9th Grade Civil Servant In Another World Chapter 141 - Choice and Focus (3)

‘This feels like watching a nuclear explosion.’

That was the last thought that crossed my mind before losing consciousness.

The moment the massive fireball slammed into the center of our formation, the sphere exploded with a blinding flash.

The bodies of soldiers caught in the aftermath burst apart, and I watched in a daze as our lead cavalry battalion was erased in just 5 seconds.

I suppose I was simply left speechless by such an overwhelming sight.

Someone grabbed me forcefully, and I soon realized Captain Himmel was carrying me on her back as she ran.

The wave of flames had also swept over where I’d been sitting.

‘Right, this is a fantasy world.’

Once again, I realized this anew. All my senses felt crystal clear.

The archmage’s booming voice, Captain Himmel’s steady breathing, the soldiers’ screams, the acrid smell and scorching heat against my skin.

The ground exploded again, and I lost consciousness.

When I opened my eyes, I was inside a tent.

“……”

Blink, finger twitch, tongue click.

Hmm, all my senses seemed intact.

After staring at the ceiling for a moment, I turned my head and asked Captain Himmel and Deputy Commander Eisler.

“Did we lose?”

“Yes, sir.”

Eisler answered with his head bowed.

About 3,000 dead and 10,000 wounded.

We hadn’t inflicted even the slightest damage on the enemy, and the soldiers’ morale had plummeted like crazy.

It was a perfect defeat with no excuses possible.

***

“Absolutely impenetrable… reinforcements meaningless… attrition warfare expected…”

Between the muttering voice, the tapping sound of typing could be heard.

The fingers that had been pounding the typewriter hesitated for a moment. But I chuckled and forced my fingers to move.

“Requesting… withdrawal.”

I wanted to laugh mockingly.

‘You didn’t know this, did you, you bastard!’

This situation wasn’t written in a single line of Kruger’s instruction manual.

‘How should one deal with an archmage possessing superhuman destructive power?’

This complex and bizarre world I’d fallen into certainly had magic, and mages operated freely.

But it was a bit different from what I’d imagined.

The mages of this world felt more like… high-tech specialists.

Mages absorb mana from the air and manipulate it within their bodies, and that efficiency varies from person to person.

Some mages are born with exceptionally gifted constitutions, so their mana fully recharges just by sleeping and waking up, while others have such complex mana circulation systems that they struggle in poverty buying mana stones.

The proportion of mages is roughly 0.1% of the population.

Each continental nation handles mages differently, but in Schufaben’s case, it was extremely oppressive.

The government treats mages as strategic resources and helps them develop their abilities through systematic education (forced) from childhood.

When they become adults, they take tests to be ranked from 1st to 10th grade, then are sent to necessary facilities for labor. Research institutes, factories, military, government offices, and so on.

There’s some freedom of choice, but if they refuse the public service path, they have to cough up all the massive support funds they’ve received so far.

So there are quite a few mages working at suspicious private companies to pay off their debts.

Anyway, perhaps because mages are rare, this world has developed toward increasingly efficient ways of squeezing them dry.

The result of that is magical engineering.

Rather than one mage doing one job, it’s much more efficient for ten mana-powered machines to do ten different jobs.

Of course, mages have to figure out how to make the machines, what formulas go into them, and how to reduce mana consumption, but money talks. If you squeeze them, they’ll figure something out.

The mages who stood shoulder to shoulder with knights on battlefields, who caused earthquakes and tsunamis to inspire terror, who brought rain and moved clouds to help people—they vanished over 500 years ago and only remain as legends.

These days, those level of ability users are probably being happily ground up in some research lab or factory.

“Hmm, but an extinct archmage has reappeared…”

I roughly typed up the report and muttered while slowly smoking a cigarette.

The Pontinell region had produced many great mages since the imperial era, but as engineering technology gradually developed, it fell behind and couldn’t keep up with the changes…

That’s what I understood.

But secretly, they’d been raising mages like that?

