Tale of the Fake Hero

Chapter 7

December 1696, in the Age of Foundation.

Despite the fierce battles fought by each Feiquaria corps, the front lines gradually retreated over time.

Grand Marshal Krauzan finally decided to pull all forces back behind the Inferno Line.

The White Skull Corps, which had fought on the front lines, was no exception and was ultimately incorporated into the defensive forces of the Inferno Line.

The Inferno Line.

It was the first time since the Battle of Fortress No. 7 that they had the leisure to closely observe this mysterious structure with their own eyes.

"Stop gawking like a country bumpkin. You're making us all look bad."

"Shut up, Jin."

"Haha, well, it's only natural for his eyes to widen. After all, who could've imagined lining up fortresses along the banks of the Bellisor River, splitting the Old Republic into three parts?"

The brutal and tragic experience of the "Black Summer" had forced the Old Republic to adopt a tactical doctrine of minimizing friendly casualties behind walls while forcing the demons into attrition warfare.

This doctrine led to the creation of the Inferno Line, a permanent defensive facility.

The line was fully equipped with artillery batteries, barbed wire, trenches, and fortifications. Beneath it were warehouses for food and ammunition.

Each fortress was even connected by a rail network, ensuring smooth military and logistical operations both during wartime and peacetime.

The world described this iron wall as:

The ultimate facility, the strongest fortress, and the longest defense line, built using the pinnacle of dwarven technology.

"You call this a river? You can't even see the opposite bank. This is more like a sea."

The boy squinted at the chaotic dance of volcanic ash swirling over the river.

"With all these batteries lined up here, if we intercepted the Uruk while they were crossing the river, the invasion would be over in no time."

The fortress shone with a metallic luster, kept spotless by the soldiers' diligent polishing and oiling, not a trace of ash marring its surface.

From a distance, it looked like the horizon itself was girded with a menacing black band.

As the White Skull Corps crossed the bridge, engineers busily moved about, installing magical bombs on each pillar.

They planned to detonate them as soon as all the units returned from the front lines or if the Uruk attempted to cross.

"Is this the last bridge?"

At Jin’s question, a young engineer with a boyish face answered.

"Yes, sir! It's the last bridge on the central front! There's one left in both the west and east as well."

"Man, you’re working hard in this sweltering heat."

"No, sir! We're honored to welcome the Feiquaria Corps! Aren't you all feeling hot in this weather?"

All the soldiers on the front lines wore combat uniforms imbued with elite mages' "temperature control" magic.

Without it, fighting under the searing heat of the frenzied sun and the intense heat of the Prispia Core would have been impossible.

Even with the magic, once the battle ended, the soldiers would often gather around the ice magic Wolf created to cool down.

"Camilla Alter Aradamantel."

As they finished crossing the bridge, the fortress commander stood in front of the command post, saluting formally with his side cap tucked under his arm.

Several officers stood beside him, their disciplined stance indicating they were not the local militia (Haltene) but highly trained regulars.

"I heard of your victory at Fortress No. 7. Congratulations."

"Just give me the situation report."

"It’s safe to say the fortresses south of the Inferno Line have all been destroyed."

Camilla grumbled at the commander’s report.

"No shit, what the hell are the Republic’s witches doing? Taking a collective vacation?"

"Even just protecting the major cities seems to be a heavy burden."

"Ah, I see. They're probably lounging in the capital, drinking with the boys, huh?"

"Please stop saying things like that... Anyway, to defend the Inferno Line, we've conscripted even student soldiers into the Haltene forces."

Camilla looked out at the distant horizon.

It was summer.

The volcanic ash that covered the southern sky was thick and impossibly dark, as if the world itself was being swallowed by shadows.

"What about the others?"

"Sixth Seat, Alesia Alter Solan, and Seventh Seat, Lunnel Alter Gaumris, have been deployed to defend Terbenopel."

"They left the most important front, the capital, to those kids? What about us?"

"Your orders are to hold the central front."

"Basically, we're just here to waste time?"

"This is an important front as well."

"If you cowardly Republic bastards had properly armed yourselves, we would’ve pushed all the way to the southern seas by now. Instead, you wasted resources on this trash heap of a defense line."

"Watch your mouth, Camilla. The Republic has been humanity’s bulwark for a long time. This is a small price for their service. The Commander has always said so."

