Tale of the Fake Hero

Chapter 9 – Childhood, the Dawn of Summer (8)

The forest, caught in the full swing of summer, was barren and dry. The dried-out, fresh greenery gradually died.

Such was natural—summer took everything from the land.

“I told you to bring only fire and oil, so why did you bring a vapor gun?” Kaisen, who was walking in the lead, asked.

The two cadets following behind seemed dumbfounded. They replied with fear filling their voices. “Well…when an uruk appears, we have to fight.”

“Can you fight? You’re shaking.”

“I… I’m not shaking!”

Humanity used steam guns, the culmination of dwarven steam technology.

The advantages of such guns were obvious, instantly reducing the hopeless power gap between humans and uruks and miraculously shortening the training period for new recruits. Still, the guns had their drawbacks.

“If it comes to that,” Kaisen said, “just be ready to run. How are you going to run away while carrying something so heavy?”

The major disadvantage of a steam gun was the small steam engine you had to strap to your back. Five or six hoses extended from the engine and connected to the gas cylinders on both sides of the gun, powering the gun to fire bullets.

“We’ll take care of ourselves!”

Just then, Kaisen stopped walking.

The cadets flinched in surprise and put their hands on the guns strapped to their waists.

Kaisen said, “Spread some oil here and set it on fire.”

The cadets grumbled, spraying oil on the trees and lighting them on fire. Early summer made everything dry, which aided the flames. Only a bit of oil was all it took for the fire to ravage swathes of the forest, and the smell of burning wood hung thick in the air.

“Now, run away. In 10 seconds, toss those guns aside,” Kaisen said.

“…?”

“No, is it five seconds? Hurry!”

Thus, from that moment… the dance of death began.

“Huh?” a militiaman mumbled.

Something white sparkled, and the head of the young cadet holding the fire starter split in two, sending brain and bone fragments flying into the air.

Darkness fell.

The other cadet, who had been backing away in a daze after seeing his comrade’s skull split open, was struck in the upper body by a mace. He stumbled and fell into the darkness, leaving his spine sticking from his back.

“Damn it, I told you to run!” Half a beat late, Kaisen chewed his lips and grabbed the hilt of his sword.

‘The odors of blood and burning wood are thick.’

A torch flickered over the ground, and the shadows of the forest danced. Large figures stood within the shadows.

“Kun Ta Ni shiRaooooOOOO! It was a voice tinged with joy.

Expressionlessly looking ahead, Kaisen’s eyes coldly flashed. “What’s so funny?”

No matter who it was, the uruks always laughed with such fucking joy…

Kaisen pulled the sword from its scabbard on his back, and the flickering fire reflected from the metal of his blade.

“Oshide (come at me),” he said.

At almost the same time, an uruk warrior rushed forward, swinging his mace. Kaisen leaped off the ground and soared into the air.

Whirrrrr一!

Dodging the descending mace, he spun twice in the air like a top and channeled the centrifugal force through his blade.

—Thump.

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Kaisen landed back on the ground, and the uruk’s upper body seemed to have been marked by his blade in many places. In the next instant, a fountain of blood spurted from the creature’s body as he fell in two.

Spuuuuuurrrrtt一!

‘One.’

Kaisen flicked his sword toward the ground, scattering the uruk’s bright-red blood over the dirt.

“Come at me all at once!” he said in the monster language he’d become quite good at.

Large figures walked from the darkness and into the light of the torches. Meanwhile, the flames continued to grow stronger elsewhere. It was large enough to engulf the entire mountain. The uruk unit was so caught up in the battle with Kaisen that they missed the opportunity to put out the fire.

* * *

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* * *

“Kaisen…” Even from so far away, the forest fire was clearly visible. Wolf, watching from a ridge with the stars shining coldly above him, smiled.

“He succeeded in half a day, not just a day? Hmph.” Kamila stood up, kicking the Great Holy Sword, Aradamantel on her back.

