Category: The Heroic Tale of Shura Young Girl: A Mercenary Who was Said to be Half-Baked is Reincarnated as a Young Girl and Rises to Success

6. The Assault p2

“It seems to have begun.”

Sol opened her eyes at the sound of the alarm bell ringing throughout the fort.

Dust rained down from the barracks ceiling. Intermittent explosions echoed in the distance. The sound of Imperial soldiers running around outside was deafening. Even from the corner room of the barracks attached to the fort, the commotion was clearly audible.

The building was also shaking slightly, reminiscent of a tremor. Nudd, who had been napping in the same room, also jumped up. He was now looking around frantically, muttering, “What, what’s going on…,” while peering out the window and putting on his armor. He was impressive in this respect. He wasn’t a graduate of the officer’s academy for nothing.

However, the only sources of light were the moonlight and the candles in the room.

He was gritting his teeth, unable to see what was happening outside clearly. He was constantly tapping the floor with his heel, probably a sign of his irritation.

(Panic is forbidden. Let’s go assess the situation and gather information.)

The little girl was a stark contrast to him, consumed by anxiety.

She sat cross-legged on the hard bed, still in her nightgown. She showed no sign of changing out of her soiled thin cloth and underwear.

She pinched her inner thighs, which peeked out from the hem of her nightgown.

(The Allied Forces have resorted to a short-sighted strategy. The purpose of the surprise attack is also unclear. I have a bad feeling about this.)

She had previously been employed by the Allied Forces.

Because of that, she had stayed in Dera Branch Castle for about a week. Therefore, Sol knew that the information the Imperial scouts had was correct. For example, the capacity of the branch castle, and the fact that no notable generals were stationed there. She remembered it clearly because she had been greatly disappointed at the time.

But that was understandable. If they had prior information that the “Strongest of Mankind” would be dispatched to the battlefield, it was only natural to conserve their personnel. But this time was different.

The ones currently launching a surprise attack on Fort Balaboa were—,

Judging from the situation, hero-class personnel.

(First, they must have attacked with a small, elite force. The valley is too narrow to invade with a large army. Even if they took a detour, they would encounter the Imperial assault force… However, capturing a fort with a small force would normally be a pipe dream.)

The standard tactic in a siege was to send a large number of troops. The benchmark was about three times the number of defending troops. That was considered enough to turn the tide. Whether setting up catapults, breaking open the gates with a battering ram, using subterfuge, or laying siege, numbers were necessary.

Basically, battles were about numbers. The difference in strength could be compensated for by numbers.

However, such common sense didn’t apply on a battlefield where heroes stood. It was a shallow tactic that only worked between ordinary people.

The individual combat power of a so-called hero-class soldier was equivalent to several hundred ordinary soldiers. There were even cases where a few of them challenged and annihilated division-sized armies. A select few could defeat a large number of ordinary soldiers. Therefore, it wasn’t reckless for the surprise attackers who had attacked Fort Balaboa to be an elite force.

Furthermore, as a factor that could tip the scales of victory—there was Fort Balaboa, the stage for tonight’s battle. This was originally an Allied fort. Since its internal structure was well-known, the intricate passages meant to confuse enemy soldiers were useless.

Rather, the defending side, who had only recently captured it, was at a disadvantage.

(There were signs of this surprise attack. But because of my appearance and status, no one listened to me… After all, the reason I was certain was based on my intuition. Well, no one would believe a child’s premonition.)

What Sol had more of than others was time. It had been a long time, like eating grains of sand. She had devoured sixty-five years’ worth, accumulated it alone, and finally, the sands of time in her hourglass of life had run out. But within her body, experience had accumulated, equal to the amount of sand. This was an invaluable weapon for a mediocre person. The reason Sol had survived on the harsh battlefield wasn’t just due to extraordinary luck.

For example, the reaction speed she had cultivated through repeated practice. And the rules of thumb she had gained from observing and studying powerful warriors. The memory of similar events allowed her to imagine the future.

In other words, a sharp sense of danger—intuition.

This was one of Sol’s few weapons.

(However, this is troublesome. I couldn’t make perfect preparations to counter the Allied Forces’ assault. But I wouldn’t say I’m completely unprepared… I couldn’t do much alone because Nudd was watching me.)

Sol pulled out a set of equipment from under the bed. It wasn’t standard issue from the Imperial army. They were the items she had hidden in the thicket of Fort Balaboa. She had secretly brought them in during her patrol duties. When Nudd noticed her, he gave her a cold look, saying, “That kid. Happy to pick up junk,” but that was all.

It consisted of her worn-out sword and equipment stripped from corpses. However, they didn’t fit, so she put everything except the sword back.

“Hmm…”

She grasped the old sword in her small hand. The straight blade and the edge reflecting the light of the candlestick.

The blood-soaked bandage wrapped around the hilt felt familiar to her hand. It was truly strange. Her hands were no longer the same shape as the ones that had held this sword. Yet, the sensation from her fingertips was still pleasant. As if no matter how her appearance changed, her soul remembered the sword, and the sword remembered her soul.

This was her partner, who had walked with her through many battlefields. This was her third partner. The first had broken easily in her late teens, and the second had been stolen in her mid-thirties. This was the important nameless sword that followed. They had been together for thirty years. Was the blacksmith who forged these three swords still healthy? She indulged in sentimental thoughts unbefitting a little girl.

But a loud, impatient voice interrupted her.

“Hey, snap out of it! You’ve been spacing out. Do you understand the situation!? Is this the time to be relaxed!? We’re under attack!”
“…I know. Just wait a moment.”

—That’s precisely why I shouldn’t panic.

She swallowed those admonishments. Sol was a quick learner.

She started to get ready. She put a two-foot string that was by her pillow in her mouth. She reached behind her head and tied up her long, pure white hair. This was her ritual before going into battle. If her hair wasn’t tied up, it would obstruct her vision depending on the wind direction and her movements. This was how she made use of her past mistakes. It wouldn’t be a laughing matter if the cause of her defeat was her hair, not the enemy’s skill.

And the little girl dressed herself with practiced movements.

To cool her rising excitement, her movements were slow. Armor, gauntlets, military boots…

(If I rush, I’ll make mistakes in judgment. That’s the same as sealing my own weapons. I don’t have the talent, or rather the ability, to create an opening with an attack of my choosing. And besides,)

For a mediocre person, every battle was a journey to death.

There might not be a next time. Even Sol, a veteran of many battles, felt the pressure just before entering combat. She still wasn’t used to battle, to death. Perhaps it wasn’t something she should get used to. Sol thought so.

At that moment, the sound of heels tapping the floor increased in speed.

It was an unspoken, “Hurry up, damn it.”

She quickened her movements and finally sheathed her third sword at her waist.

Feeling a sense of resolve, she shifted her gaze.

It fell on Nudd, pale and frowning.

“Senpai. I’m ready.”
“O-oh, I see. Are you… ready?”
“You look like you’re about to throw up.”
“Shut up, damn it. I’m fine. I’m fine… damn it, why do I have to be given this role? Do they want me to die?”

He was muttering like he was chanting a prayer. His expression changed rapidly, like a clown on stage. But it couldn’t be helped. This was Nudd’s first battlefield. The battle he should have experienced had ended with the “Strongest of Mankind” trampling over them. He had been lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he could spend his days peacefully. And then came this sudden attack.

—Maybe rubbing his back would calm him down.

With that kind thought in mind, she moved behind him.

“…I can’t reach.”
“What are you doing… do you want to get hit!?”
“!!!”
“It seems you really want to be beaten up.”

She tried standing on tiptoe, but she couldn’t reach. This small body was inconvenient.

(I can’t wait for him to calm down.)

She continued the situation analysis she had once interrupted.

Judging from Nudd’s state, it was highly likely that he would stay put.

Even though he had finished getting ready, his feet weren’t moving towards the exit. His gaze wandered aimlessly, and he just paced around the room with unsteady steps. He was probably trying to figure out how to deal with his anxiety-ridden mind and instinctively releasing it. But he wouldn’t go outside. It was evidence that he was consciously choosing a way to release his anxiety. For example, the way he occasionally craned his neck to look out the window showed a strong sense of cowardice. He resembled a turtle retreating into its shell.

Finally, he sat down on the bed and hung his head.

In short, Nudd was paralyzed by tension and fear. Forcing him to come along would be detrimental to both of them.

Sol turned towards the wooden door and called out to him.

“I’m going. Come when you’ve calmed down.”
“W-what? Y-you idiot!”
“I apologize, but I can’t stay with you.”
“Wh-who asked you to! Stop making fun of me! Just go die on your own!”

The little girl brushed off his insults. What occupied her mind was her next course of action.

Should she join the defenders? Or should she act on her own?

And her burning desire to learn invigorated her mind. —Oh, how much I can learn from this battle. —How much higher I can reach.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

She muttered and stepped out into the corridor. This casual remark that had slipped out. Her quiet voice should have been drowned out by the commotion, but—.

Nudd remained stunned in the room she had left. He continued to stare at the open wooden door, his voice trembling.

“What… did you just say…?”

6. The Assault p1

—The departure of the large assault force.

Less than two days later, in the dead of night.

The gatekeeper covered his mouth with his hand, stifling a yawn. It was just about the time when even the plants were asleep. It was only natural for a person to feel drowsy, he thought as he spent time alone in the stone watchtower. Or rather, he was killing time.

The night breeze tickled his nose. It was a coolness he would long for during the day. If this breeze blew, it would somewhat alleviate the frustration of his duty.

(Man, it’s been hot lately.)

He leaned his elbows on the railing and gazed blankly at the scenery. It was a comfortable night. The mountain range was silently sinking into the evening darkness, and the light of the stars and moon poured down on its surface. From the depths of the night came the sounds of insects and wild dogs doing their best. It wasn’t noisy at all, so he found himself listening intently.

It was a good atmosphere for a drink. But unfortunately, drinking on duty was strictly prohibited. He would be punished if caught by his superiors, and he wasn’t that fond of alcohol anyway.

However, it was true that there was a distinct lack of amusement.

For a gatekeeper, the greatest enemy was drowsiness.

(That idiot still isn’t back…)

Currently, the person who should have been his conversation partner was absent. He had simply said, “I’m going to the latrine.” He was probably gambling, using a break as an excuse. He wanted to drag him back out of spite, but he had been in the opposite position during his last shift. He had left his partner on duty and gone gambling with his friends. He couldn’t complain.

—This is also taking turns. It’s my turn next… Geez.

The gatekeeper again looked at the unchanging scenery.

But it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to sleepiness. He dozed off and on, feeling like he was drifting in a boat.

“Hey, it’s time for the change of shift.”
“Huh? …Baldo? Is it time already?”
“Yeah, good work. Your partner is doing that again?”
“Well, yeah. You’re too serious.”
“Idiot, it’s our job. Now get back to your bed.”

The gatekeeper rubbed his eyes with his fingers and stretched his back. The one who had just patted him on the shoulder was Baldo, the next gatekeeper on duty. He was one of his colleagues. Although they could interact casually, he had a serious personality that didn’t match his appearance or tone of voice, and he always seemed to draw the short straw. He was often burdened with troublesome tasks by his superiors. He felt sorry for him, but he didn’t feel like taking over his duties.

He was his colleague, but not his kind.

(He’s so inflexible.)

Baldo was quite a nag. For example, he often lectured him about neglecting his gatekeeping duties and indulging in leisure during their shifts. But they were just using their ingenuity to satisfy their hunger for entertainment.

Therefore, among the gatekeepers, seeing Baldo suffer from unreasonable situations had become a form of entertainment, a chance to laugh at the “serious guy.” However, Baldo seemed to have given up recently. The fact that he wasn’t picking on him now was proof of that.

The gatekeeper lifted himself from the chair he had brought.

(I’m grateful that he’s turning a blind eye.)

Apparently, Baldo was worried about the current situation.

It was the laxity of the Imperial soldiers remaining at the fort.

But the gatekeeper laughed it off as unnecessary worry.

(A mere soldier acting like a wise man?)

He must have also heard about the war situation brought by the scouts. The reports that “the Allied Forces are overwhelmed with wounded,” “they have suffered heavy losses due to Lieutenant General Eileen’s efforts, and the enemy army is extremely weakened,” and “there are almost no heroic figures in Dera Branch Castle” had reached even the low-ranking Imperial soldiers. Those assigned to defend Fort Balaboa only had to wait for the good news in their sleep.

