Tale of the Fake Hero

Chapter 8 – Childhood, the Dawn of Summer (7)

December, 1696 AD.

Each of the Fake Warrior corps struggled to defend the line, but it gradually fell back.

Chief Marshal Krauzan finally decided to move his entire force behind the Inferno Line.

The White Bone Corps serving on the front lines was no exception and was eventually incorporated into the Inferno Line’s defenses.

It was the first time since the Siege and Defense of Fortress 7 that Kaisen had time to observe the mysterious structure in detail.

“Don’t look around blankly like a hillbilly. It makes even us look bad,” Jin commented.

“Shut up, Jin,” Kaisen retorted.

“Haha, it’s really something, after all. Forts piled up one after another along the banks of the Great Belisor River, which divides the old empire into three.”

The cruel and miserable experience of the ‘Black Summer’ had led the old empire into adopting a tactical doctrine focused on minimizing casualties to allies behind the walls and forcing the demons into a war of attrition.

The permanent defensive line manufactured as a result of that tactical doctrine was the Inferno Line—it was fully equipped with gun batteries, barbed wire, trenches, and bastions. Food warehouses and ammunition depots were also provided in the basements.

Each fortress was connected by a railway network, allowing the smooth operation of troops and logistics, even in times of emergency.

The world knew it as the greatest construction, strongest wall, and longest fortification line created using the essence of dwarven technology.

“The river is so wide that you can’t even see the other side. So this is why it’s called the Great River. Shouldn’t it be called a sea?” Kaisen asked, gazing across the river and into the dancing motes of volcanic ash in the air.

“If we intercept the uruks crossing the river with the gun batteries lined up here, invasion or not, they don’t stand a chance.”

The soldiers had put so much effort into tidying the fortress at first light that it shone without any trace of soot or volcanic ash.

Looking at it from afar, it was like the horizon was just a menacing band of black light.

While the White Bone Corps crossed the bridge over the river, engineers busily went back and forth, installing magic bombs on each bridge support.

They were planning to blow it up as soon as all units from the front returned or when the uruks attempted to cross the bridge.

“Is this the last bridge?” Jin asked.

An engineer, who still looked like a boy, answered, “Yes. This is the last bridge on the central front! There is one left in the west and one in the east.”

“Wow, you’re working hard in this freezing weather.”

“No! I’m glad to be able to welcome the Fake Warrior Corps! Don’t you guys feel hot?”

The soldiers fighting on the front lines all wore uniforms imbued with the ‘Body Temperature Control’ magic of first-class mages.

It would’ve been impossible to fight in the heat without that magic. It felt like the sun was glaring at them in anger, never mind the internal heat of the Prisvia Cores.

Even with that magic, whenever a mission ended, the corps members sat around and cooled off with Wolf’s ice magic.

“Kamila Alter Aradamantel.” After they finished crossing the bridge, the fortress commander, holding a bicorne hat on his side, clicked his military boots together and politely saluted.

Next to him were several people who appeared to be officers, and judging by their military discipline, it was clear that they were highly trained and not members of the Haltene (local government officials of the empire).

“I heard about the victory at the fortress. Congratulations,” the commander said.

“Just report the situation,” Kamila bluntly replied.

“It is safe to say that the fortresses south of the Inferno Line have been annihilated.”

Kamila grumbled at the commander’s report. “What the fuck? What are the witches of the empire doing? Did they all go on vacation?”

“It seems like just protecting the big cities is their limit.”

“Aha, are they having drinks with men in the capital?”

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“Why do you keep saying such…? Anyway, in order to protect the Inferno Line, the Haltene are even conscripting and deploying cadets.”

Kamila looked toward the distant horizon. It was summer. The ash covering the sky was so dense that it seemed that the world was being eaten by darkness.

“What about the others?” she asked.

“6th Seat Arecia Alter Solang and 7th Seat Runelle Alter Gaurmis have been deployed to the defense of ‘Terbenople’.”

“You entrusted the most important capital defense to those little brats? What about us?”

“You have been ordered to defend the central front.”

“You want me to just sit here and play?”

“This is also an important front,” the commander tried to explain.

“If you cowards in the empire had fully equipped the military, we would have pushed them back all the way down to the South Sea by now. Instead, you wasted military funds on this trashy defense line.”

Wolf butted in. “Be careful what you say, Kamila. The empire has served as a shield for humanity for a long time. This is a small act of gratitude. The leader even said as much.”

