Chapter 3

Episode 3: Black and White

I had a different kind of feeling for the Special Forces than I did for the refugees.

Especially for that short-haired woman in black.

"Marjelo, don't just stand there spacing out."

The Special Forces Captain spoke to her.

What I felt toward the Special Forces—and toward Marjelo—was envy.

She had more than one nickname.

One-Man Army. Humanity's Strongest. Walking Cannon. And more.

Every title that screamed raw power was stuck on her.

And because of her, I got stuck with a nickname of my own.

Back at boot camp, after I'd stared down the tip of a spear and started sweating cold.

A fellow trainee said to me:

"Your movements are a dead ringer for that prodigy from the Special Forces, Marjelo Arnis. But you've got one hell of a weak point. This is totally Unlucky Marjelo."

They stuck "Unlucky" in front of a hero's name. That was me.

That nickname followed me like a dog tag through boot camp and all the way to wherever I'd end up.

Just then, Marjelo and I passed each other.

"Long time no see."

Still not worthy of standing beside her, all I could do was mutter that one line.

We kept pushing forward toward the Capital.

"How'd you learn to ride?"

Kinzo broke the silence first.

"Learn? You just grab the reins and get on."

"I mean the technique. Equestrian stuff."

"Yeah, so? You just—"

"Just? Normal people don't do that. Hell, maybe no one does. You'd fall off in seconds."

"So you're saying I'm not normal?"

"More like the exact opposite."

Kinzo let out a long sigh.

If this had been before, his eyes should have been badly hurt. But now he was sitting perfectly fine behind me, thanks to me saving his eyesight—the Clairvoyance Magic that would be the key to our counterattack.

I'd abandoned everyone else. Kept only one.

Suddenly, the Silver Tomb came to mind.

Dog tags crammed so tightly they lined the walls.

"They're all alive too, right?"

Alive.

The people I cared about—the ones I'd treated like family—they were all alive.

It was so joyful it made my chest ache.

*

We sold the brown horse we'd ridden to cover our living expenses.

Kinzo kept tossing a money pouch from one hand to the other.

"If Dad finds out we sold Light for a pittance, he'll rise right out of his coffin."

The brown horse's name was Light.

"Good call. If we had a mount, we'd be tempted to run."

"Run? Don't you dare underestimate my resolve."

The man who bought Light took the reins and started to leave.

"Hey, mister, you know how to ride?"

Kinzo asked.

"What do you take me for? You think I'd buy a horse I can't ride?"

He planted a hand on the saddle and vaulted up.

And promptly slipped, landing flat on his spine.

A pitiful moan escaped the man's lips as he lay there, stunned.

Kinzo pointed at him. "See, Mago? That's what normal looks like. Just hopping on and riding? That's not a thing. You really never learned?"

"I told you, no."

"Then is it just talent or something?" He pressed his left hand against his chin. "Creepy."

Thanks to selling Light, we managed to get an inn room with two beds. One corner of the window was cracked, letting the wind whistle through. The beds were worse. The moment I sat on one, it groaned and sank deep.

Between the two beds sat a tiny desk, neatly equipped with paper, ink, and a quill.

"Look at this dump—calling itself an inn. Could at least fix the furniture."

"Want to start now?"

I sat down at the desk.

"Yeah. Here."

Kinzo handed me two sheets of paper over my shoulder. He'd picked up enlistment forms from the town hall.

I dipped the quill in ink and started filling out mine.

Name: Mago. No surname.

Place of origin: Unknown.

Gender: Male.

Height: 175 cm. Weight: 63 kg.

Other: None.

Kinzo smirked. "Lots of blanks. Anyone would think you're a spy."

Next was his turn. Since I was already seated, I wrote his down as he dictated.

"Kinzo Shua. Born in the Capital. You know I'm male. Height: 190 cm."

"You're not 190."

"Caught me... 187." I wrote down 187 cm.

"Weight?"

"90 kg."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. Write this in the 'other' section." He tapped the blank space with his finger. "Graduate of Akuella's."

Akuella. That was the northern country Kinzo had come from. A nation of mages, now wiped out by monsters.

"Watermelon Magic Academy."

He folded his arms proudly. It looked ridiculous.

"Want me to add that you bought your way in?"

"You kidding?"

"A little."

"Graduation is what matters. Graduation."

"So you can actually use magic then?"

I asked while moving the quill. Of course, I already knew what his magic was, but for now, I had to play dumb.

"Uh, well, yeah. Obviously I can. How could I not?"

He was clearly trying to brush it off.

"Oh, right—you said you just fooled around over there."

"I didn't just fool around!"

"Then what can you do?"

"Fire."

"Fire? That's pretty impressive, isn't it?"

"Fire... flower."

The guy couldn't lie to save his life. It shrank from fire to fire flower.

"I see."

"No, wait—fire seed?"

It could get even smaller. From flower to the seed inside it.

"Mago, you know those flaming arrows the goblins shot? The fire stayed on the arrowhead the whole time. It's probably the same kind of magic I use—a spell that wraps a weapon in flames to strengthen it."

"Then it must have been a goblin shaman using it. Not a mage. A shaman. A goblin shaman, at that."

"Did you really have to say that?"

"It's the truth."

