The Imperial Supreme Commander Has Returned - Chapter 60

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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 Empire’s Commander-in-Chief Returns — Episode 60

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!

Delram rode hard down the Official Road, mounted on horseback.
Three days into the journey already.
This was his sixth mount.

The lifeblood that had allowed the Fiyor Kingdom to unify the continent.
There were many advantages—the Training Facility among them—but the Official Road was one of the greatest.
The well-maintained thoroughfare made it possible to move supplies and troops with remarkable speed, an enormous advantage in warfare.
That was why, whenever the Fiyor conquered another kingdom, the first order of business was never purges but the construction of new Official Roads.

‘By now, they must be hard at work on the Official Road through Sambala too.’

Thanks to this infrastructure, Delram could maintain a steady pace without taxing either himself or his mount.
Especially the way stations spaced throughout the route.
With the ability to exchange a weary horse for a fresh one at each post, what might otherwise have been a leisurely journey had brought him to the brink of his destination.

Neighhhh!
“Tired? Then let’s call it a day here.”

The sun was already sinking toward the horizon.
Riding at night was extraordinarily dangerous.
In pitch-black darkness,
one misstep—a hoof striking a stone—could mean the end.

Of course, that didn’t apply to Delram himself.
He could simply cast a protective barrier around both himself and the horse using Brynand.
But horses and men alike were creatures that needed rest, weren’t they?
A single day’s delay wouldn’t bring the world to ruin.

“Let’s see what we have here.”

Dismounting, Delram surveyed the surroundings.
He spotted a cluster of soot-blackened stones gathered to one side.
The remains of campfires lit by travelers using the Official Road.
It was evidence that this spot was the most hospitable place in the area.

With practiced ease, Delram arranged the stones in a circle.
There was no need to bother collecting branches.
His Dimensional Space was stocked with kindling and dry firewood.

A spark from flint, a gust of wind—and he was done.
The Spirit Power woven through the wind coaxed the embers into robust flames.

“Remarkably convenient.”

Delram tended to the horse’s needs next.
Rock salt sprinkled over oats and hay proved irresistible; the animal ate with evident satisfaction.

With that, camp was made.
Delram spread out his bedroll and lay back, gazing at the sky.

As dusk deepened, the sunset unfolded above him.
The heavens layered themselves in crimson and scarlet.
Soon the sun would slip behind the distant mountains, sending its final rays into the gathering dark.

Then would come the hours of shadow.
Delram stroked the Owl perched on the boat’s edge and spoke softly.

“At least with you here, I’m less afraid.”
—Hoot.

Camping was woven into the fabric of Delram’s life.
For as long as he could remember, nights under open sky far outnumbered those beneath a roof.
The ratio was roughly eight to two.
Because of that, he witnessed sunsets nearly every day, and each time they took his breath away.

Yet in that same moment, fear gripped him.
A sunset fading meant tomorrow was drawing near.
What battle would be waiting then?
Would he survive it?
And the men sleeping beside him—what of their fates?

It had been no different even after he became Commander-in-Chief.
There were assassins to fear, and worse—the Demons.

The Demons attacked mainly at night.
They plucked soldiers away one by one, as casually as opening a lunch box.
Tonight, he had no way of knowing how many would vanish.
He dreaded the reports that would come with morning.

But tonight was better than most.
Stroking the Owl’s feathers soothed something restless in his chest.

“So this is why people keep pets.”
—Hoot!
“You’re right, I misspoke. You’re not a pet. You’re family.”
—Hoot……

The Owl, whose beak had been clicking irritably, quieted once more.
The word “family” clearly pleased him.

The warmth of the campfire, the cool sweep of feathers, the drowsy exhaustion of hard riding—
this evening was, in every sense, perfect.

But these were the moments when trouble always arrived.
Uninvited guests had a way of finding him.

……

Delram’s eyes narrowed to slits.
Footsteps were approaching from the distance.

* * *

As the sunset faded to its last threads of color,
a silhouette emerged on the far side of the Official Road, moving quickly toward the camp.

What appeared was a man in his early thirties.
From the way he gasped for breath, his situation was plain enough.
He had likely hoped to reach this spot before nightfall, but sluggish pace or some delay had made him arrive later than intended.

Yet there was already someone at the camp.
The man caught sight of Delram and stopped short, hesitant.

“Ah… so someone else is already here.”
……
“Young friend, might I warm myself by the fire as well?”

The man asked Delram cautiously.
His tone was polite enough, but his appearance was another matter.
A scraggly goat beard and a frame so gaunt it seemed barely held together.
At a glance, meanness radiated from every pore.

Did the man know his own typical appearance?
The way he approached with empty hands raised to show he carried no weapons suggested this wasn’t his first time in such a situation.

Of course, Delram paid no attention to the man’s looks.
He could name more than a hundred subordinates who looked far more contemptible and base than this one, yet had proven more loyal than anyone.
In the end, crack open any skull and you’d find much the same.

Delram’s silence was meant as consent, but the man took it differently.
He chose his words carefully once more before speaking.

“There’s no need to be so wary.”
“…….”
“You may not know it, young one, but on the Official Road it’s customary to share a campfire. Camping spots are usually designated anyway.”

The man spoke as if making excuses and quietly settled nearby.
In truth, what he said wasn’t wrong.

Good camping spots were predictable enough.
Open ground where monsters couldn’t easily attack; a forest and stream nearby for firewood and water; terrain that broke the wind.
Such places were limited in number.

