"Strange... Not here?"
The knocking had gone on for half a minute without any reply. The man standing outside the door was just wondering if the room was empty when the door was quietly pulled open a crack, and the muzzle of a gun pressed against the gap made him freeze on the spot.
Cold sweat broke out instantly. The man hurriedly raised both hands to show he had no hostile intent, then cast a quick glance toward the stairwell at the end of the hallway.
"D-don't be hasty... brother, I'm General Absaik's man."
Pressing the Decurion pistol against his chest, Battlefield Guy interrogated him expressionlessly.
"Where did you hear my name?"
The man said in a rush, "Mr. Bannote sent a telegram... We know the envoy coming here is named Pangolin. Isn't that you?"
"Your name?"
"Anwo... Even if I told you, you wouldn't know me."
"Heh, how do you know I wouldn't?" Hearing the name, Battlefield Guy gave a meaningful smile and slowly lowered the gun.
The man standing here was indeed Anwo, a Millurion under General Absaik.
Under normal circumstances, a liaison mission like this would hardly involve a high-ranking officer. For an organization founded less than a month ago, however, it made perfect sense.
After all, whether through smooth-talking or careful grooming, cultivating trusted confidants took time.
And for a bunch of monkeys crowned as kings, anyone they could trust even a little had basically been promoted to senior officer status to keep by their side. When something came up, they couldn't just hand it over to underlings desperate to climb the ranks; naturally, these senior officers had to handle it in person.
What was more, there was careful thought in who was chosen for which task.
After all, meeting an envoy of the Legion ahead of the Heavenly King would earn someone a firing squad if word got out.
Even within his own faction, Absaik didn't trust everyone completely. At this juncture, the only one he could truly rely on was Anwo, who had already presented his blood pledge.
With the blood debt of the church massacre hanging over him, the path to joining the Legion was dead-ended, and defecting to the Alliance was practically impossible.
If anyone else had shown up, Battlefield Guy would probably have been on guard, wondering if it was a trap.
Yet because the visitor was this fellow Anwo, he could basically conclude that Absaik genuinely wanted to talk to him.
And in absolute secrecy.
Looking at the bewildered Anwo, Battlefield Guy maintained a placid expression and asked knowingly:
"What are you looking for me for?"
"It's not me looking for you, it's you looking for the general... Otherwise, why wouldn't you enter the city and stay by the north gate instead? Who doesn't know this is where Absaik's forces are garrisoned..." Anwo glanced at the end of the hallway once more, saying nervously, "Could you let me inside to talk?"
He was worried about being seen, and equally worried that this Legion envoy might blow his head off with a single shot.
He still wasn't sure if the Legion already knew those two hundred "lives" from the church were connected to him, nor did he understand why General Absaik suddenly wanted to meet the Legion's envoy now. Naturally, he couldn't possibly know that this foreign envoy from the Legion was actually an Alliance mole.
He had taken an immense risk to keep the church survivors alive and submitted a fake blood pledge, finally earning General Absaik's trust, and now he was getting closer and closer to the core of the conspiracy...
If he caught a bullet right now, it would be far too unjust!
"...Wait for me at the door for two minutes."
Refusing the request to enter, Battlefield Guy expressionlessly shut the door. After a moment, he let out a quiet breath and walked over to Penny, who was huddled in the corner of the room.
Crouched in the blind spot of the room's corner, Penny watched him nervously and mouthed:
"...Who?"
Battlefield Guy said seriously, "One of General Absaik's men."
Penny grew tense. "Did he discover us?!"
Looking into those eyes full of anxiety, Battlefield Guy leaned close to her ear, keeping his voice extremely low so no one outside could hear.
"He probably doesn't know about you, but he definitely noticed me. This is his turf after all, but that's not a bad thing... I intended to see him before the Alliance representatives make contact with Janusz anyway, to find out why he betrayed Lord Bannote and find a way to pull him back to our side."
The deep, magnetic voice breathed over Penny's ear, making her earlobe tingle with an itch. But having backed into the corner of the room with nowhere else to retreat, she could only shrink her neck back.
"Betrayed... Father?" she whispered in a faint, unsteady voice, her tone somewhat warped.
Perhaps due to tension, Battlefield Guy felt the breath beside his ear grow somewhat ragged.
And rather warm.
However, he didn't have time to study Penny's expression and continued in a swift, hushed whisper:
"...Yes. Didn't I mention it to you? Lord Bannote planned an operation, but a far more powerful patron stepped in, bought off his partners, and caused the whole plan to spin out of control from the very start."
Penny's eyes went wide, her chest heaving.
