How a Two-Life Scoundrel Lives

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【Chapter 67】

Ding!

[Alert: Baby Dragon has cast 【Purification Breath】!]

‘Purification Breath…?’

[Purification Breath]

The breath of dragons is itself an excellent magic.

– A certain Archmage, while researching dragons…

【Effect】

Removes status ailments such as poison, mutation, curse, freeze, burn, etc.

[Purification Breath]

The breath of dragons is itself an excellent magic.

– A certain Archmage, while researching dragons…

【Effect】

Removes status ailments such as poison, mutation, curse, freeze, burn, etc.

[Purification Breath]

The breath of dragons is itself an excellent magic.

– A certain Archmage, while researching dragons…

【Effect】

Removes status ailments such as poison, mutation, curse, freeze, burn, etc.

[Purification Breath]

The breath of dragons is itself an excellent magic.

– A certain Archmage, while researching dragons…

【Effect】

Removes status ailments such as poison, mutation, curse, freeze, burn, etc.

[Purification Breath]

The breath of dragons is itself an excellent magic.

– A certain Archmage, while researching dragons…

【Effect】

Removes status ailments such as poison, mutation, curse, freeze, burn, etc.

“Huff, huffff.”

The Baby Dragon continued to breathe out [Purification Breath], ‘purifying’ Gwen’s corpse.

About a minute passed like this.

“Ah.”

Carlisle realized that Gwen had completely regained her appearance from when she was alive.

Her grotesquely distorted face had become peaceful as if sleeping soundly, her dying skin seemed to regain vitality, and her blue lips had gained a slight luster.

“Huff huff, huff huff huff.”

The Baby Dragon, having finished the ‘purification’, was panting heavily.

“Butler. Is this enough? Huff huff.”

“Yes, good work.”

“But why does your expression look like that, Butler?”

“What do you mean?”

“You look more troubled than before.”

“That’s…”

Carlisle was momentarily at a loss for words, closing his mouth briefly before answering the Baby Dragon’s question.

“Because it looks like she might wake up at any moment.”

“Butler…”

“It’s nothing serious, so don’t worry about it. This feeling will pass. I’ll give you food later, so just wait a little.”

“Okay.”

The Baby Dragon, perhaps reading the atmosphere in its own way, simply nodded without saying much and went back into Carlisle’s embrace.

“Yaaaawn.”

With a yawning sound, the Baby Dragon curled up and fell into a peaceful sleep.

It seemed a bit tired from using [Purification Breath].

“Are you alright?”

Begman approached and gently placed his hand on Carlisle’s shoulder.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Your expression doesn’t look fine though?”

“…”

“Was she from the 2nd Engineering Squad? She was such a bright kid. A bit clumsy, but still.”

Begman seemed to know Gwen too.

Well, how many troops could there be at Bowden Fortress anyway.

“It’s not like you two were involved. How much could you have even interacted? Though with you being so handsome, this girl might have fallen for you.”

“What are you suddenly talking about?”

Carlisle frowned.

He couldn’t understand Begman’s intention of saying such things in front of a corpse.

“Just listen before you react. I’m simply explaining why you’re showing this kind of reaction.”

“…”

“You don’t have any special relationship, yet seeing you, the youngest, react like this… this girl must be your last instructor.”

“Last instructor?”

Carlisle tilted his head at the unfamiliar expression.

“First time hearing it?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Since you’re a Sigmund, you wouldn’t have needed to complete training camp.”

“Yes, well. I suppose so.”

That wasn’t just about the Sigmund family.

Those born into martial houses that mainly produced knights learned swordsmanship from a young age as well as military knowledge about strategy and tactics, so they didn’t need to enroll in training camps or study at knight academies.

How much more so for someone from House Sigmund.

“We’re different. We’re just ordinary citizens, so when we enlist, the first thing we do is enter training camp to receive basic military training.”

“I suppose so.”

“Most of what the instructors teach us is useful. Every bit of it is precious. Though it’s hell from the trainee’s perspective.”

Begman chuckled as he remembered his training camp days.

“The instructors teach most of the essential knowledge you need to know as a soldier. But there’s something even those instructors can’t teach.”

“What’s that?”

“Losing a comrade.”

“…!”

“Training camp instructors can educate trainees so they don’t fumble around and die pointlessly, but they can’t teach the feeling of losing a comrade. That’s something you have to experience to understand.”

“That’s true.”

“A true soldier… has to lose a comrade. Only then do you realize what kind of place the battlefield is, how fucking terrible it can be.”

“Ah.”

Only then did Carlisle understand what Begman meant.

“That’s why we call the first comrade we lose our ‘final instructor.’ Derek died first, but you barely exchanged a few words with him, so you probably didn’t think much whether he lived or died. When you think about it… this friend here would be your final instructor.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Yes. I don’t know what effect this friend’s death will have on you… but now let her rest.”

Begman took out the Dekaron Flag he had been carrying in his military pack and handed it to Carlisle.

“Here, take it.”

“…”

“This friend needs to rest now too. Let her go.”

“Under… stood.”

Carlisle accepted the national flag and bowed toward Gwen’s corpse.

Swish swish, he wiped his blood-stained hands on his military uniform before carefully closing Gwen’s eyes.

