I Became the Academy’s War Hero-Chapter 23 : Loving My Comrades, Loving My Country (2)

Chapter 23: Loving My Comrades, Loving My Country (2)
The officers’ private quarters, located on the 4th floor of the Special Task Force.
Inside the fifth room, three men were seated.
Dragging a chair toward the table, Eric Belfor sat down casually.
On the wall beside the window, the emblem of the Special Task Force was boldly engraved.
“……”
“……”
As Walter and Eugene continued their silence, cracks began to form on Belfor’s face.
“If you’ve got nothing to say, I’ll take it as there’s nothing to discuss. Let’s pretend none of this happened.”
At those words, Walter began glancing at Eugene.
Eugene slowly closed his eyes and opened his mouth.
“I made good use of that Red Iron Ore, Belfor.”
“…You suddenly contacted me, begging for it, so I had no choice but to send it over.”
He crossed his legs and took on an arrogant posture.
“Alright, tell me then. What kind of nerve made you send that official letter in the first place?”
“Well, I sent it to ask a comrade for a little help.”
“You really haven’t changed… still as shameless as ever.”
“You already know roughly how things work internally, don’t you? Let’s start from there, shall we?”
At that, Belfor rubbed his lips and let out a hollow laugh.
“…You really think that makes sense?”
“What part doesn’t?”
“You, of all people, know how the Special Task Force is doing.”
“Exactly why I’m suggesting this. You, with your experience in personnel management, should understand best.”
“……”
It wasn’t a wrong point.
The Imperial Special Task Force had been suffering from manpower shortages for over ten years.
While the beasts continued to expand their influence, the Imperial response was painfully inadequate.
During the Emperor’s absence, as chaos gripped the Imperial Court and the nobles seized control, the beasts steadily expanded their territories.
Even when all military efforts were concentrated on subjugating the beasts, victory could not be guaranteed—yet the ruling class only cared about protecting their own interests.
No wonder things weren’t working out.
Belfor was one of the few who understood this all too well. Once, he had lamented the decline of the times, but that, too, was a story from the past.
Regrettably, too much time had already passed.
“I understand you’re all fired up after seven years away, but…”
He sighed deeply and spoke with a serious expression.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop meddling in the Special Task Force, Carter.”
Watching Belfor calmly voice his opinion, I tried to conceal my expression.
‘I expected him to be a bit more confrontational, though.’
Still, I could roughly understand what was going on in his head.
Walter was in an ambiguous situation and had little choice but to cooperate with me. But Belfor’s case was completely different.
His position in the Special Task Forces wasn’t exactly weak, and as a Colonel, his rank was considerably high.
Even if he grew too old to fight on the battlefield later, there was always a Plan B waiting for him.
Whether he transferred to an educational post or into administration, he’d have plenty of paths forward.
Karbenna was an exception, but most academies never rejected talent from the Special Task Force.
He could easily coast along in the middle without stirring trouble—no reason to make waves.
‘Not everyone’s like Eugene Carter, after all.’
Changes to the system, the Empire’s future—none of that held much meaning for the current Belfor.
He might once have been a proud soldier of the Empire, but in this endless war against the beasts, that old fervor and sense of duty had surely faded.
What mattered to him now was, at most, his own safety and stability.
‘…Well, that’s even better.’
I smiled faintly.
If he were still the same patriotic youth as before, I would’ve had to approach from that angle.
But even without that, there were plenty of ways to handle this.
Don’t underestimate ten years of MAGA experience.
As Walter hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject, I decided to speak first.
“You’re not entirely without ambition yourself, are you, Belfor?”
“Hmm?”
“Be honest. This is basically your last chance, isn’t it?”
“…What is?”
“Promotion.”
Eric Belfor—ten years of service, currently thirty-four years old. By normal standards, still a promising age. But that only applied outside the Special Task Forces.
The average age of personnel in this division was over eight years younger than that of the general Imperial Army.
Considering that Lieutenant General Alvin, the current head of the Special Task Forces, had only just passed forty, it wasn’t hard to see how precarious Belfor’s situation was.
If he failed to produce clear results in the upcoming Eber Suppression Operation, the chances of him ever being deployed to a major battlefield again would vanish completely.
Normally, Walter would have ignored an official letter like the one I sent—but his uncharacteristic humility now probably stemmed from that same reason.
‘And the fact that he even let us in despite us no longer being part of the Special Task Forces speaks volumes.’
Seeing Belfor stay silent at the mention of promotion, I decided to drive in the wedge.
“Don’t you want to be recognized as the greatest contributor of the Eber Suppression Operation?”
The northern border town of Eber had long suffered beast invasions.
Aside from the border skirmishes, it was one of the most troubled cities in the Empire.
As the invasions dragged on, most residents had fled to two nearby cities, barely maintaining their livelihoods.
The only ones remaining in Eber now were Imperial garrison troops.
So far, over two hundred thousand Imperial soldiers had already been deployed there. Most of the beasts had long turned into carcasses, leaving only stragglers behind.
“And yet, they’re still holding out. It’s strange, almost unnaturally so.”
At my brief summary, curiosity began to flicker in Belfor’s eyes.
“Go on.”