At Johann Wolf Frost’s reproach, Camilla spat on the ground in frustration. The commander, sensing the tension, spoke up.

"Lastly, there’s a message from the Papacy..."

"Then spit it out, you lowborn."

"The Papacy says that your time is running out, and they order you to finally take on a disciple. This is the list from the Church."

The commander handed over a golden scroll, sealed with the Papacy’s emblem, radiating a divine light like sunlight.

"Camilla..."

Wolf watched with despair as Camilla took the scroll.

He knew better than anyone.

Her hair, once vibrant, had turned completely white.

‘A testament to fighting like a madwoman...’

Feiquaria were swordsmen who converted their own lifespan into raw power.

During wartime, their average lifespan was the late twenties to early thirties. In peacetime, the longest on record was only the early forties.

Camilla, the same age as Johann, had reached her late thirties.

Since becoming a Feiquaria after Laminea’s death, Camilla had lived a relatively long life, thanks to the peace, but now even that was nearing its end.

"..."

Camilla looked at the scroll with a blank expression. Then, without opening it, she handed it back to the commander.

"Tell those old farts I’ve already found someone. I haven’t made a decision yet, though."

"Wh-what?"

Both the commander and Wolf’s eyes widened. The commander stammered.

"W-who is it?"

This was monumental news.

The immovable First Seat of the Feiquaria, who had never taken a disciple before, finally had one? What kind of incredible talent could it be?

"What was his name again...? Was it Ka-dimwit? Ka-moron? Ka-trash?"

"A name like Ka-trash? Even if you’re joking, I’ve never heard of such a name."

"Yeah, me neither."

"Huh?"

Realizing something was off, Wolf immediately shouted at Camilla.

"Camilla, you can't be serious!"

"Come back later. I’ll decide after I see if he has potential."

Only after the commander had been dismissed did Wolf, still staring at Camilla, speak.

"If you’re using Kaisen as an excuse to avoid taking a disciple, stop it."

"Why?"

"The swordsmanship you learned from the Commander, the Tenfold Cross Blade, is humanity’s treasure. Do you think it’s right to bury it out of personal feelings?"

Camilla turned away from Wolf, her fingers weakly brushing over the short sword of her master, hidden beneath her cloak.

‘I won’t take a disciple...’

She no longer gave affection to anyone.

Not even interest.

That was Camilla’s way of coping with this cruel, departing world.

"You're teaching Kaisen well. You could teach other kids too, surely!"

"I could, but what if I don’t want to?"

"Why him, but not the others?"

Well, why indeed?

When Wolf grabbed her shoulder, Camilla pulled out the short sword she had been hiding at her waist.

In a voice that sounded as if it were being wrung from her, she spoke.

“This short sword... I gave it to the Commander as a gift. Right before his last battle.”

Kaisen's mother's keepsake.

A gift from Camilla to her master.

When those two meanings merged in his mind, Wolf nearly collapsed, his knees giving way. His breathing grew unsteady.

“Th-then... C-Camilla, K-Kaisen, that kid... is the Commander’s s—”

“—Of course not, you idiot. You actually believed that?”

Naturally, Camilla cut him off before he could draw any conclusions, her expression turning cold.

“What?”

Wolf stood there, stunned.

Only after a long moment did he manage to steady his breath with a sigh. Pressing his fingers against his temple, he spoke in a low voice.

“Don’t ever joke about the Commander again. You, more than anyone, know how painful it is every time his name comes up.”

There was no reply.

Camilla just smirked and turned away, walking off, leaving Wolf to blink blankly.

‘How long has it been since Camilla smiled like that...?’

Since the Commander died, she hadn’t even cracked a smile—not even as a joke.

But Wolf didn’t say it aloud. There wouldn’t have been time anyway.

Because just then, a griffin landed on the grassy field, kicking up a swirl of dust from above.

“Camilla Alter Aradamantel!”

The rider leapt down urgently, prostrating himself before her.

“What is it now?”

“Communications from the rear positions are being cut off one after another.”

“They're probably having a big drunken party together.”

“The same goes for the units sent to investigate. The White Skull Corps has been ordered to uncover the cause of this anomaly.”

From the rear positions...?

Camilla felt the vague unease she had been harboring slowly take shape.

The enemy was close, and there had been reports from the Magic Blind Intelligence Department that the demon army, which had scorched the south, was gathering at forward bases.

