The Archmage’s Destruction Strategy - Chapter 126

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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#126. Car Wash

The mobile fortress Atlas, piloted by Sung-jun, traversed the desert-famous state of Nevada before arriving at Wyoming—the least populous state among America’s fifty states.
Throughout the journey, I had to engage in relentless combat against an endless tide of enemies, traveling at approximately 300 kilometers per day over the course of a week.
The sheer number of enemies that descended upon us was so horrifying that even the hundreds of defensive turrets installed on Atlas’s main body could not possibly hold them back.
The enemies charged madly toward Atlas as though the very concept of fear did not exist within them.
Their bodies burst apart beneath the colossal feet of the mobile fortress, their forms riddled with holes from hundreds of mana cannons, yet still they clawed their way up Atlas’s thick exterior armor—armor that wouldn’t even scratch no matter how viciously they gnawed—and wedged their bodies into the joints that appeared most vulnerable.
Of course, Atlas was not constructed so poorly as to cease functioning merely because fragments of Corrosion Entities had lodged themselves within it, and the fortress continued to move flawlessly even against such suicidal charges; however, I deliberately made time to conduct maintenance on Atlas.
I harbored no particular emotion toward the corpses and bodily fluids of Corrosion Entities that clung thickly to Atlas, but the Soldiers aboard the fortress displayed such earnest longing to wash it clean.
To them, Atlas was nothing less than a divine emissary sent from the heavens to save them.
For those who had once contemplated whether they should even abandon resistance, much less counterattack, the existence of Atlas—crushing the Corrosion Entities they would gladly tear to shreds like insects—was itself hope and salvation; thus the Soldiers wished to cleanse this beautiful mobile fortress with their own hands as it charged through the enemy’s midst carrying them forward.

“This is Yellowstone National Park. How I wish we could have come here in peaceful times…”

Gazing wistfully at the beautiful landscape before me, one of the Soldiers spoke upon seeing my phantom.

“Once we’ve erased every last one of those horrific creatures from Earth, please visit anytime you wish. If you come, every Soldier here will welcome you with open arms.”
“As it happens, Wyoming is my hometown. Just come as you are. I’ll take out a loan if necessary and treat you to the full experience.”
“If it’s sightseeing you want, my hometown of New York is far better than this rural backwater. It’s the greatest city in the world, after all!”
“You fool, you’re from New Jersey, not New York!”
“New Jersey or New York—what’s the difference! I may live in New Jersey, but I’ve always played in New York!”
“Wait, have you men lost your minds? You want to invite him to places that were obliterated on D-day and are nothing but ruins now? That won’t do. Come to Philadelphia instead. Once this is over and you visit, I’ll treat you to real Philly cheesesteak.”
“What’s so intact about Philadelphia?! The shops selling that Philly cheesesteak you mentioned are all destroyed—there’s nothing left but dust!”
“What did you just say!!”

Watching the Soldiers suddenly begin quarreling over whose hometown was the best place to visit, I burst into laughter.
I understood that their behavior was an attempt to ease the mental fatigue I had endured while isolated within Atlas, bearing such an enormous burden.
I loved such people.
People who, despite losing their hometowns, their families, their comrades, never forgot humor and wit, and strove to find hope even in despair.
People who, after battling endless horrific monsters for an entire week, already joked about the days that would come “after victory.”
I fought to honor my Teacher’s legacy, but it was also for people like these.

‘Someday, so that these good people can return to their former peaceful lives.’

As I steeled my resolve, the Soldiers who had fetched lake water began the cleaning.
Drawing water from Yellowstone Lake—a colossal body of water spanning 32 kilometers in length and 23 kilometers in width—the Soldiers poured it onto the exterior armor of the massive Atlas and, with all their strength, scraped away the Corrosion Entity flesh and bodily fluids that clung to it, reeking of a terrible stench.

‘I could just clean it with magic….’