"Wh-who? Who was the patron?"
"Right now the primary suspect is the Southern Legion. The Eastern Legion and the civilian faction clearly don't want a war."
"Uncle Ross?! How could that be!"
"Do you think a mere Millurion is qualified to take part in something of this scale? He's most likely a pawn—maybe even the one deliberately chosen to be used... Of course, that's just my speculation. Don't write guesses into your report as facts. I'll let you know when there's new information."
Battlefield Guy kept things abstract.
He neither had the time to explain everything clearly nor was it appropriate for her to know the whole picture right now.
For some reason, Penny didn't press the matter this time; she simply gave an obedient "Mm."
Satisfied with her reaction, he spoke rapidly:
"Remember carefully what I tell you next. Wait here for me. Under no circumstances should you go outside. Don't open the door for anyone who knocks—just pretend no one's here. If I'm not back by midnight, go to the inn written on this slip... I'll write down the address and room number for you.
"Remember! Stick to the main streets, avoid open flames, and don't take the back alleys! The room key is hidden under the flowerpot directly across from the guest room. You'll know it when you get there."
As he spoke, Battlefield Guy jotted an address on a notepad, tore it off, and, worried Penny might not find it, pulled out a map and circled the inn's location.
Tiandu's infrastructure was dismal; the so-called map had only a few major arteries, a handful of crude landmarks, and large blocked-out neighborhoods.
As for the naturally formed side alleys, none were marked on the map.
The four brothers from Foresight had captured aerial drone photos of Tiandu, but he didn't even have a VM and couldn't borrow one, so he had to make do with a local map.
Looking at the map and address Pangolin handed over, Penny looked up at him in astonishment.
"This is..."
"Another room I booked on the outskirts of the city. Inside is a folding PU-9 submachine gun and two hundred rounds of ammunition... You can think of it as a safehouse, just in case."
"When?" Penny's eyes widened in surprise, her look growing even more bewildered.
This man had never once left her sight.
How on earth had he booked another room without her noticing?!
"...I have my ways."
Battlefield Guy brushed the topic aside with an enigmatic expression.
There was no way to explain it.
He couldn't exactly tell her he'd asked someone on the game forums to book it for him, could he?
Anyway, the mission had ample funds—with money from Bannote and money from the Administrator, he didn't mind a little extra expense. Caution was paramount.
Having briefed her on everything, he prepared to leave, but Penny suddenly caught his hand.
He turned back to see those bright eyes filled with earnest concern, gazing at him with utter focus.
That look was identical to when I'm the Darkest saw him off, or when Korwei entrusted him with a crucial mission.
Who would have thought he'd end up comrades in arms with a reporter?
"...You must come back."
Battlefield Guy gave a slight nod.
"Mm, I promise."
This was the one thing there was no need to worry about.
He couldn't be killed anyway.
...
In the military camp on the northern outskirts of Tiandu, bright bonfires burned steadily, with rifle-toting soldiers patrolling the perimeter.
Inside a tent on the edge of the camp, Absaik, the "Lion King," held a golden lion in his hand, his rough index finger tracing its rounded contours.
This was a collectible of Wutuo's.
Earlier, Janusz had turned the palace in Tiandu upside down, uncovering many treasures Wutuo hadn't had time to haul away, and had bestowed more than half of them upon his subordinates.
One had to admit that Janusz was indeed generous to his own people and never hoarded the spoils for himself.
It was clear that the man harbored grand ambitions; only someone whose eyes were set on the whole realm wouldn't squabble over petty wealth before him.
Following a leader with such clear rewards and punishments was actually not bad.
Unfortunately, Absaik had never liked taking what others left behind.
Setting the golden lion gently onto the table, he looked toward the two men standing at the tent entrance.
One was his confidant, Anwo; the other, draped in a cloak, was presumably the Legion's envoy.
Looking at his confidant, General Absaik said in a mild tone:
"Go keep watch outside for me."
"Yes, sir."
Anwo offered a military salute, turned, and stepped outside the tent, pulling down the tent flap behind him.
"Make yourself comfortable, sir."
Hearing Absaik's voice, Battlefield Guy lowered his hood, walked straight up to him, and sat down.
"There's only one chair here anyway."
Hearing the amusing reply, Absaik chuckled and remarked playfully:
"This is a storage tent, but it has a table, chairs, and even a teapot—that's already not bad. You surely didn't expect me to invite you into the command tent and gather all my officers for a heart-to-heart, did you?"
Pondering this suggestive remark, Battlefield Guy gave a faint smile and looked at him.