"There's more." Kinzo brought his thumbs and index fingers together on both hands, forming a circle, and held it up to his eyes. "I can use Clairvoyance Magic too. Write that down fast."

That magic was so special to him, you could call it his everything.

"Is it also goblin shaman level?"

"It's way better, I'll have you know."

"Still, you probably used it for some pervy stuff."

At that, Kinzo's face turned serious. "Mago. Do you really think I never tried?"

"You're saying that with a straight face?"

"Yeah. I wanted to see what was inside people. You know, the physical inside."

He shuddered.

"But what I saw wasn't someone's insides—it was their intestines."

His expression darkened even more.

"Don't ever bring that up again. I don't want to remember what the Captain's wrinkles looked like from the inside."

He said all that with complete sincerity.

"So, in the end, you're a mage with zero offensive abilities. That's the takeaway."

"I hate to admit it, but I can't argue with that."

He shrugged.

"Mago, can we submit these tomorrow instead?"

"We could still make it back to the town hall now."

"I want to rest. Tomorrow's fine, isn't it?"

"Well... sure. It's not like turning them in early would speed up the training start date anyway."

Kinzo immediately flopped onto the bed.

"Yeah. Let's rest. Rest."

And just like that, he was asleep.

In an instant.

While he slept, I sank into thought.

Of course I'd enlist again in this life.

My goal was the same as before.

Kill every last monster, reclaim the empire's territory, and push on to Akuella.

This time, I'd make it for sure.

I straightened the papers left on the desk and started planning.

Since New Year was only a few days away, I'd begin from [607].

I wrote down the start.

Then, sliding my hand far to the right, I wrote the end: [December 24, 614].

I drew a line connecting 607 and 614.

A simple timeline.

I began marking vertical lines across that horizontal timeline.

The first vertical line. Below it, I wrote: [610].

That was roughly three years from now—when I'd obtain a weapon so good it felt undeserved.

Weapon. The symbol for that word was a sword.

I sketched a sword on the line.

Then the second vertical line: [612].

And I broke that same weapon within two years.

I drew another sword and covered it with an X mark.

After losing the weapon, there was nothing but despair.

It was almost a miracle I lasted until 614.

The third and final vertical line: [614].

I returned to the end.

In mid-December, even after losing my sight, I found a way to fight.

Even with my eyes closed, I could see—faintly, hazily.

But I didn't know what that ability actually was, or how to develop it.

"Ugh, I nodded off. Should wash up and sleep."

Kinzo opened his eyes.

He sat up slowly and looked down at the paper.

"What were you doing?"

He reached out to grab the paper.

Then—clink.

"Oh."

"Whoops."

The ink bottle tipped over.

It toppled completely, spitting black ink everywhere.

The ink flooded the timeline.

My future had turned pitch black.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. It wasn't important anyway."

What was important was this: no matter how well I did, from 607 to 614, thousands would die beside me.

Soldiers dying in war—that's unavoidable.

But what mattered was that so many had been by my side.

I remember every single one.

As if I'd read their enlistment forms myself.

Their names, their faces, their hometowns—I remember all of it.

Their families. What they wanted to do after the war. Even what they planned to do tomorrow.

I remember every single detail.

To carry those memories until my own life ends.

To see them off with even a shoddy funeral.

That was how I paid for being the one who survived alone.

The Silver Tomb surfaced in my mind.

This time, I wanted to protect it.

But even a second go-around doesn't make a battlefield any easier.

Instead, if I could protect the geniuses—training camp comrades or someone like Marjelo—they would go on to save many others.

Life chains onto life.

There are certain people who are most essential to ending a war.

And they are also the ones who die most easily.

"The Special Forces."

The conclusion always led back to that place.

"What about the Special Forces?"

"I need to make my mark there. That's the fastest way to get promoted. First, I have to get into the Special Forces. Since only the top ten graduates of boot camp qualify, I need to perform well from training onward."

"Promotion? You're already thinking about that?"

It wasn't "already." It was "finally."

I'd lost count of how many times I thought my superiors' orders were absurd.

But I had neither the power to defy orders nor the rank to back it up.

I ended up driving my company into hell, even knowing how it would end.

And now I knew the future.

Incompetent commanders would look worse than rotten fish heads to me.

"I have to think. I can't just be used as expendable fodder and die."

I needed to get my hands on a rank much higher than before.

If necessary, I'd go beyond Special Forces Captain all the way to Army Commander.

If I couldn't command the Imperial Army myself, having all this knowledge would be useless.

"Why does it always end with dying? That's morbid."

Kinzo tapped my shoulder and headed to the washroom.

After washing his face, he lay back down on the bed.

And again, he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

I was too tangled in my own thoughts to sleep easily, but Kinzo slept annoyingly well.

"Look at you now, after being a sobbing mess back then."

Maybe it was because he was a noble—he seemed able to set his mind at ease quickly.

"I'm sorry..."

Then Kinzo's lips moved slightly.

"I'm sorry, Mother..."

Just sleep-talking.

"I wanted to be a son you could be proud of. I should have shown you that..."

He mumbled on for a while.

Kinzo's younger sister.

Erina Shua—I'd heard she spent an entire year trying, and finally managed to ride the brown horse.

Light.

The world was still.

No.

From now on, it was brutal.