Chapter 27 Chapter 27: Bargaining Chips
Chapter 27: Bargaining Chips
"Stay alert, W. We've entered the combat zone."
"Got it, got it."
W waved her hand dismissively, but still crouched low, cautiously surveying the surroundings through her observation scope.
The battlefield had already filtered out the insufficiently cautious mercenaries, wave after wave. Life was the cheapest thing here.
Through the observation scope, W could clearly see a small town not far away, but it was very dilapidated, with no lights, silent like a dead city.
From the mottled walls of the buildings, traces of the ravages of war could vaguely be seen. Along the way, everyone had also seen many corpses, most of them Sarkaz with horns on their heads. Their limbs were not intact, blood filled this land, severed weapons, blunt-edged long swords, crudely made Originium staffs casually discarded...
Herdre and the other two were clearly unfazed by such scenes. Their long mercenary careers had long since numbed their hearts. Even if their own kin were lying on the ground, they wouldn't waver in the slightest.
After prolonged division and displacement, the vast majority of Sarkaz had lost their racial identity. It was as if they had truly become the "demonic tribe" as people from other countries on this land said.
"...Will Her Highness Theresa be the one to change all this?"
Herdre pondered in his heart. He wasn't completely unaware of Theresa's ideals.
In fact, the "Six Heroes" were almost universally revered by all Sarkaz. Even though they later took completely different paths, this reverence would not change with anything.
Screech—
The vehicle braked. Herdre got out and carefully examined the traces around him. He pinched the loose soil, even flipped over the Sarkaz's mutilated bodies with congealed blood, not caring at all that the blood stained his clothes and hands.
"The traces are fresh. It seems the fighting here just ended a few days ago. The intel is correct. I'm afraid it won't be long before we catch up with Her Highness Theresa and her group."
Herdre roughly estimated the time. With His Highness Theresis in hot pursuit, neither side's movement speed would be particularly fast.
And since they hadn't encountered any Military Commission personnel along the way, it meant that the war was likely still ongoing!
"Anyway, they keep fighting without end. But well, that's fine too. We're not short of work. Just gotta be careful not to get sold out."
W had taken out quite a few employers like that. There were always people who thought of them Sarkaz mercenaries as fools, believing they'd help count the money even after being sold. After following Herdre for so long, W hadn't absorbed any book learning, but she had become much sharper.
People with such ideas all ended up blown sky-high by her.
Of course, many times it wasn't her who detected something amiss, but Ines. Her Originium Arts were just too useful. Those employers' dirty little thoughts simply couldn't be hidden.
Seen through at a glance.
Civil war—a common yet strife-filled term.
Through Herdre and Ines's introductions, Kevin had gained a considerable understanding of Kazdel's current situation, much clearer than the fragments he'd heard from Patriot.
He also had a preliminary impression of Theresa herself: a Amiya with a gentle temperament, close to the people, and seemingly deeply loved by the Sarkaz people. This point even included some members of the opposing Theresis Military Commission.
Making your own people love you is simple. But to reach a point where even your enemies love you... one can only say it's indeed rare. The light in Herdre's eyes when he mentioned Theresa didn't seem fake.
As for "Demon King" and "Demonic Tribe"? Kevin wasn't interested in these titles.
He too had many similar titles: [Pioneer], [God], [Michael]... But he deeply knew that these labels were merely superficial things imposed on him by the world.
At least in his view, there was no essential difference between Sarkaz and Ursus people. The only difference was the environment.
"Let's move on. If possible, we should probably catch up with them within two days."
Herdre stretched his limbs. He had to maintain his condition. After all, if he accidentally entered a hot combat zone, he shouldn't be left without even a chance to resist.
—
Bitter Suffering Gorge, Babel Temporary Command Post.
"Send two more Caster teams to Hill 52 on the northern line of Bitter Suffering Gorge."
"Send orders to the Third and Fifth Detachments: command them to relocate to Position No. 13 by 1800 hours tomorrow and hold there for at least two hours. We will provide support for them there."
The Doctor issued commands clearly and methodically. The entire temporary command post operated like an efficient machine in his hands, with everyone performing their duties.
"Support? But, Doctor, we have no forces that can be mobilized to Position No. 13 in a short time."
After the messenger left, the banshee nearby couldn't help but frown. Currently, Babel's personnel everywhere were stretched thin. No matter how ingenious the Doctor's command was, it couldn't make up for the lack of resources—you can't make bricks without straw.
"Hmm."
The Doctor responded but didn't acknowledge the banshee. He just walked over to the large yet somewhat crude sand table on his own, silently simulating scenarios, occasionally removing flags representing both sides' forces.
Bang!
"Doctor, you might not have heard clearly! I said we're short on manpower! Babel has no forces left that can rush to provide support!"
The banshee slammed the table, speaking somewhat impatiently. Even though she had witnessed the Doctor's previous deployments—which were indeed quite ingenious—she wasn't at the point of blind obedience. No matter how capable the Doctor was, he couldn't conjure a team out of thin air.
"Hmm, I know."
"Then why still...!"
The banshee met the Doctor's gaze. That indifferent gaze was like a block of solid ice. There was no killing intent, but it was precisely this flatness that made her feel immense pressure.
Logically, with her strength, she shouldn't be afraid of someone like the Doctor who couldn't even truss a chicken.
"Ms. Eflor, you've forgotten one thing: we seized a batch of Originium bombs in Vesta Town."
"Originium bombs? But those are..."
Suddenly, Eflor had a terrible guess in her heart, one that even made her body tremble slightly. Facing the Doctor's gaze, she felt a chill run down her spine. Her throat felt dry as she said:
"So... they have no support at all, right?"
The Doctor didn't answer directly, only coldly stating:
"The ones pursuing behind the Third and Fifth Detachments are an elite Sarkaz swordsman battalion from the Military Commission—one of our greatest threats. As bargaining chips, this is an acceptable cost."
"This... was your plan from the very beginning, right?"
Facing the banshee'squestioning (questioning), the Doctor said nothing more, like a cold statue.
Eflor felt deep fear. She wanted to escape! To tell her comrades that Position No. 13 wasn't a place of hope prepared for them, but a graveyard surrounded by death!!
Her fists clenched and unclenched, unclenched and clenched again. But in the end... she ultimately didn't do it...
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