Chapter 45

Chapter 45
From the Commander, I received some unexpected information.

“The officers are looking for me because of the ban on participating in the subjugation campaign?”

“That is correct.”

I furrowed my brows as I inquired,

“For what reason? Surely they do not intend to demand to go out on the campaign?”

“No one insisted they had to go. However, they expressed a desire to hear why their participation was forbidden.”

Meaning they would stay back if instructed, yet they still wanted an explanation?

Which implied…

“It seemed they knew you were involved.”

“Could you not simply have told them Father forbade it?”

Commander Father replied with a faint smile.

“I would have preferred to, but Yosef and his associates were curious as well.”

Yosef and his associates?

Yosef was the designated title of the pro-Hayden faction leader.

Therefore, not only the pro-Daphne officers, but the pro-Hayden ones harbored grievances too.

Naturally, it made sense. The pro-Hayden officers, at the very least, had previously fought side by side on the front lines with Luna Moon herself. Naturally, they would resent having their deployment prohibited by none other than Luna Moon’s son.

I had been paying them no mind, seeing as they were not essential personnel required for the Second Apocalypse ten years from now. Conversely, however, a full decade remained—meaning I ought to manage their complaints for the interim.

“Very well… fine. If they require a reason, providing one is hardly difficult.”

“Yet are you truly comfortable with this course of action?”

“Comfortable with what?”

“Proceeding with merely a compact elite detachment.”

The Commander regarded me with worry evident in his eyes.

“Naturally, the practicality of the gem-location identification method you devised has already been tested repeatedly through other soldiers. Still, should that scoundrel who assaulted you previously reappear, circumstances could turn perilous in an instant.”

Thus, the Commander remained troubled by the existence of the Unicorn Area player as well.

Understandably so. Anyone who crossed into an alternate zone solely to shoot a regressor’s offspring would be difficult to disregard.

“That scoundrel… will not appear.”

He had stated with his own voice that he anticipated my arrival in his zone, meaning he was likely lingering quietly upon that floating island.

Granted, placing blind trust in him simply because he made such a claim was somewhat questionable. Nevertheless, the probability of an individual who orchestrated a theatrical entrance on a hoverboard, struck a dramatic pose, dropped a cool declaration about looking forward to my arrival in his zone, and then vanished—only to break his own word and materialize once more—felt remarkably low.

The Commander still appeared unconvinced.

“How can you be so certain?”

“A regressor’s intuition.”

“Hmm…”

The regressor persona proved genuinely convenient during moments like these.

“If you insist, then I suppose…”

Following that, the Commander brought up another unforeseen topic.

“Meursault will be joining this subjugation campaign as well.”

“What? Meursault?”

“He maintains that he is worried about you.”

“I am the one who should be worried about Meursault…”

Having ventured outside the zone alongside him twice, I knew the reality of the situation. That individual had allocated every single point into brain statistics. His firearm posture was clumsy, his stamina was abysmal—he was hardly the archetype of a soldier one brings along on an extended subjugation campaign.

“His intentions are noble, but… I hardly believe the presence of Meursault renders me any safer.”

“I offered him that exact warning, but he remains stubborn. Consequently, you had best remain ‘safe,’ as you phrase it. Otherwise, you risk losing a great deal.”

Should any harm befall Meursault, Daphne would likely never forgive me either. I would be forced to visit her regardless to inquire about the otome game routes and to deliver word of Meursault’s participation.

“Furthermore, you no longer need to attend the academy.”

“Indeed?”

Having grown weary of enduring theory lectures alongside the cadets, this came as welcome news. Yet for someone who had previously instructed me to continue attending until I could evade gunfire, he was abandoning the requirement rather swiftly.

“Even judging purely by the rumors, it was evident that institution had nothing left to teach you.”

“Rumors?”

“The tale that after you dispatched a furred crocodile with a single round and neutralized eight cadets utilizing only one arm, Platon knelt before your dormitory and swore his allegiance.”

Just how far was this rumor—or foundational myth—expected to spread?

The officers sat gathered within the conference room, awaiting the arrival of Commander Hayden and Haydam.

This marked the second occasion Haydam had attended an officers’ assembly. The first had served merely to introduce him. By now, not a single officer remained who failed to recognize Haydam’s identity.

On the very day of his arrival, an officer had perished. Shortly thereafter, he had ventured out to hunt beyond the zone entirely alone, returning with a hippo-pig. He had funded a charity gathering for children of his own generation. Within the training simulations, he had obliterated opposing squads twice—once by personally eliminating eight graduating seniors, and once while already nursing an injury. That very injury, as it turned out, had been sustained while bringing down a large-class monster: a furred crocodile.

Extraordinary.

No—this transcended mere “extraordinary.”

