I Was Mistaken as a Genius Mage in a Game-Chapter 63

The barracks where the generals stayed were in far worse condition than I had imagined.

The blankets covering the barracks were covered in mold, and the corners were filled with the lingering stench of cigarettes. The floor was muddy, poorly cleaned, and the thin metal rods supporting the barracks wobbled, as though they might snap at any moment.

It was a place so poorly maintained and unstable that it wouldn’t have been surprising if the ceiling collapsed while they were sleeping at night.

“I have business with the general’s barracks. Is the saint here?”

I was reviewing the lecture I had received from Alter, with a notebook placed on my chest, when I heard a voice from outside, a voice I hadn’t heard before.

“Come in.”

Grisha, who had been lying on the bed, carefully adjusted her voice so no one would hear and said those words.

Her kind and warm voice made anyone who heard it feel at ease.

Soon after, the door to the barracks opened, and a large woman in a military uniform caked in mud appeared.

“I know it’s not work hours, but some of the injured soldiers are showing signs of severe infection. Could you come take a look for a moment?”

She smiled warmly at the officer who entered through the thick entrance to the barracks, her smile overflowing with a sanctity that couldn’t be felt through the screen.

“...Could you wait for a moment? I’ll be there soon.”

She, despite her exhaustion, moved her body to tend to the wounded soldiers. Her clothes were covered in dust, and there were bloodstains on her arms and legs, though she never lost her smile.

“I will be waiting.”

With that, the officer turned and walked out of the barracks.

“...Hah.”

A sigh.

As soon as the officer left, she let out a small sigh. The kind smile that had been on her face was gone, replaced by a cold and expressionless face.

“...”

It was a face I had never seen before in my life. I’m sure there’s no illustration or model anywhere in the database that captures Grisha’s expression like this.

In the depths of her eyes, there was an indescribable sense of helplessness.

“Bel, do you have [N O V E L I G H T] any leftover tobacco? I’ll smoke one before I go.”

Saint Grisha spoke words that didn’t seem to fit someone of her holiness at all.

Of course, in the medieval period, tobacco was regarded as a panacea, so it was a favored commodity among many doctors and religious figures...

‘She’s a hipster.’

Naturally, that thought came to me.

Estella Church was the religion followed by most of the people of the continent, regardless of race.

Seeing the representative of such a large religion, who was believed by more people than all the Christians combined, casually asking for a cigarette, while her warm and kind smile disappeared... It was a shock to me.

That gentle and soft smile had vanished, and all that remained was the saint secretly smoking a cigarette, pressing the tobacco into her pipe.

...She’s a hipster!

“I’m also stuck with just ashes now because I ran out of tobacco.”

“Why is tobacco always in short supply?”

“You keep stealing mine, so it’s no wonder. These types of commodities should be requested separately for distribution, and there’s a set amount per person.”

“But we’re generals, right? We could just ask for more if we said a few words.”

“That would be outright embezzlement.”

Bel snapped back sharply as he set a chair in front of the desk.

“Being so picky about tobacco. Anyway, the soldiers at the front aren’t even touching it, so don’t you think there’ll be some left?”

“You could just request more tobacco and pipes under your name...”

“You want me to let the believers know I smoke?”

“What’s wrong with that? The saint is a person too.”

“Not to the believers.”

Grisha sighed as if lamenting not being able to smoke, then slowly dragged her feet towards the entrance of the barracks.

Before leaving the barracks, she adjusted her voice once again and forced a smile, lifting the corners of her mouth which had drooped.

A serene, beautiful smile settled on her face, just as it always did.

I don’t know how others would feel, but to me, Grisha’s smile only seemed pitiful and sad.

“...I guess I should move now.”

Bel, who had been looking at Grisha’s back with regret as she left the barracks, soon followed, taking a bundle of papers and heading outside.

I thought he was going to get new tobacco.

However, he returned only after a couple of hours.

“Let me borrow that Adr, will you?”

With that cryptic message.

Bel Artua walked outside with a bundle of papers in hand and, after taking a few steps, lit the document in his hands on fire.