"Don't you plan to offer an explanation?"
"An explanation for what?"
"Three thousand lives," Battlefield Guy said, locking eyes with him. "That wasn't part of the agreement."
"Heh... And what about Orisa? What about the thousands and tens of thousands of Orisas out there? Leaving aside the Wolf Clan cannon fodder duped into dying, do you, as an outsider, also believe we were born to be nothing more than slaves?"
Absaik lifted the boiling teapot and calmly poured a cup of the local specialty, Masu tea, for himself and for Pangolin across from him.
The tea carried a licorice aroma—slightly bitter to the nose, yet crisp and sweet on the palate. Locally, it was an inexpensive indulgence enjoyed by nobles and commoners alike, differing only in brewing methods and spices added.
Battlefield Guy had tried it once, but he could never stomach the bizarre flavor reminiscent of cough syrup mixed with ginger water.
Right in front of Pangolin, Absaik took a sip, then looked at the silent envoy and continued:
"Mr. Pangolin, we aren't like you wastelanders. Our roots are here; we love this land beyond measure. In your eyes, those thousand pillars are thrust into our backs, but we know better than you that we are those thousand pillars... Do you understand?"
"I don't understand, nor am I interested." Glancing at the herbal-scented tea on the table, Battlefield Guy leaned forward a few inches, staring straight into Absaik's eyes. "I want to know what you're thinking, and why you betrayed Lord Bannote."
"Betrayed?" Absaik sneered. "I was never his subordinate. How can you say I betrayed him?"
Pausing, he added:
"Besides, let's be real—it's not like you don't know the civilian faction's standing in the Legion. You don't even have troops directly under your command, and all your gear is scrap discarded by the Four Great Legions. What future is there in cooperating with you?"
Though he had no desire to speak on the Legion's behalf, Battlefield Guy faithfully fulfilled his role, saying in a deep voice:
"At least we don't want your land."
"Haha! Do you even believe that yourselves?"
Absaik laughed loudly and continued:
"And just because you don't want it doesn't mean others don't. Before the Empire fell, three of the thirteen states had already been handed over by Wutuo and your people, not to mention Tiger State and Leopard State running wild outside anyone's control. How many nations is Bolo Province supposed to split into? Thirteen? That's what comes of running with you bureaucrats! You claim you don't want land, but you take more than anyone else!"
Battlefield Guy said patiently:
"You can't blame all of Wutuo's problems on us. And the reason Lord Bannote chose you was that he hoped you could transform the Empire—"
"Save it. What you wanted was a neutered dog. You think I don't know your kind?"
Absaik curled his lip and went on:
"The Southern Legion isn't some righteous bunch either; they're the fiercest wolves around. But I don't think running behind them is a bad idea. At least following them gets us meat, whereas following behind your asses gets us nothing but shit."
Battlefield Guy asked in a low voice:
"Apart from overthrowing the Empire, what else did they promise you?"
Absaik replied without hesitation:
"Guns! Cannons! Ammunition! And factories to produce all of them! Only when we have those things can we stand on equal footing and negotiate with you."
Battlefield Guy asked:
"And the price? Since you bought them, the cost couldn't have been cheap."
Absaik continued:
"Nothing more than Lion State. Besides, whether we hand it over or not makes no difference—that place has always been in your hands anyway."
Battlefield Guy drew a sharp breath and couldn't help saying:
"You're cutting off your own flesh to feed a wolf!"
Absaik chuckled, utterly unfazed.
"Wrong! Trading one state for the peace of the other twelve—that's indirect salvation!"
What a fine "indirect salvation"... That nonsense would make even a certain Wang praise him as an expert.
Battlefield Guy shook his head.
He had no intention of lecturing the man on his naivety; as a Legion envoy, he lacked the standing to do so anyway.
And as an outsider, spouting high-minded platitudes was merely talk from someone who felt no pain, carrying not an ounce of persuasion.
A starving man pushed to the brink would eat dirt, and a terminally ill patient wouldn't care whether the pill in his mouth was an elixir or arsenic.
He could only proceed from the facts, speaking patiently:
"...You think too highly of the Southern Legion. They are not like us; their ambitions won't stop at a single state. They will take Lion State first, wait until you and the Empire bleed each other dry, and then encroach step by step, demanding Ox State, Snake State, Dog State, Wolf State..."
Absaik let out a cold laugh, not taking the warning to heart.
It wasn't that he hadn't considered this scenario, but it wasn't something to worry about right now.
What they needed to do was grow stronger!
Grow stronger at all costs!