Kamila spat on the floor in frustration.

The commander said, “Finally, this is a message from the Imperial Court—”

“Speak quickly, you bastard,” Kamila interrupted.

“They say, ‘We are aware that Lady Kamila has reached the limit of her activities. Thus, we order her to train a disciple.’ This is the list the church sent.”

The commander handed over a golden scroll sealed with the seal of the Imperial Court. Holy power shone like the golden light of the sun.

“Kamila…” Wolf, his eyes despairing, watched Kamila take the scroll. He knew better than anyone else why her hair was turning completely gray.

‘It’s proof of the hard fighting she’s done.’

Fake Warriors were swordswomen who converted their life force into power. In doing so, they reduced their lifespan. During wartime, they only usually lived to their late 20s or early 30s, and even in times of peace, the longest a Fake Warrior had lived was to the early 40s.

Kamila, who was the same age as Wolf, was already approaching her late 30s. She’d become a Fake Warrior after they thought Raminea died and lived quite a long life in a short time of peace, but that life was coming to an end.

“…” Kamila emotionlessly looked down at the scroll and returned it to the commander without opening it. “Tell those old guys that I’ve already chosen someone.”

“What?” Both the commander and Wolf seemed equally shocked.

“Well, who is that?” the commander asked in confusion.

That was great news. The unshakable 1st Seat Fake Warrior, who had not accepted any disciples, had accepted someone? Whoever it was must’ve been extremely talented.

“Hmm… what’s their name again?” Kamila mumbled. “Is it ‘Dumbass’ or ‘Idiot’? Wait, maybe it was ‘Curry’?”

“The person’s name is ‘Curry’?” the commander asked, confused. “Aside from the fact that it’s an odd name, I’ve never heard of her.”

“Huh. This is my first time hearing it as well,” Kamila replied in a mocking manner.

“What?” Wolf realized something was off about the conversation and immediately shouted, “Kamila, you can’t mean…!”

Kamila interrupted Wolf and spoke to the commander again. “Come back next time. I’ll have a decision for you after I gauge their determination.”

Only after the commander was out of sight did Wolf glare at Kamila and say, “If you’re thinking of using Kaisen as an excuse to not accept students, then don’t.”

“Why not?” Kamila asked.

“The swordsmanship you learned from the leader, the Cross Sword Style, is like a treasure to mankind. Do you think it’s right to let it vanish just because of your own feelings?”

Kamila turned away from Wolf and weakly caressed her teacher’s shortsword, hidden under the hem of her cloak.

‘Should I take on a disciple…?’ She didn’t show affection to anyone and didn’t even pay attention to others—that was Kamila’s way of responding to the pitiful world that was hellbent on separating anyone who grew too close.

“You’re teaching Kaisen well,” Wolf argued. “I’m sure you can teach other children too, I’m sure!”

“I guess I can, but what if I don’t want to?”

“Why is Kaisen okay, but other kids aren’t?!” Wolf grabbed her shoulders and held her.

‘Yeah, why?’ Kamila showed him the shortsword she’d been hiding and spoke in a choked tone. “This shortsword… I gave it to my master as a gift… before the last battle.”

Kaisen’s mother’s keepsake was a gift from Kamila—from student to teacher.

The moment things clicked in his head, Wolf’s knees grew weak, and he almost fell to the ground. Before he realized it, he was struggling to breathe. “Th-that means… K-Kamila… Ka-Kaisen, that child is the leader’s child.”

* * *

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* * *

“I’m messing with you, of course. Did you really believe that?” Kamila gave him a straight look and ruined his conclusion.

“What?” Wolf stood for a moment in confusion.

After a while, he took a deep breath, pressed his temples, and quietly said, “Don’t ever play jokes involving the leader again. Don’t you suffer more than anyone every time stories about her come up?”

There was no answer.

Kamila smiled, turned, and walked off.

Wolf had to close his eyes in bewilderment. ‘How long has it been since Kamila smiled like that…?’

She’d never even smiled at a joke since the death of their leader.

Wolf didn’t have time to bring it up before something else took priority.

“Kamila Alter Aradamantel!” A griffin rider swooped down from above, dismounted, and quickly bowed.

“What’s going on now?” Kamila asked.

“Communications from the rear positions are being cut off one after another.”

“It looks like they’re having a group drinking party.”

“The same goes for the units that were ordered to search. The White Bone Corps is ordered to investigate this strange phenomenon.”

