Chapter 28

Chapter 28

That concludes my briefing. Furthermore…

What the Hell Are Those Guys

Meursault, whose period of restriction that was not truly a restriction had finally concluded, wrapped up his concise update for the Commander and subjoined,

“Today happens to be Lord Haydam’s tactical simulation session.”

“Today, is it?”

“Indeed. If you depart presently, you will reach the location with ample time to spare.”

Even after hearing this, the Commander exhibited no intention of putting the paperwork down, prompting Meursault to inquire once more.

“You have no desire to observe?”

“There is no cause to do so.”

The Commander deposited the documents onto the desk with a gentle thud and replied.

“Haydam will emerge victorious in any case.”

“…Even overly indulgent fathers face ridicule when they take things too far, Your Excellency.”

Despite Meursault’s entirely accurate yet exceptionally disrespectful remark, Commander Hayden merely let out a quiet, subdued chuckle.

To Meursault, who remained completely unaware of the underlying context, he undoubtedly appeared to be the most shamelessly sentimental parent in existence.

Haydam is a regressor, huh…

In reality, the Commander believed the notion far more strongly than he let on. If Luna Moon had genuinely been a player, exactly as Haydam maintained, then her offspring could hardly be considered an ordinary child.

A player’s descendant turns out to be a regressor. Will Daphne’s child eventually manifest extraordinary traits as well?

The reflection caused him to cast a contemplative gaze toward Meursault for a brief instant.

An offspring born between that individual and a player might prove somewhat perilous.

“Why are you staring at me in such a manner?”

“Because the situation is unexpected.”

“What precisely is?”

“Meursault, do you genuinely believe Haydam will suffer defeat?”

“Haydam stands at ten years of age. The cadets are officer candidates on the verge of graduation. Yet…”

Meursault’s forehead crinkled slightly while a faint grin brushed across his lips.

“It is peculiar. I share the intuition that he will not lose either.”

“Your perception of individuals remains remarkably keen.”

“That reality does little to alter the fact that Your Excellency is a hopelessly doting father.”

“And you continue to display insolence.”

Casually dismissing whatever further complaints Meursault was muttering, the Commander shifted his line of sight through the window toward the distant outline of the military academy.

The Second Apocalypse…

If another cataclysmic end of the world truly drew near in the foreseeable future—

and if Haydam was indeed a regressor who had journeyed back from that precise era—

Luna Moon. Your child shall deliver the world.

The Military Academy’s tactical simulation.

During an era when the genuine adversaries consisted of extraterrestrial monsters rather than fellow humans, pitting cadets against one another might have appeared thoroughly antiquated.

Nevertheless, the reasoning behind continuing these anti-personnel drills remained straightforward: periodically, a subjugation unit would encounter hostile individuals originating from a separate zone. Following the apocalypse, humanity already constituted an endangered population, rendering the urge to slaughter one another uncommon—though not entirely extinct. The fanatics originating from the Knife Zone represented absolute psychopaths devoid of any reason, while refugees suffering from resource scarcity or blocked from returning home due to criminal or political barriers occasionally attempted raiding parties. This exact circumstance justified the existence of the training exercises.

In essence, this drill was designed to force cadets to confront the ugliest depths of human behavior.

Consequently, even though the adversary happened to be a ten-year-old child, they were fully expected to exert every ounce of their capability.

I had genuinely harbored concerns that the academy trainees might pull their punches against me…

Observing the expressions in their eyes, I realize such worries are entirely unnecessary.

For reasons unknown, every single cadet chosen to confront me radiated pure, unadulterated hostility.

Why on earth, however?

Could it be because I declared the academy an utter waste of time and stated I had zero intention of ever enrolling?

Because I leveraged my father’s political weight to assemble the finest cadets purely to gauge my own combat prowess?

Or perhaps because I instructed the entire group to charge at me simultaneously since I could manage them single-handedly?

There were simply too many plausible explanations.

Regardless, if they intended to treat the matter with absolute seriousness, that outcome favored my objectives. At the very least, nobody would be in a position to argue that my victory stemmed solely from being the Commander’s offspring.