So travelers would eye each other warily and share the same site.
It was the Unspoken Rule among those on the road.

But there was one thing the man hadn’t mentioned.
That rule only applied when traveling in groups.
If the previous traveler was alone, the Unspoken Rule was to set up camp at some distance, even if inconvenient.

After all, how could you know if the other person was a bandit or a traveler?
And if alone, you couldn’t post a watch…….
This was the rule that had been created for precisely that reason.

Yet Delram couldn’t understand why the man hadn’t mentioned this.
Did he not know?
Or was he simply too lazy to gather firewood at this late hour?

The fortunate thing was that his company was Delram.
Delram glanced at the man and gave his assent freely.

“It doesn’t bother me. Come closer to the fire instead of sitting apart.”
“I, I’m much obliged.”

The man expressed his gratitude and shifted his position.
Yet despite how fortunate this was, he seemed somehow flustered.
Perhaps it was because this mere boy, Delram, was far too composed about it.

Bubble, bubble.

Regardless, Delram went about his business.
He’d already fed his horse; now it was time to eat himself.
He cut vegetables and dried meat from his Dimensional Space into small pieces and tossed them into the pot of boiling water—a simple soup in moments.
With bread besides, it was a hearty meal.

Glug-glug-glug.
“Ahem.”

Just then, a stomach growled from beside him.
The man turned his head, embarrassed.
Delram chuckled and ladled a bowl from the wooden pot, asking:

“Would you like a bowl, if you don’t mind?”
“I had a rather meager breakfast, so thank you, young friend!”

The man snatched the soup bowl away at once.
Despite its heat, he devoured it in a single breath, on the verge of licking the bottom clean.
He really did seem to have eaten a skimpy breakfast.
Unless one was nobility, most people ate hardly any lunch, so it made sense.

“Phew! That revived me. In return, I’ve got a bottle of drink on me—mead I made myself. Best thing for warming the body.”
“No, thank you. I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Eh! An elder offers and you refuse? That’s disrespectful.”
“Then I’ll gratefully accept and drink what you offer.”

The man’s tone had shifted, and he looked genuinely pleased.
He pushed aside the pot that had been warming the soup, then hung a small tin bowl the size of his palm and poured the drink he’d retrieved from his bundle into it.

Bubble-bubble….

As the drink warmed, a strong aroma spread into the air.
Mead—liquor made by fermenting honey.
But it seemed he’d added far too many herbs.

“Go on, drink up.”

The man poured the mead into a wooden cup and handed it over.
As he did, he waved his hand eagerly, urging him to drink quickly.
After all, the man had only this one wooden cup.
Which meant if he wanted to drink too, Delram would have to finish first.

….

Delram stared down at the wooden cup in silence.
Then he exhaled a long, heavy breath and spoke.

“Damn bastard. Give you an inch and you take a mile.”
“Wh—what? Why are you suddenly curs—”

Crack!

Delram shot to his feet and struck the man across the face instead of answering.
The blow was so forceful the wooden cup shattered at once.

For such a sturdy cup to break—would the man survive?
The man’s head snapped back from the impact and he lost consciousness.

“Gaack!”

Of course, Delram wasn’t about to let it go at that.
He continued striking the man with the cup’s handle, the only part still intact.

“I let you warm yourself by the fire even after you disguised yourself like a dog!”
Crack!

“You were starving, so I gave you food and everything, and now you pull this?”
Crack!

“I’ve done everything for you!”
Crack!

“So just leave already—why keep stirring up trouble?”
Crack!

The man who’d been beaten repeatedly couldn’t even scream.
He just shook his head with blood pouring from it, making garbled sounds.

Delram forced the man’s mouth open.
He picked up the bowl still half-filled with steaming alcohol.

“Gahhk—wait, wait just a moment—!”
“Going to claim it was a misunderstanding?”
“N-no, that’s—”
“Then drink it.”
“Ugh-ugh-ugh! Gack—!”

The scalding alcohol poured down the man’s throat.
Since it was still boiling, his tongue and throat stood no chance.
Naturally, the man thrashed about like a madman.

But then it happened.
The man’s head suddenly drooped.

A soft snore emerged.

Remarkably, the man had begun to snore.
Despite what must have been excruciating pain, he’d fallen asleep in an instant.
Delram muttered in exasperation at the sight.

“How much sedative did this lunatic put in?”

The herbs he’d added to mask the medicinal smell.
He’d thought the scent was strong enough that he’d used quite a lot of sedative, but this was practically a lethal dose.

Crack.

Annoyed, Delram kicked the man in the ribs.
The man rolled away, tumbling into the distance.
At least three of his ribs must have broken, yet he didn’t wake.
He just kept sleeping soundly.

But Delram’s attention had already left the man.
Beyond the Official Road, figures were approaching rapidly.
Not just one or two—dozens of them.
Delram shook his head as he watched.

“Ugh, revolting Human Traffickers.”
—Hoot.

Sensing his master’s emotion, the Owl cried out with killing intent.
Who was it that said it?
That Karmic Retribution is slow, but it always arrives in the end.

Here, that arbiter of retribution had come to find them, even defying time itself.
A soul laden with sin just the same, or perhaps a crusader of the God of Light.
You have more than enough qualification.

Slide—

Delram drew his Tarving.
It had been far too long since he’d last tasted blood.

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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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