—That our invincible Imperial army had won.
—That they had crushed the enemy branch castle with overwhelming power.

(And on top of that, Lieutenant General Rosbern of the ‘Six Wings’ is scheduled to take over command, and this Fort Balaboa itself has no fatal flaws.)

—What was there to worry about?

The relaxed atmosphere that currently filled Fort Balaboa was the result of these factors. The gatekeeper sighed and mocked Baldo in his mind.

“Well, I’ll leave the rest to you.”
“Yeah. Try not to have any bad dreams.”
“Can I even control that?”

The gatekeeper lightly patted Baldo’s shoulder and passed him. Sleepiness had already settled in his eyes and back. He wanted to go to sleep as soon as possible. However, he had to call out to his partner on the way back. Since they were on alternating shifts, if their timings didn’t match, their superiors might find out. He couldn’t be lazy about this.

At that moment, he heard a sigh from behind.

Out of curiosity, the gatekeeper stopped and turned around.

“Are you tired? A sigh isn’t like you.”
“Yeah. The kid who came to our unit has been saying all sorts of things.”
“The kid assigned to your unit—you mean…”
“The one named Sol. That kid has been saying strange things lately, it’s troubling.”
“Strange things?”

When the gatekeeper frowned, Baldo scratched his head.

“Ah, for example, after the acting commander left for the attack, she said she had a bad feeling or something. She keeps saying, ‘We might be ambushed in a few days.’ She keeps telling me to be careful.”
“Haha. Is she a prophet or something?”

The gatekeeper also knew the little girl in question. There was no one who stood out as much as Sol.

“Doesn’t she know the scouts’ information?”
“I thought so too. She’s new, and she’s isolated. So, I told her.”
“Did it have any effect?”
“Not at all. She’s still running around the fort, fiddling with equipment, and Nudd was about to snap. No, he completely snapped.”

Baldo put his fingers to his temples and sighed. That little girl was one of the troublesome things he had been burdened with.

A suspicious person of unknown origin and age. She claimed to be “from Dada Village,” but that was also dubious. The lord’s mansion in Dada Village had been set on fire by someone and burned down.

There were no records or registers. He had heard rumors that it was unknown whether the little girl was actually a farmer’s daughter. Or she might be from the Allied Forces.

But her entry into the fort had been easily approved. According to the acting commander’s adjutant, “There’s nothing suspicious about her.”

His judgment was highly regarded.

(So, she was approved with surprising ease. And then there’s her usual behavior. Her strange, natural airheadedness seems to have increased the credibility of her being a ‘naive, sheltered girl,’ and it seems like their vigilance has decreased.)

—Three reasons contributed to the little girl’s acceptance. The first was to insist that the Empire’s invasion was a righteous act. The second was that she had received the approval of a trusted adjutant. And her behavior. After considering these factors, they probably judged that accepting her would be more beneficial.

She was an important tool. Therefore, she was assigned to the fort defense unit, a desirable position. The Imperial soldiers who were part of the Dera Branch Castle attack force were probably resentful of her.

—In other words, it was correct to see her as just lucky.

However, despite her suspiciousness, the little girl’s behavior itself was eccentric, so he didn’t want to approach her. The gatekeeper looked at Baldo’s face with a bit of sympathy.

“That’s a troublesome thing you’ve got there.”
“Well, I’m used to this kind of thing. I’m also taking care of my sister’s kid.”
“Ah, that’s right.”

Baldo’s gaze drifted away, and his cheeks relaxed.

What he was seeing was probably—his sickly sister and her child, who were waiting for him to return in his home village. After his sister’s husband died prematurely, Baldo seemed to be taking care of the two of them. However, his income as a mere soldier was all they had. Their life could only be described as poor.

But their happy life as a family of three was well-known. After all, Baldo would endlessly boast about his family when drinking. Therefore, if you drank with him, you would inevitably learn about it. The gatekeeper also remembered being told about “his sister’s good nature” and “his child’s growth” until he felt sick.

That’s probably why he was so concerned about Sol, the ultimate troublemaker. He must be seeing his sister’s child in the little girl.

Anyway, his family stories would go on forever.

The gatekeeper, overcome with sleepiness, moved to end the conversation.

“Man, that’s great. I’m jealous as a single guy. Before you start bragging, I’ll take my leave—”
“Wait… what’s that?”

His breathless voice lacked any hint of jest.

Wondering what was going on, the gatekeeper leaned against the railing and followed Baldo’s gaze. There were several figures by the torches at the gate.

A cavalry unit about the size of a platoon was looking up at them. About fifty people? They were wearing dark cloaks, so he couldn’t see their faces from above. He could only see their equipment through the gaps in their clothing. It was standard issue for the Imperial army. Behind this group, two covered wagons were parked.

The gatekeeper thought, “Are they returning from a night patrol?”

But Baldo’s expression remained stern.

“Halt, that platoon! Identify yourselves!”

Baldo questioned them in a loud voice that woke him up. His voice was sharp, exuding intimidation. That’s when the gatekeeper noticed something was off. Come to think of it, they wouldn’t send a platoon-sized unit on a night patrol. Two hundred soldiers remained at the fort. It was impossible that they would send out twenty-five percent of their personnel to patrol in the middle of the night. The presence of the wagons was also puzzling. It was far too grand for a night patrol.

Tension filled the air. His muscles tensed. The gatekeeper gulped and braced himself, waiting for a response.

After a while, the large man at the head of the platoon raised his voice.

“We are messengers from Rear Admiral Donnell! We have come here to deliver an important message to Adjutant Sanson Harpalia and to urgently receive a supply of much-needed food!”

At that reply, the gatekeeper breathed a sigh of relief.

Rear Admiral Donnell. The name of the acting commander of this fort.

The very person who proposed and organized the assault force. He was currently away from the fort, commanding on the field. If they were his messengers, a platoon-sized unit wasn’t that strange. Of course, it was too many people if they were only delivering a message, but it was reasonable if they were also transporting food.

However, the gatekeeper then thought about the war situation. They had returned to the fort specifically for food supplies. This meant that they had exceeded the initially anticipated number of days of fighting. Apparently, they were expecting a prolonged battle on the field. The defeated soldiers gathered at Dera Branch Castle must be putting up more of a fight than expected.

—They’re still holding on after losing to the ‘Strongest of Mankind’?

(Well, good luck to them.)

Just as he was about to open the gate, he was stopped by a hand. Caught off guard, he looked at Baldo, the owner of the hand.

He nodded silently and shouted at the platoon below.

“Take off your cloaks and show us your faces!”
“Hey, Baldo…”

Taken aback, the gatekeeper nudged Baldo. This question was pointless. No one could remember the faces of over a thousand Imperial soldiers who had entered the fort. The number of farmers and new recruits drafted for this battle was enormous. Unless they were acquaintances, their faces and names wouldn’t match. Therefore, in Fort Balaboa, they used the name of the leader of their unit as identification.

Especially now, when they weren’t even on high alert.

(You didn’t actually believe that kid’s nonsense, did you?)

—The Allied Forces will launch a surprise attack in a few days. It was a prophetic statement. A child’s prattle.

He must have been just as taken aback as the gatekeeper.

The cavalry unit fell silent, as if at a loss for words.

Silence dominated the darkness, and tension filled the air again.

“Understood. Then we have no choice…”

The large man at the front reached for his hood as if in response. Following his lead, all the members of the platoon grabbed theirs.

The next moment, a flock of black cloaks danced in the evening darkness.

The gatekeeper stared, his vision obscured. They had all thrown off their cloaks at once. The cloaks acted as a curtain, preventing him from seeing their faces from above.

The moment the gatekeeper was about to let out a cry of bewilderment—.

“We’ll break through head-on! We will raise our Laptenon flag here again!”

—A powerful impact shook the watchtower.

A groan escaped the gatekeeper’s lips. There was no way he could withstand the unexpected vibration. He lost his balance and tumbled backward. As he landed on his backside, a dull pain like ripples on water spread throughout his body. In that instant, he desperately lifted his head. If the back of his head hit the stone floor, he would lose consciousness.

As an Imperial soldier, he had to avoid that.

Because they were currently under attack.

(Wh-what… what’s happening!?)

The gatekeeper was also a member of the Imperial army.

He used the momentum of his fall to stand up and regain his balance. And with that momentum, he leaned out from the railing.

Was this tremor a natural disaster? No, the answer was simple. One of the cavalry unit had… kicked the gate with all his might…

(No… way.)

The gatekeeper’s face turned pale. He was awake, but it felt like he was in the middle of a nightmare.

The situation was unfolding below, where the black cloaks had fallen. The cavalry unit dismounted their horses and retrieved their weapons from the waiting wagons. Standing near the fort gate, at a distance from them, was the giant man who had been at the head of the cavalry unit.

The gatekeeper recognized him. There was no mistaking that face.

His figure, illuminated by the torchlight, was strikingly characteristic. Sooty blond hair reminiscent of a lion’s mane, bulging muscles that looked like armor. And the giant, with a neatly trimmed beard under his nose, had one foot on the cracked fort gate. He was looking back, holding a broadsword—which had been hidden under his cloak until now—in one hand.

Only one person fit this description.

The up-and-coming hero touted by the Laptenon Kingdom.

(His name was Bogart Ramholt, wasn’t it…?)

The shocking facts didn’t end there. Mixed in with this group were famous warriors. A veteran soldier who had been on the front lines for twenty years, the woman who had beheaded the gatekeeper’s superior, a thin magician dressed as a cleric, all elite soldiers who wielded weapons for the Kingdom. And all of them were people who… hadn’t been reported to be dispatched to Dera Branch Castle.

The gatekeeper was seized by the illusion that the ground beneath his feet was crumbling.

(No, so… could it be… !?)

—This was supposed to be a good opportunity for an easy promotion. The sweet dream he had held until tonight was crumbling.

As the gatekeeper hurriedly rang the alarm bell, Baldo shouted,

“Enemy attack! The Allied Forces—they’ve come to capture the fort with a small force…!!”

※※※※※※※※※※

5. Omens of the Six Wings(1)

Nudd, the little girl’s watchman, was in the next watchtower. Unless they were deliberately eavesdropping, they shouldn’t be able to hear the conversation between the little girl and the man.

“That guy is also quite troublesome.”
“Do you know how to make up with him, Sergeant?”
“How would I know something like that?”
“That’s a straightforward answer.”
“Look, that guy is just being stubborn. There’s no point in you thinking about it, it’s his problem.”

Even after hearing those words, Sol pondered, “Hmm.” Leaving it entirely to the young man was negligence on the part of an elder. She searched for a solution, wondering if there was anything she could do.

But her long life didn’t offer any answers. Sol suddenly realized that she had never experienced making up with someone. It was always either never seeing the person again, encountering them on the battlefield, or carrying the grudge to the end. The villagers from her hometown had been burned to death, and the colleagues she had quarreled with during her mercenary days had died in battle within a few days.

Even setting that aside, would Nudd even respond?

—I didn’t think the age difference would hurt his pride so much.

This was a problem unique to being a little girl.

(Those who haven’t become children wouldn’t understand… Well, such an opportunity is rare.)

Baldo averted his gaze from the groaning little girl.

“Besides, there’s no need to force a reconciliation. We’ll be off duty soon. Once Lieutenant General Bern of the ‘Six Wings’ takes over, this fort will be safe. Once we’re settled here, we can finally go home… Oh, I’m sorry. That was a painful story for you, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t mind. More importantly, the ‘Six Wings’ are—”
“…Well, I’ll let it slide, but you… you know about the ‘Six Wings,’ right?”
“Of course. There’s probably no one on this continent who doesn’t know.”

Baldo nodded with a slight smile. His expression had a boyish enthusiasm.

Sol also knew about the Empire’s pride, the Six Wings.

“It’s like a medal of honor, but except for General Griesche, it’s practically the same rank as Lieutenant General. They’re often addressed as Lieutenant General. Like Lieutenant General Eileen, and Lieutenant General Bern, who will take over command here.”

