The Imperial Supreme Commander Has Returned - Chapter 16

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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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The Imperial Commander Has Returned — Episode 16

A week had passed since Delram regained consciousness.
Remarkably, he bore no external wounds.
Recalling the fierce battle with the barbarian warrior made clear how far Delram’s martial skill had advanced.

Most of the damage was internal.
There was no need to linger in the Medical Barracks.
He stayed only a day before moving to the First Unit Barracks.

Mark had been the one caring for him.
Though “care” was putting it generously.
It amounted to nothing more than fetching meals and running errands.
Yet he did it with such devotion that even a blockhead like him seemed to understand exactly whose mercy had kept him alive.

Shock therapy worked best.
For snapping sense into foolish children.

‘The body has recovered quite well.’

Delram reflected inwardly as they walked.
The damaged tendons and Mana Pathways had all healed.
In fact, they had grown tougher and more resilient during recovery.

Normally, restoring Mana Pathways to this degree would have been extraordinarily difficult.
But the Phleurex Arts were stability incarnate.
Stability meant there were no breaks—and if even the faintest trace of a path remained, it could be rejoined.
Delram called out to Rubian, who walked ahead.

“Where exactly are we headed, ma’am?”
“The Merit Hall.”
“That’s where they hand out commendations, isn’t it?”
“It is.”

Rubian nodded.
Military Merit was divided into five grades.
The first through third were reserved for Knights and mages.
Soldiers could aspire to no higher than fourth or fifth grade, no matter how hard they tried.
Delram was to receive a fourth-grade Military Merit.

‘I thought they’d refuse it.’

A thirteen-year-old boy had killed a barbarian warrior of Knight rank?
It made no sense.
Even with testimony from the soldiers he’d rescued, it strained credibility.
What couldn’t Delram kill, then?
Claim he’d slain a dragon and they’d have to believe him.

But everything changed once Rubian appeared.
She had witnessed it herself.
Though she hadn’t seen the entire combat, the eldest daughter of the Bistache—one of the Kingdom’s five great houses—stood as guarantor. What fool would dismiss that?

That was when the Merit Hall officials discovered something strange.
The thirteen-year-old boy had been commissioned as a Decurion from the start.
So they’d contacted the Training Camp, and―
astonishing testimonies came back.

After that, everything fell into place.
With all the pieces fitting together, there was no reason to refuse the commendation.

“Boy, when you achieve Military Merit, you’re given Reward Money and a Medal as standard. Beyond that, if you wish, you can also receive weapons or a Secret Manual of Martial Arts, so tell me if there’s anything you need.”
“Is it possible to transfer to a different unit?”
“A different unit… I see. I understand.”

Rubian nodded slowly.
His first battle had been nearly a defeat, and he’d barely survived facing a savage warrior—a foe like a natural disaster unto himself.
For Delram to have endured such trials in succession, no one would fault him for wanting to transfer to the safety of the rear ranks.

Still, there was a note of disappointment in Rubian’s expression.
A soldier who’d evacuated all his comrades and bought them time with his own courage!
She’d thought, finally, that the makings of a true Knight had appeared… but now this.

“To give you the short answer: it’s possible. Though units requiring special skills—like the one only blacksmiths can join—those would be off the table.”
“Then I’d like to transfer to the Special Forces.”
“The Special Forces…? You’re certain about that?”
“Yes, sir. An armed unit for special operations.”

Each unit had its role clearly defined.
The Front Line Unit held the advance—living shields of flesh and bone.
The Archer Unit fired arrows without mercy—machines of projectiles.
The Supply Unit was a living wagon train… and so on.

But the Special Forces were different.
They were the unit that handled whatever task demanded armed force.
Their most frequent assignments were forward reconnaissance, search operations, surveillance, infiltration.

Just hearing those words made it clear.
A unit where soldiers lived on a thread of life.
A unit with a Survival Rate lower than the Front Line itself.

In other words, this wasn’t retreat.
It was a walk straight into hell.
Rubian’s wide-eyed stare was entirely justified.

“Why in the world would you want to join the Special Forces?”
“Because I want to accomplish greater deeds as a soldier.”
“Admirable! But… the Special Forces don’t take just anyone. You need approval from the unit’s commander before you can join.”
“I’m confident about that.”
“Good. Is there anything else you need? Arranging your transfer to Special Forces is something we should be doing, not giving it as a reward—that feels too much. What about leave? We could grant you up to a month.”
“That’s fine. After all, excluding my time at the Training Camp, I’ve only been enlisted just over two weeks.”

Delram’s words left Rubian even more restless.
Should she press him to take training in Swordsmanship or Spear Arts?
Or a serviceable weapon?

But Delram refused everything.
Seeing Rubian’s lingering disappointment, Delram spoke up.

“Ah! Actually, there is one thing I just thought of.”
“What is it? I’ll take care of it personally.”
“Could you send my friend from back home to a rear unit that handles horses? He’s useless at everything else, but since he used to be a shepherd, I think he’d be good at raising horses.”
“Something like that… I can manage.”

Rubian spoke as if to say Delram should trust her alone.
With that settled, the two walked on a bit further and arrived at the Merit Hall.

Inside, an elaborately decorated space came into view.
The floor was laid with thick carpet, and above stood an elegant dais where Military Merit recipients would stand.
Once a Military Merit recipient was determined, the commander would bestow a commendation from that stage, while subordinates below offered their applause.

Of course, that was only for the nobility.
Ranks four and five meant little.
It usually amounted to the unit soldiers gathering to make noise.

