Chapter 325

Chapter 325

There were twin justifications behind my reluctance to eliminate Salrie.

To begin with, Salrie was not the identical “Salrie” I had encountered in my previous existence.

Furthermore.

‘…Is this truly the proper path?’

Absurdly, a shallow sense of morality was impeding my progress.

I had crushed Freizen, that fated nemesis, without a single moment of hesitation.

Yet, the current state of Salrie, so utterly distinct from her past incarnation, prevented me from moving forward with absolute certainty.

Such internal conflict would have been entirely unthinkable during my former life.

For what reason?

Even disregarding our historical animosity, the termination of Salrie…

It remained the absolute most reliable method to halt Decullan.

Still, I wavered, and the prospective transgressions she might execute in the days to come failed to offer sufficient rationalization.

To put it another way, this had transformed into a dilemma of personal ethics…

“It was an era defined by absolute chaos.”

I pushed aside my tangled reflections and focused instead on the words of the former director.

“Young children brandished spears and blades, a sight that caused no surprise during those days. And amidst that era, there existed a youthful sorcerer.”

This sorcerer was a rising phenomenon within the military ranks, a young combatant experiencing a meteoric rise. It was not a scenario driven by complete ego. “In truth, he began as an academy scholar. However… the youthful sorcerer paid that no mind. In fact, he welcomed the turn of events. His academic debts were mounting unresolved, and his family estate was crumbling further with each passing day. Without the outbreak of hostilities, he might never have managed to conclude his studies.”

Yet, according to the former director, such circumstances were hardly abnormal for that period.

Regardless.

“To that youthful sorcerer, the conflict represented a grand opening. It was preferable to times of tranquility, even. Because… tranquility offered no grand openings to exploit.”

The domestic liabilities escalated day by day. Demands for payment arrived in piles.

Regrettably, acquiring substantial wealth during times of peace was no simple feat for a novice practitioner.

Warfare, however, presented an entirely different reality.

“The elimination of an opposing commander commanded this reward, triumphs yielded those incentives… What a stroke of fortune to possess a sorcerer’s talents. Furthermore, holding a noble title streamlined the process of securing validation for one’s achievements.”

Precisely five years.

A duration sufficient to transform a boy into a young man, a practitioner into a hardened combatant.

Throughout those five years, the youthful sorcerer entirely eradicated the financial burdens weighing on his house.

Liabilities so staggering they possessed the power to shatter an entire lineage; it required no explanation to understand the volume of blood that coated his palms.

While fellow combatants agonized in terror over the prospect of imminent demise, the youthful sorcerer remained wide awake through every dark hour.

Each night brought the thrill and electricity reminiscent of the eve of his initial entry into the academy.

By this point in the tale, the former director ceased covering up the fact that the youthful sorcerer was none other than himself.

He avoided stating it explicitly, yet the reality became unmistakable as the narrative unfolded.

“As the honors multiplied across my chest, the fading prestige of my lineage, which once seemed a heavy anchor dragging me down, transformed into soaring wings. The very individuals who dismissed us during our decline now came forward one after another, invoking ancient connections. It was… an incredibly sweet period.”

He characterized it as a “sweet period,” yet not a single trace of sentiment colored the former director’s delivery.

It was as though he remained entirely unacquainted with the very concept of sweetness.

“Human beings ceased to appear human to me. Consequently… indeed, they became mere steps. Steps designed to elevate both myself and my lineage to greater heights. And in truth, the reality was no different. Extinguish more lives, ascend to higher ranks. Zero remorse. The concept of ‘family’ transformed into my ultimate ‘rationalization’.”

Before long, the youthful sorcerer found himself entirely consumed by the objective of elevating his house to the pinnacle of status.

As the honors accumulated, so too did his rank. A superior position translated into a more affluent household.

An affluent household provided the flawless justification for the youthful sorcerer. It functioned as an absolution in its own right.

“Then, a specific day arrived.”

A directive descended from the highest command structure.

“A classified undertaking.”

The assignment itself was uncomplicated.

Sever the supply routes heading toward the primary stronghold of the opposition.

“A venture fraught with extreme peril. To obstruct those provisions, we were required to penetrate deep into hostile domains. Gaining entry was hazardous enough, but executing an exit… Once you depart, the pursuit will hunt you relentlessly.”

I had to force a path right through the core of the opposition’s defensive lines.

The detachment could not be substantial, given the nature of the assignment.

A mere handful of martial knights, alongside a few practitioners at most.

“Virtually a fatal endeavor. And yet… it appealed to me.”

“Extreme peril carried the promise of monumental compensation, and I possessed numerous companions eager to offer themselves for such undertakings.”

Dependable allies, staggering compensations.

Those factors swayed the youthful sorcerer.

The directive from the highest command left no room for refusal, yet he actively chose to hurl himself directly into the jaws of destruction.

“The breeze carried a crisp chill.”

The former director gazed back into history with hollow eyes, dispassionately recounting his emotions from that distant era.

The sky stretched out immensely. It was midsummer, yet it bore the sensation of autumn.

The unfamiliar soil I stepped upon for the very first time differed little from the ground of our own sovereignty.

Perhaps it was only logical, but during that period, it felt remarkably novel.

It is possible that the state indoctrination demonizing the opposition as fiends or monsters had taken root within my subconscious without my awareness.

Regardless… the reality was not so distinct.

Naturally, that realization failed to alter the execution of the assignment. The youthful sorcerer recognized from the very outset that the opposition consisted not of monsters or fiends, but of ordinary people.

It was entirely logical that their domains were not some supernatural realm from folklore.

