Iwamoto Yoshikazu stood at the center of a loosely formed circle of officers, his expression calm but his mind anything but. The defensive line was still being organized, and while on paper it looked solid, the reality was far more fragile than anyone here seemed willing to admit.
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
Working with officers from a single nation was already difficult. Working with multiple nations—each with their own customs, expectations, and egos—was something else entirely. The military, as he had known it, no longer truly existed. The desperate need for manpower had forced civilians into positions they had no business occupying, while raw strength had elevated individuals into ranks they had never trained for.
The result was chaos hidden behind structure.
The universal "military culture" that once allowed soldiers from different countries to cooperate had eroded. Orders no longer carried the same implicit weight. Respect was no longer guaranteed—it had to be forced, negotiated, or endured.
And Yoshikazu was right in the middle of it.
He had officers one rank below him questioning his decisions, while others even further below him ignored him entirely because they had been granted authority through strength rather than discipline. Some listened only because of his rank. Others listened because they understood what that rank implied.
Captain.
Stage 0.3 or higher.
That alone was enough to keep most people in line—for now.
His gaze shifted toward the horizon, where the forest thickened into shadow. The defensive line was stabilizing, slowly but surely. Units were falling into place, supply lines were being arranged, and the formation was beginning to resemble something reliable.
"At least it will hold," he muttered quietly.
For now.
Then—
A commotion.
Yoshikazu didn't need to turn to know what it was. The tone alone told him everything: loud, emotional, and utterly inconvenient.
"…Of course."
He closed his eyes briefly before turning.
A young officer—no, barely more than a noble's son playing soldier—had forced his way into the circle. His face was flushed, his expression twisted into something between outrage and practiced despair.
"I have been wronged!" the man cried, his voice carrying far louder than necessary. "A private soldier threatened me with a knife simply because I questioned him about his unauthorized use of military supplies!"
Several foreign officers who had been preparing to leave paused, their interest immediately piqued. They turned back, their attention sharpening as they watched.
Wolves.
Yoshikazu's jaw tightened.
If this wasn't handled properly, it wouldn't just be an internal issue. It would become an opportunity—one that others could exploit. Weakness, division, poor leadership… any of those could justify repositioning troops, claiming more defensible ground, or worse.
He couldn't afford that.
Not now.
Not here.
And yet, the man in front of him—
A nuisance.
A liability.
A problem he could not simply remove.
Yoshikazu forced a neutral expression onto his face.
"Tell me the full story," he said calmly. "I find it unlikely he threatened you without cause."
The crying faltered.
Just for a moment.
It was subtle, but Yoshikazu saw it clearly. The tears had come too quickly—and now they receded just as fast.
Ogata Nori straightened slightly, his tone shifting as he realized sympathy alone would not carry him.
"He gave me his name and unit," Nori said, "but then treated me like a fool and attempted to walk away. When I tried to stop him, he threatened me."
Yoshikazu's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"…I see."
"And his name?" he asked.
"Arin," Nori replied. "From the special unit Moonhawks, under Legion 23."
There was a pause.
Then—
Yoshikazu laughed.
Not a polite chuckle.
Not a restrained reaction.
A full, unrestrained laugh that echoed across the gathered officers.
It lasted long enough to draw confused and uneasy looks from everyone present.
When he finally stopped, he wiped the corner of his eye and exhaled.
"Nori," he said, his tone suddenly light, almost amused. "You would do well to let go of this matter."
Nori blinked, caught off guard.
"…Sir?"
"That unit," Yoshikazu continued, "is far beyond your ability to handle."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"Especially that Arin."
A ripple of curiosity moved through the surrounding officers.
Yoshikazu continued, his voice calm but carrying weight.
"He was the one who led the scouts that discovered the submerged bridge—the one hidden beneath the river. And after that, he fought his way back through enemy territory."
That alone was enough to silence most doubts.
But Yoshikazu wasn't finished.
"Even your uncle," he added, almost casually, "would go to great lengths to invite his family to settle in our country."
The implication hung heavily in the air.
Value.
Power.
Connections.
Nori's expression changed.
Not dramatically—but enough.
"Instead of pursuing this," Yoshikazu said, a faint smile forming, "you should go back. Apologize. And then, in my name, ask him if he can take position at the front—where we expect the first impact—and target any evolved goblins."
The smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Do that properly, and you may salvage something from this."
For a brief moment, silence lingered.
Then Nori bowed.
"Yes, sir. I will see to it immediately."
The transformation was immediate. The arrogance faded, replaced by a composed, almost refined demeanor. It was the kind of shift only someone properly trained could manage.
Without another word, he turned and left the circle.
Yoshikazu watched him go for a moment before turning back to the others.
"Now," he said smoothly, "let us continue. The first impact zone will require adjustments. If everything proceeds as expected, that section will behave… differently."
His smile remained.
But his eyes were cold.
Several officers shifted uncomfortably.
They understood the message.
This was not a place to test limits.
Meanwhile, Nori made his way through the camp, his steps measured and controlled. Gone was the earlier display of emotion. In its place was calculation.
He approached the tree where he had last seen Arin disappear.
"…There."
A presence.
Subtle—but unmistakable.
Up in the branches, Arin observed him quietly.
"…So he came back."
There was something different about the man now.
More composed.
More aware.
Arin leaned slightly against the trunk, his thoughts drifting.
His grandfather had been right.
Their existence was no longer a secret.
What had once been hidden behind layers of obscurity had been exposed—first through their mission behind enemy lines, and then through the reports that followed.
At first, the information had been diluted, buried within larger reports. Difficult to isolate. Easy to overlook.
But after their most recent operation—
That changed.
Any nation with competent leadership would have acted immediately. Identifying them, understanding them, replicating them if possible.
Because their value was obvious.
Snipers.
True battlefield controllers.
Even now, most forces struggled to replicate what they did. Crossbows lacked continuity. Reloading broke focus, forced repositioning, disrupted awareness. Archers, on the other hand, could maintain sightlines, track movement, and deliver consistent pressure.
Against evolving enemies—
That difference mattered.
A lot.
"…Sir Arin."
Nori's voice rose from below.
Arin shifted slightly, making his presence known as he dropped down from the branches with controlled ease.
Nori bowed his head.
"I apologize for my previous conduct. I hope you can forgive my actions. It will not happen again."
His tone was respectful.
Measured.
Correct.
"The captain has asked if you would take position at the expected impact point and target evolved goblins. Additionally, if there is anything you require, we will provide it."
Arin studied him for a moment.
Then nodded.
"No problem," he said casually. "I'll take the position and deal with any evolved ones."
He paused briefly.
"As for supplies… reserve a thousand arrows for me. Length—twenty-eight inches."
His tone remained relaxed, as if the request were entirely ordinary.
"I don't know how long this will last."
Nori didn't hesitate.
"Understood. It will be arranged."
He bowed once more before turning and leaving.
Arin watched him go before glancing toward the horizon.
"…This is going to be interesting."
Then, without another word, he vanished back into the trees—already moving toward the place where the battle would begin.