Swordmaster of the Great Wall

The main force of the Watch, accompanied by a vast army, marched toward the Fuga Gorge.

However,

Except for Fortress Commander Burton, whose special situation due to the existence of the lich was taken into consideration, the rest of the rebels had now been reassigned, either to the main force or under the command of each fortress commander.

As a result, the overall formation of the Watch had changed considerably from before; the significant shift being that most of the troops were now under the direct command of the Watch headquarters at the Black Citadel.

There were no fortress commanders left to object, so Erich had taken this opportunity to enforce such measures.

Of course, it seemed that Guenter was still a bit dissatisfied... but given various reasons, with faith in Erich soaring sky-high at the moment, there was nothing he could do about it.

'In the past, the first thing I did as lord commander was similarly to absorb the fortress commanders' power.'

Outwardly, this might have seemed nothing more than a political move to consolidate power, but in reality, it was an essential step for conducting large-scale battles against the dead.

Of course, this created the side effect that Erich himself had to direct most of the grand strategy, but... this was something Erich was quite used to.

—Clatter, clatter.

Inside the swaying carriage, the former lord commander August slept as if dead. He had yet to awaken from his wounds.

Deep scars were etched all over his body, and blood still seeped from the bandages wrapped around him.

"Hm..."

Erich silently watched over the fallen August.

There was still a question weighing on him—why had August arranged for Erich to become lord commander? The reason remained unanswered.

The Watch rebellion had been prompted by the lich, but Commander August had not been under the lich's psychic influence.

Yet, even so, he made the unprecedented decision to raise Erich as lord commander, ignoring standard procedure.

What on earth could have driven him to do so? That was what Erich could not understand.

—Flicker.

Erich gazed intently at the area around Lord Commander August. An odd flickering hovered nearby.

Soon, a small golden flame, like what Erich had witnessed in the cavern, began to glow.

'... Retrospection?'

It was the same flame that, if touched, would draw him into a vision. This time, though, it appeared much smaller than before.

Was Inscensus trying to show Erich something once again? However, unlike before, Erich hesitated to touch it.

"If..."

If it turned out August was in league with the dead, that he had raised the rookie Erich to commander to destroy the Watch—would Erich be able to withstand the sense of betrayal upon learning such a truth?

Such fear crept up from deep within Erich's chest. That fear stayed his hand from reaching toward the flame.

But only for a moment.

"Haa..."

With a low exhale, Erich steadied himself. Whatever the truth, he needed to discern August's true intentions.

Should August someday awaken, the actions Erich must take could change depending on what kind of man he found him to be.

—Tap.

Erich's fingers touched the flame. The fire flickered, crawling up his hand and absorbing into him.

Soon, the world around him began to blur.

As it was a much weaker vision than before, it lacked the sense of realism, but the surrounding scenery gradually began to shift, aligning with August's perspective.

***

The vast force of the Watch faced each other, swords drawn and ready to clash at any moment.

Lord Commander August rested his hand upon his sword, casting a sorrowful gaze alternately at both sides.

Viewing the internecine conflict of brothers united under one banner, Erich could feel the sadness that filled August's heart, even if only indirectly.

After a moment, Grant cautiously spoke.

"Commander, all troops are ready. Your orders."

"... Wait. Just a moment longer."

Commander August closed his eyes. Was this truly right? The turmoil in his heart was transmitted even to Erich. A searing doubt made August's head throb.

"What caused them to become like this? Is this truly my mistake?"

"No matter what you do, you are our commander. But to draw a sword against that is, for any reason, an unforgivable act."

The one who answered was a fortress commander who had died in this very battle.

He appeared to hold burning enmity toward the rebels.

Richter, who had remained silent, spoke up.

"If only Sir Mikhail were here, things might be a bit better, but..."

"He is on a more important mission. He is the sword of the Watch. To use such a sword to strike down a brother would be an insult to him, would it not?"

August smiled faintly. He thought the world of Erich's mission. Which is why he had lent Mikhail—his right hand—to Erich.

—Clack.

August drew his sword. The fortress commanders nodded and withdrew to their respective positions.

Erich's view pulled away from August, rising over the vast battlefield.

On the white snowfield, two groups wrapped in black cloaks charged at each other as if to kill.

As they collided, steel clashed with steel and screams of pain echoed everywhere.

Unlike their initial hesitation, they now swung their swords at their former brethren without a moment's pause.

Just yesterday, they had fought barbarians—now, they turned their blades on brothers.

For that, the battle between them was all the more tragic and desperate.

When the heat of battle had nearly melted the surrounding snow, Erich's gaze was drawn back to a single point.

He was once again inside August's body, surrounded by enemy troops.

August's plan had succeeded strategically but failed tactically.

The rebel fortress commanders had abandoned all strategy except for one—to intercept August himself.

Thus, though the battle was won in the bigger picture, it left the commander isolated deep in enemy territory.

The aides who had been escorting him now lay in pools of blood on the snow.

—Kaaaang!

August's eyes flashed blue. The mark of a swordmaster, this power let him see the path of incoming blades.

Burton's sword shot toward August. Yet August parried it lightly and swung at Daren beside him.

—Kaaang!

"Gah!"

With a single strike, Daren was forced several steps back. Immediately, two more rebel fortress commanders joined, making four encircling August.

August's eyes darted rapidly. Then, Daren shouted,

"We have to attack together! Don't let him use his ability!"

When swords clash, all manner of tricks come into play. Honest attacks join with feints.