After all, if the Empire remained weak and decaying, those states being taken one after another was only a matter of time. Even if they refused, it would be futile; no one would care about their voice.
Only when the Empire grew truly powerful would they gain the capital to play the game against the wasteland's various factions!
The Wilante were not invincible. Nothing in this world was truly unconquerable.
Battlefield Guy knew that talking further was useless, so he pulled a stack of photographs from his coat and placed them gently on the table.
"I know words alone mean nothing... Take a look at these, then."
Absaik glanced down at the photos. Seeing the artillery pieces and heavy equipment, his brow furrowed slightly.
"What is this?"
Battlefield Guy continued:
"This is equipment deployed by the Legion at West Sail Port. I snapped these on my way through.
"In addition, three regiments... I mean, three Millennium Brigades of troops have already landed at the port. On top of that, an airship and a Myriad Brigade are on their way.
"They are clearly prepared to take full control of Lion State. But taking over Lion State obviously doesn't require this much firepower. Care to guess who this equipment is meant for?"
Absaik's expression stiffened slightly, though the stubborn bravado on his brow still projected that it was none of his business.
"...The Heavenly King Army, obviously. But it doesn't matter. We'll change our banners later and draw a line between ourselves and Janusz—"
Battlefield Guy shook his head.
"Naive. No matter how much you draw lines, whether they acknowledge it or not comes down to a single word from them. Once you've nearly finished butchering each other, that's when they'll start making more demands."
Pausing, he added:
"Then again, if you think this equipment is meant for you, you're flattering yourself. Dealing with you wouldn't take even a third of this. I dare say ninety percent of what's left is meant for the Alliance and the Enterprise... or rather, to deter them.
"As for you, you're merely a fire they set. Once the weeds on this land are burnt to ash, crushing you will take mere minutes."
At that point, Battlefield Guy smiled with sudden, wicked amusement.
"You probably don't know this... but we actually cooperated with Torch once. Only later, when Torch went off the rails and made us feel threatened, we moved a finger and snuffed out their little flame."
Those words struck Absaik's heart like a sledgehammer, making his vision momentarily blur.
Yet changing a person's mindset was extraordinarily difficult, if not impossible.
Like a victim of a telecom scam, he clung stubbornly to his illusions, refusing to believe the truth laid out before him.
"...That's just your speculation."
Battlefield Guy nodded faintly and stood from his chair.
"Then pray that a pack of vicious wolves—far fiercer than yourselves—will keep their promises to the bitter end.
"We lost this round of the game; we shouldn't have handed our chips to a bunch of opportunists. But while we may have lost, the gamble isn't over. If the Wilante win in the end... that outcome isn't unacceptable to the civilian faction either."
With that, he turned toward the entrance of the tent. It was only when he reached the door that Absaik suddenly called out:
"Wait—wait a moment!"
Battlefield Guy stopped and turned around. The general had risen to his feet, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, his face racked with inner torment.
"...What should I do?"
He was finally afraid.
Or rather, he had finally realized that the fire ignited by their ambitions was dragging them—and the entire empire—into a bottomless abyss.
"The fire has been lit; our strength alone is no longer enough to extinguish it—"
Absaik shouted in exasperation and fury:
"Then what the hell are we supposed to do?! Did Bannote send you here just to mock me?!"
Watching Absaik lose his temper, Battlefield Guy raised both hands to signal for calm. Only when the general's breathing leveled out did he patiently continue:
"Let me finish... The strength of our civilian faction alone isn't enough, of course, and the Eastern Legion is too far away. But add the Alliance into the mix, and it should be plenty."
Absaik's head buzzed, leaving him utterly stunned.
"...The Alliance?"
He forced the word past his lips with difficulty, mostly because he had never expected such words to come from an envoy of the Legion.
Battlefield Guy sighed, putting on a helpless expression.
"We're frustrated too. We had everything planned out, but who could have foreseen running into a pack of compulsive gamblers? To bring the flames under control now, we have no choice but to borrow the power of our rival."
Absaik looked awkward. He knew the "madmen" the envoy referred to meant him and everyone in his faction.
Perhaps just as the envoy said: had they not listened to the Southern Legion's sweet talk and gambled on something big, they wouldn't have been driven into this dead end.
"Just tell me what to do..."
Battlefield Guy said patiently:
"The Alliance ambassadors happen to be in this city right now. They should have already met with Janusz... but I'm certain they must be very, very dissatisfied with the current state of Tiandu—or rather, dissatisfied with Janusz himself.