The Republic’s command trusted the defensive power of the Inferno Line too much... But with demons, complacency was a deadly mistake.

Camilla dusted off her pants and stood up, giving Johann a meaningful look.

“Call Kaisen. I’ve got a task for him. Might as well teach him the last of the sword techniques.”

***

“This brat is supposed to be a messenger from the Feiquaria Corps?”

Haltene militia captain Jack snorted.

The boy who had been dragged in front of the barracks looked utterly pitiful.

“Not even a dog would find this funny, you little shit! You, a snot-nosed kid?”

“Light the signal fire. Only then will the Feiquaria Corps coordinate the attack.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Do as you please. Die here if that’s what you want. Then we’ll leave to report to the Grand Marshal.”

“What?”

“Reporting that an Uruk strike force was found inside the Inferno Line is more urgent than convincing an old geezer like you.”

“D-don’t make me laugh! You’re the Uruk spy, aren’t you? Luring us into a trap, huh?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you bastard! That mark on your cheek is proof, isn’t it?”

The militia soldiers glanced at Kaisen, then quickly averted their eyes, gripped by an inexplicable fear.

‘What is this kid?’

Though he was tall, he was still a boy. Yet through his messy black hair, his sharp, blade-like eyes pierced through them.

“Damn it, why would there be Uruk inside the Inferno Line... Take his sword away. We’ll interrogate him.”

As the soldiers reached to take the sword from his waist, Kaisen’s hand moved in a blur, his fingers already on the hilt. The blade was half-drawn.

“I don’t mind proving my point by force.”

The militiamen froze, a chilling coldness piercing their backs.

The killing intent emanating from Kaisen was quiet, yet icy.

It was enough to make them feel a primal fear.

“How are all the humans in this country such cowards?”

This place, Kaisen’s homeland, was a republic governed by three city-states.

Witches and magistrates selected as elders managed the government, and aside from the standing army, the militia known as the Haltene defended the land.

“Weak, cowardly, and an undisciplined rabble.”

Even though their land had been ravaged over a decade ago, the Republic had done nothing to prepare for war, forever stuck in bureaucratic dithering.

All they had done was pour vast military funds into constructing the Inferno Line fortress system.

Though the Inferno Line was impressive, it would have been better to use that money to establish a large, elite standing army like the Empire.

Since that hadn’t happened, most of the effective units on the front lines were from the Feiquaria Corps.

“What did you just say, you little shit?”

“Hold on, Captain!”

Sensing the situation turning dangerous, the soldier who had brought Kaisen hurriedly intervened.

“Believe it or not, I saw him kill two Uruk with just a single sword. With my own eyes.”

“What did you say?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. I was just as shocked. That’s why I brought him here.”

Captain Jack’s eyes widened, and the militiamen began to murmur.

What kind of creatures were the Uruk?

Even those trained in magic or beastkin soldiers struggled to fight them normally. Jack swallowed hard.

“What did you say about the corps’ numbers?”

“A thousand spearmen, fifteen hundred riflemen, fifty long riflemen, and nineteen beastkin soldiers.”

“Only about twenty-five hundred?”

“They're stronger than your thirty thousand misfits. All the riflemen are grenadiers. Just shut up and do as you’re told.”

The militia captain hesitated.

The veteran soldiers, his de facto advisors, began to speak up one by one.

“With our strength, we can’t sweep away the Uruk.”

“We’re almost out of bullets, and worst of all, morale is... low.”

The situation in the barracks was dire.

Rumors had spread that the Inferno Line had been breached by the Uruk, and desertions were rampant.

To begin with, this unit hadn’t been a combat force—it was a supply unit for the rear. Most of its members were elderly or young student soldiers.

“What do you want us to do?”

“Open the gates like you’re running away. Hook up empty carts to the horses and make it look like you’re fleeing. Then hold the line against whoever comes in.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. We’ll handle the rest.”

Jack’s fingers drummed nervously on the table.

If they were going to die anyway... In the heavy silence, all eyes were on Jack’s face.

Even if they did nothing, they would die... Anyway, they would die.

The next moment, Jack sprang up, slamming his hand on the table.

“Wake up everyone who’s sleeping. Full assembly!”

“Hmph, at least you’ve got some decisiveness.”

Kaisen fully sheathed his sword again, speaking with an air of command.

“We’ll need two soldiers to carry fire and oil. You can spare that much, right?”