I recalled the I’d skimmed in the carriage earlier and continued.
“There’s still one named beast that hasn’t been dealt with—Rogis, right?”
“…Yeah. The A-rank beast Rogis.”
“Once that bastard’s dead, it’ll all be over.”
“…And your basis for that?”
So he already had some suspicion.
At least he wasn’t dismissing my words outright as nonsense.
“Wasn’t Rogis declared missing after September 11th, Year 76?”
Belfor nodded, his gaze shifting slightly to the right.
“There was another named beast that went missing around that time—Mitosis.”
“…Now that you mention it, yeah. But what about it?”
“Think carefully about what each of those two beasts’ main abilities were. Then you’ll understand what I’m getting at.”
Belfor slowly closed his eyes, rubbing his chin.
“Rogis and Mitosis… one specializes in corruption and buffing, and the other in replication… Wait, don’t tell me—”
His eyes suddenly widened in realization.
“Rogis swallowed Mitosis, and now it’s spreading replication buffs to the surrounding beasts?”
“Correct.”
“…Is something like that even possible?”
“It’s not common.”
But from now on, it would become common.
The beasts in Apocalypse Mode easily transcended human understanding.
Belfor rubbed his forehead, muttering that it finally made sense.
“They wouldn’t show up for weeks, but as soon as we start preparing to retreat, those damn cockroaches start crawling out of nowhere.”
So that’s why they kept appearing no matter how many we killed.
As Belfor recalled previous battles, his expression gradually darkened.
“…But how do you lure out a high-ranking beast that hasn’t shown its face for six months?”
“There’s a way to find out.”
“And that is?”
Belfor’s tone remained indifferent, but his eyes were full of anticipation—as if saying, ‘Spit it out already.’
And at that moment, I chose to stay silent.
“……”
A silent signal: If you want to hear more, cooperate.
Belfor shook his head with a deep sigh.
“…Come to think of it, every one of the 16th class members seemed completely helpless against you.”
“Did they?”
“You sly bastard… Fine. I’ll cooperate. That’s what you want, right?”
He slowly stood up, preparing to leave.
Once he was ready, Belfor pointed at me and shouted,
“You’d better make damn sure this works, Carter. If you back out later, I’ll kill you myself.”
“Oh, how terrifying.”
“…Hmph. Then let’s go have a talk.”
“A talk? With who?”
In response to Walter’s question, Belfor and I answered at the same time.
“The Special Task Forces Commander.”
Leaving the Imperial Special Task Forces Headquarters, the three of us headed toward the outer official residence.
In the capital’s residential district, there were three such compounds, including the one attached to the Special Task Force.
This particular compound housed the residences of the Special Task Forces Commander and the Defense Commander.
Smooth-talking the guards into letting us through, Belfor strode confidently into the compound.
Crossing the wide road—broad enough for three carriages side by side—we arrived at the inner training ground.
Beyond the gentle slope further in, a small two-lane shooting range came into view.
Bang!
Taang!
Kwahjik!
The sharp sounds of bullets piercing through wooden boards rang clearly across the field.
The solidly built man standing tall at the firing line was none other than Lieutenant General Alvin.
He held a black musket firmly in his outstretched left hand.
With his right hand gripping the handle, his index finger rested lightly on the trigger.
But what fired from that barrel was not a gunpowder bullet.
Taang!
From the muzzle that released the magic bullet, faint trails of mana vapor drifted out.
‘Even more impressive seeing it in person.’
One of only two in the Empire, and just nine in the entire world, to bear the title of Marksman of Magic Bullets.
Lieutenant General Alvin Caldwell turned his head at the sound of approaching footsteps.
The three of us immediately stood at attention and saluted.
He lowered his musket naturally, resting the barrel downward.
After acknowledging our salute with a nod, Alvin asked in a booming voice,
“What brings you all the way here on such a precious weekend?”
“We came to ask a favor, sir!” Belfor replied.
Slipping the musket onto his back, Alvin stepped out of the shooting lane.
We hurriedly followed him toward the entrance of the training field.
When we met again barely five minutes later, we started to salute once more—but Alvin waved his hand.
“That’s enough. Let’s head inside. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Walter?”
“It has indeed, sir!”
Inside the VIP room, the space was filled with ornate decorations.
Seven leather chairs embossed with the Imperial crest surrounded a pale gray marble table.
Before we could even sit down, the Commander spoke first.
“So, Carter. Getting used to academy life yet?”
“Half and half, sir.”
“I see. Then I assume you’re here to talk about that other half today?”
“Yes, sir.”
Meanwhile, Belfor carefully placed the official document—the one outlining the proposal—onto the table.
“Hmm… I can already guess why you’re here.”
As Alvin quickly skimmed through the contents, a shadow gradually fell over his face.
An uncomfortable silence lingered for a while.
After glaring coldly at the paper for several seconds, he turned his sharp gaze toward me.
Rip!
Before I realized it, the document had been torn neatly in half.
Unlike the other two, who were visibly startled, I maintained a steady poker face.
Seeing that, Alvin let out a mocking snort and remarked,
“You’ve got some nerve, Carter—coming to me with a proposal like this.”
From his eyes, a faint but undeniable killing intent seeped out.