The Six Wings was a medal of honor that had existed since the dawn of the Empire. As the name suggested, six great heroes were chosen.

The current generation was exceptionally “a group of eccentric individuals,” she had heard.

(I can even recite their names.)

First, the humanoid monster known as the strongest hero of all time.
—The Strongest of Mankind, Eileen Delfor.
The man who had reached the highest military rank of General in his forties.
—Griesche Delfor.
The fierce general who led his personally trained knights.
—Sigurd Nibris Iblazes.
The sincere general who was deeply trusted by his subordinates for his steady leadership and personality.
—Rosbern Rusty Mine.
The eccentric general, not a strategist, who excelled at exploiting the enemy’s weaknesses.
—Libareschero Envirore.
The silent, fighting general whispered to be the most handsome man in the country.
—Yustea Vol Zold.

(I agree, they’re very popular with the public.)

Because they were all handsome individuals with outstanding military prowess. The sight of them raising their country’s flag and achieving victory after victory must be exhilarating. After all, five of the Six Wings entrusted command to civilian officials midway and wreaked havoc on the front lines. It was no laughing matter for the enemy. It was especially no laughing matter for Solfort, who had been employed by the Allied Forces opposing the Empire.

No, actually, she had laughed in delight. Even so, it was a strange twist of fate.

From her current position, they were her allies.

(Well, being on the Empire’s side is more convenient. I can observe the best heroes on the continent up close. If things go well, they might even spar with me.)

The thought made her body tingle with anticipation.

“Hey Sol, what’s with that face? Don’t tell me you want to get close to the ‘Six Wings’?”
“That’s right. My dream is to become a hero.”
“That’s not ‘that’s right.’ You’re so full of yourself.”

Her head was lightly tapped. Sol protested silently.

But Baldo rested his chin on his hand and ignored her.

“I know enough. Even though I’m just a low-ranking Imperial soldier, I was in Eileen’s division. I know how strong those heroes are. They’re not human. You probably haven’t seen it, kid, but the fact that she looks like a young lady just makes me think it’s a disguise.”
“But… doesn’t it make you want to aim for it? Fighting alongside heroes close to the strongest, and eventually becoming the strongest. It’s a man’s romance.”
“That romance isn’t a man’s romance, it’s a child’s romance. Use words correctly. And you say ‘man’s romance,’ but you’re a girl, for now.”
“That’s right. Or is it? Can I call myself a girl…?”

Baldo looked at the genuinely confused Sol with a puzzled look. He sighed exaggeratedly and grumbled,

“Just like Nudd said, I see you have no talent for jokes. But I can understand wanting to aim for being a hero. When I was your age, I admired heroes a little… I gave up quickly, though.”
“That’s… such a waste.”
“You idiot. It’s like that. Rather, if there was someone who truly knew the heights of heroes and still bragged about wanting to become one, I would doubt their sanity.”
“…Is that so?”

The little girl was being doubted.

Those heroes who were so cool and so strong.

Sol was a dreamer who lived her life without her passion for her dream cooling down. Baldo’s words didn’t penetrate her core. But she could understand. It was true that she had struggled for several years after first setting foot on the battlefield. When faced with such a crossroads in life, Baldo must have chosen a different path than Sol.

—In another ten years, you’ll understand even if you don’t want to.

Saying so, he continued, “Well, anyway.”

“Once the ‘Six Wings’ arrive, we can finally leave this fort. We can’t forget to be vigilant, but it’s best to take it easy. Especially for people like Nudd and me… you have a future beyond this battlefield.”

※※※※※※※※※※

Things changed five days after the little girl entered the fort.

The arrival of Lieutenant General Rosbern of the Six Wings was delayed. According to the express messenger, “He’s been called away to suppress rebels who have risen up in a farming village in the central part of the Empire.” Compared to this relatively stable situation after the fort’s capture, the budding rebel army was a more pressing issue. It had to be nipped in the bud quickly.

Fort Balaboa was still not fully secure.

Therefore, maintaining the front lines was the safest course of action. They could just stay in the fort and wait for Lieutenant General Rosbern’s arrival.

But the acting commander, in his haste—or perhaps driven by greed—overruled the civilian officials’ objections and declared an assault on Dera Branch Castle.

“We will make a large detour around the Matterdali Mountain Range and capture Dera Branch Castle, where the defeated soldiers fled the other day! It’s a drastic measure, but we’re up against the Allied Forces who suffered heavy losses due to Lieutenant General Eileen’s assault. We’ll strike before they receive supplies and fortify the branch castle! If we can capture the branch castle, it will be a big step forward. We can extend the reach of our Imperial army to the area beyond the Matterdali Mountain Range, which has been a kind of barrier!”

His confident expression had a solid basis. It was the information about the internal situation of Dera Branch Castle brought by the scouts.

According to them, “They’re in a great commotion, trying to accommodate the large number of wounded who barely escaped with their lives.” The branch castle’s capacity was limited. With the current overflow of people, dozens were apparently setting up tents outside.

—They would launch a siege, taking advantage of this chaos.

The acting commander made the decision. He also boasted that leisurely waiting for the Six Wings was a bad move. He probably anticipated that while they were waiting, “the Allied Forces would grasp the situation and send in heroes from the Kingdom.” He wanted to settle the matter quickly with a short battle, rather than having the front lines stall again.

His desire to gain military merit was evident.

(It’s not something that can be simply dismissed as bad.)

By the way, the reason for making a detour instead of going through the Matterdali Mountain Range valley was simple. The valley path was too narrow for marching, and if they were ambushed with fire, they would suffer a fatal blow. The Allied Forces weren’t fools either. It was obvious that they would have set traps on the perfect shortcut.

In fact, there were troops lying in wait in that valley.

Solfort, the mercenary on the Allied Forces side, knew that.

(I couldn’t carelessly give advice because of my position, so I was quite relieved when they announced the detour around the mountains.)

Solfort’s squad, led by Baldo, was tasked with defending the fort. None of the squad members, who had intended to ride the winning horse from the start, objected. There was nothing better than getting promoted without effort. However, there was one suicidal volunteer who complained, “I want to go there.” Of course, it was Sol. And naturally, Baldo ignored her, and after receiving glares from Nudd and the others, she reluctantly backed down. Her pent-up frustration was vented through her daily training.

Thus, the number of soldiers remaining at the fort was two hundred.

(Well, my existence is a scapegoat for the Imperial army. A certificate of righteousness. I thought they wouldn’t send me to the battlefield, but it’s still frustrating.)

Things moved quickly after that. Weapons, food, and horses were gathered, and within two days, the army of one thousand, led by the acting commander, began its march. Sol watched them from the watchtower with envy.

Among the officers in the ranks, there were some familiar faces.

There was the lieutenant she had sparred with in her old age, and the hero she had been defeated by many times. Unfortunately, her time at the fort had been too short. She hadn’t been able to meet any skilled training partners like them.

It was all frustrating for her.

(Well, that just means the army is very powerful.)

Attacking the branch castle without the Six Wings.

Although it sounded unsettling, they had sufficient forces. Even the civilian officials who had looked grim at the acting commander’s declaration must have thought, “It’s just unnecessary worry.”

Surely, the only one who was certain that a crisis would occur—

(This is bad…)

—Besides her, there was no one else.

5. Omens of the Six Wings(1)
This is an explanatory chapter.

---

(Lately, I feel like everyone’s been avoiding me.)

Solfort, now Sol, crossed her arms. No, being avoided was fine. Sol herself was used to solitude. It was preferable to train alone. For example, the sword swings she had been practicing since childhood. Since it was necessary to eliminate distractions, more than one person wasn’t needed. But this time, she wasn’t just being avoided; she was also being watched from afar with curious gazes.

For example, Sol was currently walking down the corridor on the second floor of the fort. The young Imperial soldier leaning against the window, while looking at her:

“…Hey.”
“…Ah, the one from before?”

And then they would start whispering and laughing. There were almost no exceptions. Most of the people passing her in the hallway or those she encountered in the dining hall looked at her with condescending smiles and strange eyes. However, the little girl herself understood.

There was no end to the list of reasons why Sol was shunned. She was the youngest and only local participant in this fort, a little girl dressed in ill-fitting equipment who called herself a farmer’s daughter. Perhaps she should have paid more attention to how she appeared.

But she was too clumsy for such things.

Sol shrugged and moved quickly through the fort.

(It’s not the first day, I thought they’d be used to this appearance by now… but I guess things don’t go so smoothly.)

Three days had already passed since the little girl entered the fort. The soldier assigned as her caretaker—a promising young man named Nudd—was keeping his distance. He accompanied Sol as instructed, but he no longer even exchanged small talk with her. Even if she tried to talk to him, he ignored her. Since that incident, he had stopped sparring with her properly. Even though she was used to being alone, being given the cold shoulder still hurt.

She glanced at the young man Nudd in question.

He was trailing three steps behind her with a displeased expression. And as soon as he noticed her gaze, he looked away.

—He had been like this for the past few days.

(I feel sorry for Nudd. I got carried away with the mock battle in my new body…)

It probably stemmed from the training on the first day.

He had been given unsolicited advice from someone who looked down on him.

And that someone was a little girl. Moreover, she was the one who had defeated him in a mock battle. A young man with more talent than others wouldn’t listen to such a person’s advice. She couldn’t say that the young Solfort wouldn’t have made a good face either—that would be too sympathetic to Nudd.

This mediocre man had clung to any straw to reach the top. If he had been given advice, he would have been eternally grateful. But of course, such an eccentric person was an exception among exceptions.

And the gazes of those around Nudd were harsh.

“Hey, Nudd Halt! You’re going to tell us about your heroic tale from three days ago, right? The one with that little girl. You remember, right?”
“I’m tired of hearing about your heroic tales from the officer’s academy.”
“Well, a new page has been added to Halt’s glorious history, hasn’t it? Can you spare us a bit of time?”
“You’re good with your hands, but weren’t your feet your specialty?”
“Before we return to the Imperial Capital, come on, please.”

Taunting voices came from behind.

Nudd’s cheeks visibly reddened. He seemed to be gritting his teeth, his shoulders trembling with shame.

“…Senpai.”
“Stop calling me ‘senpai.’ It’s annoying, so shut up.”

Nudd clicked his tongue loudly and spoke in a harsh voice. Apparently, the outcome of the mock battle had been witnessed.

From the window on the upper floor of the fort, by his classmate, of all people.

Even without the jealousy, it was a great topic of conversation. Nudd, the honor student who had graduated from the officer’s academy thanks to his practical skills and was on the path to promotion, had been defeated by a little girl.

It seemed mean, but it was probably one of the few forms of entertainment they had.

Therefore, they wouldn’t cross the line and make it more than a joke.

—If only that were the case. Sol drove away the teasers with her characteristic glare.

(What’s truly hurting Nudd’s pride isn’t the words of others. Even after I drove away the teasing Imperial soldiers, the fact that he doesn’t look relieved is proof of that.)

Perhaps he couldn’t forgive himself.

It was understandable that he resented her, the cause of it. He must be a serious person at heart.

(Therefore… I’m truly sorry.)

The unnecessary advice was something she regretted. Giving advice like that was a habit of a mediocre person. It was meant as a form of courtesy to the person who had spared their precious time for training. The importance of time, something she had learned through her long life as a mediocre person. That’s why she wanted it to be a fruitful time for the other person. Although she had also been yelled at, “You sound like an old geezer!”

In any case, she had to be careful. Sol didn’t want to be unnecessarily isolated.

(No one will approach me, so I have no training partners.)

She sighed inwardly. That was the focus of her concern. Training methods other than repetitive practice required a partner.

Observation, imitation, and research. Polishing oneself by observing the techniques and movements of others, and thoroughly identifying one’s weaknesses. This method required the help of others, but she believed it was all the more fruitful. It was the product of her long life.

Sol looked up at the clear sky from the corridor window.

(It’s perfect training weather, but I have duty during the day. It’s a shame I have to wait… But I can meet people who will talk to me here. If it’s a distraction, then it’s fine.)

He would probably be in the stone watchtower on the fort wall by now. Sol hurried across the corridor.

※※※※※※※※※※

Fort Balaboa was located in a basin. Compared to forts built on flat land, the view from the watchtower was poor. Even if she strained her eyes, the steep slopes and sheer cliffs of the Matterdali Mountain Range obstructed her view. Let alone the horizon, she couldn’t even see any houses from here.