Had this event constituted a genuine entrance examination rather than a mere demonstration, I would have simply relied on my family’s reputation and bypassed the effort entirely.

“Every one of you understands the regulations governing this tactical simulation, but given that Lord Haydam is participating for the very first time, I shall provide a brief overview prior to commencement.”

One of the three instructors designated as referees and supervisors—specifically the individual sporting a red cap—advanced forward.

“The guidelines are uncomplicated. To secure victory, you must either utterly eliminate every single opponent or plant your designated flag atop the opposing team’s flagpole. Any sensor impact registered by the equipment will be evaluated as a critical injury or fatality. Situations that the automated systems fail to evaluate accurately will be assessed by us instructors utilizing drones. This remains strictly a training exercise, meaning that should you deem the circumstances excessively perilous, do not hesitate to voice your surrender.”

That concluding sentence rarely formed part of the standard briefing. They had undoubtedly included the clause specifically because I was the young son of the Commander.

One of the cadets raised a hand into the air.

Upon receiving authorization from the instructor, the participant spoke up.

“The entirety of our group has experienced this simulation terrain previously, meaning we possess complete familiarity with the layout. Lord Haydam is utilizing the space for the very first time. In the interest of fairness, should we not transition to an alternative map?”

The instructor flicked his gaze in my direction and responded in a deadpan tone.

“Pardon me?”

The cadet who posed the inquiry stared blankly for a moment before his face flooded with a crimson hue as he recognized he had just been completely dismissed. The remaining cadets began whispering amongst themselves in sheer disbelief. Platon, the individual I had encountered earlier, fixed his blue eyes upon me as though he wished to tear me limb from limb.

They remain an absolute pack of novices.

Becoming this worked up over a ten-year-old before the drill has even commenced… obliterating them ought to prove effortless. A serpent blinded by blind rage completely neglects its own defense while obsessing entirely over delivering a lethal strike.

“What the absolute hell is wrong with that kid?”

Before the exercise officially commenced, one of the cadets vented his frustration while relocating toward their initial staging zone.

“His father is the Commander—he isn’t even a registered soldier himself. Where on earth does he acquire the sheer arrogance to stand right in our own territory and claim he can defeat us?”

The surrounding peers evidently shared the sentiment, though a senior cadet raised a hand demanding silence, remaining acutely aware of potential eavesdroppers.

“Keep your voice down. The supervisors are entirely within earshot.”

“Did you fail to notice how utterly ridiculous even the instructors appeared?”

The complaining cadet deliberately elevated his volume further.

“His Excellency is taking things far too ridiculous lengths! Ordering us to engage in combat against a ten-year-old child… He must genuinely believe the future officers of this institution are an absolute joke!”

The rest, harboring identical indignation, began voicing grievances one after another.

“He asserts he can manage all of us by himself, yet he flatly refused to alter the map terrain. Is he not simply engineering an excuse beforehand—claiming he only suffered defeat because we fought on ground we knew intimately?”

“And what happens if he actually attempts to pull that off?”

“In that scenario, he still loses. We ought to simply feel grateful nobody issued an order commanding us to intentionally throw the match.”

“I heard Lord Haydam declare the academy itself constitutes a complete waste of time. Does that statement not imply the Commander concurs with his assessment?”

“The Commander does—”

“Settle down immediately.”

As the general atmosphere threatened to reach a boiling point, Platon—who had maintained silence while observing from the rear—stepped forward to intervene.

“I fully comprehend that everyone feels angered, but giving in to rage right now achieves precisely nothing. Not a single one of you dared utter a direct word to Lord Haydam’s face, yet you choose to gossip like this behind his back. Does that behavior reflect the true pride of academy cadets?”

“Th-that circumstance was—”

“I spoke out of turn. My apologies.”

“My apologies.”

Once the cadets appeared appropriately chastised, Platon pursued the discussion with a substantially graver expression.

“Listen very carefully. When Lord Haydam asserted he would confront our entire force alone, my initial reaction was also one of absurdity. However, following careful deliberation, I realized he possessed virtually no alternative choice.”

