How a Two-Life Scoundrel Lives - Chapter 44

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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【Chapter 44】

The faces of the fallen warriors looked generally peaceful.

With their eyes gently closed as if sleeping soundly, it seemed like they might wake up if called.

However, they could never rise again, and they shouldn’t have to.

Swish, the soldiers collecting the bodies covered the faces of the fallen with burial shrouds.

Whoooooosh!

The sound of rain intensified as if the sky itself was wailing in their place.

“Damn it.”

“Forcing work on a day like this… That’s why they come back dead like that.”

“Why don’t they just send us to die in hell instead.”

The voices of several soldiers openly expressing their complaints could be heard.

“Je, Jesse!”

Gwen rushed toward the body of one fallen warrior.

“How did this happen? Jesse, Jesse! Wake up! Why are you like this!”

The soldiers who were collecting the body paused their work of covering it for Gwen’s sake.

It was a consideration to allow Gwen to bid farewell to her comrade’s final appearance.

The casualties weren’t only from the non-combat Engineers.

“You bastard! Why did you die! You only had a little leave left! Why did you have to die!”

Scout Captain Begman was shaking the body of a scout soldier back and forth while bursting with anger.

The fallen warrior’s name was Mikhail.

He was Stinky Russell’s senior soldier.

“Hmm. Continental people are strange. Why are they sad? If he met an honorable death as a warrior, shouldn’t they be celebrating instead?”

One Barbarian Warrior who had been captured as a prisoner thoughtlessly blurted out.

“This bastard’s got a big mouth!”

“Fucking bastard!”

The angry Engineers swung their tools at the Barbarian Warrior, beating him mercilessly.

“Gah, gaah! You cowardly Continental scum! Grgh! You don’t even know how to treat prisoners… Gaaaaaaah!”

No one stopped the Engineers.

With multiple deaths from the Barbarians’ surprise attack, what was the big deal about beating one prisoner to death?

Click, chick!

Carlisle turned his head to see Kudo lighting a cigarette with a flint made from magic stone.

“Phew.”

Puff, cigarette smoke billowed out thickly.

“Bad premonitions are never wrong. Damn it all.”

After Kudo took a few drags of smoke, he placed the cigarette, about two-thirds remaining, in the mouth of the fallen Mikhail.

In this world, cigarettes were quite expensive items that low-ranking soldiers like Mikhail could never dream of affording.

How Kudo managed to obtain and smoke such expensive luxury items was anyone’s guess…

‘Truly befitting the Blood-Soaked Land.’

Carlisle looked at the bodies of the fallen warriors and once again realized this place was a battlefield.

Despite braving enemy surprise attacks and safely returning after fulfilling their quota, there had been multiple casualties.

This made it impossible to freely celebrate returning without a single casualty among his own group.

However, the grief didn’t last long.

“It’s regrettable, but what can we do. Rest well. It was an honor to fight alongside you.”

Scout Captain Begman said this and covered Mikhail’s body with a cloth.

“For Mikhail.”

“For him.”

The scout members surrounding Mikhail’s body all drank vodka together, praying for his soul’s peace.

Carlisle also drank the extremely strong liquor without complaint.

The sharp alcohol scent stung his nose, then his throat felt like it was burning up.

Soon, a hot alcoholic warmth surged up from deep in his stomach as if someone had lit a fire.

Just how many proof was this…

It was called vodka, but he even suspected it might be pure alcohol itself.

“Alright, everyone return to the barracks. Kudo, you go report to Lady Helen first. Hand over the Barbarian prisoner we captured too. Huh? Isn’t that guy about to die? You bastards! Take it easy! Even if you’re going to kill him, you should do it after interrogation!”

Begman shouted at the Engineers beating the Barbarian Warrior, then turned back to Kudo.

“Oh right, don’t forget to write the report. You’re good at everything except you always skip the reports.”

“When have I ever skipped them?”

“What? How many times have you actually written reports on your own? Out of ten operations, you might write one report.”

“Do you have proof?”

“Oh, look at this guy? Proof?”

Begman and Kudo bickered as if they had never been sad.

“Ugh! Being soaked all day, I’m starting to feel chilly. I need to go to the barracks and warm up by a fire.”

“What’s for dinner tonight?”

The other scout members also left Mikhail’s body behind and went their separate ways to find their respective tasks.

Just as the scout members had prayed for Mikhail’s soul with a glass of vodka, the Engineers also simply prayed for the fallen warriors’ souls and departed to their respective barracks.

“Big brother! Thank you again today! I hope we can work together on operations next time too!”

Gwen waved at Carlisle, then limped away following her squad members.

Her face bore the same innocent, bright smile as always.

“…What the hell?”

Carlisle felt deceived.

Where did that heavy, devastating atmosphere go?

Just minutes ago, the people who had been sobbing while holding their fallen comrades were nowhere to be found.

Their unchanged appearance, as if nothing had happened, seemed almost eerie.

‘Could it be.’

At the thought that flashed through his mind, Carlisle’s face turned deathly pale.

‘Is this really inside a game?’

* * *

Carlisle thought that perhaps this place wasn’t a world resembling the game [Overlord], but might actually be inside the real game.

Since it wasn’t reality but inside a game, the people were merely data clusters created by algorithms, and the scene he had just witnessed might be a kind of uncanny valley caused by errors.