However, it had a certain degree of practicality. She could see the vicinity of the valley entrance used for the Allied Forces’ retreat. Except for the surrounding peaks, the terrain was relatively flat. The watchtower could fulfill its role sufficiently.

Sol was in the watchtower on the fort wall. It was a bare stone room. Although the arrow slits and loopholes provided good ventilation, the dampness was a downside.

“Being alone is tough, Sol.”
“Sergeant… if you pity me, will you finally spar with me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I have no intention of playing swords with a kid.”

He grinned, his skeletal cheeks twitching.

He was the leader of the squad Sol had been assigned to—Baldo. He was in his late thirties. The wind ruffled his dark brown hair, which gleamed with oil. His tall, thin physique didn’t have the air of an Imperial soldier. But Sol had seen through him at a glance. His was an ideal body, with only practical muscles efficiently distributed.

He was Sol’s only conversation partner.

Ever since they met, he had been friendly towards her.

Although their relationship only extended to being able to hold a conversation.

“Why do you talk to me, Sergeant?”
“Because I don’t feel like being harsh to a kid.”
“A kid… of course, that’s true. It’s obvious at a glance that I’m a little girl and a greenhorn.”
“When you emphasize it like that, it makes me want to doubt you.”
“…You see me as an equal?”
“No, you’re a kid. Dangerous, dangerous. You were planning to make me your sparring partner, weren’t you? You cheeky brat. You’re thirty years too early to trick an adult.”

The little girl’s forehead was flicked with a finger. She was taken aback by the sudden attack.

Sol held the affected area as a dull pain spread, but Baldo nonchalantly looked around.

“Are you still being ignored by that Nudd guy?”
“…Yes, still.”

4. Mystery Girl 2(2)

First, Mana was taken in from the air through the lungs. Next, it was converted within the body into magic power that could be used for spells. And by chanting to solidify the desired phenomenon and weaving the magic power according to the method, the spell finally took shape.

Learning this had been difficult for Nudd, but—.

(Well, the magic I can use is limited.)

The spell he activated was very basic.

It created a small pebble that fit in the palm of his hand.

Although its effect was only that, it could be used for tricks.

The pebble appeared in the air behind the little girl and fell due to gravity.

It made a slight sound as it rolled on the ground.

However, in a quiet place, it was remarkably noticeable.

—What kind of magic was activated behind her? It was human nature to reflexively want to check.

And Sol carelessly turned her attention backward.

(Idiot…)

Seeing the opportunity, he moved without hesitation.

He decided to aim for her wrist this time and stepped forward.

But suddenly, a shock ran through his side.

“Gah!?”

It was as if a bolt of lightning had exploded in his brain. His movements were forcibly stopped.

Looking down, he saw the tip of Sol’s shoe.

The heavy military boot was digging into his solar plexus.

The wooden sword he was about to swing lost its momentum, and his body stumbled.

By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late. A fatal gap had opened in the battle.

“Opening.”

Sol finally moved, delivering a swift horizontal slash.

There was no way to avoid it.

It was sucked towards Nudd’s exposed neck—

And stopped just before hitting his throat.

“…I… I lose. I lose.”

He squeezed out the words. His voice trembled pathetically.

“That’s one point.”

The little girl muttered nonchalantly, removing her weapon from his neck. Nudd dropped his wooden sword and fell to his knees at the same time.

A clatter echoed distantly. Cold sweat oozed from his back. It was also staining his sides, but this wasn’t sweat from the heat of the basin.

It was killing intent. A momentary killing intent emitted from a single flash.

I’m going to be killed, I’m going to be killed, I’m going to be killed.

Despite being a mock battle without real swords, those words filled Nudd’s head.

“…N-no way. Me, like this…?”
“You have talent. Your tactic of aiming for a one-hit kill, although reckless, is something I like. What you lack is simply experience… senpai.”

Sol affirmed his delirious mutterings. When he groaned, “Experience?” the little girl lowered her gaze and said, “Yes.”

“For example… first, the trembling of your hands is unacceptable. I immediately thought you weren’t used to killing intent or intimidation. Another thing was the hesitation in your step right before your second attack. Being too honest and not realizing you were being tricked is also bad. If you’re seen through and exploited, you’ll create a fatal opening like this time. The quickest way to hone your sense of judgment and intuition is through steady training. I don’t know if you’re focusing on combat with swords and magic, but forgetting about techniques other than the sword—in this case, your footwork—is also a weakness. If you don’t rush to win and lose your composure, you’ll become stronger. Also, your wandering gaze bothered me. If you concentrate and keep your eyes on your opponent—No. I apologize, my bad habit came out. If you think it’s unnecessary preaching, please disregard it.”

With a look of regret, she concluded. Sol awkwardly poked the ground with the tip of her sword.

(Ha… ha… me, losing to someone like this?)

—It was a complete defeat.

He hadn’t been outmaneuvered by advanced combat techniques. He had simply fallen for the little girl’s childish tricks. He hadn’t been overwhelmed by superhuman strength or skill. The blows and cuts Nudd had received were quite light.

What clearly determined the victory or defeat was her observation and intuition.

Her discerning eye accurately identified his areas for improvement and exploited his weaknesses. The reason she was able to perform the superhuman feat of “defending without preliminary movements” was, according to her, “Something like intuition. Experience seeps into not only your head but also your body. It’s just that your skin, your bones, or your limbs sometimes react automatically if they remember a similar swordsmanship they’ve encountered before.”

Nudd was speechless. The pride he had built up like a castle—.

Felt like it was cracking.

“It’s… not a matter of Od amount… is it?”

Excuses were meaningless now.

In this battle, the difference in strength was a trivial matter.

In other words, the “difference in experience” that the little girl had enlightened him about was what determined the victory or defeat. Although she seemed to have accumulated a considerable amount of Od, she hadn’t used any unique swordsmanship. In fact, he hadn’t been able to gauge her true strength in this exchange.

—Could it be that she’s also a monster? A genuine article?

The fear that crept up from the past clouded his vision.

(Is she… a monster of talent, like them?)

The Sol before his eyes even seemed distorted. He tried to superimpose the somewhat troubled-looking girl onto the monsters from his days at the officer’s academy. However, they wouldn’t quite overlap. As before, the characteristic presence of a strong person was weak.

But he couldn’t honestly accept this impression.

He couldn’t let his castle of pride crumble.

Therefore, to accept reality, he could only say this:

(It was a fluke… If this wasn’t a fluke, what is it?)

Nudd couldn’t acknowledge Sol. He absolutely couldn’t.

Because if he admitted that the little girl before his eyes was “superior to him” in his specialty, swordsmanship, if he admitted that he was “inferior to someone who hasn’t put in the same effort or time,” if he admitted that he was lower in rank than someone who didn’t even have the air of a strong person, then he would be denying the himself who ran away on the day of the successor’s nomination.

That was something he absolutely couldn’t do. If he denied the event that formed the core of his being—,

Surely, Nudd would come to a standstill.

(Talking down to me like that, so condescendingly…)

If it had been one of the few monsters at the officer’s academy, or a hero, he could have accepted it. They were beings beyond human comprehension. Everyone knew that “it’s natural to lose to them.” Even if he made a fool of himself, his comrades would pat him on the shoulder and say, “It can’t be helped.”

But to this person who didn’t have the scent of a monster—.

He started to say something, then stopped.

Sol glanced at him as he repeated this several times.

“…There’s no need to be discouraged by losing to someone who cheated.”
“…Cheated?”
“I look young.”
“…Stop with the bad jokes.”
“It’s not a joke. I’m older than you.”

Nudd was dumbfounded and let out a sigh. Monster or not, her sense of humor was terrible.

The fact that the little girl said it with a completely serious face made him even more exasperated.

(Damn it…! I don’t care if she’s a monster, or if the match was a fluke, damn it!)

He wasn’t sure if it was calculated.

But Nudd gave up on everything.

(This is ridiculous, I can’t be bothered with her.)

He hadn’t been able to teach her about hierarchy. Although he had only interacted with her for a few hours, he could say this with certainty.

—This little girl wasn’t suited to be a proper soldier. The self-proclaimed sheltered girl had shown the truth behind those words. Her lack of understanding of hierarchy, her silly jokes. It couldn’t be helped if even a caring senior got fed up.

Nudd expressed this inwardly. He didn’t deny that there was jealousy mixed in. But he had no interest in keeping someone who could shake his existence by his side. He had been temporarily appointed as her babysitter, but once this battle was over, they would probably never meet again. She was only being sheltered to assert the Empire’s righteousness.

In the end, she was just an orphaned little girl.

(This girl and I are on different paths. Since we’re on different paths, we’ll part ways when we reach the fork. There’s no need to force interaction; we’ll separate naturally when the time comes.)

Nudd, on the other hand, had graduated from the officer’s academy with excellent grades. A bright future lay ahead of him. Once he gained practical experience, he would be able to live comfortably in the interior. It wasn’t a delusion that the country had expectations of him. The proof was the fact that he had been dispatched to the southern Matterdali region, a corner of the front lines.

This was a place where they couldn’t lose, no matter what happened. After all, it was the battlefield where the “Strongest of Mankind” participated.

If the “Strongest of Mankind” were to be active, there would be no role for ordinary soldiers. In other words, as long as he participated, his promotion was as good as guaranteed. Indeed, the recent field battle had ended in a one-sided suppression. The casualties on the Imperial side were minor, and Nudd had tasted the sweet victory without even setting foot on the battlefield.

A delicious opportunity for promotion and advancement.

—He was fine just as he was, having obtained that.

(So, I have no obligation to interact with someone I don’t like. Thinking that way makes me feel better.)

It was truly unpleasant, but he just had to endure it for a little while longer.

Nudd concluded this and looked up at the sky to mark the end of the matter.

“Are you done resting? Then let’s resume the mock battle.”
“Huh? You still want to do it?… I pass. I’m tired. Kids have so much energy.”

In the end, no matter how many times she requested a mock battle that day, Nudd never agreed.

4. Mystery Girl 2(1)
This is the last chapter from the new recruit’s perspective. The next chapter will return to Solfort’s perspective.

—-

(Well then, I’ll just go easy on her. After all—)

—When it came to swordsmanship, he had a fair amount of confidence.

Nudd was undefeated at the officer’s academy. Swordsmanship, spearmanship, and horsemanship were his specialties. His evaluation at the academy was “physical abilities and sharp movements exceeding the standard.” Apparently, while he completely lacked the business talent he desired, he had an aptitude for the martial arts. He was recognized to the extent that his instructor at the time gave him the stamp of approval, saying, “You should aim for a military career.” Combined with his excellent academic performance, he was at the top of his class.

Therefore, he didn’t think he would lose in a one-on-one match.

(Well… if it’s a mock battle, that is.)

If it were a real battle, not a mock one, he wasn’t confident. He didn’t even want to think about crossing real swords with someone.

Another exception was—if Nudd’s opponent was a “genuine article,” loved by the heavens. Those monsters with an extraordinary amount of Od in their bodies. They, who would eventually be called heroes, clearly transcended the realm of humans. He wouldn’t stand a chance against such beings.

Therefore, with a bit of modesty, he evaluated himself as “an excellent military officer candidate, within the realm of humans.” However, Nudd had more than just a superficial pride in his “not-to-be-dismissed abilities.”

—He was the strongest among his squad.

Of course, compared to the conscripted commoners. There was no way he would lose to a little girl.

“A mock battle as a warm-up, huh?”
“I thought it was a reasonable suggestion. The wooden dummies haven’t arrived yet. I thought a mock battle would be the most effective training method.”
“Your honorifics are amusing.”
“My apologies, senpai.”
“…Well, alright. Babysitting was getting boring.”

The fort’s backyard was unexpectedly spacious. The factor that emphasized this feeling was its bleakness—”despite being called a garden, there were only a few scattered trees and plants.” Originally, it should have felt closed in. The fort walls surrounded three sides of the backyard, and Fort Balaboa towered over the remaining side. Combined with the hard, ocher ground, it felt more like a plaza.

And here he was, alone with the little girl again.

In fort life, everyone was constantly starved for entertainment. There was no way they would leave such an interesting spectacle alone.