“No alternative choice whatsoever?”

“Point one: regardless of our individual competence levels, establishing functional teamwork with Lord Haydam—who has never trained alongside our ranks—would prove entirely nonexistent. Judging by the hostility you currently harbor toward him, any cadet assigned to his unit would have proved profoundly uncooperative.”

Having spent the previous moments hurling insults at the boy themselves, the cadets could do little other than nod in reluctant comprehension.

“Point two: safeguarding our weakest link—Lord Haydam—would consume an excessive portion of our offensive and defensive resources. Pairing him directly with cadets would represent a highly inefficient strategy. Furthermore, what if he sustained an injury during the course of the drill? The cadets charged with his protection would find themselves trapped in an utterly indefensible predicament.”

Heads bobbed up and down in renewed agreement.

Ha… and these thoughtless morons are actually expected to commission as officers one day.

Platon exhaled a muted sigh and pressed forward with his explanation.

“Third and final: operating independently, Lord Haydam can exploit the surrounding topography to whatever extent he desires. Spaces that our larger frames cannot physically navigate are areas that his compact stature can slip through completely undetected.”

“Ah… viewed from that perspective, the logic holds up.”

“Precisely. His deliberate provocation served as an advantageous tactical maneuver for him because familiarity with the terrain allows complete freedom of movement. His purposefully inflammatory remarks were—”

Once Platon concluded, the surrounding cadets wore expressions indicating a profound realization had dawned upon them, offering several rounds of subdued applause.

“Ooooh… as anticipated of Senior Platon! That explanation actually makes sense of every single comment Lord Haydam uttered.”

“Meaning he was already executing his master plan the exact moment he stood before us. He was not looking down upon us out of pure, unwarranted arrogance.”

In strict truth, Platon had conversed face-to-face with Haydam inside the principal’s office, brief though the interaction was. He remained abundantly aware that Haydam’s contempt for the cadets was entirely genuine.

Possessing that awareness changes nothing. Rage and carelessness represent lethal poison to any military operation. Should even a single cadet inadvertently injure Lord Haydam out of malice, there would be no possibility of reversing the consequences.

Consequently, rather than relaying the absolute truth, Platon opted for this phrasing:

“Indeed. He possesses every bit of the sharpness rumors suggest. If Lord Haydam approaches this training simulation with such absolute gravity, then the absolute minimum we can do is face him with matching seriousness. His Excellency sanctioned this exercise specifically so Lord Haydam might recognize the academy is far from a waste of time. Moreover, this drill offers substantial benefits to us as well.”

“In what manner?”

“Can any individual among you honestly claim that encountering a young civilian from an alternative zone during an authentic suppression mission would leave you entirely free of lowered vigilance or misplaced sympathy?”

“Ah…”

“Therefore, we must defeat Lord Haydam utilizing every resource at our disposal for numerous vital reasons. Is everyone clear on the objective?”

“Understood, sir!”

Observing the trainees respond with full-throated enthusiasm, Platon permitted himself a brief, approving smile.

Provided they avoided complacency, zero possibility existed that they would fall to a ten-year-old child—not even by the remotest margin of chance.

“I shall establish a concealed ambush position near the primary flag and eliminate him the exact second he materializes. The remainder of you will advance toward Lord Haydam’s base generating as much noise and aggressive commotion as possible. He needs to remain fully convinced that our entire fighting force is on the march so he confidently creeps in the direction of our flag. Maintain tight formation to ensure he cannot accurately count your numbers.”

“Understood, sir.”

The exact instant he completed issuing the operational orders, the starting buzzer resounded across the grounds.

Platon offered a slight nod, signaling the official commencement of the maneuver.

“Move out. Drive the rabbit directly toward my position.”

“Acknowledged!”

When I finally caught sight of the cadets advancing in the direction of my home base, I genuinely doubted the reliability of my own vision.

What the absolute hell?

Why on earth are those fools bunching up so neatly to make my job of slaughtering them this effortless?