"At a time like this, it would be ideal if someone raised a banner that stands for greater equality... The Alliance's demands aren't actually high; meeting the single condition of abolishing slavery is enough. As for citizens participating in legislation, representative assemblies, and the like, those can all be taken slowly."
Absaik stared at him dumbfoundedly, unable to fathom why an envoy from the Legion would know the Alliance's workings in such meticulous detail.
If Lord Bannote hadn't sent a telegram in advance, he would have suspected this guy was an Alliance spy.
"...Raise another banner? How is that any different from what we were planning to do?!"
Battlefield Guy rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Do you only listen to half of what people say? What about the part after raising another banner?
"Or if you need me to spell it out: pull that fool Janusz down, overturn the verdicts on the Sun Clan and Moon Clan, at least make a show of correcting your mistakes, and then immediately turn around and defect to the Alliance... My words may not sound pleasant, but you've already jumped ship once, so I doubt you'll mind being a three-time turncoat.
"Next, you must halt your invasions into the three northern states, Elephant State in the central region, and Snake State to the south... Never mind the regions you've already taken, but the ongoing invasions must stop immediately! Then turn your guns outward and present a united front against the Southern Legion landing at West Sail Port!
"According to the agreement we reached with the Alliance, they will exert their influence to prevent the warlords of Mammoth State, Golden Gallon Port, Tiger State, and Leopard State from taking advantage of the situation to strike at you.
"At least until the Legion reduces its military presence in the east, you won't have to worry about being stabbed in the back by your own people. And if the Southern Legion drops all pretenses and marches openly, the Alliance will take reciprocal countermeasures.
"Once everything is over, whether you want to continue your civil war or sit down to negotiate with the others, it will all be entirely up to you...
"The Alliance's stance remains the same: the survivors of Bolo Province should decide their own destiny. They don't intend to force you to walk the exact same path as them... Of course, I personally despise their nonsense, but for you, it might not be a bad thing."
Pausing, he added:
"As for us... frankly, we've grown somewhat disillusioned. Even if past cooperation still holds, it will probably take a different form."
The last part had been Bannote's words, and most likely his true feelings.
Even if Penny still blamed her father, Battlefield Guy had to speak a fair word on behalf of the old man trying to turn the tide.
Compared to those bellicose Wilante maniacs, Bannote was one of the few with a conscience, willing to cut off his own arm just to pin down the Southern Legion.
To call him the Legion's final error-correcting mechanism was no exaggeration.
At the very least, he understood the concept of cutting losses.
Absaik stared wide-eyed at the man, as though looking at someone even crazier than himself.
However—
As he turned it over carefully in his mind, this truly seemed to be the only path to survival left to him.
He ran a trembling forefinger over the bridge of his nose, then picked up the teacup from the table and downed the cold tea in a single gulp.
Having seemingly calmed down at last, he looked at the envoy named Pangolin and asked, his tone laced with a mixture of joy and worry:
"Then... what name should we take? How about the Bolo Alliance?"
Battlefield Guy said without hesitation:
"You'd better discuss that with the Alliance's people. I can't give you advice on that."
Absaik slapped his own forehead and nodded hastily.
"...Right, right, right! Have to talk with the Alliance representatives. How did I forget?"
Saying so, he gave an embarrassed chuckle and rubbed his hands together to diffuse the awkwardness.
"My memory... I almost forgot that you're the Legion's envoy. This matter still needs to be discussed with the Alliance representatives."
Hearing this, Battlefield Guy's face instantly darkened.
"Are you questioning my loyalty to His Excellency the Marshal?"
Seeing the other man look as if he were ready to duel, Absaik quickly apologized:
"No, no, I wouldn't dare! That wasn't what I meant at all—please don't misunderstand!"
"Heh... Whatever you meant, I've said all I need to say. Whether you live or die is up to you."
Battlefield Guy shot him a warning glare, then walked out of the tent under the general's attentive gaze.
Standing outside smoking, Anwo saw Pangolin emerge and quickly escorted him to the side gate of the military camp, clearing the way all the way through.
After seeing Pangolin off, Anwo hurried back to General Absaik's tent, unable to hold back his curiosity:
"My lord... what does the Legion want?"
Absaik gave him an unfathomable look.
"...These waters run deep. Don't pry into what doesn't concern you. When the time comes, I'll tell you what needs to be done."
Realizing he had been too impatient, Anwo quickly lowered his head.
"Yes, sir!"
In no mood to lecture the man, Absaik looked away from his confidant and out toward the pitch-black night sky beyond the tent, his eyes narrowing slightly.
The sky over Tiandu...
It seemed the weather was about to change once more.
Chapter 836