Consequently, alongside a compact contingent, they slipped past the opposing front lines. Midst the oppressive summer heat, they advanced through grueling environmental circumstances without issue. The true source of dread lay in humanity, not the elements.

An exhausting and relentless advance, yet the contingent of practitioners and martial knights showed no signs of fatigue.

“The objective itself presented little difficulty.”

Could it be because they had advanced so deeply?

The sentries guarding the opposition’s provisions lacked fierce resistance.

Even the opposition had failed to conceive of the possibility.

That the sovereignty would deploy practitioners of such immense value to construct an offensive strike force.

The sovereignty was currently fractured by internal uprisings and assaults from every direction, barely managing to sustain its defensive frontiers.

In this manner.

“A singular incantation caused hundreds of combatants to vanish beneath collapsing structures. We refrained from obliterating the supply train entirely, but we severed the pathway; the objective was fulfilled. The genuine complication commenced immediately afterward.”

A frantic flight to preserve our existences.

Before a single sun had set, opposing forces blanketed the territory.

Possessing superior numbers, every mountain pass revealed practitioners and martial knights standing to obstruct the path.

“An immense number perished.”

The sixteen individuals who initiated the journey were decimated by half before reaching friendly frontiers, and half of those survivors were clearly marked for a swift demise.

Yet despondency remained absent. They had steeled their minds for this reality from the very beginning.

“Demise was hardly an unfamiliar concept back then. The end that perpetually brushed against the periphery had finally manifested directly before us. Honors carried greater weight than existence itself. A beating heart failed to validate that you had lived; an earned honor did.”

Naturally, however, no individual desired to perish.

The contingent battled frantically to endure, laying waste to hostile territory to disorient their pursuers.

“…Even to this day, I query myself. If only…”

The former director’s gaze wavered minutely.

He sank into reflection, his lips trembling as though sealed together, before finally finding his voice.

“…If we had avoided selecting that specific path on that day.”

Could one even designate them as such?

“Children.”

An era where writing instruments were discarded for blades, and educational garments were exchanged for combat attire. Far younger than any adolescent combatant the youthful sorcerer had ever witnessed upon the field of engagement, younger even than himself during his initial deployment.

Approximately twenty of them in total.

Naturally, if that comprised the entirety of the situation, the contingent would have proceeded without pause.

Regardless of their background, if they donned uniforms and brandished spears and blades, there existed no reason to deliberate.

“A companion voiced the thought. Had they been merely a year or two more mature, we would have proceeded without a single thought.”

Children drowning in garments far too grand for their frames. Children who appeared as though they would be toppled over by the very blades resting at their hips.

One among them even carried a staff, declaring herself a practitioner, yet was she truly capable of manifesting a proper incantation?

Even the contingent found itself divided on the matter.

“Certain voices advocated for taking a detour. At that distance, they would fail to spot us. Others insisted on eliminating them entirely. To seal the passageway, thereby delaying the pursuit by a day or two. And another individual suggested…”

—Let us capture their leader alive.

When questioned regarding the rationale, the martial knight answered.

—Based on our prior observations, they appear youthful and devoid of experience. If we manipulate the situation properly, we could fracture their containment line by controlling their leader.

“Manipulate” was the chosen phrasing, yet every soul present understood the true implication.

Under normal circumstances, they would have assented without a moment’s pause. Yet the hesitation emerged from an entirely different source.

…A shallow sense of morality.

“What an absolute farce.”

Men who had snuffed out dozens, even hundreds of existences, now found themselves tormented by ethical considerations.

Yet no debate ensued.

No individual cast blame upon the martial knight who put forward the strategy.

For what reason?

“It represented the pragmatic course of action. No soul could dispute it. Even those who maintained silence failed to comprehend their own inner workings. That environment was a field of conflict, they were combatants. Therefore, why…?”

—Why do you hesitate? Combatants brandishing spears and blades, practitioners reciting incantations.

Do you fail to perceive the knightly honors pinned to their forms?

They were forced to make a determination.

“A detour was out of the question. We could brook no delay. Consequently, sealing the passageway or pursuing the martial knight’s strategy…”

At that juncture, the former director abruptly fell silent. His gaze wavered once more.

Judging by his response, interpreting his ultimate selection required little effort.

“You… opted for pragmatism.”

“Indeed, we conformed to the martial knight’s strategy.”

I maintained my silence.

The identical response came from the former director.

A profound stillness settled between us, remaining undisturbed until much later, when he chose to speak once more.

“…They were not combatants.”

“We uncovered the reality following the conclusion of hostilities. They comprised reinforcements deployed in absolute haste while the pursuit hunted us. A massive oversight occurred. They drafted youngsters several years junior to those officially designated for military conscription.”

An absolute absurdity of an error.

The variety that strains credulity.

Yet the deed was finalized, and denying the reality remained impossible.

“Had we avoided crossing paths with them on that specific day…”

A handful of days later, those children might have discarded their garments. Granted, years down the line they would don them once more.

…Yet an inquiry manifested within my mind as I attended to the narrative.

“Director, when you characterize it as a monumental error…”

“Do you fail to grasp it?”

“No, I believe I understand.”

In response to my composed reply, he directed a luminous gaze toward me.

Initially, deciphering the sentiment behind that look proved elusive, but as he spoke again, the meaning crystallized.

It was sorrow.

And profound understanding.

“…Indeed.”

“Avoid repeating the identical blunder committed by this elderly man.”

“Once you step past the boundary, repeating the action becomes effortless. Following the secondary occurrence, you will discover zero hesitation dwelling within your heart. And in that manner… every individual transforms into a monster.”

He paused at that point, observing me intently, before delivering a final remark.

“You surely possess no desire to share the fate of myself or the Grand Duke of Muspellun, do you?”