Eltoram shouted to his troops. “Get up, you useless bastards! It’s party time!”

* * *

Kaisen lowered his stance as he crossed his sword and scabbard.

Cross Sword Style – 1st Form, Full Circle.

The extreme defensive posture was the foundation of the Cross Sword Style and the move that connected to every other move.

“GGGGGGSHEEEEEEEEEEEEEFEEFEEEEEEEKKKK!” An axe swung down.

Kaisen pushed his cross into the attack’s trajectory, initiating the Cross Sword Style.

Claaaaanngggg一!

The two combatants recoiled after their weapons collided. An opening seemed to appear in that short moment.

Suppressing the sharp pain in his wrist, Kaisen sheathed his sword with lightning speed.

Cross Sword Style – 4th Form: Shoot.

He cut into the uruk warrior’s opening with an even faster unsheathing of his blade shortly before retreating.

The uruk warrior fell to the ground, spitting blood.

‘Try laughing now. Are you still having fun?’ Kaisen stepped on the uruk’s head and cut deeply into the thing’s neck.

The uruk cried out in pain and tried to hold its gaping wound shut.

The other uruk warriors paused, trying to understand the strange situation.

“Waaaaarrr…?”

“Anu on Shikeraber…?”

Two warriors had died in one battle, and against a human kid, at that…

Kaisen pointed at the dazed and hesitating uruks. “Why are you hesitating? Come at me!”

While Kaisen’s bloody battle continued, the uruks’ other forces were caught off guard by the militia suddenly going on the offensive.

Aiming for that opening, the Fake Warrior corps attacked from the flank and ravaged the uruk battle line.

“First line, aim, fire!”

“Second line, stand by, fire!”

“Third line, aim, fire!”

Every time the guns fired, uruks collapsed. Despite being hit by bullet after bullet, a huge figure of supernatural proportions fled.

“It’s the uruk battle chief!”

“M’lady!”

Fake Warrior Kamila faced the chief, who was far bigger than an ordinary uruk. “I am Kamila Alter Aradamantel…”

The holy sword responded to its proxy wielder’s call. Letting out a rough cry, the sword leaked out its unique red sword energy. The color seemed to wash the already blood-stained world with a deeper shade of red.

“I will kill you.”

The fight couldn’t even be called a fight.

The imperial soldiers clearly saw the battle between the chief and the Fake Warrior, but it seemed as though the blood-red energy flashed from Aradamandel’s blade in a mere instant, tearing the large uruk apart and spraying blood everywhere.

“Th-that’s the top Fake Warrior…!”

The militiamen who happened to see the fight were thrilled and filled with vigor, and the uruks lost morale and started retreating one by one.

“Wipe them all out. Don’t let a single one live.” Kamila’s eyes were grim as she walked over the chief’s body and wiped the blood from her blade.

A slaughter began amidst the overpowering scent of burning blood and flesh.

Gunshots rang out endlessly.

It was a time of war.

[The Dark Ages, Year 1696.

Kaisen participated in the battles on the Inferno Line as the fighting became more intense.

The boy was only 17 years old.]

“How many casualties?” Kamila asked as she sheathed Aradamantel.

The battle ended in a great victory.

Eltoram answered, “There are 33 deaths and 57 minor injuries.”

“And…?”

“The number of dead uruks likely exceeds 4,000.”

The soldiers were going around and finishing off the uruks who weren’t dead yet. All those who were hiding or running away into the forest were dragged out and cut down.

“For a special forces unit, that’s quite a lot. By the way, that means that we used at least 4,000 bullets.” She guessed they would have to replenish supplies before leaving.

That wasn’t all. 4,000 uruk warriors had appeared inside the Inferno Line… How on earth had they gotten in

‘This is ominous. I need to report it to that old man as soon as possible.’

