30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue

44 – 9. In the Academy Field Trip, an Assault Always Occurs. (8)

Dwarves possess dark vision. This wasn’t strange at all, considering their heritage of living underground.

Although it didn’t mean they could see through darkness like it was broad daylight, they could still perceive objects relatively clearly in the dark.

Therefore, Asturk could see the approaching figure.

“…A big dwarf?”

Asturk was confused!

*

“Isabel.”

“Oh, sir?! How did you…?!”

“Are you hurt?”

Ivan walked briskly towards Isabel and stood by her side. He clicked his tongue, moistened it for a moment, then placed his hand on Isabel’s shoulder.

“No! No, I’m fine!”

“Good. Stay here and don’t move.”

While factor security was included in the basic training for the extermination unit, it didn’t guarantee perfect safety in the dark.

Always keeping track of the position of the guarded target before a battle was crucial.

Of course, Ivan was an efficient person, so he didn’t consider how his words might sound.

“I’ve seen this before… in romance novels!”

Isabel’s eyes rolled. The tension eased, and she sighed.

Her legs trembled. Fear struck her belatedly. Perhaps it was the aftereffect of the shaky-leg effect, but in the face of a man who appeared in the midst of imminent danger, it was inevitable not to feel reliant.

And the words, “Stay right there,” were like the knight in the stories telling her to wait until he defeated the ancient dragon.

“This is a confession. Ah, geez. This is awkward… Well, can’t be helped. I’ll just awkwardly accept it. Yeah, ask if the weekend works for you. As a reward.”

Isabel was in confusion!

*

In his left hand, a pistol; in his right, a longsword. Five small daggers hanging at his waist and an axe slung across his back.

Having quickly checked his armed state, Ivan walked forward slowly.

Scared, huh? Ivan took a quiet breath.

There were several common signs that appeared universally in living beings. Hormonal mechanisms were one of them.

The extreme efficiency increase in the nervous system and physical strength due to magic had various chain reactions. Among them was the amplification of each sensory organ.

Take smell, for example. They could capture even the faintest odor floating in the air.

Therefore, they could detect the volatile scent produced as sweat evaporated. In the realm of the extraordinary, this was an extremely crucial indicator.

“Because I can read the other person’s emotions.

Even in this underdeveloped pre-modern society where the word ‘hormone’ doesn’t exist, the structure of people remains the same, so their scent subtly changes according to their emotions.

This becomes a physical manifestation of emotions like ‘fear,’ ‘terror,’ or ‘affection.’

The cortisol secreted when a living being feels fear. This unique scent was permeating steadily among the dwarves.

“Are you scared?”

“Nonsense!”

Asturk muttered this into the distance. He was alone.

As wars are ultimately fights of morale, it’s difficult for a fight to materialize when one side loses momentum.

Instinctively, he classified his fight with Ivan as a ‘war.’ Ignoring this fact, he raised his weapon.

“Annihilation unit. You cursed ones… I’ll honor the spirits of the comrades who left before you by killing you first!”

“So they say.”

It took Asturk a moment to understand those words.

They say so?

For a moment, a chill ran down his spine.

That was… admitting several times to such words and killing them all with a cold confession.

With determined eyes, Asturk lifted the axe. In sync with his movement, all the fellow soldiers in the bunker raised their rifles.

Clang, clang.

The heavy sound of metal scraping echoed in the tunnel.

Ah, the old days.

Memories of the past battlefield where he faced the dwarven bunker.

It was during the mine war.

Ivan pondered while holding his sword. A narrow indoor space, dwarves filling the entire corridor. Dreadful bunkers where axes and bullets wouldn’t penetrate.

Back then, he wasn’t alone. He always had other comrades to assist him.

Now they were gone. Ivan gripped his sword amidst a deep sense of loss.

However, these aren’t the forces of that time. At most, around thirty soldiers. A small infantry unit, not exceeding fifty even at best.

And he isn’t the Lieutenant Ivan Petrovich of that time.

Ten years have passed since the mine war.

Ivan has gained ten years’ worth of experience.

*

“Tiang—!!”

The beginning is gunfire. Simultaneously threatening and aimed at securing visibility.

In a space fragmented by twists and turns, Ivan sprinted within the slow sense of time.

The dwarven vanguard, standing still, resembles a turtle. Firm, tenacious, and leisurely. Thus, the layers of tactics must be based on speed.

“He’s coming!”

A frightened voice echoes through the tunnel. It’s a familiar occurrence.

Dwarves usually belonged to the rear infiltration unit in demon armies, and such operations were always deemed the most suitable environment for the annihilating unit.

So, during wartime, the annihilating unit was always recognized as the individual unit that killed the most dwarves.

-Clang!

A welcome greeting in swordplay. The strike coming down directly is a feint. Before the one at the forefront can react, he casually flicks his shoulder with the shield.

His opponent’s weapon comes straight at him. He turns his body to evade, hearing only the cutting sound through the air.

Closing his eyes, he counts the seconds. Ivan is precisely counting his steps.

One pace equals 86 cm. Five steps behind him is Isabelle.

Seven steps to reach the leader of the vanguard. The vanguard’s width is twelve steps.

His operational range is seventeen steps.

-Clang!

In an instant, he dives in, avoiding various projectile weapons raining down on him.