He should have been surrounded by curious onlookers, starting with his colleagues.

(It was really annoying, though.)

However, even though they peeked in once, they quickly retreated back inside the fort. Apparently, they had finished deploying on the back fort wall and were now busy strengthening the defenses near the main gate. Thanks to that, this place was free from the hustle and bustle and curious gazes. It was nothing short of a stroke of luck.

Looking up, the slightly slanted sunlight was dazzling.

Standing in its shadow was a single little girl.

Her pure white clothes fluttered as if purifying the filth.

“What are the victory conditions… senpai?”
“Simply, when the opponent admits defeat. If we make it ‘first hit wins,’ it would look like I’m bullying you, and with those short legs, getting a hit would be impossible, right? Also… let’s not use magic as a means of attack.”
“Understood.”

Leaving the obediently nodding little girl aside, Nudd turned his back. And when he reached the designated position, he held his wooden sword.

(It’s ridiculous, but it’s my duty as a senior. Well, it’s tedious, but I can let off some steam, and I can also see this girl’s abilities, so it’s killing two birds with one stone… It’s hot here, too.)

As usual during training, Nudd was lightly dressed. Simple clothing would alleviate the sweltering heat somewhat. Although the backyard was shaded and cool, the daytime heat still made him sweat. He realized the hardship of living in an environment far from the sea and surrounded by mountains, unlike his hometown.

Life in a basin with poor ventilation didn’t suit him. Nudd had lived in the Imperial Capital for a long time, and the sea breeze was ingrained in his nostrils. He was thoroughly disgusted by this clinging heat.

Looking ahead, the little girl was in the designated position.

(Kids have it easy. She looks completely fine.)

Annoyingly, she was twirling her wooden sword with practiced ease. She seemed to be checking her form. She herself had said plainly, “Swinging a sword is my hobby.” She seemed to lack the characteristic pride and confidence of a strong person.

He wanted to tease her about being insecure about her swordsmanship.

(Or maybe she’s really just playing around.)

Nudd’s theory was that “strong people have a unique atmosphere.” He recalled the numerous defeats he had suffered at the officer’s academy. The monsters of talent always had a faint trace of confidence on their lips. Even those who modestly hid it showed glimpses of it in their behavior. They possessed an annoying amount of pride, confidence, and arrogance.

—As if to say, we were born as special people, and we will live as special people.

He couldn’t completely deny that idea.

Even Nudd had that pride to some extent. It was only natural, since he was aware that he was superior to ordinary people.

(But I can’t sense that from her. There’s a different kind of strange atmosphere… Is it my imagination?)

It was probably due to her strange way of speaking and behavior.

Thinking back now, he was embarrassed that he had been intimidated by a little girl. On the other hand, Nudd was confident in his swordsmanship.

Therefore, the mock battle was a perfect opportunity. It was a good chance to teach the impertinent junior about hierarchy.

“Alright, let’s begin—!”

He braced himself and stepped forward.

Basically, his tactic was a quick attack. He didn’t like to wait and see what the opponent would do. He preferred to quickly close in on the enemy and deliver a decisive blow while they were disoriented. That was the most satisfying. Nudd didn’t like probing for weaknesses. Perhaps that was the reason his father hadn’t chosen him as his successor.

He closed the distance with large strides and faced the small little girl.

However, there was too much of a height difference between them.

His specialty, “closing in on the enemy,” couldn’t be used.

(Well, I can’t be childish.)

Then, he could settle it quickly with a head-on fight.

He would aim for the head or throat. Or perhaps the right wrist. He had to make her drop her weapon and create an opportunity for surrender. It was also the role of a senior to show a beginner when to withdraw.

Therefore, to clearly demonstrate defeat—.

“Haa…!”

He focused on her head and swung his wooden sword without mercy.

He felt a pang of conscience. It was a little girl, after all.

Of course, he intended to stop just before contact. However, even if he accidentally hit her with too much force, it would be acceptable. There was much to be learned from pain. He could make that little girl learn hierarchy through her body.

He swung down an educational blow towards her unguarded head.

“!”

A dull sensation resonated in his arm.

He instantly understood—his decisive blow had been deflected.

Nudd’s eyes widened, and he instinctively retreated.

There was no pursuit from Sol. She simply gazed calmly at him as he hurriedly retreated. Motionless, she held her wooden sword aloft with one hand. Even the recoil from deflecting his blow seemed minimal. This, contrary to her small stature, spoke volumes about her Od capacity.

However, it wasn’t an unforeseen situation.

Nudd glared at the little girl while keeping a certain distance.

(…I knew it. I’m relieved. It seems our superiors aren’t so crazy as to treat a mere little girl as an Imperial soldier. It seems that girl isn’t so weak that she can’t do anything against a direct attack. Well, it wouldn’t be any fun if she was.)

However, being parried by a wooden sword was unexpected. The little girl had been unresponsive until just before. Nudd cleared his throat and wiped away the sweat that had formed.

(A reflexive defense? Well, she seems to have some skill.)

—It’s nothing, I can easily win.

He caught his breath and waited for the right moment to strike. He was prepared for a counterattack at any time.

He relaxed his shoulders and assumed the ideal posture.

(Don’t panic, don’t panic.)

Nudd, telling himself this, was weak to tension. After all, mock battles were the main focus at the officer’s academy, which assessed abilities. Because he hadn’t experienced much tension, he had been able to graduate at the top of his class and was dispatched to Fort Balaboa as a promising candidate. If not for that, he was confident in his superior skills, a cut above the other new recruits.

Nudd took a proper stance and observed his opponent’s movements. She didn’t show any openings. She didn’t move, like a statue.

She met his gaze, but the standoff continued. The battle was at a stalemate. Tension filled the already silent area.

Then, a gust of wind blew, caressing his cheek.

The clamor of the Imperial soldiers reached his eardrums, carried by the wind.

This was going nowhere. He had to make a move.

“…[A Single Fragment of Earth].”

Nudd chanted a single phrase. He wove magic power and activated a simple spell.

Simply put, magic was the act of causing some phenomenon by consuming magic power.

There were two types of magic power that could be consumed at this time. Od, the magic power that circulated within the body, and Mana, the magic power that filled the atmosphere.

However, Od was directly linked to life force, in addition to affecting physical abilities. Depleting it was literally suicidal, so generally, Mana was consumed.

But Mana couldn’t be used as a source of magic as it was.

3. Mystery Girl 1

This time, from the perspective of the new recruit.

—-

(How did this happen?)

The man, Nudd Halt, held his head in his hands.

A room in Fort Balaboa. This long, narrow room served as a dining hall. Consequently, tables for the stationed soldiers were set up here and there. Some seemed to have been smashed during the fort’s capture and were discarded. The ones currently arranged were all usable.

He couldn’t call the fort itself newly built, even if his mouth were torn apart.

But if he averted his gaze from the ingrained bloodstains, it seemed like a relatively clean room for a fort. It was a relief that there were no fatal flaws for the soldiers who spent day and night together. Despite being captured, there was little damage. Although the storehouse had been set on fire, the fort was still operational.

Now, Nudd was agonizing in such a relatively clean room, alone… with one other person.

—Rewinding an hour.

Nudd had successfully completed his patrol duty. Now, he was about to leave, hoping to exchange complaints with his colleagues and add some color to his gray fort duty. However, within seconds, he was caught by Sergeant Baldo. Since the sergeant had a strangely cheerful grin, Nudd was more than wary and tried to use his colleagues as shields to escape, but such efforts were futile before a superior’s orders.

And he ended up getting involved in this troublesome matter.

(Damn it, why?)

Nudd sighed.

—After all the trouble of graduating from the officer’s academy, why this?

“This is quite delicious. It’s chewy and filling.”
“…How can you eat such disgusting preserved food with such relish?”
“I like that it doesn’t move even when I put it in my mouth.”
“Unbelievable…”

At the end of his dry gaze, the little girl who called herself a “farmer’s daughter” was about to eat the dried meat on the table. She picked it up with her hands, brought it to her mouth, and easily tore it off. She moved her mouth, chewing, her platysma vibrating. Then she relaxed her cheeks with a satisfied expression.

Nudd grimaced, doubting her sanity.

(If this girl eats decent food in the Empire, she’ll probably go crazy…)

That preserved food was known for being difficult to chew. The taste was described as “Eating shoes would be better because at least you can’t swallow them.” Nudd had tried it once out of curiosity, but he choked on the terrible taste and saltiness. Just thinking about it made him want to impulsively cover his mouth. That seasoning seemed like nothing but harassment.

Eating it would make one refuse food for several hours.

That should have been the only practical aspect of it.

However, after washing it down with the water in the cup, the little girl let out a small “Phew.”

“Thank you for the meal. I feel much better.”
“She really finished it all… unbelievable.”

—Is this a feast for a farmer’s life?

Nudd, raised in the city, shuddered. He stared wide-eyed at the little girl who had finished eating and thought again.

Her features, though childish, were well-formed. Although her hair was tangled with dust and sand, it was captivatingly pristine. He wondered, “Shouldn’t she be dirtier if she’s a farmer?” But if she said, “I was a sheltered girl,” he would have no choice but to shut up.

—Does a farmer’s family have such luxury?

Nudd, unaware of the reality, couldn’t help but think so.

“…Sol. My name is Sol. I don’t have a last name.”

Apparently, the name of this eccentric girl was Sol. She was suspicious from every angle.

The only reason she was allowed into the fort was that “she hadn’t been seen in any army.” However, in a world where talent could turn everything upside down, women and children weren’t unconditionally trustworthy. Even if they looked weak, they could be formidable. Also, the possibility that she was a member of an intelligence unit, brainwashed in the Laptenon Kingdom or somewhere, couldn’t be ruled out.

Why did the commander of Fort Balaboa allow her in?

Nudd was overflowing with questions.

(Still, I think the reason they picked her up was to counter the bad rumors… It wasn’t the Imperial army that burned down Dada Village. It was most likely soldiers from the Allied Forces, but I’m sure Laptenon or someone will spread rumors about it.)

—What a vicious Empire, massacring innocent people.

It was an obvious lie.

However, ignoring it wasn’t a good move either.

(It would be troublesome if they held a grudge against us because of this. The higher-ups probably want to avoid a large-scale rebellion.)

The war, which had lasted for ten years, had been de-escalating to skirmishes since last year. It would be foolish to sow the seeds of conflict again here. Therefore, they probably took in the little girl, a suspicious person, as proof of the righteous Empire that sheltered the villagers affected by the war.

(There seem to be other hidden reasons as well. If not, I’ll cry at how careless they are.)

But the reality was that he couldn’t afford to cry. He had to brace himself for the worst.

Nudd was, after all, in the sad position of an underling. His misfortune was that he, the new recruit with the least workload among the squad that found her, was appointed—or rather, forced—to be Sol’s babysitter. Therefore, while his colleagues were busy running around the fort, he could leisurely watch her eat.

Of course, it wasn’t exactly leisurely.

“Tch…”

A click of his tongue escaped him in annoyance.

Curious gazes pierced him from the half-open door.

It was his colleagues teasing him. Until now, the topic of conversation to relieve their boredom had been the sergeant and the “Six Wings.” When he silently gestured them away with his hand, they disappeared with a chuckle. Nudd just felt his head grow heavy.

He had given them good material to tease him about. Fort duty offered little entertainment. He would be teased for two weeks.

And it was all because of this mysterious little girl.

(Just who is she? Her way of speaking is strange, and there are so many mysteries about her.)

“…Whatever. It’s pointless for me to think about it.”
“You give up easily. You can’t get stronger if you stop thinking.”
“Idiot, who said anything about getting stronger? And it’s not stopping thinking. I’m adapting. …Because there are so many absurd things.”

—How did my life become like this?

Once again, Nudd exhaled deeply.

(Things should have been going smoothly, so why am I…)

Nudd Halt, twenty-one years old.

He came from Rhino, the capital of the Ganor Empire.

He reminisced about the ornate streets of the Imperial Capital, which he had seen from the window. He had never lacked food, clothing, or shelter.

The Halt family had been a merchant family for generations, and his father, the current head, was particularly gifted with a merchant’s talent. He remembered his grandfather exclaiming, “This is the Halt family’s golden age.”