“It’s such an inefficient thing to do.”

A mage of that level of ability—how much of a role could they play in industrial settings?

But on the other hand.

“In a war situation, there might be nothing as efficient as that.”

If you pour all your resources into one mage, you can save countless lives.

The soldiers who would be deployed to war, the civilians who would suffer.

Normally it would be absurd, but if an archmage of that caliber really appeared, nothing could be simpler or more convenient.

I newly respected Pontinell for keeping such an existence hidden. How thoroughly they must have maintained security until this trump card could be active.

And right now, there’s absolutely no way to counter it.

***

Bleak mist rose over the lakeside military camp every morning. Along with it, bleak rumors circulated from privates to officers.

“Damn, this kind of weather is the worst for patients. What the hell are the higher-ups thinking?”

“Who says otherwise? Up until now, real wounded in our battalion were at most a few dozen. They must’ve been out of their minds.”

Combat was over, but for the medics it was just the beginning.

After morning treatment hours ended, one medic who was catching his breath complained, and his buddy chimed in.

“Even if our army is strong, we’re not invincible!”

“Haha! The invincible Schufaben army! Sounds nice. Let’s see if they can still say that with limbs chopped off.”

“Speaking of which, that mage is actually a heretic.”

“Ah, you mean he cast a curse on us? Everyone’s being stupid. If God exists, would he give that kind of power to a heretic?”

“There’s also a rumor he’ll flip the lake water over to cause a tsunami.”

“That sounds more plausible.”

“Are those kinds of rumors spreading among the soldiers?”

“During meals, everyone only talks about that, argh!”

The two medics screamed and fell backward. That distant star in the sky, Commander Lucas Redan, was smiling right in front of them.

“C-Commander! This is—!”

“So those kinds of disturbing rumors are going around. I suppose we need to crack down a bit. Thanks for letting me know.”

“N-no sir! Long live His Excellency the Supreme Leader!”

The medic belatedly straightened up and saluted. The commander returned it.

“Long live His Excellency the Supreme Leader. You’re working hard. Everyone’s lives are in your hands. It must be tough, but please make just a bit more effort.”

“Yes! Commander!”

At the commander’s encouraging pat on the shoulder, the medic’s heart swelled for a moment. Though he felt like he plummeted into an abyss right after.

“And since the barracks location is inconvenient, I’ll consider relocation.”

***

For the first time, I held what could be called a proper staff meeting. Throughout my past and current lives.

“Hmm, the lack of additional attacks or negotiation offers suggests thorough defensive warfare, or perhaps operations to buy time.”

The balding chief of staff explained while wiping sweat with his handkerchief.

Everyone was reading my mood. I twirled my pen around my finger and spoke listlessly.

“Not those obvious things—isn’t there anything else? Some innovative plan to strike the enemy.”

“It-it’s impossible.”

The chief of staff began sweating even more profusely.

“The protective barrier surrounding the city continues to be maintained, and in the battle two days ago, it was confirmed that even 30 minutes of continuous bombardment with new-model field artillery couldn’t break it. Of course, if we pour attacks on it, it’ll break eventually, but we lack the supplies.

The most reliable method is bringing a mage of equal skill, but our camp only has 5th-grade mages at best. Even if we brought a 1st-grade…”

“That level of destructive power wouldn’t work?”

“Y-yes, Commander.”

I closed my eyes and pretended to be deep in thought while thinking about other things.

Like what state the soldiers might be in.

‘Poor bastards.’

Seeing their comrades explode right before their eyes—how much are they suffering from the aftereffects?

The military doctors can’t provide psychological counseling, so they have to endure it all alone.

“Let me summarize.”

I tapped the desk with my pen and spoke.

“The enemy is strong. Currently there’s no way to counter them. We don’t know when attacks will begin. The soldiers’ morale is down. So what can we do?”

“……”

Heavy silence fell over the tent. Everyone knew the answer but couldn’t bring themselves to speak.

