The Imperial Supreme Commander Has Returned - Chapter 34

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

The Supreme Commander of the Empire Returns — Episode 34

“Mark, it’s been a while.”
“Y-yes, Commander!”

Delram greeted the familiar face he hadn’t seen in so long.
The young man stiffened completely, offering a crisp military salute.
This was Mark—the one Delram had pulled back to the rear after their first battle.
One of the conscripted from his hometown, the madman who’d somehow altered the lottery results to join up in his place.

Besides Mark, there were many other familiar faces.
All of them were people who’d left their hometown with Delram.
He’d gathered them all at the commander’s quarters of the Special Forces Unit.

‘About twenty of them survived, then.’

Ever since joining the Special Forces Unit.
Delram had watched out for all of them as best he could, reading the room carefully.
He’d arranged transfers between units, and when that proved impossible, he’d sent them the commendation money he’d received to purchase private armor.

But there were limits to what he could do.
If lending a hand meant everyone could survive, there would be no one unjustly killed on the battlefield.
No amount of superior equipment, no safe rear garrison, could entirely shield the fated dead from their destiny.

So only eleven remained.
Fifteen had departed together; four had passed on.
That was merciful, thanks to Delram’s efforts.
In the original history, where Delram hadn’t ramaged wildly through the Special Forces Unit, there had been additional conscription—meaning all eleven would likely have perished.

Why would they have conscripted more?
Of course—because they ran short of soldiers.
So these eleven would have had a high probability of all being dead.

“Commander! Everyone has assembled.”
“Agh, what’s with the ‘commander’ talk—you’ll freeze to death being so stiff. Just call me Delram. We lived together for years…….”
“That’s right!”
“Mark, you bastard. If you’ve got any conscience, use formal speech.”
“I-I’m terribly sorry…….”
“Just joking.”

Delram gave Mark’s back a few affectionate pats.
Then he had the prepared food brought out.
It wasn’t lavish—they were on a battlefield, after all—but it was something.
Just having it in such abundance was the finest meal these soldiers could ask for.
Only then did everyone begin to chatter and laugh.

But it didn’t last long.
Soon, the sound of sniffling began to drift through the air.
Soft at first, it spread like a contagion until it filled all eleven of them.

It was not strange.
Once the stomach grew warm and tension eased, it was natural for thoughts of the comrades who’d gone before and the families left behind in one’s homeland to surface.

“Delram… thank you so much.”
“I’d wanted to arrange this sooner. I apologize for the delay.”
“No, no…….”

Delram accepted what was being offered to him.
These were the keepsakes left behind when his fellow townspeople had departed this world.
The keepsakes, that is.

Since they all hailed from rural villages, there was nothing remarkable among them.
Someone’s wedding ring, leather gloves, a wooden identification token…….
Fortunately or unfortunately, not a single soldier had failed to leave behind something of themselves.

Delram had carefully safeguarded them all.
Unlike the other soldiers, he was leaving today or tomorrow.
He was set to depart this place and return to his homeland, the Roof of the Continent.
So there was far less risk of loss if Delram kept these things rather than leaving them with ordinary conscripts.

‘I’d considered bringing everyone back together…….’

It was something he could have done by virtue of his rank as commander of the Special Forces Unit.
But he shook his head.

These were soldiers who had barely survived a brutal battlefield.
Which meant countless comrades and friends had perished.
It also meant they had taken the lives of others’ companions.

But what if they simply returned as they were?
Terrible memories would gnaw at their bodies and minds for the rest of their lives.

They had to go to the Royal Capital.
They had to attend the Triumph Ceremony there.
Even if what they’d built was sin itself, they needed to feel and know, at least for a moment, that it was something worthy of cheers and praise in another’s eyes.
That single instant would comfort them for a lifetime.

‘And I should catch some flower petals at the Triumph Ceremony too. That way I’ll have a good story to tell my grandchildren over drinks someday.’