Upon learning that he frequented the operations room in the company of Meursault, they had assumed the campaign orders carried a different weight than any previous decree. Neither Commander Hayden nor Major Ge had ever issued such a directive before.

Haydam had indisputably participated in the subjugation planning. The Commander had granted permission. And the officers—pro-Hayden and pro-Daphne alike—shared a collective conclusion.

Dangerous.

Displaying utter disregard even for the pro-Commander officers who had served as brothers-in-arms alongside his mother, Luna Moon, constituted an exceptionally reckless gamble. It would have been preferable had Haydam exhibited overt hostility toward the pro-Daphne officers and pursued a transparent path of vengeance on Luna Moon’s behalf. At the very least, such an approach would have clarified his objectives.

Instead, Haydam’s current trajectory…

Unpredictable.

If his actions aimed to curry favor with the Commander, he was selecting the most hazardous stunts imaginable. If he sought to cement his standing within the zone, he was openly ignoring the officer corps entirely. And if it stemmed from mere childish bravado… he carried a strange urgency, as though fleeing from an unseen pursuer.

More peculiar still was the Commander’s leniency in tolerating it all. The Commander known to the officers was hardly a man to entrust zone administration to a mere child. Could even the figure dubbed Iron Blood grow soft when dealing with his own flesh and blood?

Yet if it were simply a matter of a precious heir, thrusting his only young son directly into a dangerous subjugation campaign defied all logic.

They remained entirely unable to decipher the intentions of either the Commander or Haydam. Nonetheless, Anton determined that the current juncture offered the optimal opportunity to drive a wedge between them—just in case Haydam proved to be an imposter, and just in case a true successor for Daphne emerged in the future.

This realization underscored the importance of displaying Luna Moon’s portrait during today’s officers’ assembly. Following multiple verifications, he felt certain the grave was not a recent excavation dating back merely a year or two, regardless of its exact chronology. He had likewise confirmed that slum inhabitants possessed no knowledge of Haydam whatsoever. Above all, he had uncovered clear indicators that the burial site had been disturbed in the recent past.

Synthesizing all these clues, Anton believed he could plant a seed of doubt within the Commander’s mind regarding Haydam’s true lineage as Luna Moon’s biological son.

Voicing an outright accusation that Haydam was an imposter remained far too perilous.

For one, Haydam bore an undeniable physical resemblance to both the Commander and Luna Moon. The instant Anton laid eyes on the portrait of Luna Moon—completed with Daphne’s assistance—even he had momentarily questioned whether Haydam genuinely was the legitimate son, rendering the slum testimonies mere mistakes. For another, the specific knowledge Haydam had rattled off during the inaugural officers’ meeting constituted details accessible only if communicated directly by Luna Moon. How he had managed to learn the designation of a newborn puppy defied explanation. Finally… the boy had already demonstrated capabilities far too advanced to be casually dismissed as a fraud. Even assuming he were false, the likelihood remained strong that the meritocratic system…

For the present moment… planting doubt served as his best available course of action.

In essence, he would subtly guide the Commander toward arriving at the conclusion independently that Haydam was a fake.

Much like how he had refrained from directly instructing Daphne to present the portrait, instead leading her to decide upon the gift of her own volition. Individuals possessing unyielding convictions, such as the Commander and Daphne, tended to embrace a notion even more steadfastly when they believed they originated the idea themselves rather than adopting advice dictated by another.

At that precise moment, the Commander and Haydam stepped into the conference room bearing impassive expressions. Anton smoothed his rigid features, scanning for the opportune moment to unveil the portrait.

“Since you all appear well aware of my involvement in this operation already, I will speak plainly.”

The moment he crossed the threshold, Haydam pitched a hardball.

“This operation utilizes a compact elite force. Resources are inherently restricted. Deploying a massive army and expending ammunition wastefully on a subjugation run is completely inefficient. The combat rations you officers consume while stationed out in the field represent zone property as well, you realize.”

“A compact elite? I have no conception of how minuscule a headcount you are envisioning when you make such a statement.”

Yosef, leader of the pro-Commander faction and typically well-disposed toward Haydam, appeared to have suffered a severe blow to his pride this time; he spoke through clenched teeth.

“Are you aware of the sheer volume of soldiers required to subdue a large-class monster? Word is that you merely finished off a furred crocodile that was already on the verge of death. You surely do not expect every target we pursue to present itself in that exact condition, do you?”

“Even a half-dead furred crocodile remained a creature I brought down entirely by my own hand. Let me pose the counter-question: when was the last any of you personally hunted a beast?”

“Th-that is…”

As Yosef’s retort faltered under Haydam’s challenge, a different officer flared up and stepped forward.