Clang, kagak! The noise of a sword piercing beneath the elbow of the frontmost figure.

Clack, clack. The sound of the heavily armored figures intertwining their movements.

Under squinted eyes, the shapes of those caught in the retina at the moment of the explosion distort.

Analyzing each surrounding noise, he adjusts the positions and postures of the foes in real-time.

“This monster!!”

As one foe’s shell is pierced, and his forearm is severed, such words are heard.

Monster. Amusing. Ivan truly understood the fights of real ‘monsters.’

-Crunch!

Ignoring the horrific scream of the disarmed figure, he twirls his body two steps to the side.

Now, beneath the neck of the figure who just raised his axe to strike, he thrusts a dagger and takes another step to the right.

-Crack!

The next figure swings a war hammer. Leaning to the side, he lowers his posture to slip a dagger into the gap.

Crunch. The sword, with dangerously exposed teeth, shatters.

As expected. From the moment the battle started, he sensed the blade of the sword gradually wearing down through his fingertips.

So don’t be startled. Ivan was accustomed to this level of durability.

“He dropped his weapon!”

No, he let it go.

Ivan lowered his head and took two steps to the side. Right under his foot, the axe lay precisely where the guy who had his arm cut off had dropped it.

As soon as he picked it up, he turned his waist to avoid the next attack and raised his left hand.

Aim, align the breath, and fire.

-Bang!

“Screaaam!”

The broken sword was stuck in the gap of the guy’s armor, a precise pinpoint shot. Like hammering on a nail, the guy’s chest burst open.

He threw the pistol into the air and ran forward. Catching the combat hammer the guy had missed with his left hand, he twisted his body.

One hand up, the other to the side.

And smoothly crossed them, bringing them down.

-Kwang!

As the dropped axe stuck in the guy’s helmet, the hammer swung without error, slashing through the guy’s head.

As the guy’s body lost strength and twisted, falling, he threw the hammer and caught the pistol mid-air.

Without aiming, directly towards the commander five steps ahead.

Fire.

-Bang!

This time, he opened his eyes. The situation came into view again at a glance. When the flames from the pistol subsided, he closed his eyes again, picturing the transformed battlefield in his mind.

The noise of the battlefield, the scent of the enemies, the positions of the enemies engraved under the retina. The sensation of the wind brushing against his cheeks.

In the space between breaths, the battlefield of superhumans.

Ah, the grip.

Ivan ran again, recalling all of this.

Because the human body is fragile. Even if stabbed with a three-inch blade, it becomes powerless and numb.

Close combat is always a crossroads between life and death.

In the midst of an obviously unfavorable situation, in the middle of the enemy lines.

Forgetting this sensation of rushing toward the enemy’s heart, he had lived for the past four years since the last battle, where there was no situation worthy of being called a battle.

So, in this familiar battlefield, Ivan was feeling even a sense of nostalgia.

Ivan was a highly objective person, so he thought he was malfunctioning.

And that feeling became even more pronounced in everyday life. Among people who laughed and chatted casually, he felt a sense of alienation.

So, this place. At this moment when life is on the brink of extinction, he could be the person needed.

He was still living amidst war. Despite hating the battlefield, despite sketching daily life, despite yearning for his hometown.

Feeling the scent of missed comrades, Ivan took a step.

Now, one step.

There are ‘heads’ 86cm in front of him.

*

What feeling should one get from the madman who faintly smiles while ‘slaughtering’ comrades?

With every breath, comrades fall one by one.

Block, kill, don’t! Stop! My arm! Ahh!

Within that, screams couldn’t transcend syllables. On that battlefield where only the terminal screams echoed.

The madman of the extermination unit continued ‘operation’ without saying a word.

Broken armor springs up above the head. Torn limbs and drops of blood scatter in the air.

It’s a storm. It takes the form of a disaster that each individual cannot resist.

Literally, it sweeps, raises weapons, grasps, and charges.

Finally. Even when it swiftly approached before his eyes.

The guy’s breathing was no different from the beginning.

“I am… I am Lieutenant Asturk, commanding the 3rd company of the 5th Battalion, ‘Webmaker’ Engineers Regiment… What is your name…?”

“Ivan Petrovich.”

“Ha….”

Asturk nodded.

He heard that he was dead.

Yeah. That’s right. He was alive. If the reason he could intrude into this forest at the most precise moment was that, then it could be understood.

“That beard. Are you imitating us?”

“…?”

Ivan’s face twisted for the first time.

Though Ivan was an extremely pragmatic man, he never overlooked insults to the Sun King.

Instead of an answer, he swung the axe held by an unknown soldier.

*

“Now you can move.”

“It feels like those legs are finally free.”

Isabel laughed as she heard the approaching footsteps of Ivan, rhythmic and purposeful.

The battle had been intense, evident even in the sound alone. Simply standing quietly behind her was enough for the heat of the conflict to reach her.

Honestly, it was overwhelming.

She extended her arms and said, “Pick me up.”

It was better to be carried than to wait for the tension to subside.

Efficient as ever, Ivan wordlessly lifted her onto his back.

Soon, warm hands wrapped around his neck.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“You’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“Today was tough, but can I treat you to dinner tomorrow night?”

Ivan was an undercover agent in the reconnaissance headquarters.

Being an honorable person, he did not accept bribes from those he guarded.

“No.”

“Ah.”

*