Of course, this was assuming Delram performed well from here on.
If they couldn’t stop the demon, grandchildren or anything else meant nothing—they’d all be dead.

“Take this, all of you.”
“What is this?”

Delram distributed money instead of taking them with him.
Remarkably, the kingdom paid wages even to conscripted soldiers.
But the sum was negligible.
Barely enough to cover travel expenses home.

So he scraped together a little from each of them.
So they could buy gifts for their families at the Royal Capital.

“I trust no one here will squander this money on women or drink it away.”
“What madman would do that?”
“Mark, you’re the one he’s talking about.”

Though Delram had rebuked him, Mark grinned widely.
Seeing that, Delram felt a fresh wave of unease.
The amount he’d given Mark was enough to buy exactly one longsword.
He could only hope the man wouldn’t buy a blade and start boasting about taking on mercenary work.

‘Damn it, Mark. If my old adjutant—the one who died in my place—hadn’t resembled this idiot so much…….’

Still, he’d done all he could. There was nothing more to do here.
Even so, if they died from this point on, it would be their own doing.

After the meal had entirely finished,
Delram embraced each of them one by one as he said farewell.

“Take care of yourselves. If you ever find yourself in trouble, just drop my name and get out of it. Or you can use the name of Rubian, a knight of the Vistache Family. It’s quite a well-connected house.”
“Thanks!”
“You take care too, Delram.”
“Let’s meet again in the village sometime.”

The villagers departed with smiles on their faces.
Faces unmarked by hardship, despite having witnessed the horrors of battle.
Watching them go, Delram felt a sudden revulsion toward this garrison.
So while he was at it—

“I’m leaving too.”

Delram began gathering his belongings methodically.

* * *

Delram’s pack was modest.
He’d arrived empty-handed, and so he would depart the same way.
A Tarbing at his waist, a bow across his back, a few Daggers, and dried rations for the road—that was all.

“You’ve worked hard, orderly. Thank you for everything.”
“We’ll meet again in the Royal Capital, Commander of the Special Forces Unit!”

A final commendation for the orderly, and that was that.
Delram left the military camp.

But he didn’t walk quickly.
There was still one person left to say goodbye to.

Delram walked for a little while, then looked back over his shoulder.
Sure enough, a figure appeared on the watchtower.
A silhouette far more refined than that of any common soldier.
It was Rubian.

-……!

Rubian waved a Handkerchief silently.
The distance was too great to make out details, but through the Handkerchief…….
It was possible she’d shed a tear or two.

“What, waving like we’ll never see each other again?”

Delram let out a small laugh at the sight.
They’d meet again in the Royal Capital soon enough anyway.
Quite apart from the Triumph Ceremony, he’d promised to visit the Vistache Family—five times over, if he recalled correctly from last night.

‘Though I wonder if I’ll actually manage to leave when I get there.’

He was afraid he might be subjected to the ordeal of being feted like a bridegroom.
But at fourteen, surely it wouldn’t come to that.
Still, fear alone wouldn’t let him back out.
Though the larger scheme he’d been planning remained hazy in its details, the power of the Vistache Family was essential to it.

Thump, thump.

How much further had he walked?
When he looked back now, the garrison had disappeared from view.
He’d crossed three forests and a stream by now, so it was only natural.

The sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon.
Delram suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Click.

He opened the locket and drew in its fragrance.
As always, the mother in the portrait smiled at him awkwardly.
At the same moment, the wind inside him—no, his Spirit Power—surged.

‘So the leaf truly does touch the fruit.’

Delram bent at the waist, lost in thought.
Were these soft grains the weathered traces of surrounding stones?
A handful of sand gathered in his palm.
Straightening again, Delram opened his mouth.

“Come out, you bastards.”

Crackle.

A presence stirred from behind the roadside rocks.
Highly suspicious.

* * *

Footstep, footstep.

People emerged from behind the boulders.
Five of them in total.