Sung-jun had been about to lighten the Soldiers’ burden with a simple spell, but he shook his head and reconsidered.
The expressions on the Soldiers’ faces as they diligently scrubbed with large buckets and sponges brimming with soap suds reminded me of those peaceful times—the joyful sight of washing a cherished car.
Though the scene of them wickedly smiling as they hurled filthy Corrosion Entity fragments at one another did somewhat spoil the mood.
For Soldiers who had spent more than eight hours a day fighting horrifyingly grotesque Monsters, cleaning Atlas seemed like a decent way to shift their mood.
Still, to help with cleaning Atlas—which was dozens of times larger than human height—Sung-jun granted the Soldiers a light spell.

“Huh?! W-what?!”
“My body’s floating!?!!! I’m flying!!”

After casting levitation magic on the cleaning Soldiers so they could scrub Atlas’s upper sections without ladders, I also cast a spell to numb their sense of smell so they could ignore the nauseating stench emanating from the Corrosion Entity corpses.
At the same time, Sung-jun decided to distribute to the Soldiers a ‘precious supply’ he had been hiding until now as a reward.

“In return for your cleaning efforts, I will permit drinking today.”

The moment the Soldiers heard Sung-jun’s words, their faces lit up with joy, only to darken instantly.
After all, even if drinking were permitted, what good was it without actual alcohol to drink?
Seeing the Soldiers’ expressions, Sung-jun realized he had gotten the order wrong and retrieved from the Subspace enough alcohol for every Soldier to drink until intoxicated and still have plenty left over.
Beer and whiskey, wine and vodka.
Then several Soldiers who hadn’t seen proper alcohol in recent times shouted at Sung-jun.

“Wait, if you had alcohol, you should’ve given us that instead of those weird canned goods like bear meat!”
“You kept showing up and throwing only strange canned goods at us, and you were hiding the best stuff all along!?”
“If the Soldiers had known alcohol existed, would you have stayed quiet? You would’ve protested by any means necessary to get me to hand it over.”

As Sung-jun laughed at the Soldiers who instantly shifted their attitudes and nodded in agreement with “Well, that’s true,” the Soldiers began laughing along with me.

“In case anyone worries about not being able to drink due to guard duty, let me assure you—today you can rest easy. I will double the range of detection magic and cast a perception-blocking barrier so our location cannot be sensed. So drink freely and rest today.”

The Soldiers, suddenly crying out in joy, rushed toward the stacked alcohol but collided with an invisible wall and bounced backward.
Then Sung-jun wagged his index finger left and right as he spoke to the fallen Soldiers.

“You must finish the cleaning first.”
“Hehe…. Couldn’t you just use magic to do that…?”
“A moment ago, you said using magic to clean would be disrespectful to Atlas? Since we’re doing this anyway, let’s work hard and drink hard. I’ll help with the difficult parts too.”

The Soldiers’ fervent desire to drink as quickly as possible, combined with Sung-jun’s magic, accelerated the cleaning operation beyond imagination, bringing it to a swift conclusion.
Upon hearing news of an impending drinking party, even those Soldiers who had finished their shifts and were sleeping rushed out, sponges in hand, and cooperated in the cleaning with frenzied enthusiasm.
Witnessing Atlas reborn, gleaming far more brilliantly than when it was first created, the Soldiers unknowingly hurled their sponges skyward and began cheering in jubilation.

“It’s finished!!!”
“Ugh, I’m never volunteering to clean again after this!!”
“What if we gave you alcohol every time you cleaned?”
“Then I’d polish it daily.”

Soldiers with culinary expertise kindled campfires to cook canned provisions into appetizers, while several others volunteered as bartenders to craft cocktails.
Beneath the dimming twilight Sky, Soldiers gathered in small groups, encircling the bonfires before them like a campfire, lost in pleasant memories of the past.
Stories ranging from the girls they’d fancied in childhood to tales of the finest barbecue they’d eaten before D-day.
As all the Soldiers reveled in joy as though they’d returned to a time before the calamity struck, one Soldier approached Sung-jun’s phantom.

“Have a drink with us.”

Sung-jun regarded the Soldier with an expression of bewilderment.
Not a single Soldier present was unaware that the figure before them was a phantom constructed from mana, so he had never imagined there would be someone mad enough to offer a drink to an illusion.
The Soldier then shook his head and explained that Sung-jun’s assumption was a misunderstanding.