Perhaps because she hadn’t been dead long, or maybe due to [Purification Breath], her eyes closed easily.

Then Gwen’s face took on a truly peaceful expression, as if she were sleeping soundly.

‘Rest in peace.’

Carlisle thought this as he covered Gwen’s corpse with the Dekaron national flag.

‘Farewell, my final instructor.’

Thus Carlisle sent off his first comrade.

* * *

Even normal people tend to go crazy during military service.

Simply being confined in a controlled environment is mentally exhausting, and when it’s physically torturous as well, it’s perhaps natural for one’s mental state to fluctuate.

How much more so for soldiers serving in a place where fierce battles break out every other day?

Was that why?

The reactions the soldiers showed after the battle ended seemed very bizarre at first glance.

They would shout victory cries and rejoice, then wail upon seeing their dead comrades’ corpses, then once the body collection was roughly finished, they’d joke around and banter as if nothing had happened.

Yet they’d also become gloomy when remembering fallen comrades…

‘Pick one thing and stick with it.’

Carlisle couldn’t quite adapt to such behavior from the soldiers.

But now he understood.

Why they had no choice but to act that way.

Suddenly he recalled a conversation he’d had with Marder.

– We weren’t originally strange like this. The environment we’re in, this Blood-Soaked Land, made us this way. You’ll gradually see for yourself, but 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, you don’t understand yet. Because you haven’t experienced it. Anyway. The suffering and grieving only lasts a day or two. When you experience it often, you naturally become numb. I’m not sure if that’s good, but what can you do? This is how we endure it. So don’t look at us too strangely, Young Master.

He truly didn’t understand back then, but after sending Gwen off, he felt like he knew.

– If you ever have such an experience? You’ll experience it soon enough. When that happens, just ignore it and keep fighting. I’m doing the same. If it’s really hard to bear, get angry instead of being sad. This is a place where rage is more useful than sorrow.

Those words were right too.

Carlisle felt anger rather than sadness.

And hadn’t that anger awakened the ancient Supernatural Divine Power dormant in the Sigmund Family bloodline?

‘There’s a reason they say listening to your elders brings good fortune even in your sleep.’

Through this incident, Carlisle realized that the words of experienced veterans were worth trusting.

Why?

Because their words were the product of experiences they had directly seen, heard, and felt with their own bodies.

‘If I keep rolling around here, I’ll gradually become numb too. Then I’ll end up crying and laughing erratically.’

Carlisle gave a bitter smile.

Wasn’t he already putting Gwen’s death behind him and heading to the kitchen to get food for the baby dragon?

‘By the way, the cost of meals is quite high. When I get leave next time, I should bring plenty of small change. I can’t keep giving gold coins every time.’

With such thoughts, he arrived at the kitchen, which was busy preparing meals.

It was mealtime anyway, and since the battle had ended, it went without saying that the soldiers needed to be supplied with high-calorie meals.

Of course, with corpses scattered everywhere and the stench of blood permeating the air, it was questionable whether food would go down their throats, but they couldn’t starve.

‘Right, the living must live.’

A bitter smile appeared on Carlisle’s lips.

War was all about making a living anyway…

Whether they had an appetite or not was a problem for later.

“Oh, you’re here?”

Andre, the mess officer, welcomed Carlisle.

Judging by the blood-stained bandages wrapped around his shoulder, he too seemed to have been injured during the battle.

One might ask why a cook would be injured, but when the entire unit was on the verge of annihilation, a cook couldn’t just stand by and watch.

“Are you hurt?”

“This is nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Andre flexed his burly arm muscles as if it were nothing, showing off his strength.

Judging by how the long, large cooking ladle he was holding was dented, he must have hastily swung cooking utensils to smash Barbarians’ heads.

“What brings you here anyway?”

“I wanted to get some food for the kid.”

“Ah, that cat?”

“Yes.”

When Carlisle offered gold coins, Andre waved his hands dismissively.

“Put that away. We have plenty of ingredients left over anyway, so you don’t need to pay extra.”

“…”

Carlisle closed his mouth.

“Anyway, the survivors are going to feast. Why do they all die without eating properly, damn it. Even if they’re going to die, they should at least eat first.”

“…”

“But why are you alone? Last time…”

“She died in battle.”

Carlisle answered.

“I just finished closing her eyes and came from there.”

“Ah, I see.”

Andre sat down on an overturned soup pot and put a cigarette in his mouth.

Click, hiss.

“Phew.”

Whether it was lower quality than what Kudo smoked, the harsh tobacco smoke filled the kitchen with a hazy cloud.

One might question smoking in a cooking space, but this was a battlefield.

No one would care about such things.

“She was a kind and cheerful friend, what a pity. Phew. Want to have a smoke?”

“I’m fine.”

Carlisle shook his head.

The cigarette Andre was smoking was so harsh that the smoke made his eyes sting.

“Suit yourself.”

Andre crumpled up his cigarette pack and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Wait about 10 minutes. I’ll get it ready for you soon.”

“Yes.”

“And… thank you.”

“For what?”

“I survived thanks to you. You’re incredibly strong. Truly befitting a Sigmund. Ah, is it wrong for me to speak so casually? You’ll be an officer soon…”

Ding!

[Notification: 【Noble Proof】 progress has reached 100%! (10/10)]