Just as one fortress commander tried to deceive August with a sudden change in his sword's trajectory—

—Shkraaak!

"Gah!"

August's blade sliced the fortress commander's forearm. Tricks did not work on him.

The blue eyes of the swordmaster saw through their every intent.

Erich marveled inwardly.

August's power wasn't particularly fit for combat—unlike Mikhail, who was more akin to a human weapon indiscriminately hurling slashes.

The power of August's eyes was 'to see the truth'.

But even such a skill, ill-suited for battle, he had woven into his swordsmanship with excellence.

He read the enemies' feints and seized upon those openings to launch counters.

In fact, August was now pressing the four most capable, cleverest fortress commanders of the Watch all on his own.

Yet Erich also felt a kind of regret. August had no intention to kill them.

Rather, he deliberately targeted limbs and non-vital spots to avoid dealing deadly blows.

Thus, though all the fortress commanders now bled profusely, none received truly fatal wounds.

The fight dragged on.

August, even then, seemed to sense it: though this fight was perilous, the overall tide was turning in their favor.

So August did not rush, but calmly pressed them further and further.

August, usually cheerful and hearty like any farmer, now brandished his sword at all sides with a grim, demonic countenance.

But perhaps due to exhaustion from long service, or the cruelty of time, wounds soon began to mar August's body.

—Shraaak!

A red line was carved upon August's cheek, a trail of blood running down as the aging commander gasped for breath.

"Huff, huff."

"Lord Commander, please surrender now."

"... That's what I should say. What has driven you all to this?"

August was a compassionate man.

If it were Mikhail, he would have slaughtered them without mercy—but August could not be so cruel.

Erich recalled the time, prior to his return, when August died.

Although the situation then was worse than now, it was likely August would have made a similar judgment even so.

For that reason, though he himself died, the soldiers of the Black Citadel could be preserved.

Still, Erich's question was unresolved. What was this vision trying to show him? Was it simply August's glorious last stand?

—Kaaang! Kaang!

Soon the fortress commanders yelled,

"Damn it! We have to take him down, fast!"

The battle's situation had changed rapidly.

The troops led by Grant had split the rebels in two. At this rate, it seemed likely that the rebels would both fail to kill August and lose the battle.

But August's situation was also dire. His leather armor, once protecting his chest, had been sliced and sagged behind him.

The deep wounds now pierced his flesh.

—Thudududunk.

Blood poured from August's many wounds, yet what filled his heart was not hatred or anger, but pity.

Even in such a situation, he felt sympathy for the rebels.

Suddenly, Erich recalled something Mikhail had once said about August.

—He never had the disposition to be a lord commander. Tsk.

Erich had to agree. No matter how much of a rebellion there was, a lord commander needed the capacity for ruthless anger.

August simply could not be that pitiless man.

Just then, Erich felt a strange sensation. August's consciousness seemed to expand.

The power of his eyes—to pierce truth—was broadening.

"......"

The expansion of a power he had heard of before.

A sensation unfamiliar to Erich, who had rarely used abilities.

But this was the kind of force that, when a swordmaster's life was in mortal peril, could be granted by fortune.

What was the expansion of August's ability to distinguish truth from falsehood?

But at that moment, an enemy's sword stabbed into August's side.

"Khak!"

August, sword still embedded, spun and beheaded the fortress commander who had stabbed him.

That rebel, clutching his neck, staggered back a few steps, spewing blood, and fell dead.

—Voom.

August's blue radiance blazed even brighter.

His gaze no longer lingered on the foes before him; instead, he seemed to look far beyond.

Erich could not comprehend the whole vista he beheld. Likely, only August could fully understand the vision set before his eyes.

Yet, there was one single scene Erich could grasp. August sank to his knees, an indescribable smile on his lips.

A vision of the Watch, together beneath swirling black capes, standing against the dead.

A curly-haired man confronted the Lord of the Dead.

Countless Watchmen flashed by his side. In August's mind, the Watch at this moment was more united than ever before.

What August saw at the very end—that was...

"... Erich. Erich von Krupp."

It was the sight of Erich, as commander of the Watch, fighting the dead.

"Daren! If we don't retreat now, we're all going to die here!"

"Damn it! We almost had him!"

Clutching their wounds, Daren and Burton abandoned the two already fallen fortress commanders and escaped.

Soon after, August's loyal subordinates belatedly rushed to his side.

"Lord Commander!"

"Hurry, bring the lord commander!"

August felt his vision grow dim. Too much blood lost. Muscles that would no longer obey.

In that final moment, seeing Grant at his side, August spoke his last words.

"... The next lord commander is Erich."

"... What?"

Grant's eyes widened.

Perhaps he was shocked by the unexpected words. But, seeing the unshakable light in August's eyes, he fell silent and slowly nodded.

As the vision blurred, Erich felt himself becoming separated from August's senses.

*

Back from the vision, Erich stared at August in a daze for a moment.

'... Was it the same before my regression?'

After another awakening, August's ability had evolved, letting him see the future.

And what he saw in that future—was Erich as commander.

Before the regression, and even now.

Erich let out a faint, self-mocking laugh.

Why was this future so predetermined?

Even so, he could understand the feelings August must have felt.

He must have thought it was the best choice.

—Slip.

Erich pulled August's blanket up to his chin.

Then softly whispered,

"If that's fate, then I'll do it. Whatever."

Erich gazed at the snow fields outside the carriage window. The end of all things was slowly approaching.

Most likely, it would be that very final battle that August had foreseen.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=

【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】