‘In the rear camp…?’ Kamila sensed that her vague anxiety was slowly wriggling and taking shape.

The enemy was nearby, and there was intelligence from the Magical Intelligence Department that the forces that devastated the south were gathering in various bases.

The empire’s command center had great faith in the power of the Inferno Line… but they couldn’t let down their guard when demons were involved.

Kamila stood up, shook the dirt off her uniform, and winked at Wolf. “I need to call Kaisen and give him some homework. I’ll also teach him the last sword technique.”

* * *

“This guy is the messenger from the Fake Warrior Corps?” Haltene militia leader Jack snorted. The child soldier who’d been brought to the barracks to speak with him was truly embarrassing. “It’s not even funny, you bastard! A snot-nosed brat like you?”

“Only when the signal fire is raised will the Fake Warrior Corps launch a joint attack,” Kaisen said.

“What if I don’t raise it?”

“Do whatever you want. If you want to die here, then we’ll be leaving to report to the marshal.”

“What?”

“Rather than persuading an old fart like you, it’s more urgent to report that an uruk detachment was discovered inside the Inferno Line.”

“D-don’t be ridiculous! Aren’t you an uruk spy? This is a trap. Yeah, that’s it.”

“Me?” Kaisen asked.

“Yes, you idiot, isn’t the brand engraved on your cheek proof of that?” Jack pointed out.

The militiamen glanced at Kaisen and then averted their gazes, feeling inexplicable fear.

‘What was with this bastard?’ Jack thought to himself. Although the kid was tall, he was still a brat. Still, his eyes were sharp beneath the black tangle of hair that fell over them.

Jack spoke again. “Holy shit. Why are there uruks inside the Inferno Line…? Take that bastard’s sword and interrogate him,” he said to his men.

The soldiers approached to snatch the sword from Kaisen’s back, but the boy half-drew the blade in the blink of an eye. “I don’t dislike convincing people through force.”

The militiamen stiffened. A cold chill pierced their spines, and Kaisen’s killing intent was calm and cold. To the point of instinctive fear.

“How can all the people living in this country be such cowards?” Kaisen asked.

Kaisen’s homeland was an empire ruled by three city-states. Witches and consuls selected as elders ran the government, and—excluding the standing army—a militia known as the Haltene defended the country.

“You’re all a ragtag bunch of people who are weak, timid, and don’t do well with others.”

Although the country was invaded in the summer a dozen years prior, the empire, which always administered the land through vain discussions, didn’t prepare for war in any significant way.

Pouring a huge amount of military funds into building the fortified Inferno Line was all they did. The Inferno line was excellent, but it would have been better to use that money to operate a large, elite standing army.

Since that was not accomplished, most of the units active on the front lines belonged to the Fake Warrior corps.

“What, you bastard?” Jack asked.

“Wait, Captain!” As the situation devolved, the soldier who’d brought Kaisen spoke. “Believe me, I saw this guy kill two uruks with one slash.”

“What?”

“It’s unbelievable, but it’s true. I was dumbfounded as well. That’s why I brought him here.”

Jack’s eyes widened. The militiamen began to mumble.

What kind of existence was an uruk? Only those who could use mana or who were beastmen could fight against them.

Jack gulped. “How many soldiers did you say were in the corps?”

“1,000 spearmen, 1,500 gunmen, 50 riflemen, and 19 beastmen.”

“Only about 2,500?”

“We’re stronger than a ragtag group of 30,000 like you. The gunmen are all grenadiers. Just shut up and do what you’re told.”

Jack was worried.

Then, the senior advising staff spoke. “We cannot wipe out the uruks with our own strength. There are almost no bullets left, and above all, morale is low…”

The situation in the barracks was the worst. It was clear that the Inferno Line had been breached by the uruks, and deserters appeared one after another.

Wasn’t Jack’s unit originally in charge of the rear supply? Most of its members were old people or cadets.

“What should we do?” Jack asked Kaisen.

“Open the gate as if you’re running away, attach empty carts to the horses, send them out in a fake retreat, and hold out against the incoming bastards.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s it. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Jack’s fingers drummed frantically on the table. If they were going to die anyway…

In the tense silence, everyone just looked at Jack.

The next moment, Jack stood up and placed his hand on the table. “Wake up all those who are sleeping. Gather the troops.”

“Hmph, at least you still have some guts.” Kaisen slid his half-drawn sword back into its sheath and spoke as if giving a command. “I need two soldiers to carry fire and oil. You can give me that much, right?”

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