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The mercenaries had been ordered to move in separate units, not accompanying the main force. Arjen ran his fingers over the multiplication marks on the map.

“So, we’re supposed to take this little village alone. Furthermore, rescue the soldiers and villagers held prisoner here?”

As Arjen spoke, Carla nodded, understanding his reaction. Charlie grunted and readied his gear.

“I see. We shouldn’t have too much trouble taking the town back.”

“…Why are we doing prisoner rescue?”

It was not the job of a mercenary to rescue prisoners; their job was to kill enemies, not to save people. But Carla was not about to turn down this assignment. The news that they were holding even children captive seemed to move her.

“It doesn’t matter what we do, does it? We’re paid to do what they tell us to do.”

Charlie replied to Arjen’s words as he sheathed his sword for the last time. Arjen still looked frazzled, and Carla placed a hand on his back.

“It’s okay. We’ll be fine. We must take it in small groups so they don’t see us coming.”

The explanation made sense but not enough for Arjen to nod fully. Still looking unhappy, Carla leaned her chin on Arjen’s arm.

“Don’t be uneasy.”

Arjen raised an eyebrow, then exhaled with a bitter smile. Charlie glanced at them but didn’t say anything.

“It seems like you’re the nervous one.”

“I’m fine. Nightmares are just nightmares. I don’t really care about them.”

Carla said and smiled. Arjen studied her face carefully, but he didn’t see the emptiness in her eyes from last night. He shook his head. “Overthinking has no place on the battlefield. Think only of wielding the sword. To think is to die.” Arjen remembered the words again and raised a hand to Carla’s head.

“Don’t think about it.”

Carla looked surprised at Arjen’s words, and her mouth dropped open as she gripped his hand above her head. She didn’t look too offended, though.

“Cheeky.”

Carla spat out, then sheathed her sword. Arjen followed her, gathering his gear. Arjen knew it. It was ridiculous, but mercenaries lived on trust. Saying they couldn’t take this job was a matter of trust, not money.

“It’s a millennium too soon for you to worry about me.”

Carla giggled, teasing Arjen. It was before dawn. There was a chill in the air that could be called late fall or early winter. Charlie followed Carla, leaving Arjen alone in the barracks, staring at the map. He plunged his dagger into the red cross-hairs on the map, and with a grimace, he left the barracks.

“I’m sleepy. Let’s get this over with before sunrise.”

Carla said as she drew her sword, and Charlie yawned with his mouth open. The mercenaries began to move, scanning the town for movement and signs of life.

“…Nothing.”

Arjen said as they entered. It was empty. There were no prisoners they’d been ordered to rescue, no soldiers from the enemy nation guarding the town itself, which had been taken from them. They walked around the city, knocking on doors, looking for people.

“There are people here!”

One of my colleagues shouted. Indeed, there were people inside the houses, bound limb from limb, as if they had been taken prisoner. Their mouths were gagged tightly to prevent them from speaking.

“What the hell is going on? We have prisoners, but not a single soldier is watching them?”

Charlie frowned, unable to understand. The sky just before dawn was still. It was frighteningly still. The world was silent as if it had no answer to offer. Carla stood in the center of the village, still and lost in thought. The mercenaries bustled about the houses, bringing their chained captives out one by one. Tears streamed down their faces as the mercenaries led them out.

“Arjen.”

Carla called out to Arjen. He turned his head to face her.

“Go back, report to the commander, and ask for reinforcements. I’ll keep searching with the others.”

Arjen stumbled to his feet. Her words were hanging over his head, holding him captive.

“Hurry, they might surround this place. Before they do, we need to get some reinforcements, and fast. You’re the fastest of us, so get running.”

Carla slapped Arjen’s back.

That was the last thing Arjen remembered of her.

***

“You were right.”

The commander said.

“There was a large circle of destructive magic buried there. There must have been a unit of at least Fifth Circle wizards mobilized, and if we had sent soldiers and knights to retake the place without knowing anything about it, we would have been wiped out.”

The commander sighed as if he’d given up a decade.

“Yes. With that massive explosion, it would have been hard for anyone to survive, though I admit I thought it was a bit odd when we got the intel.”

The knight in charge of the staff nodded in agreement, a look of pride crossing his face as if he’d been right on the money.

“Yes, indeed, we would have suffered great losses if we had sent in troops, and I’m glad I recruited some mercenaries before this battle.”

The commander placed a hand on the knight’s shoulder in praise.

“Good. You saved us a lot of casualties, and I’m sure the dead mercenaries will understand. The inhabitants of that small village won’t be able to sway public opinion, and our soldiers’ lives weren’t spent for nothing.”

The commander chuckled and lowered his gaze to the map. Their ambitious counterattack plan had failed spectacularly. They’d lost a capable mercenary unit, but it was a bargain compared to the power the enemy would have expended this time. Considering the morale that would have been lost, it was a much more effective and efficient option.