“I know. It’s like a hologram, so you can’t actually drink.”
“Then why…?”
“To share the atmosphere together. Sitting there without a glass while everyone else has one—it feels like we’re ostracizing you. Every Soldier here is more grateful to you than anyone else.”

Understanding the Soldier’s intention, a glass materialized in Sung-jun’s hand, constructed from mana.
Though he wasn’t actually drinking real alcohol, simply raising a glass and toasting with them felt as though he were becoming intoxicated alongside them.
As Sung-jun lifted the mana-constructed glass, all the Soldiers raised their bottles and glasses high into the Sky.

“A toast to humanity’s savior!!!”
“That term feels a bit…”
“Why? Does it make you uncomfortable for religious reasons?”
“No. It’s just that being called that makes me feel the burden of actually having to become humanity’s savior.”

I was doing my utmost to honor the great Teacher’s legacy and achieve the goal of humanity’s salvation, yet I was acutely aware that I myself was an individual capable of accomplishing nothing alone.
Even deploying the colossal mobile fortress before me, which appeared invincible, I knew that victory could only be approached by sacrificing the lives of some—perhaps all—of the Soldiers here.
The thought that the Soldier who had just handed a glass to my phantom, or the one who had invited me to visit his hometown, might lose their lives at the end of this conflict weighed far too heavily upon my still-young shoulders.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

Startled by the sudden voice, I turned to look beside me.
The Guard who had spoken was the same one who had offered me whiskey moments earlier.
The U.S. Military Guard, who appeared to be in his mid-forties, took a sip from the whiskey bottle he was holding and then spoke to me.

“Whether it’s from witnessing the deaths of so many comrades, or from losing all your precious family to those horrific Monsters, I can sometimes read your thoughts just by looking at that expression. It’s the face of someone afraid of becoming attached to a life they might lose. Have you perhaps lost someone precious to you as well?”
“…My Teacher.”
“Then my suspicion was likely correct. But I think of it this way: for people like us, comrades are perhaps like this whiskey.”
“You mean something that disappears, leaving only an empty bottle behind when consumed?”
“Not entirely empty. My beautiful smile remains, doesn’t it?”

Watching the bearded man in his mid-forties lift the corners of his mouth with both fingers to form a smile, laughter burst from my lips.
Then the man spoke to me with a serious expression.

“Yes, perhaps we’ll die, perhaps we’ll be annihilated. We might fail, or we might succeed. We could end up with a meaningless death. But even if we meet our end at the conclusion of this journey, just as the laughter and chatter we shared by this lakeside today won’t disappear, I believe this moment now—following you to save humanity—will become a journey of hope that brings a fleeting smile to the faces of countless people in this world. What does it matter if we fail and die? At the very least, we can stand before the King of Hell and proudly declare, ‘But I still drove a blade into that monster’s belly!’ That alone is something worth boasting about, isn’t it? That’s hardly a meaningless death.”

The man stood up from his seat.
Then he poured the remaining whiskey from the bottle onto the armor plating of Atlas’s leg.

“There, I’ve properly offered you a drink.”
“But I didn’t get to drink it.”
“That’s not my concern. What matters is that a drink I would have had has disappeared for your sake.”

My mood considerably lighter, I smiled and spoke to the man.
I told him that if there was anything he wanted in return for treating me to a drink, I would grant it.
Then the man threw the empty bottle to the ground and spoke to me.

“Please drive that big, beautiful cannon into the belly of those horrible Monsters’ Boss. A devastating blow so terrible that death would seem preferable.”
“Then I feel like I’m getting the worse end of the deal.”
“If you keep your promise, I’ll buy the next round.”
“Agreed. I swear on my pride as a Grand Mage that I will keep that promise. I’ll deliver a hellish blow so devastating that those creatures will regret ever coming to this beautiful world.”
“A hellish blow to the Monster Boss’s belly!”

Watching the Soldiers echo the toast in unison, I began to understand why they were called the world’s strongest warriors.

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