Chapter 38 - Academy Field Trips Always Come Under Attack (2)

The Extermination Unit's training in countering sneak attacks included several curricula: how to react to killing intent, for instance, or the optimal response after successfully using Line of Fire Detection. Reading the terrain, analyzing enemy numbers and armaments—a host of battlefield doctrines preserved through countless feats of arms.

But in the end, Ivan had prepared only one lesson for Isabelle. The simplest, most fundamental one.

[Keep ambushing her until she learns to respond.]

And so Ivan sat in a tree, quietly raising his gun. Through the rear sight, he could see Isabelle standing tall, apparently still without the slightest intention of concealing herself.

CLICK.

He aligned his sights, then shifted his aim aside just before pulling the trigger.

BANG!

The problem with newly awakened Line of Fire Detection was that its user had yet to trust their own senses completely. It was, after all, something akin to a sixth sense. Let sight and hearing sway you, and you couldn't respond properly.

"Eek!"

"... Wrong."

Ivan sighed as he watched Isabelle scream and hastily duck in the distance. The line of fire had clearly missed her, yet she had tried to dodge. It threw her off balance, leaving an opening.

CLICK, BANG!!

He exploited that opening, this time aiming squarely between her eyes before firing. Isabelle barely managed to dodge, then trembled as she stared at the bullet hole in the tree.

"Live rounds! At my head! Seriously?!"

Then she opened her eyes. Their blazing blue gaze was fixed precisely on his hiding place.

'She's getting better.'

Like any sensible instructor, Ivan nodded in satisfaction. He swiftly abandoned his concealed position.

* * *

"Haha. Ahaha. I'm really going to kill him."

Isabelle walked on, shaking, her fingers clenched around her sword hilt. Live rounds... between her eyes?

"I was crazy. I'm an idiot. My mistake. Yes. All my fault."

That little flutter of excitement when he'd said they would train in the forest where “that incident” had happened? The happiness she'd felt when he'd readily dropped everything to help, even though she'd asked out of the blue? Yes, all her fault.

She'd imagined swinging her sword a few times, smiling happily as she got some feedback... chatting about that day now that it was just a memory. She'd made sandwiches for them to share, gone to the trouble of wearing her favorite outfit, and even put on makeup, something she rarely bothered with at court.

Yes. What an absolute idiot she was.

CLICK.

She tightened her grip on the hilt and took another step forward.

SHING.

She drew her sword, glanced at its keen blade, and held it calmly—but firmly.

BANG!

CLANG!

Her blade cut precisely across the line of fire, deflecting the bullet.

"You are... you are... so dead!!"

The hero's righteous fury blazed. Knocking aside every incoming bullet, she charged straight toward the source of the lines of fire. Wherever bullets came from, there had to be a shooter.

All she had to do was not get hit. Really. Just once. Just let her hit him once. That was what she was thinking.

* * *

That was probably what she was thinking.

Ivan withdrew quietly, watching Isabelle charge straight at him. Finding an agent perfectly concealed in the shadows of a forest was a formidable task. Line of Fire Detection made no difference.

If there was a shooter at the end of every line of fire, one ought to assume the shooter knew that too.

"Time for your second lesson."

Being an excellent instructor, Ivan had finished preparing another thoughtful lesson. Charging forward, trembling with rage and swinging a sword wildly, certainly showed admirable spirit—but it was hardly a good choice. He decided to teach her that it was the worst possible choice when facing a “sneak attack.”

KABOOOOM!!

Ivan smiled faintly as Isabelle stepped on a booby trap and was engulfed in the explosion.

* * *

"All right, then."

Having narrowly escaped the blast, Isabelle smiled as she brushed off the dirt that had rained down on her head.

"Let's actually kill him."

Just hit him once? That half-hearted thinking was what had landed her in this mess. Once again, she realized that dealing with that lunatic required her full commitment. She deflected an incoming bullet without even looking.

"Do you understand now why I said the forest would be harder?"

An utterly placid voice reached her ears. Her hand tightened around her sword hilt until it creaked.

"Underground waterways and dugouts take the form of linear mazes. Artificial structures have characteristic patterns. That means there are set points for laying traps or launching ambushes."

The lesson continued. Naturally, this was all valuable advice that would be enormously useful to her.

"A forest, however, combines several features. Cover and concealment are readily available, and there are plenty of places to lay traps, making advance detection extremely difficult. Its tangled maze structure also makes it easy to steer a target along a chosen route."

This was the doctrine for encircling a larger force with a smaller one. Contrary to popular belief, encirclement was an act of restricting information at the tactical level. There was no need for a tightly packed cordon or a fierce assault.