Nudd had few memories of his father.

But he was proud of his father, who was always busy with work.

He had heard about his father’s work from his mother and apprentices. So, even as a child, he had the utmost respect for his father, thinking, “I’m living a comfortable life thanks to those large hands and that broad, strong back.”

Every night, he worked hard on improving his business acumen and studying distribution.

Of course, it was to follow in his great father’s footsteps.

(Until that time.)

He had been innocent as a child.

Naturally, he thought he would inherit the family business as the eldest son.

Until the fateful day, the cursed day of the successor’s nomination.

Or rather, until he was driven to the officer’s academy.

—The person his stern father chose was unexpectedly…

“…Something troubling you?”
“Whoa!? D-don’t approach me so suddenly!”

An innocent face was right in front of him. Caught off guard, he fell out of his chair.

There was a loud noise as he landed hard on his backside.

“Wh-what are you doing…”

Nudd wanted to complain.

But he was at a loss for words. He couldn’t “stand up, showing his displeasure.” Because Sol, looking down at him from the chair, seemed to lack any childishness. She showed no concern for him falling on his backside, nor did she have a mocking expression.

Her lemon-colored eyes simply reflected a mature hue.

“You owe me a meal, so I’ll listen.”
“H-huh? What are you talking about…”
“I’m not good at anything other than swinging a sword, but I’ve lived a long life. Perhaps I can offer some advice from my experience.”
“…You’re talking nonsense.”

Nudd swore softly, but remained wary.

It was because the little girl’s behavior seemed to see through his mind.

(That’s right… there’s a possibility that this girl did something to get into the fort.)

He considered the possibility of magic or magic eyes.

He didn’t want to think about mind-altering magic. If a forbidden magician was hiding their identity, there would be no way for him to survive here. Now, he could only trust the general who allowed her into the fort. He prayed that the general wasn’t blind. If he was, Nudd would blind him as punishment, even if he had to face the consequences.

He touched the hilt of the sword at his waist with the ring finger of his right hand.

(If it comes down to it… I have no choice but to do it.)

Nudd’s mind tightened with tension. He hadn’t even experienced his first battle yet. He was unsure about fighting a person with a real sword.

Mock battles were compulsory at the officer’s academy, but they were ultimately just exercises. They were far from the tension of a real battle. He had even broken out in a cold sweat during the previous patrol. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen to him in a real fight.

Oblivious to him, Sol said with an innocent face,

“Oh, right. Are there any training tools here? A sword would be ideal.”
“Huh? What are you talking about all of a sudden…”
“I’ve finished eating. So, there’s nothing to do but train.”

She jumped down from the chair with a light hop. Her light movements didn’t betray the weight of her equipment. After fervent negotiations, Sol was dressed in soldier’s attire unbefitting a little girl. Relatively light standard-issue armor, simple gauntlets and knee pads, and laced boots. The reason she could wear them despite her small stature was apparently that there was a soldier in another unit who was eleven years old, so they had a size that barely fit.

Still, the sight was comical.

(Even so… training?)

He was taken aback by her sudden statement. Nudd finally stood up and brushed off the dust. Meanwhile, Sol looked around, then jumped up and peeked out the window, asking,

“So, is there or isn’t there?”
“It’s being brought in. There’s space in the backyard, enough for some swings… By the way, I’m older than you, right? If you’re a youngster, there’s a certain way you should behave.”
“…Come to think of it, you’re right. My apologies.”
“Hey.”

After her movements stopped, Sol put her hand on her chin. She clearly looked as if she had completely forgotten. He was dumbfounded, and the tension in his mind completely vanished. If she was indeed less than ten years old, as she appeared, it made sense. The credibility of her being a sheltered girl relatively increased. She certainly seemed to possess the “naivete” to call herself that.

Anyway, there was one thing he wanted to ask.

“So, are you really a farmer’s daughter? Your talk about training, your way of speaking, and your claim of being a sheltered girl are a bit far-fetched. Or rather, there are a lot of things about you that are, well, far-fetched. I’m sure the higher-ups have noticed.”
“I’m a true farmer’s daughter. I just admire heroes. Anyway, could you show me to the backyard?”
“…Use honorifics, honorifics.”
“Please show me the way… please.”
“Why is it so choppy? And ‘no ja’ isn’t an honorific. What’s with that accent?”

Her tone was clearly unfamiliar.

—But he would let it slide this time.

Looking at the disgruntled little girl, he simply felt his strength drain away.

(This is getting ridiculous. Would a cunning spy or secret agent be this naive? It’s too suspicious. Even if it’s an act, there’s no point in walking a tightrope.)

If she had planned all of this, he had no choice but to give up. In that case, he could slap his knee and say, “I was fooled,” and blame everything on fate. So, Nudd abandoned his suspicions here. He recognized Sol as innocent, just as she appeared.

—Being a new recruit isn’t easy either.

Nudd shrugged, oblivious to the fact that he himself was a new recruit.

2. “Assess the situation swiftly,” they say.

On the post-war land, devoid of people and strewn with corpses, Solfort Enuma closed her eyes tightly. She shook her head, her long white hair swaying dramatically. A change of mindset was important. In this abnormal situation of becoming a little girl, it was an essential skill.

While grappling with the incomprehensible reality, she sighed.

“…Indeed, it doesn’t seem to be a dream.”

Her confusion gradually subsided. Though transformed into an unexpected form, she was undoubtedly alive. Solfort wasn’t good at thinking things through in the first place. She could accept the current situation as “better than being dead.” Even this tiny body—which lacked any semblance of a hero and even seemed likely to invite ridicule—was tolerable.

The same applied to her change in sex. She wasn’t going to question anything beyond her physical abilities. After all, her last interaction with a woman had been decades ago.

Now, his, no, her only concern was, “How capable is this body?” The direction of her aspirations hadn’t changed. Therefore, she wanted to know the extent of her strength to find the way to become closer to a hero.

The thought process of a mediocre person remained as single-mindedly reckless as ever.

(How are my physical capabilities?)

If they matched her appearance, she wanted to start training again immediately. She wondered how much training was possible with a child’s body, but she couldn’t waste a single second. This was a second chance that had miraculously appeared. She would make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and finally reach for the status of a hero. For that, she had to push herself even harder than before.

She opened and closed her small hands and gradually started moving her body. As part of getting used to her body, she tried running.

“…Whoa!”

She plunged face-first into the uneven ground. Her senses were off, and she tumbled down miserably. A stinging pain shot through her face, but she got up, thinking, “This is nothing.” This pain was something she could feel because she was alive. If she thought that way, she could accept it with a laugh.

(It hurts, though…)

After that, she lightly moved her body, jumping in place and swinging her sword to check her condition. Her overall impression was, “Surprisingly, there’s no discomfort.”

Naturally, the height, arm length, and leg length of the original Solfort were completely different from her current body. Because of this, it was hard to grasp her senses, but her physical abilities and skill seemed to be about the same as before she became a little girl. Rather, her senses, which had been declining with age, and her physical abilities, which had begun to rust, seemed to have even improved because her body itself had become younger.

She was intensely moved. It was beyond her imagination. It was like a dream that she could continue her efforts while carrying over her past training. However, despite being able to exert the same strength as before, her body had no muscles.

She wasn’t surprised by this.

(Surely, they transferred the Od from my original body to this one. That alone is absurd, but it doesn’t stop there. Could it be… that the muscles in my original body were converted into magic power and transferred to this body as Od?)

“Magic power” greatly influenced physical abilities. Basically, the more magic power one possessed, the higher their physical abilities. For example, if one trained their body by running or swinging a sword, the magic power generated within the body—commonly called Od—would activate, increasing muscle mass and magic power reserves.

Simply put, physical abilities were determined by the amount of Od, muscles, and the effects of drugs and magic. This was why a small girl with no muscles could possess the physical strength to overwhelm a warrior. However, since training the body increased both Od and muscle mass, it was rare for a small girl to overwhelm a trained warrior.

So, what about his case? Solfort Enuma, who had devoted his life to hard work. If Od increased without limit, and since he had trained relentlessly, he should have possessed a large amount of both Od and muscle mass.

However, in reality, his internal magic power was negligible. Most of his previous physical abilities came from his muscles.

(The reason is that my Od limit was low.)

Although there were individual differences, bodies had a kind of ceiling. It was the upper limit of Od that could be stored within the body. This was called the Od limit. Simply put, the lower the Od limit, the lower the Od reserves.

In other words, even if one generated a large amount of Od through training, it was meaningless if it exceeded the limit of the container. Od exceeding the limit would be dissipated outside the body. It was the same as pouring a large amount of water into a cup; it couldn’t hold more water than its capacity.

Whether one was a genius who improved with effort, or a mediocre person who didn’t improve even with effort, the dividing line was the Od limit.

Needless to say, Solfort belonged to the latter.

(However, this young body has no muscles. I don’t know what the Od limit is, but if I train and build muscle, I’ll definitely surpass the physical abilities I had as an old man. The amount of the limit is a concern, but I’ll have to test that later.)

Just as she reached this conclusion—

Growl… A strangely cute sound echoed. She had been so engrossed in checking her physical condition. Solfort rubbed her stomach and thought,

(I’m hungry.)

She looked around, trying to find something to eat. But this was a battlefield where night had already fallen. The only things illuminating the dark plain were the stars, the moon, and the dying flames. Because the little girl’s senses were sharp, the buzzing of flies was annoying, and the stench of blood and guts made her nose wrinkle.

She didn’t want to stay here long. However—.

The battlefield under the starry sky looked beautiful, contrary to its reality. Perhaps it was because the corpses of the defeated were hidden by the dark curtain of night, and only the brilliant stars were visible. In any case, with his old body, even his boasted eyesight was nearsighted, and this was the first time he had felt such a strange sensation.

Of course, sentiment wouldn’t fill her stomach. She needed to come up with a way to get food quickly.

(The food stores at the rear of the formation would have been withdrawn… or looted and burned… but the possibility of them being left behind can’t be ruled out. I’ll check them out first, scavenge the preserved food of the dead soldiers, and then head for a village where there are people.)

Time was precious, so hunting wasn’t an option. The surroundings were a burnt field.

First, go to the habitat, search, cook—it was too much trouble.

(I can hardly identify any edible plants. I shouldn’t have neglected my studies when I was young… No, I couldn’t afford to reduce the time I spent swinging my sword.)

—Then, there’s no point in regretting it.

Solfort reconsidered and began to prepare to leave. She went around the nearby piles of corpses and searched the bodies. She snatched the leggings and shoes of a small man and put them on her own legs. She couldn’t wander the battlefield barefoot. It was to avoid getting wounds on her feet. But even if he was small, an adult man’s size wouldn’t fit a little girl.

Naturally, they were too big. But they were much better than bare feet.

Next, she wrapped a belt around her slender waist. Her waist was so short that she wrapped it around twice. For now, it wouldn’t fall off. She hung the portable food and dagger she had stripped from the corpses on the tightly fastened belt.

She gave up on the armor. She had no problem with her strength, but the difference in physique between her and the original owner was so great that there were too many gaps between her body and the armor. It restricted her movement and there was no point in wearing it.

Finally, the little girl grasped her old, beloved sword.

She must have looked quite comical from the side.

But her golden eyes, filled with strong will—,

Revealed a mature, warrior-like quality.

※※※※※※※※※※

—Imperial Year 220.

The Matterdali region, located slightly west of the center of the continent. It was a fierce battleground where three powerful nations clashed.

One of the powerful nations was the Ganor Empire. Occupying most of the eastern part of the continent, it was the continent’s largest nation, to which the “Strongest of Mankind” whom Solfort last faced belonged. Currently, it was a superpower at odds with all the nations on the continent.

Because of its vast territory, it bordered many countries.

And its battle lines were equally long. This was evident from the fact that the Imperial front split the continent vertically. This front, which seemed impossible to defend by common sense, was not only being maintained but was still expanding.

This was a testament to the fact that all the heroes and soldiers of the Empire were monsters.

(It’s a nation with many problems, though.)

There were two powerful nations directly confronting the Empire.

The Viennese Kingdom, which had a harsh class society.

And the Laptenon Kingdom, which ruled the west.