Haltene militia leader Jack approached her. “W-we’re alive thanks to you. I don’t know how I can express my gratitude…” Jack bowed his head in a momentary daze. The Fake Warrior’s face seemed exceedingly beautiful at that moment.

“There was a brat who came here, right?” Kamila asked.

“A brat? Oh, yes.”

“Where is that punk?”

“He said he was going to raise the signal, but he never came back. Is that kid really a member of your Fake Warrior corps? A kid like that?”

Rifle Jin, one of the most senior members of the corps, cracked his neck in anger. “Isn’t your attitude a bit strange when you just said you survived thanks to us?”

“What…?”

“You should know that you survived thanks to Kaisen. Ha, why are all the guys from the empire such idiots?”

Wolf stepped between them and intervened. “Calm down, Jin. I’m sorry. Everyone gets sensitive right after a battle.”

Eltoram raised his bearish head, sniffed, and grinned.

Kamila went toward where Eltoram indicated and soon found Kaisen covering the pit the bodies were buried in.

As the boy shoveled the dirt with the head of an uruk’s axe, he did not look up at the Fake Warrior.

“What are you doing?” Kamila asked.

“The guys who helped me start the fire… They died in the uruk ambush.”

“Did you know them?”

“No. If I were strong like you, I would have been able to protect them.”

Kamila walked up next to Kaisen as he finished burying the bodies. A few pebbles were piled up like tombstones in front of the graves.

“Summer hasn’t even come in earnest yet,” she said. “If you try to take care of every single thing, you’ll run out of energy before summer ends.”

She hit Kaisen on the back. Unlike her usual beatings, she was strangely kind… as if she were praising his action. “So don’t cry.”

That was the last time they were able to talk in such a light-hearted manner after a battle.

* * *

He still vividly remembered the day when the Inferno Line, the southern boundary of humanity, was breached.

The day the griffin rider delivered the news while panting as if he were about to faint… Yes, that was the moment.

Before that, Kamila’s corps, to which Kaisen belonged, was staying in ‘Aquitaina’ to replenish supplies.

“Look at that. It’s the White Bone Corps.”

“They say they win on any battlefield they participate in.”

“I’ve actually fought with them. They’re just a group of monsters.”

The military city, which had flourished since ancient times, was originally a small city in the midwestern region of the old empire.

Located along the Belisor River, the city was connected to the central city of Aurelinople and the southwestern port of Aristapo. In addition, various logistics and supply trains passed along the Inferno Line railroad, so it naturally served as a key point for humanity in the midwestern region.

“Jin, take responsibility for checking the supplies,” Kamila ordered.

Even during the long war, Aquitaina was bright. Flagstones paved the roads, and refugees worked in the factories for their fair food rations.

Kamila gave directions as they walked down the road, the clock tower casting a deep shadow over them. “If anyone tries to give you shitty bullets or guns, bring them to me, and I’ll give them a talk.”

“Yes, mom.”

“Why am I your mother, you bastard?”

“No, I said, ‘Ma’am,’ M’lady.” Rifle Jin protested as he ran away from Kamila’s fists.

Kamila turned to Wolf and said, “Wolf, you make sure the church pays us properly.”

“Okay.”

“Eltoram, I told you to rest, but make sure you don’t mess around all day. We might have to leave at a moment’s notice.”

“Yep.”

“I’ll report to that perverted old man, the marshal.”

The citizens retreated to both sides of the road and looked at them with respect, not daring to move; then, someone blocked the corps’s path.

Confusion filled everyone’s eyes, but as soon as they saw who it was, they understood.

“It’s been a while, Kamila.” Her hair was also white, and her eyes were also golden dragon eyes.

“You’re still alive,” Kamila replied.

The other woman’s longsword in its elegantly crafted scabbard was the Great Holy Sword, Tas Alfo. Even sheathed, the sword radiated blue energy and resonated with the red energy from Aradamantel, even though the holy sword was resting on Kamila’s waist.

“Your life is really long, Sharon.”

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