Chapter 68
Day three of training. The harsh exercises in the cold weather did nothing to lift the soldiers’ spirits. The air was heavy with the ever-present possibility of sudden, unpredictable weather. Even the patches of fresh snow scattered across the ground could not mask the stench emanating from the unkempt leather armor.
Only a few days ago, the “temporary training ground” had been little more than a mountain path at the edge of the barracks. Now, it bore the marks of intense combat training: grass trampled into mud, grooves dug out by dragging feet, and the occasional glint of weapons abandoned after being damaged beyond repair.
Faber stood at the center of it all. His voice carried across the training ground with weight, and a current of tension rippled through the ranks.
“Move your feet, you lazy fools!”
Clang, clash. Faber demonstrated a series of sword strikes, driving the soldiers forward. A soldier who had been his sparring partner staggered back, almost losing his footing.
“Tch, useless. Do you think the enemy will wait for you to get into position?”
Though he could not rival the full power of the Legion Commander, who wielded divine energy alongside swordsmanship, Faber displayed combat skills even Mia would recognize as formidable in one-on-one combat.
In a past life, he had been just a low-ranking officer. That he had risen to Deputy Commander of the First Holy Legion owed much to manpower shortages—but more importantly, to his impressive combat ability and leadership.
Not far from Faber, Marcel was struggling through his one-on-one combat training with his assigned partner. His movements were awkward and scattered. Even as a low-ranking soldier in the Holy Legion, his motions were so obviously off that it was a serious problem.
The armor, clearly too large after recent weight loss, scratched his skin with every movement. Dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights.
In truth, he was in no condition to be subjected to such intense “combat training.”
Still, he had walked into it knowing the enemy wouldn’t spare soldiers for their condition. Yet even while swinging his sword, his mind kept returning to Franbé’s body, broken by the “monster’s” attack.
Unable to focus, Marcel trembled every time Faber’s voice pierced his ears. With his sword constantly shaking, it was no surprise he couldn’t earn a good evaluation in training.
Meanwhile, Leonard stood atop a small hill, surveying the combat training with a bird’s-eye view. His pristine white uniform was immaculate, not a speck of dust, and every strand of hair remained perfectly in place. His cold gaze shifted back and forth between Faber and Marcel.
It seemed he had found his target.
“Take a break.”
Leonard approached Marcel from behind. The young soldier flinched, nearly dropping his sword. Leonard smiled and steadied the weapon for him.
“You look exhausted. Care for a short walk?”
Though Leonard had only become Deputy Commander due to his accomplishments, most soldiers still recognized him as the true Deputy Commander, so earning Marcel’s trust was not difficult. He hesitated briefly, then nodded and followed Leonard.
Once they were far enough from the temporary training ground, Leonard finally broke the long silence.
“I cannot ignore how uncomfortable you’ve become around Faber. Considering the recent events, it’s understandable.”
His words were laced with false sympathy.
Marcel’s grip on his sword tightened, knuckles whitening.
“I-I…”
“No need to explain,” Leonard interrupted softly.
“I know how close you were to Franbé. Childhood friends, right?”
He paused, letting Marcel mull over the statement.
“And yet, Faber continues his reckless training as if nothing happened, despite being responsible for Franbé’s death. At this rate, unnecessary sacrifices will continue due to his extreme methods.”
Marcel’s face twisted with sorrow, confusion, and perhaps a trace of anger.
Yet Leonard’s words, even spoken with the weight of grief, felt somehow… off.
“B-But… Franbé’s death is Faber’s fault…”
Leonard nodded solemnly, placing a hand on Marcel’s shoulder. Marcel flinched but did not pull away.
“You only saw Mia Blancchar instruct the two of you to enter the forest together. You don’t know the full circumstances.”
“You mean… there’s something I don’t know?”
“Yes. In truth, all that tragedy happened according to Faber’s plan.”
“B-But… how…?”
“I would tell you if you promised to help with my plans. The information is too sensitive to share except with someone I trust.”
“Someone I can trust.” The words carried weight. Marcel’s mind, already fragile from the shock and grief of losing his friend, was being nudged to trust the former Deputy Commander who had first presented the “secret proposal” to Franbé.
A mere nod was all Leonard required. He leaned close, as if to ensure no one overheard, letting his breath brush Marcel’s ear.
Marcel’s eyes widened.
“R-Really?”
“Yes. Faber is trusted, so if this information spreads recklessly, it could endanger us. But does that mean we must let the tragedy he could cause repeat itself?”
“…”
“People like Faber are a danger to all of us.”
His tone was urgent, intentionally pressing Marcel into action. There was no room for hesitation.
“Surely, we can ensure that no one follows in his footsteps?”
“Y-Yes… I’m ready…”
Even though the former Deputy Commander had little reason to relate to a low-ranking soldier, Marcel nodded vigorously, trembling at Leonard’s subtle way of binding them together.
“Good. That’s the attitude. What we need is merely… a ‘minor accident.’ Something that could easily occur during such intense training.”
“You mean…”
“Don’t overthink it, Marcel. Everything is for justice.”
Leonard’s fingers pressed into Marcel’s shoulder, emphasizing the weight of his words.
“For Franbé, and for all those who could become victims of Faber’s recklessness in the future. Only you can bear this great burden.”
“Y-Yes…”
“The more you dwell on it, the more fearful you may become. That’s natural. But rest assured: in the heat of training, if a clumsy soldier makes a mistake, who will suspect anything?”
Marcel lowered his head.
Across the training ground, Ella, Commander of the Second Holy Legion, had come to observe the exercises. She noticed the interaction. Though she could not hear the conversation from afar, their gestures and subtle shifts in posture made it clear something was wrong.
The weight of the former Deputy Commander’s words pressed heavily on Marcel’s shoulders.
‘Am I really the only one who can do this…? But how could I ever commit such an act?’
His doubts grew as Faber’s countless orders continued to fray his nerves. Only at sunset did he manage to finish the total amount of training assigned to him.
Even after training ended, he trembled while mechanically cleaning his sword. Even mundane chores could not suppress the surge of emotions within him.
Memories of supporting Franbé’s limp body back to the main camp resurfaced. Nightmarish, repeating visions.
Yes. Such a tragedy must never happen again. No matter the cost. If he was the only one capable, he would act himself…
Yet taking the life of someone he knew well was not something achievable with mere shallow determination.
In Marcel’s mind, Franbé’s pale, lifeless face gradually blurred, replaced by another—familiar, yet different.
‘Faber…’
