“I will now teach you the second lesson.”
Ivan was an excellent instructor, so he had finished preparing another considerate lesson.
Charging recklessly while swinging her sword in a blind rage certainly displayed admirable spirit, but it could hardly be called a wise choice.
He decided to teach her that it was particularly disastrous in an ambush situation.
Booooom!
Ivan smiled faintly as Isabel stepped on a booby trap and was swallowed by the explosion.
“Good.”
Isabel barely escaped the blast.
She brushed away the heap of dirt that had rained directly onto her head and smiled.
“Let’s actually kill him.”
Thinking she would hit him only once had been the very mistake that led to this situation.
She now realized once again that one had to be completely serious when dealing with that lunatic.
Without even looking, Isabel deflected another incoming bullet.
“Do you understand now why I said the forest was more difficult?”
A perfectly calm voice entered her ears.
Crack.
The hand gripping her sword tightened.
“Underground waterways and tunnels are shaped like linear mazes. Artificial structures have their own patterns. That means the locations where one can place traps or conduct ambushes are limited.”
The lesson continued.
Naturally, it was all valuable advice that would be greatly useful to her.
“Forests, however, possess several characteristics at once. They make concealment and cover easy, and there are many locations suitable for traps, making them extremely difficult to detect in advance. Since a forest takes the form of an irregular maze, it is also easy to manipulate the target’s route of movement.”
This was how a smaller force encircled a larger one.
Contrary to what many believed, encirclement on a tactical level was fundamentally the act of restricting information.
The encirclement did not actually need to be dense, nor did the attacks need to be especially fierce.
A few exchanges conducted at the proper moments were enough.
The essence of encirclement was maintaining information superiority while forcing the opponent to make incorrect judgments.
‘Countless enemies are hiding beyond that forest.’
‘If we approach that forest, we will be caught in an offensive.’
‘There are no allies beyond that forest.’
When such incorrect assumptions accumulated and cracks began to form in a field commander’s ability to command, an encirclement by a smaller force was complete.
Ivan continued speaking quietly, then suddenly paused.
Isabel had lowered her head and was trembling.
“Mister.”
“Mm?”
“Phew… Thank you. My head feels clear now, thanks to you.”
“…Mm?”
Isabel looked toward the place where she believed he was hiding, smiling brightly.
Taking into account the direction of his voice and the direction from which she had detected the line of fire, he had to be somewhere around there.
She nodded and raised the hilt of her sword.
—Raise your sword.
—Raise it not for your strength, but for your righteousness.
—Look upon people like us through the eyes of the weak.
“Yes. I will.”
Isabel gripped the hilt as though entranced and assumed her stance.
Brilliant blue mana swirled around her body, sparkling as it illuminated the dark forest.
A refreshing wind raced through the late-spring woods.
“Don’t move!”
“Oh.”
Ivan watched her with shining eyes.
The structure of her mana and the way it circulated were different, but the force she exuded somehow reminded him of Maximilien.
Perhaps he possessed more talent for teaching others than he had expected.
After all, the quality of an educator was determined by the accomplishments of their students.
Ivan readily nodded and lowered the muzzle of his gun.
Isabel’s senses had already fully awakened.
At this level, she had progressed far enough that a delayed second shot designed to deceive line-of-fire detection would no longer work against her.
She accelerated her nerves with mana and refined the response speed of her entire body to its limit.
She had reached the boundary of what was known as the “battlefield of superhumans.”
Once someone reached this stage, projectile weapons no longer worked against them.
Their line-of-fire detection had developed to the point that it was almost indistinguishable from precognition.
Therefore—
Shing…
Ivan raised his axe.
“I’m really… going to… kill you…”
***
On the train returning to Pritchenkaya, Ivan looked down at the sleeping Isabel and smiled.
Her body was covered in dirt and small wounds, and her clothes had been reduced to tatters, leaving her looking thoroughly disheveled.
Even so, she somehow appeared noble.
Her golden hair spread out like a wheat field, glittering beneath the moonlight falling through the train window.
Breathing softly, Isabel slept with her head buried against his shoulder.
At that moment, she looked like nothing more than a small child her age.
“Maximilien.”
Whenever the train rattled along the tracks, Ivan gently steadied Isabel’s swaying head and whispered,
“You have an excellent daughter.”
‘You have an excellent daughter.’
Inside her sleeve, Isabel tightly clenched her lowered hand.
She struggled to stop the corners of her lips from curling upward without her permission.
Then she very carefully pressed her cheek against his broad shoulder, gently enough that he would not notice.
Clatter, clatter.
The train raced along the tracks.
The warm air inside the carriage flowed softly around them.
Through her slightly opened eyes, the dim interior came faintly into view.
Moonlight poured through the window.
In the distance, she could see the forest where she had trained that day.
He was an idiot who knew nothing about romance or common sense, and a lunatic who covered the only remotely decent part of his face with a beard.
But still…
Still, it was something she could overlook.
After all, he was the benefactor who had saved her life.
That was all.
It was not some rash affection.
It was truly only that much.
Common sense could be taught to him, and his beard could be trimmed someday.
Yes.
Exactly.
It was like making a proper person out of someone.
Who else besides her would take responsibility for this pitiful man?
This was, in other words… the Hero’s spirit of “service.”
That was all it was.
***
There existed a unit with a glorious history and proud tradition.
It had once been known as the Seventh Engineer Platoon, Twelfth Company, Third Battalion, under the Fifth Demon General.
They cracked their whips to urge the slaves onward, then quietly raised their binoculars.
“Why exactly were they fighting?”
“Perhaps they had a disagreement, Comrade!”
“Do you set off explosives and fire bullets when you disagree with someone, Comrade?”
“No, Comrade!”
Because of the target’s unexpected visit and the fierce battle that followed, three of their ambush positions had collapsed along with the ground beneath them.
Ah, there had never been such shoddy construction when the great Fifth Demon General was still alive!
The platoon commander was disappointed.
Whenever a commander was disappointed, they tended to search for the source of the problem within their own unit.
And in most cases, such an attempt always produced an appropriate result.
After all, the beautiful military tradition of “passing affection downward,” which existed equally in every army throughout the world, was present among demons and even dwarves.
“The Shadow Blade’s little game is one week away. Comrades, rebuild the collapsed positions and ensure that every preparation is completed!”
“Yes, Comrade!”
A dwarf with an ash-gray beard snapped a sharp salute, then trudged away.
Dwarves were masters of civil engineering.
Civil engineering included digging underground tunnels.
Therefore, according to the syllogistic method, the following proposition was true:
Anywhere there was ground, dwarves could infiltrate beneath it.
That was why Ivan called them rats.
With one week remaining until Enrique’s exam, Pritchenkaya remained peaceful.