The two countries had formed an alliance and established an anti-Imperial front. Therefore, the battles in this region were mainly conflicts between the Viennese-Laptenon Allied Forces and the Ganor Empire.

Although they received support from other countries, the overall structure remained unchanged.

(Our mercenary units were hired and organized by the Laptenon Kingdom, one of these two countries.)

In other words, the conflict where the mediocre man faced the “Strongest of Mankind” was, as usual, a scene from a field battle between the Viennese-Laptenon Allied Forces and the Imperial Army. The result was a complete victory for the Empire.

After the surviving mediocre man fell, the Allied Forces and mercenaries seemed to have been devastated. It was a simple defeat, but the death of their oldest member seemed to have dealt a blow to the mercenaries’ morale. He hadn’t realized it himself, but perhaps Solfort had some popularity after all.

The rout was such that it made one think so.

However, the mediocre man himself thought, “They probably ran off in joy.”

(By now, the guys who bet on my death in gambling are probably toasting with their drinks. I’ve caused them a lot of trouble. This is the only parting gift I can leave them. I hope this will give them some satisfaction.)

The Matterdali region, the stage for the mercenaries’ rout.

Its characteristic feature was its mountains, difficult to traverse. The so-called Matterdali Mountain Range had steep slopes where ferocious wild animals made their dens. Now that Fort Balaboa, located in its basin, had fallen into the hands of the Empire, only the mountain peaks could stop the Imperial army’s advance.

The Viennese-Laptenon Allied Forces had retreated to Dera Branch Castle, located beyond a long, winding valley. There seemed to be one reason why they weren’t completely annihilated by the Imperial army’s pursuit during this retreat.

Apparently, the cave that served as the entrance to the valley was cleverly hidden by the angle of the rock face and the overgrown branches and leaves. Although the Imperial army learned of this escape route through an informant who had infiltrated the Allied Forces during their retreat, they hadn’t initially been aware of it and were now pressed for time to devise countermeasures. They seemed to be holding a meeting in a room in Fort Balaboa to decide on their strategy.

—The reason for the hearsay tone from earlier was simple and clear.

(I’ve been here all night.)

The little girl hid herself while suppressing her stomach growls. She was in the grass near Fort Balaboa.

(I’ve been estimating the war situation from the words of the passing soldiers, but my hunger is almost at its limit… This body is quite inflexible. In my previous body, I could train even if I forgot a meal or two, but when I got old, the dizziness got worse.)

Looking up at the sky, the dazzling sun peeked over the mountains. The clear air drifting around her seeped into her body through her nostrils. While Solfort had been biding her time, a new morning had arrived.

Since last night, she had been concealing her presence and quietly gathering information in front of the enemy fort. Until then, she had been searching for food. She wandered around the area based on her hunches, but the food stores were empty. She couldn’t find any nearby villages.

Dada Village, the closest small farming village, had also been ruthlessly burned down. Was it the mercenaries who had lost control, the Imperial army celebrating their victory, or the Allied forces disguised as the Imperial army? It was uncertain, but the important thing for her was that the food had been burned.

—Where else could there be food nearby?

The place that came to mind was the fort built nearby.

It was Fort Balaboa, which had fallen to the Imperial army.

Therefore, the little girl was hiding in the bushes, waiting for a chance to get a meal.

“…Somehow, wouldn’t it all be solved if Her Highness Eileen just blew up the whole mountain…?”
“Don’t be stupid. If she destroys the mountain recklessly, we’ll be buried alive by the aftershock of the flying debris. Besides, there are troublesome fellows. They say gods or something reside on the top of that mountain.”
“I know, I know. I’m just complaining. It’s not a serious matter… Corporal, you’re being mean by pointedly responding to a monologue.”
“Assistant Corporal Nudd, maintain your vigilance. You can’t get by with a student mindset anymore.”
“Hey, Corporal. Assistant Corporal Nudd seems quite tense, even if he doesn’t say it. Can’t you forgive him for a little banter?”

—Fort Balaboa, which had fallen to the Imperial army.

On the path leading to the mountain forest near the thicket where the little girl was hiding.

Five men in military attire were on patrol duty, basking in the early morning sunlight.

(Those are… well, Imperial soldiers.)

There was no doubt that they were Imperial soldiers. It was more than obvious from their conversation and the armor they wore.

Among them, the brown-haired man called Assistant Corporal Nudd was clad in the newest equipment. He was probably fresh out of the officer’s academy. He must be a new recruit who had just been assigned, Solfort analyzed. He looked to be in his early twenties.

(He’s quite tense for someone making small talk.)

His wandering gaze was restless. It went back and forth. His body movements were stiff. His gait was unsteady. If Solfort were a soldier of the Viennese-Laptenon Allied Forces, she would have targeted him first.

She felt a sense of nostalgia for his unrefined demeanor.

(Forty years ago, I was also bound by such tension. I became able to relax when I thought of it as training.)

Her obsession with heroes hadn’t changed since long ago.

They chatted idly as they passed in front of the little girl.

“So, is the ‘Strongest of Mankind’… no, Lieutenant General Eileen still at Fort Balaboa?”
“No, I heard she returned to the northern battlefield in a hurry after yesterday’s clash. Lieutenant General Bern of the ‘Six Wings’ is supposedly being dispatched in her place. It’s a hot rumor among the non-commissioned officers.”
“I don’t want to get my hopes up, but if it’s true, it’s more than reassuring. Lieutenant General Rusty Mine is, well, more reliable than Her Highness Eileen.”

The four men other than the new recruit, while exchanging banter, were vigilantly scanning their surroundings. They were probably veterans. If the corporal was the leader of the squad, it wouldn’t include any strong individuals, so to speak, heroic figures. Indeed, the muscle mass she could imagine from their behavior and physique didn’t exceed her expectations.

But Solfort wasn’t optimistic.

(The amount of Od doesn’t show on the outside. And in addition to that,)

Even if they weren’t heroes, it wasn’t certain that she could handle them.

Her philosophy was that arrogance was deadly, especially for a mediocre person. Unlike the monsters called heroes who overwhelmed others, a mediocre person could lose their life through a little optimism. Caution was a virtue for ordinary people.

Her colleagues and juniors who were driven by greed had all died without exception.

She couldn’t follow in their footsteps.

(Hmm, so that ‘Strongest of Mankind’ has already left this place. Should I say it’s unfortunate, or fortunate?)

The golden woman who called her half-baked—

She thought of the great hero, Eileen Delfor.

It wasn’t wise to meet her so soon after yesterday.

She hadn’t reached her level yet.

(Meeting her will be a story for much later.)

She flicked her forehead and regained her composure. A feeling like a mixture of frustration and envy swirled around the imaginary great hero, but—now wasn’t the time to be preoccupied with anything other than her appetite.

(I need to make up my mind. I have feelings for the acquaintances who died in battle, but it would be foolish to attack them for revenge. Even though we were originally from opposing nations.)

The little girl clenched her fists and made up her mind. There was a priority to things. In her case, the most important thing was “to become a hero, to gain ‘strength’ comparable to the heroes of fairy tales.” The second was “to continue living for that purpose,” and everything else was secondary or tertiary.

She had no attachment to the Laptenon army she had been assigned to.

She wouldn’t nobly seek revenge and miss out on the important matter of food.

She had to fill her stomach first.

So, should she put on a little act?— Solfort deliberately made a noise in the thicket.

“…! Who’s there?!”

The one who reacted swiftly was a large man.

The man called Corporal, while holding his straight sword, directed his killing intent towards the bushes where the little girl was hiding. The other squad members, like the Corporal, took up combat stances, and the new recruit grasped his sword slightly later. He drew the sword from his waist and lowered his stance. She was slightly impressed by his basic posture.

The little girl removed her equipment and hid it in the shadows of the grass.

With this, all the items that might arouse suspicion were removed.

After a pause of about a second, she slowly revealed herself. Outwardly, she was just a little village girl.

“…A… little girl?”

They must have thought she was a remnant of the Allied Forces.

But what emerged from the grass was far below their expectations.

Just a little girl. They must have been taken aback.

Moreover, she must have looked different from anyone they had seen in the enemy army.

By this point, the five men seemed to have relaxed considerably.

At the Corporal’s sigh, their killing intent dissipated.

And he spoke to her gruffly.

“Are you a refugee? … Which village are you from?”
“…I’m a little girl from Dada Village.”
“That’s quite a punchy self-introduction.”
“That village was burned down. I lost my home and my parents. Would you please give me work and food?”

1. The man had no talent. He was mediocre.

Throughout his life, he possessed no extraordinary talent. The words of his master, whom he met in his boyhood, crossed his mind.

“You have no such brilliant thing as talent.”

He recalled the drunken voice of a colleague from his youth.

“We’re expendable. Nothing more than shields.”

He remembered the murmur of the strongest “hero” of humankind, whom he encountered in his old age.

“You are a half-baked person.”

Their words were all true. The man possessed no special talent, no ability to achieve his dreams.

1

This had been evident since the man’s boyhood. He frequented the swordsmanship dojo built on a plateau in his village, but he never once achieved any notable results. He never managed to defeat a swordsman with even a sliver of talent. Even against younger opponents, the same held true. He even tasted defeat at the hands of children a decade younger than him. It was then that he learned that humiliation tasted like sand.

Still, his rank wasn’t the lowest. If he had been so weak that he couldn’t win against anyone—no, even then, he surely wouldn’t have stopped his reckless pursuit. That was the strength of youth.

The feeling of admiration was fresh and full of vitality.

“I want to be strong, stronger.”

He had loved swords since he was a child. The hero in a certain heroic tale his mother read to him in bed was a “swordsman.” The image of the hero cleaving clouds with a flash of his sword, helping the weak, and bisecting a wicked empire was dazzling to his young mind.

“I want to be a hero like that, I want to be one.”

At first, it was a childish longing that everyone could have. Chasing the shadow of that dream, he swung his sword every day. In the ivy-covered ruins on the outskirts of the village, only the sound of his breathing echoed.

The reason he trained in a deserted place was that the villagers would mock him.

“It’s a waste of effort. He’d be better off learning to farm.”

Perhaps because of this, he had no memories of playing with other children his age. It didn’t matter. He knew he wasn’t a precocious genius. He unsparingly carved out time, thinking, “That’s why training is important.” He devoted himself to training, rain or shine, snow or wind, day or night. Through these days, the sword of admiration was tempered by passion, hammered by others, and polished to a shine with each taunt and ridicule. The unclouded blade became an irreplaceable driving force for the rest of his life.

No matter how much he was pointed at, he swung his sword. No matter how fruitless it was, he never tired of it.

The sensation of the blisters on his hands bursting became familiar after a year. The discomfort of sweat dripping from his body became bearable after half a year, the strain on his hands and shoulders after two years, the pain in his joints after three years, and the sensation of his nerves being sharpened became something he liked after four years…

The awareness that he was taking one step at a time towards his goal drove his mediocre body. Following his master’s advice, he was straightforward and unwavering.

The man simply swung his sword.

2

His lack of talent remained unchanged even as he entered his youth. His swordsmanship was textbook perfect, his judgment in emergencies sound. Yet, everything remained within the realm of mediocrity. His physical abilities were, of course, no match for the heroes.

However, the results of his years of effort finally bore fruit. Before he knew it, the man had become the best swordsman in the village. But it wasn’t entirely due to his hard work. The swordsmen who surpassed him had already left the village. The remaining villagers were all engaged in farming. It was only natural that the man who continued to swing his sword without interacting with people or learning to farm would become the best. He later heard that the villagers ridiculed him behind his back.

But, for better or worse…

“My hard work has paid off.”

He made that happy mistake. It was no wonder. He had spent all of his time interacting with others swinging a sword. This was the consequence of growing up without developing his thinking skills. He didn’t suspect the villagers who praised him outwardly.

So, he was content with this era. He was naive enough to believe in effort and disregard talent.

However, the cruel opportunity for a reality check came. He realized it was a sham a few years later.

Because his family was poor, he left the village and knocked on the doors of a mercenary band. There, he finally understood the absurdity of talent—through the existence of the heroes he had long admired.

His first battlefield. The wilderness he was sent to as a mercenary. A place, once a city, swept by a deadly whirlwind caused by a hero. Literally one against a thousand. If the hero drew his sword once, he would annihilate divisions and slaughter the man’s fellow mercenaries as if crushing insects. “Heroes,” they were called, these monsters.