So Delram stood alone.
Eight soldiers total had shared his barracks.
All of them were either dead or wounded.

“You’ve earned your rest.”

Hence the Military Merit ceremony was equally spare.
Rubian pinned the Medal to his chest, and that was that.

He’d received Reward Money as well, though he had no immediate use for it.
Still, it would serve nicely as a bribe for the higher-ups later.

“Sir. Where should I be stationed now?”
“Let’s head to the Special Forces Unit first. If the Captain accepts you, you’ll stay there. If not, you’ll be assigned to a new unit.”
“Understood.”

Rubian drew an arm across Delram’s shoulders.
Pride was written plainly across her face, though something about it felt odd.
The distance between them seemed to have narrowed slightly… but that was probably just his imagination.

* * *

“Welcome, Rubian.”

Rubian guided Delram personally to the Special Forces Unit.
The Captain happened to be in the barracks.
Delram sized him up quickly.

‘Let’s see.’

He looked to be in his forties.
One of those soldiers whose face aged faster than his years, though handsome enough.
There was a hint of softness to him besides—
A faint Mana glow flickered in his eyes.

‘Commoner stock who’s learned Mana Arts to a decent level. At this rate, he might reach Junior Knight status before too long.’

Overall, an agreeable impression.
At least men of this type didn’t enforce rules by the book alone.
There was no sense he’d send someone to the front lines just to rack up Military Merit.

“What brings you to the Special Forces Unit?”
“I’ve come to introduce a soldier.”
“Ah, is that Decurion Delram behind you?”
“You know him?”
“Only by reputation. But with accomplishments like his, word travels fast. I’ve actually been trying to recruit him to the Special Forces. Could this be…?”
“Exactly. He’s expressed interest in joining the Special Forces Unit.”
“Excellent!”

The Captain approached with evident delight.
The Special Forces Unit accepted only the elite from each unit.
It came with considerable prestige, but that also meant the elite alone could handle the missions assigned—it was a trade-off reflected in their devastatingly low Survival Rate.
The figures spoke for themselves.

Yet there was one way to improve that Survival Rate.
A capable comrade—that’s what he needed.
So he’d been racking his brain on how to get Delram to cooperate, when lo and behold.
The prey walked right in on its own two feet.

“Mind if I examine your physique for a moment?”
“Of course.”

With permission granted, the Captain ran his hands over Delram’s body.
His touch was methodical as he probed the arms, waist, and legs.
Then, quite suddenly, his expression shifted to one of astonishment.
Delram’s frame was nothing short of extraordinary—sculpted with such precision and efficiency that it took the Captain’s breath away.

Raw strength was one thing, but what truly stood out was his agility and endurance.
Those two qualities were calibrated to perfection, with no margin for error.
It was the ideal form every Special Forces operative dreamed of.

Why hesitate any longer?
The Captain extended his hand without delay.

“Welcome to the Special Forces, Delram.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“What a straightforward manner! I like that in a man. Do you know what kind of missions our Special Forces handles?”
“I understand we’re the Kingdom’s finest.”
“Hah hah hah!”

The Captain continued, his mood brightened.

“Our duties fall into five categories: reconnaissance, search and rescue, surveillance, infiltration, and espionage. Which appeals to you most?”
“I’m not entirely clear on the distinctions yet. But I’d like to undertake dangerous work—work that’s both challenging and meaningful.”
“Wise answer. High risk, high reward—that’s precisely why the Special Forces exists. Given that your body still has room to grow, I’d personally recommend surveillance and espionage work.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Come then. Let me show you the barracks.”

Delram toured the grounds alongside the Captain.
As a unit of elite soldiers, the facilities boasted impressive quality.
There were barracks, a dining hall, and even recreational facilities.
It bore no comparison to the Front Line Unit.

The equipment stores were particularly striking.
The Special Forces operatives he passed—who saluted as protocol demanded—carried gear rivaling that of Knights, though perhaps a single grade below.

The training grounds were no different.
Unlike the Front Line’s training yard, which stood hollow because men faced death today or tomorrow, this one teemed with activity.
Operatives wielded their primary weapons with focus.
Ambition burned clear in every face.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. To think I’ll be living here… it feels like a dream.”
“Let’s hope that feeling lasts.”

The Captain spoke with a sly edge.
Yet Delram received it without much reaction.
In truth, this was not his first time here.
More than familiar—he’d grown so sick of the place he could barely stand it.

Delram had once lived here as a Special Forces operative.
Right here in this very unit.

The memories were not fond ones.
Few men enjoyed being treated like chess pieces.
But the reason Delram had come back here nonetheless was—

‘It’s the highest elite path an ordinary soldier can take.’

Sword Master Roel.
It was Rubian who belonged to the order of knights led by such a great knight.
Moreover, Rubian herself was already a mid-rank Knight and the eldest daughter of one of the Five Great Houses, so she could be said to hold considerable standing here.
Yet even Rubian did not dare speak casually to the Captain, much less the commander of the Special Forces.

The strongest evidence was Mana.
The Captain had learned the Mana Arts despite being of common birth.
The likelihood that someone else had taught him the Mana Arts was extremely low, which meant the Kingdom itself had bestowed the Mana Arts upon him.
In other words, he held a position of that much importance.

‘For now, I’ll aim to become the youngest commander of the Special Forces. If I just look good during the Special Forces training, that should do it, right?’

The youngest deserves the fastest.
I’ll wrap up the training in record time, give or take.

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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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