A few exchanges at the right moments were enough. The very foundation of encirclement was maintaining an information advantage and forcing the opponent to misjudge.

'Countless enemies are hiding beyond those trees.'

'Approach those trees, and we'll come under attack.'

'There are no allies beyond those trees.'

When such misjudgments accumulated and the field commander's control began to crack, the smaller force's encirclement was complete.

Ivan had been speaking quietly when he abruptly stopped. Isabelle stood trembling with her head bowed.

"Mister."

"Hm?"

"Whew... Thank you. You've cleared my head."

"... Hm?"

Smiling brightly, Isabelle looked toward the general area where he must be. Judging by the direction of his voice and the lines of fire she'd detected, he would be this way. She nodded and raised her sword hilt.

["Take up your sword."]

["Take up your sword not for your strength, but for your goodness."]

["Look upon people like us through the eyes of the weak."]

"Yes. I shall."

As if entranced, Isabelle gripped her sword and settled into her stance. Brilliant blue mana swirled around her body, sparkling as it lit the dark forest. A cool, refreshing wind raced through the late-spring woods.

"Don't move!!"

"Oh."

Ivan watched her, his eyes gleaming. The mana's structure and circulation were different... but something about her presence reminded him of Maximilien.

Perhaps he had more talent for teaching than he'd thought. (An educator's worth was measured by their students' achievements, after all.)

Ivan readily nodded and lowered his gun. Isabelle's senses had now fully awakened. At this level, the two-shot trick used to fool Line of Fire Detection would no longer work.

Accelerating the nerves with mana, honing the entire body's reactions to their absolute limit—the realm known as the “battlefield of superhumans.” She had reached its threshold.

Projectile weapons no longer worked against those who reached this stage. Their Line of Fire Detection developed to the point of near precognition.

And so.

SHING...

He raised his axe.

* * *

"I'm really... gonna kill... yooou..."

On the train back to Prizhenkaya, Ivan smiled down at the sleeping Isabelle. Despite the dust, small wounds, and tattered clothes that left her looking bedraggled, she seemed all the more noble. Beneath the moonlight falling through the window, her golden hair gleamed, spread out like a field of wheat.

Breathing softly, her head nestled against his shoulder, she looked like nothing more than a little girl her age.

"Maximilien."

Each time the train jolted along the rails, Ivan gently steadied her swaying head. He whispered,

"You've raised a wonderful daughter."

* * *

["You've raised a wonderful daughter."]

Isabelle clenched the hand hidden inside her sleeve and fought to keep her lips from curving into an involuntary smile. Carefully, so carefully he wouldn't notice, she nestled her cheek against his broad shoulder.

The train rattled and clattered along the rails. Warm air drifted gently through the carriage. Through eyes she had slipped open, she could faintly make out the dim interior.

Moonlight poured through the window. Far away stretched the forest where she had trained today.

He was an idiot who knew nothing of romance or common sense, a lunatic who'd covered a perfectly decent face with that beard. Still, still. She could make allowances. He had saved her life, after all. That was all. This wasn't some rash infatuation. Really, that was all.

She could teach him common sense, and trim his beard someday. Yes. Right.

Think of it as making a proper person out of him. Who else would take this poor man in if not her? This was, well... a hero's spirit of “service.” Something like that.

* * *

There existed a unit steeped in history and tradition, with an illustrious past under the name of the Seventh Combat Engineer Platoon, Twelfth Company, Third Battalion, serving the Fifth Dragon General.

After encouraging the slaves with their whips, they quietly raised their telescopes.

"Why on earth were they fighting?"

"A difference of opinion, Comrade!"

"Do you set off explosives and fire bullets when you have a difference of opinion, comrade?"

"No, Comrade!"

The target's inexplicable surprise visit and fierce battle had brought down three ambush positions, ground and all. Ah, there had been no such shoddy construction when His Excellency the great Fifth Dragon General was alive! The platoon commander was disappointed.

When a commander of any sort was disappointed, they tended to look for the problem within their own unit. And in most cases, that approach invariably produced the desired effect. For “passing the love down the ranks,” that beautiful tradition found equally in every army across the world, existed among demons—and even Dwarves.

"One week until Shadow Blade's little game of house. Comrades. Rebuild the collapsed positions and make every preparation!"

"Yes, Comrade!!"

A gray-bearded Dwarf snapped off a salute and trudged away.

Dwarves were masters of civil engineering. Civil engineering included digging underground tunnels. And by syllogistic reasoning, the following proposition was true:

Wherever there was ground, Dwarves could sneak in.

This was why Ivan called them rats.

With one week left until Enrique's exam, Prizhenkaya remained peaceful.