“The notion of sidelining us simply because we do not engage in frontline combat is an argument only someone utterly ignorant of military operations would voice, young master Haydam. We maintain our stations as commanders of our respective units. Charging recklessly into the fray is hardly the sole definition of being a soldier. Someone must manage the logistics and defensive lines. Hunting a singular large-class monster inherently demands high-level strategy and massive quantities of logistical supplies.”

“I possess the ability to identify the precise coordinates of a monster’s gem using the naked eye.”

“So simply because you possess knowledge of the gem’s placement—wait, what? Repeat what you just stated.”

The officer who had been interrogating Haydam stumbled backward, voicing his confusion.

“Y-you can perceive the location of the gem utilizing only your naked eye…?”

Haydam spoke as though the massive conference chamber were entirely unremarkable.

“I understand the underlying rules governing gem coordinates. That simply means one avoids spraying bullets indiscriminately like an idiot, dropping the item, and subsequently scrambling to locate it afterward.”

“I-is that assertion… genuinely factual?”

“It has already been verified.”

When the Commander himself stepped forward to corroborate the verification, murmurs rippled through the assembled officers.

“Is such a feat even possible?”

“There exists an established rule regarding gem locations…”

“So the account detailing the execution of a furred crocodile via a single round was not merely a fabrication?”

Anton had previously received word from Platon that Haydam had dispatched a furred crocodile with one shot, yet he had dismissed it as an immature youth exaggerating out of youthful admiration. Yet the boy genuinely possessed the capability to hunt large-class monsters with a single bullet.

“Even I, an individual who has confronted large-class monsters on merely a handful of occasions, managed to grasp the technique swiftly. Therefore, why should I place trust in individuals who have spent decades participating in subjugation campaigns without ever comprehending something so rudimentary, and permit them to tag along?”

This time, not a single officer stepped forward to challenge him. Heavy silence blanketed the conference room.

In that exact instant, every aging officer shared an identical realization.

At this rate, we face imminent obsolescence.

They had grown far too elderly to partake directly in frontline subjugations, yet they had retained their prestigious stations by virtue of decades of accumulated experience and doctrine. The emergence of an anomalous entity capable of vastly eclipsing that accumulated experience proved more than sufficient to instill a profound sense of crisis among them. Furthermore, he had already explicitly declared his refusal to include the officer corps on the campaign.

Anton decided the moment had arrived to reveal the portrait.

“Understood. We shall abstain from participation.”

When Anton stepped into the open and formally accepted the ban, the surrounding officers registered clear alarm, yet not a single one rose in opposition. The pro-Daphne officers, realizing Anton was on the verge of unveiling the portrait, watched him intently with eyes harboring hopes that he might completely overturn the current dynamic.

“We have all advanced significantly in years, have we not? Not only old, but likewise deficient in judgment, and therefore…”

Anton paused momentarily before appending quietly,

“I intend to tender my retirement, effective as of today’s assembly.”

“A-Anton, sir?!”

“What are you uttering?”

The pro-Daphne officers, who had waited exclusively for Anton to produce the portrait, sprang to their feet in profound dismay—yet Anton paid them no heed. He fixed his gaze upon Haydam and spoke.

“An old man nearing the conclusion of his journey has brought a singular offering along… will you accept it?”

Even the retirement declaration had failed to alter Haydam’s expression in the slightest, yet at the mention of a “gift,” a subtle flicker crossed his features.

“Do not tell me that massive object positioned behind you constitutes my gift.”

Luna Moon’s portrait had been rendered within a monumental frame and transferred into the conference conference room earlier that morning. Even draped beneath a white cloth, the distinct silhouette of the frame projected clearly, confirming beyond a doubt that it concealed a painting.

“I am hardly an expert regarding the monetary value of artistic works.”

Observing Haydam voice his clear reluctance, Anton curled the corner of his mouth into a smile.

“Once you set eyes upon it, you will recognize its true worth instantly.”

With those words, he yanked away the cloth shrouding the portrait and locked Haydam in a sharp stare, monitoring closely for any micro-expression.

Very well then, you petty imposter. Let us observe whether you can slither your way out of this trap as well.

Should the slightest hesitation manifest, he intended to immediately press him regarding why he failed to recognize the visage of his own mother.

Yet Anton’s countenance rapidly curdled into pure disappointment.

The expression gracing Haydam’s face as he stared at the canvas did not remotely resemble that of someone unfamiliar with the subject portrayed. That gaze, laden with piercing longing and even a lingering trace of resentment—that was unmistakably the look of a young child who had endured far too long apart from his maternal figure.

Subsequently, the soft, trembling voice that escaped Haydam’s lips pronounced the complete failure of Anton’s strategy.

Prior to the officers’ assembly.

I had received word from Daphne that Anton was preparing a tribute for me.

“They are currently completing a portrait of Luna Moon.”

A portrait of Luna Moon.

I grasped the underlying implication immediately.

Anton is entertaining suspicions regarding my true identity, is he?