If an ordinary person faced them, death was as good as guaranteed. In the blink of an eye, their head would fly off…

The words a fellow mercenary uttered pierced his heart.

“Ah. Indeed, we are just shields.”

Corpses piled up into mountains. Blood splattered and dripped onto the ground, forming rivers. The heroes displayed their unparalleled power, mowing everything down, and even trampling the heart of the man who barely survived. The childish perceptions he had cultivated through fairy tales and heroic epics were overturned, and the admiration he had polished in his heart was about to break before reality.

Heroes were no longer human. Not even living creatures. They were weapons too vicious to be called such, nothing but grim reapers.

“Is the difference in talent this great?”

He stood there, stunned. His worn sword fell from his blood-red hands. It was difficult to even cross swords with them properly. He experienced his first setback, overwhelmed by the absurdity.

Yet, he couldn’t give up his admiration.

“After all, I was just a frog in a well.”

He wiped away his frustration with his sweat and swung his sword frantically. He repeated the words that encouraged him.

“There’s no need to be discouraged.”
“What I first admired was much greater.”
“It wasn’t such a small wish as ‘the best swordsman in the village’.”
“I should have known.”
“I should have known.”

Life is short. Would it be enough to catch up to them? If he thought so, even the time to be pessimistic was precious. He muttered to himself, “A boy grows old quickly, but a hero is hard to make.” He tried everything, making every effort he could.

“Walking a thousand miles on foot.”
“Reaching out to the sun that illuminates all.”

He knew that a commoner’s recklessness in trying to rival a hero was a pipe dream. But he hadn’t expected to reach the realm of heroes so easily. Then, nothing should change. His actions, his goals, nothing would change.

He swung his sword as always.

To begin with, it was too late to give up now. By this time, he had lost everything but his admiration. While the man was working as a mercenary, his only home, the village, had been caught in the war. Only remnants like charcoal, ash, and burnt debris remained. His parents, of course, his master, and the villagers he knew were all gone from this world.

He had lost his dream, and even the place to return to had vanished.

The man had no education. He had neglected even helping with farm work and was not good at interacting with people. He had devoted all his time to training, and only his sword and his dream remained.

He had lost all meaning in stopping. He just began to feel fear at the thought of looking back. He thought it was a sign that somewhere in his heart, he was about to give up.

“Will I never become a hero?”
“Will all my efforts be in vain?”

To dispel such doubts, he continued to train even harder. It could be said that it was a time when his pure admiration wavered.

3

He hadn’t changed even in his old age. He whipped his aging body, ignoring the creaks and groans, and swung his sword. He still held onto his admiration for heroes. Rather, by that time, he no longer even felt doubt. Perhaps it was because he had passed the age where he could turn back. In any case, he was no longer swayed by sudden wicked thoughts. This was the only blessing of growing old.

The man had become the oldest member among the mercenaries. Fifty years had passed since he joined the mercenary business. He had almost given up at the beginning, gritted his teeth at the absolute wall of talent, and yet continued to be on the battlefield.

Every time he interacted with people, he lost them. The cunning man, mercenary-like and selfish, was reduced to dust by the aftershock of a magic spell. The kind-hearted giant exploded after being kicked by a hero. The young woman who became a mercenary was used as a shield against arrows in her first battle.

The list was endless. It was a wonder that he, a mediocre person, had managed to survive on the battlefield for fifty years. In fact, betting on when the man would die had become a regular event among the mercenaries.

“Perhaps the talent heaven has bestowed upon me is bad luck.”

He thought so half-jokingly, but it was frighteningly close to the truth. For a man aspiring to be a hero, such a nightmarish talent was truly unseemly.

Still, there was one reason he continued to stand on the battlefield. It was to gain experience that would benefit him. On the battlefield, various skilled individuals would unhesitatingly display their techniques to achieve victory. For him, the bloody battlefield was a veritable mountain of treasure.

He carefully observed, analyzed, digested, and incorporated the battles of the strong into his own body. However, this didn’t mean imitating them. He was just an ordinary person, and there were limits to what he could imitate and learn from.

In other words, this wasn’t much different from his usual sword swinging. Both were the same, nothing but a run-up to reach the distant heroes.

And the passage of time alone held great significance. Many people came to admire him, despite his lack of swordsmanship talent. His name even spread a little among the enthusiasts in the streets.

They even gave him unnecessary nicknames. “Shura” and “Berserker”—.

“What disgraceful nicknames,” he thought. It’s not like he was going out to battle for fun.

He remembered muttering to someone while sipping cheap alcohol he bought with his meager pay. Heroes are only found on the battlefield.

“Then I just have to go there.”

4

His end was abrupt. Before sunset. A battlefield dyed entirely in the colors of the setting sun. Mountains of corpses were piled up, and rivers of blood lay across the ground.

The man gripped his old sword with wrinkled hands. His long, bundled white hair swayed in the wind. His battle-scarred armor peeked out from under his faded coat. His body was covered in wounds from splattered blood, but he was poised to leap out at any moment. His eyes, filled with strong will, were fixed on only one thing.

Only the strongest hero standing there—.

“Solfort Enuma… There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now.”
“…What is it?”

The old mediocre man, Solfort Enuma, replied curtly in a hoarse voice.

The hero he faced was a young woman in her mid-teens.

Gender differences only mattered in the realm of ordinary people. Both physically and mentally, talent alone determined one’s standing. This was a cruel fact for the untalented Solfort, and the prime example of this ranking was the great hero before his eyes.

Not yet twenty years old, she was the strongest human alive.

Her long hair, shimmering gold in the setting sun, fluttered in the wind. Her blue eyes showed no sign of being moved by Solfort’s gaze. Her annoyingly well-featured face was like that of a noble lady, utterly incongruous with the carnage of the battlefield. In contrast, the density of the killing intent she emanated was extraordinary. The silver equipment she wore was a testament to the six great heroes of the continent’s largest empire—the “Six Wings.”

Her power was beyond doubt. With a single flash, she could split the earth, erase mountains, and blow away enemy forces. Once she returned to her country, she would be met with cheers from the populace and showered with praise. She was exactly what Solfort admired.

In other words, she possessed the strength befitting the protagonist of a heroic tale.

(I see, my goal was the strongest. No wonder it was so difficult to reach.)

The great hero tilted her head at his chuckle.

“Why are you so obsessed with battle? I can’t understand it. I heard you’ve been on the front lines since the previous generation. Not dying, not retiring, you’ve wandered the battlefields as a veteran soldier until now. Why are you fighting, with no fame and not much skill? What’s the core of your obsession?”

“Foolish question.”

Solfort cut her off shortly.

“Plenty of people have asked me similar things.”

And he waited for the power circulating through his body to reach its peak.

He wasn’t obsessed with battle. He was obsessed with heroes. Tasting the air of the battlefield, burning the activities of the heroes he aimed for into his eyes, struggling to survive between life and death. This was just a part of his training. It wasn’t something that should be questioned now, as far as he was concerned.

He had no obligation to answer such an irrelevant question. However, it was a question from the “strongest of mankind,” whom he aspired to be. It wouldn’t be bad to answer her, just this once. He thought so.

To put it simply, there was only one reason he stood on the battlefield.

It was the same reason he swung his sword as a boy.

“Because I haven’t even grasped a fraction of the dream I hold—!”

He unleashed his pent-up power. He kicked off with his right foot and propelled his aging body forward. All his strength was for this moment.

He closed the distance like a gust of wind.

He didn’t have the robust body to exchange blows with a hero. He didn’t have the skill to compete with a hero, either, even if he claimed he did.

That’s why the only chance he had was a single strike. There would be no opportunity after the second blow. If he hoped for that, his head and torso would be separated.

He mustered all the strength left in his old body. He staked everything on the sword he gripped. The fruits of a lifetime of training, imbued with blood and sweat—

He would show them to this hero.

In the orange-tinged battlefield, two shadows intersected—and the outcome was decided. One shadow slumped powerlessly to the ground.

The remaining one muttered, seemingly bored.

“—You are half-baked.”

※※※※※※※※※※

Thus, the life of the old, mediocre man came to an end. Looked down upon by the great hero, hailed as the strongest of mankind. Branded a “half-baked” person by the ultimate goal of his life. None of the ridicule he had received was overturned. All his efforts were in vain, his dreams remained dreams and vanished like bubbles, and he ended his life as a mere mercenary.

The ending was unrewarding.

Solfort Enuma was mediocre to the end. His longed-for swordsmanship talent was only ordinary. Even though he devoted himself to training, never neglected observation, and diligently worked on his basic strength, results never followed. In the end, he only reached a level of strength that a hero would consider “half-baked.”

He had spent his entire life and was only half-baked. Then.

Then, if he had just one more lifetime… could he become a hero?

—Let me correct myself. The life of the old mediocre man had temporarily come to an end.

※※※※※※※※※※

The battlefield at dusk, reeking of death, from which the living had retreated. The starlight and moonlight shining on the flocks overhead. Only the distant flames illuminated the death ground. The heat of the atmosphere scorched the stillness, and all the debris remained buried in the darkness. Broken swords, shattered bows, and splintered staffs. Even the hopes someone held must be crouching on the ground, exposing their corpses.

In such a silent place, where only corpses slept, a small shadow stirred—.

It was the mediocre man, Solfort Enuma. He muttered, feeling nauseated by his dull thoughts and blurred vision.

“…Alive, I am. Indeed, I am alive. So that fellow kept his promise, it seems.”

He murmured in a voice that lacked reality.

Solfort was surprised. And shaken.

But after a few seconds, he calmed down.

He suddenly remembered. A past event directly related to this bizarre situation crossed his mind. He still remembered it because the man he met then was quite eccentric.

He thought of the man who called himself “the greatest magician.”

(It must have been during my youth.)

Solfort had asked him for a favor.

—If I should perish before achieving my ambition, then please give me another chance to run, to reach my goal. I want a second chance.

At the time, it was a half-joking remark.

Because such a thing was impossible. Only a magician from a fairy tale could do that. Transferring the soul of a dead person to another body, an act akin to reincarnation. It was like sticking a toe into God’s domain. As someone who wasn’t well-versed in magic, that’s what he thought—

In the end, who was that mysterious magician? Was the title of “the greatest magician,” which he boasted about without hesitation, actually true? He had never imagined he would be plagued by such questions decades later.

But, the reality was that he was alive after death. He was once again inhaling and exhaling the stench of the battlefield.

Just in case, he looked around. Because night was approaching, darkness filled his vision. However, there was no doubt that this was the place where he had fought the great hero. His beloved sword lay beside him. It was irreplaceable.

Keeping it in sight, he tentatively touched the ground with his hand. He could feel the rough texture on his skin. There was no feeling of floating in his body, either. It didn’t seem like his body was a spirit. He was definitely flesh and blood.

What had happened? The confusion in his head wouldn’t subside.

It wouldn’t subside, but—there was no mistaking that he was alive. Thinking so, he tried to calm his mind.

“Why…”

However. There was just one thing.

There was something he couldn’t understand.

“Why am I a girl…!?”

He had felt a sense of discomfort from the moment he opened his eyelids. His startled voice was cute and high-pitched, unlike his own. His white hair, which reached his waist, was the same as before his death.

But strangely, it had a sheen.

His palms were delicate, the opposite of his calloused, scratched, and hardened hands. His snow-white hands and feet were small, and his field of vision was even lower than before.

The only clothes he wore were a loose, yellowed shirt. It was the one he wore as an old man, and the collar was caught on his left shoulder. This was no different from being naked.

When he reached into his crotch, it was confirmed. What should have been there… had completely vanished… reality.

(That fellow, I certainly didn’t specify anything other than a second chance—!)

Confusion, confusion, confusion. His thoughts completely stopped.

—Is this some kind of hallucination I’m having just before I die?

He seriously pondered this, but as a despairingly certain fact, Solfort Enuma had transformed into a little girl who might not even be ten years old. The man who had single-mindedly pursued his dream of becoming a hero throughout his life.

The mediocre man nicknamed “Shura” and “Berserker.”

His second life, aimed at becoming a hero, had ironically begun in the form of a little girl—.