“We could even use it as propaganda. Say they wiped out the population.”

The commander smirked.

“Okay. Propaganda is propaganda, but we should take this opportunity to prepare for another counterattack immediately. They probably don’t realize that we sacrificed so little.”

The commander spoke with great energy. Their morale will soar once they’ve told the soldiers they’ve broken the enemies’ trap and exposed their deception.

“If we win this battle, it will dramatically change the course of the war. You must begin preparations for the siege as soon as possible. Secretly, so as not to cause a ruckus.”

“As you wish.”

The heated tactical meeting ended. With a satisfied look, the General Staff took the first step to leave the conference room and flung open the door.

“…Ah.”

And just like that, his throat was slit, and he fell to the floor, splattering blood. The commander jumped to his feet, and the knights present simultaneously drew their swords and pointed them at the figure in the doorway.

“Nice, you picked the right and obvious choice.”

A mercenary with black hair. The commander’s face became contemplative. How had he come to the command center so unharmed? How had he not been caught in the explosion? The knights in the council chamber were equally baffled. They seemed to find it harder to believe that a mercenary had made it here alive than their chief of staff had just been decapitated.

“That’s what I’d have done, too. Hmm. It’s most definitely the best option for the country.”

The mercenary’s mouth curved into an eerie smile, but the eyes that peeked through his hair were filled with desperate tears.

“But what am I to make of this?”

The mercenary walked slowly into the room, his shoes soaking in the puddle of blood that had formed from the severed head of his staff.

“I’m an idiot. I should have just taken our mercenary group and ran when I realized something wasn’t right with your prisoners or whatever. It was my fault for not doing so… That’s right. It was Carla’s mistake to take action, thinking she would save a child who was held captive.”

The knights’ blades pressed against the mercenary’s throat. Blood trickled down the mercenary’s neck as the sword cut into his flesh.

“You should be dead.”

The commander said, his face contorted. If his hand were to fall now, a flurry of knights would kill the mercenary.

“Such a shame I have to ruin the carpet.”

The mercenary laughed, seemingly oblivious to the threat to his life. The commander dropped his hand, and a flash of silver entered the room.

The commander closed his eyes and opened them, and three knights’ heads flew off. The mercenary laughed maniacally and began swinging his sword. Before the commander’s eyes, his loyal knights were dying. The mercenary swung his sword greedily as if he wanted to bathe in their blood. The commander stood utterly still as he watched the dying warriors.

“You must feel so good; your operation was a success!”

The mercenary shouted, laughing. The last remaining knight shuddered, pissing in their pants, then coughed up blood and died with a sword through his throat.

“Is it unfair to die?”

The commander looked at the mercenary grimly as he tried to maintain his dignity, lifting his head to meet the mercenary’s eyes.

“Give me an answer, huh?”

Then, as their eyes met, the commander quickly turned away. The mercenary made a murmuring sound, which could have been laughter or crying. The commander mumbled, hesitated with his mouth, and then screamed, feeling a searing pain in his leg.

“Arrrggh!”

Arjen slowly moved the sword that he had plunged into the commander’s thigh and whispered in a low voice.

“I bet you didn’t think you’d die so peacefully, did you?”

Arjen said to himself as he tortured the screaming commander, his voice hoarse.

Others are others. No one tries to save others. Being saved means others are willing to suffer for you. There was no reason for Carla to die there. There was no reason for him to lose her. There was no reason for the mercenaries to be wiped out. If that’s what it took to save someone they had no connection to, they died in vain.

Only I could save myself; only I could save my family.

But I was left behind, unable to save anyone.

In the end, I was doomed to fail to save anyone, to kill them in hindsight.

Arjen lowered his sword. The commander was dead. Arjen laughed helplessly among the bodies, then fell to the ground and wept.

***

The waves crashed. How long had he been sitting there? The sun had started to fall.

“There you are.”

Arjen turned his head. Bishop Andrei had approached behind the spot where Arjen stood absentmindedly. He didn’t particularly feel like engaging in conversation with someone.

“Were you lost in thought? You didn’t seem to notice any presence.”

“Not particularly. Your presence isn’t noticeable either.”

Arjen replied in a weak voice.

“Anyways, I’m a priest. It’s my job to help lost souls.”

“Since when did you do that?”

Bishop Andre let out a low chuckle.

“Even a five-year-old child would know that.”

Arjen lowered his head.

“It’s none of your concern.”

“I didn’t come here to console you, either.”

Andrei approached and stood beside Arjen. Arjen frowned as he looked at him.

“I want to hire you as a mercenary.”

Arjen’s face hardened. Seeing Arjen like that, Andrei gave a faint smile.

“I suppose you wouldn’t be interested in tracking down cultists with me, then?”