Perhaps because this thought showed clearly on his face?

“I know what it is.”

Marder approached with a strange smile and spoke.

“What do you know?”

“Your expression just now.”

“What’s wrong with my expression?”

“You thought it was bizarre.”

“…!”

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

Marder spoke with an ‘I knew it’ expression.

“You thought it was strange how they acted like nothing happened, as if they were never sad. Right?”

“That’s…”

“Don’t forget. This is the Blood-Soaked Land.”

“…!”

“We weren’t originally strange. Our environment, this Blood-Soaked Land, made us this way.”

“Ah.”

Carlisle finally understood what Marder meant.

‘A guilty conscience needs no accuser.’

Carlisle smiled bitterly to himself.

Thinking about how he had doubted reality and felt creeped out by the unconventional scene made him want to crawl into a mouse hole.

“As you’ll gradually see, this is a place where comrades die every other day. Guys you cried, laughed, and rolled around with disappear overnight. Just like when Derek died.”

“I understand.”

“No.”

Marder shook his head.

“You don’t understand yet. Because you’ve never experienced it.”

“….”

“Anyway. The struggling and grieving only lasts a day or two. If you experience it often enough, you naturally become numb to it. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, but what can you do. This is how we endure it. So don’t look at us too strangely, Young Master noble.”

“Right.”

“Oh, and.”

“Yes?”

“If you ever have such an experience? You’ll experience it soon enough.”

“…?”

“Then just ignore it and keep fighting. That’s what I’m doing too.”

“Ignore it and fight….”

“If it’s really too hard to bear, get angry instead of being sad. This is a place where anger is more useful than sorrow.”

Marder’s blue eyes seemed to contain compressed endless rage and hatred toward the enemies as he spoke.

“Hmm. The Butcher Tribe, huh. Haven’t seen these guys before. New faces appearing isn’t exactly a good sign….”

Marder muttered this and then disappeared.

Left alone, Carlisle reflected on the scene he had just witnessed and the words Marder had spoken.

‘Anger is more useful than sorrow… Will I become like them too?’

That was something he couldn’t know for now.

As Marder said, he hadn’t experienced it yet.

However, what was certain was that he had learned one thing today.

How the Northerners fighting in this Blood-Soaked Land overcome the sorrow of losing comrades.

* * *

That night.

Whoooosh!

While rain was still pouring down like crazy, Helen called for a strategy meeting.

“The situation is not good.”

Helen’s expression looked even more ruthless than usual.

“We were able to obtain detailed information about the Butcher Tribe from the prisoner we captured today. The size of the Butcher Tribe is….”

“About 500 people right now.”

Carlisle muttered absentmindedly.

He already knew the information about the Butcher Tribe inside and out.

And Carlisle thought that interrogation or torture probably wouldn’t have been necessary anyway.

Barbarian Warriors had no hesitation in revealing their tribes, and would rather boast about them proudly.

“Private Carlisle?”

“Yes?”

“What did you just say? Do you know something?”

“Ah, that’s not it. I was just lost in thought for a moment.”

“Pay attention. I’ll let it slide with a warning this time, but if you’re caught daydreaming during a meeting one more time, I’ll have no choice but to deal with you under military law.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Helen glared at Carlisle intently once, then continued with the meeting.

“The Butcher Tribe is a force that has integrated the minor tribes we’ve been dealing with so far, with nearly 500 warriors alone.”

“…!”

The faces of the soldiers attending the meeting hardened stiffly.

Basically, Barbarians had no concept of a nation.

They were simply an ethnic group sharing the same culture and customs, but closer to a tribal society composed of hundreds of large and small tribes.

In such a Barbarian society, if the number of warriors reached 500, it definitely meant they had moved beyond being a minor tribe.

For Bowden Fortress, which had been dealing with tribes of at most dozens, or at most 100-200 people, this was a burdensome opponent.

After all, the total personnel of Bowden Fortress didn’t even reach 100.

Of course, since Barbarians were a people with a very high ratio of soldiers to population, simple comparison with continental powers would be meaningless.

“The chieftain of the Butcher Tribe, Zarkan, is….”

‘Bjornsen’s older brother.’

Carlisle half-listened to Helen’s words while recalling information about the Butcher Tribe.

Zarkan was an excellent warrior and also a capable commander.

How else would he have earned the nickname “Clever Butcher,” which didn’t suit a Barbarian Warrior at all?

‘A person who might have the potential to grow into a big shot… was what they said. Though he died at his brother’s hands.’

According to the original scenario, Zarkan was destined to die at the hands of his younger brother Bjornsen a few years later and have his tribe stolen.

However, since Carlisle had eliminated Bjornsen, Zarkan’s fate had also changed.

‘This… I might have created an even more troublesome enemy.’

Perhaps at this time, Zarkan might be a more frightening enemy than Bjornsen.

This could be seen from the fact that Zarkan hadn’t come charging in with his eyes rolled back despite his brother Bjornsen’s death.

It meant he was unusually for a Barbarian Warrior, someone whose reason preceded anger.

“Then what do we do? If the Butcher Tribe has 500 people, it’s impossible for us to face them with our current forces. Even if small-scale engagements like today’s are repeated just a few times….”

“There will be no retreat.”

Helen drew a firm line.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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