For an ambush, their gait was slow and far too confident.
That alone told him everything.
How utterly they despised their target, Delram.

Sweep.

Delram’s gaze instinctively raked across all five of them.
A kind of occupational reflex.
Yet that alone revealed a great deal.

[Relaxed expressions]
[They knew I would come here]
[All armed with swords; family crests concealed]
[But the chain of command is clear… same regional origins]
[From their physical balance—four lower rank, one middle rank]

‘This one’s always been a thorn in my side.’

Delram’s gaze fixed on one of the five.
A particularly pompous young nobleman.
Matthew, if he recalled the name correctly.
The madman who had led the opposition to Delram’s promotion and hurled baseless provocations at every meeting.

Sure enough, Matthew began spouting the predictable lines.

“Ha! Surprised? Of course a lowborn commoner like you doesn’t know how to ride—all the way out here on foot like some ragamuffin!”
“…….”
“I’ve been bored waiting, nearly died of it. I even prepared a bow to shoot you down and rope to drag you off your feet!”
“…….”

Anyone else would have second thoughts in a moment like this.
Was it because of Rubian?
Touch that taut side the wrong way and I’d be dead by sundown!
Or was it losing face in front of the Commander?
Still, we’re soldiers of the same kingdom—I should’ve held back…….

But Delram wasn’t thinking any of that.
What crossed his mind instead was a maxim from the East.

‘Strike First Against the Wicked’—the principle went.

It looked difficult, but the meaning was simple.
A wicked man hunts for targets to do wicked things to, after all…….
So strike first, and you strike down prey.

“Why so quiet? Lost your tongue out of fear—”

Evil Demands Immediate Punishment.
Before Matthew could finish speaking, Delram kicked off the ground.

Crack!

A gust of wind rushed in from behind, perfectly timed to propel him forward.
The mana-hardened body was struck by wind from behind as well.
Delram’s movement was pure, explosive speed.

“Hm?”

The ambush caught them off guard, but the knights didn’t panic.
Their opponent, for all his rumored talent, was still a youngster.
More importantly—Delram was one, and they were five.
The moment he blocked the first strike, his companions would counter from the sides.
The boy would be pierced through in seconds.

So the mid-rank knight didn’t bother advancing.
Instead, he took position directly in front of Matthew.
A precaution against any unforeseen disaster.

“You’re insane, boy!”
“Just figuring that out now?”

Delram spoke and whipped his left hand around.
Fine sand he’d been gripping erupted in a wide spray.

But these were knights seasoned in actual war.
What the Sambala barbarians did was far crueler and dirtier than this.
They scoffed, turning their heads or shielding their faces.
And yet…….

“Urgh!?”
“My—my eyes……!”

The knights squeezed their eyes shut, stumbling backward.
They’d dodged, but the wind—perfectly timed—was the problem.
It carried the sand straight into their eyes, blasting it across their vision.

“Damn you!”

But the junior knight directly in front of Delram was different.
Tears streaming, he still raised his blade against Delram.
Determination and skill of an extraordinary order.

Clang!

Yet it was also a mistake—at the very same moment.
Delram’s blade was not forged from ordinary tempered steel.
It was a powerful artifact, the kind wielded only by commanders of legions.

Screech!

The instant the blades met, the sword edge blazed white-hot and burning cold.
With it came an enormous frost that radiated outward.

That alone would have been enough.
The pale, shimmering cold swept forward on the wind, enveloping the opponent.
In that moment, white frost clung to the knight’s gauntlets.

For a gauntlet—a piece of metal—the effect was severe; for the body beneath it, the consequence was far worse.
His limbs froze, his senses dulled.
Naturally, his reaction lagged, delayed by a heartbeat.

A small opening.
But before a Weapon Master, it was fatal.

“Wait—”
“Shut your mouth.”

Delram twisted his wrist hard.
The throat caught on the blade’s tip jerked skyward.

Crunch.

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