But then.

“A reply from the homeland!”

A communications soldier rushed in, and I nearly let out a snort when I saw the decoded cipher.

「Ultra-high-grade mage. 13,078 casualties. Request withdrawal」

To my brief telegram, Kruger replied.

「Dispatching Ferint」

The knight order had begun to move.

***

Shink, thwack!

Shink, thwack!

Dry, rhythmic sounds echoed through the concrete room.

Appel Damier drew the dagger at his waist and threw it at the target.

His outstretched fingers didn’t move a bit. Only his wrist changed angles as he sent the daggers flying.

Thwack!

One to the head.

Thwack!

One to the heart.

Thwack!

One to the foot.

After practicing his throwing technique exactly three more times, Damier turned around without even breathing hard.

His senior, who had approached without making any sound, handed him an order.

“Western front.”

Damier saw the Supreme Leader’s seal and nodded.

“Understood.”

No ordinary questions—whether the battlefield situation was that bad, who would guard the Supreme Leader in the meantime. Nothing.

The two men walked across the stone floor like they were gliding and left the room.

50 Ferint departed the aerial fortress for the battlefield.

It was only 30 minutes after the Supreme Leader had given the order.

Appel Damier was alive.

Including the moment he was born, he’d experienced dozens of crises that would have killed ordinary people, but somehow he was still tenaciously alive.

If someone asked him why he lived, he would answer,

“Because I haven’t been killed yet.”

For him, life and death equally held no meaning, no value, no reason.

“Greetings. You must be His Excellency the Supreme Leader’s swords.”

As soon as they got off the train, Lucas Redan greeted them.

Among the Ferint dressed identically in white uniforms and masks, he immediately made eye contact with Damier and smiled.

‘Same sharp eyes as always.’

Perhaps the Supreme Leader had ordered him spared because of such talents.

Lucas Redan tried to guide them to the barracks, but the knight commander shook his head.

Their mission was to eliminate the enemy immediately upon arriving at the front and return.

The massive walls positioned across the lake on the plain. The city surrounded by a bluish protective barrier looked solid.

Having noticed Schufaben’s re-advance, dozens of mages were already rising above the walls before they could properly form ranks.

“Quite a number. Pontinell seems to be serious as well.”

Lucas Redan lowered his telescope and spoke.

“All units, fix bayonets.”

The knight commander ordered quietly. Damier placed his hand on the sword at his left hip.

Those born with magical blood each use tools. It could be a staff, a coin, or a pen.

Anyway, any medium that can condense mana.

In the case of Ferint, it’s swords.

“Charge!”

Damier kicked off the ground.

The sound of wind tearing at his ears. His body crossed the plain like a streak of light in an instant.

He—no, the Ferint—scattered across the entire vast plain with their white uniforms fluttering.

Damier gathered mana in his legs and stretched his body long like a cheetah. With explosive speed, he shot ahead of the group and headed straight for the walls.

The distance of easily 3,000 setins was cut in half in less than a minute.

Mages in the sky chanted spells, and cannons mounted on the walls spat fire.

“Terra Bil Spear!”

BOOM!

A massive explosion erupted beneath his feet, but Damier was already outside the blast radius.

Each of the 50 Ferint has their specialty. Damier’s is simple.

Speed.

That’s all.

BOOM!

His legs glowed white as he kicked off the ground.

BOOM!

Once more. His body cut through the cold air and shot up into the sky.

Crack! Smash!

Damier’s sword, drawn in mid-air, swung straight at the solid barrier. White light burst forth. The sword that tore through the barrier pierced straight through a young mage’s heart.

“Gurk!”

The mage couldn’t even scream properly before going limp. Soon the corpse fell, spraying blood.

After Damier landed lightly on the ground, the corpse that had fallen nearby shattered on impact with the ground. But he didn’t even glance at it and cut through the air again.

3 minutes after combat began.

Damier’s sword pierced into the protective barrier surrounding the city.