The small flame quickly grew larger, devouring the papers in seconds, before slowly dying out, as if nothing had happened.

Bel watched the pile of papers turn to black ash on the muddy ground before pulling out his pipe and putting it in his mouth.

His meticulous and obsessive personality meant that he had to witness with his own eyes the destruction of such top-secret documents.

Soon, the embers died completely, and a small pile of ash greeted Bel Artua.

He kicked the ash aside with his heavy military boots.

Now, no one except Bel would know the contents of the document.

Bel Artua, after watching the scattered ashes, turned his gaze.

Not far from there, he saw soldiers moving back and forth between the wagon and the supply storage. They were carrying large boxes, two or three at a time.

There were more religious supplies than military ones. The officers would have quite a hard time inspecting all those religious items.

‘...The soldiers must be happy.’

Cigarettes, alcohol, tea leaves.

Though not as critical as swords or arrows, they were still indispensable supplies for soldiers in war.

In a battlefield where someone next to you could die from an unseen attack, those things were necessary to keep your sanity.

‘Didn’t he say he had no experience in battle? Or is he just really smart?’

Bel Artua couldn’t help but admire Bin, the young lad. Regardless of where he got all that money from, he had a great sense of what supplies to choose.

“Quite a clever kid has joined us.”

Bel puffed on his cigarette as he left the generals' barracks.

Walking past the bloody battlefield, he soon arrived at the officers’ barracks, not far away.

“Ah, General. What is it?”

The officers, who had been curled up on the floor or leaning against the posts taking quick naps, quickly stood and saluted when they saw Bel.

“How’s the personnel selection going?”

“It’s still in progress. It's hard, as some of the ones we list end up getting injured quickly.”

“...We have to leave either tomorrow or the day after, at the latest. Time is running out, so I’ll pick the people myself.”

“We’ll gather everyone who can move right away.”

“Thank you.”

Before long, strong human and elf soldiers lined up and approached Bel.

Orcs and dwarves were excluded from the mission, as they were courageous and brave, but lacked stealth and composure.

In front of Bel stood about 300 soldiers. Each one of them was an elite who could easily defend a couple of villages.

Though their skill was unquestionable, the sight of despair and exhaustion in their eyes suggested this battlefield was too much for even them.

“Excluded soldiers, return to your posts. For now, you, you, and you.”

Bel carefully examined each soldier and began to send the excluded ones back to their duties. The soldiers looked slightly taken aback, but silently returned to their tasks.

“...You too, go. And you.”

A soldier trembling like a leaf, another whose eyes had lost their focus, and one breathing heavily—these soldiers weren’t physically injured, but they had reached their mental limit.

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No matter how strong they were, those who had hit their mental breaking point couldn’t be used in this mission.

As he continued selecting, only seven soldiers remained.

Three elves and four humans.

“...Why are you here?”

Bel frowned when he noticed a familiar face among the remaining soldiers.

Adr.

The young man carrying a huge sword almost the size of his body had mixed into the line.

“Your duty is to protect Bin, isn’t it? Did you forget your responsibility?”

“General Bin is safe in the barracks, isn’t he?”

“...What?”

Bel genuinely didn’t understand what Adr meant.

“He doesn’t need a bodyguard if he’s safe. I didn’t want to just twiddle my thumbs before he goes into action. I want to raise my fame quickly.”

“....”

Bel thought for a moment that he truly wanted to slap the young man in front of him.

If Adr got exhausted by participating in other missions and couldn’t protect Bin when the time came, what would it mean for him to be in Vallerand?

Fame, honor... Does this fool not realize this battlefield isn’t the place to gain such things?

He should have noticed from the moment he started talking about being a hero. This idiot was far too immature to experience the real battlefield.

“...”

Bel fell into thought as he stared at Adr.

Adr had talent, that was clear. Though Bel had never seen him fight, his experience in surviving the harshest battlefields had taught him how to spot a talented warrior.

And his insight told him that in 5 to 10 years, Adr would become a warrior renowned across the continent.

Looking at Adr now, with his great potential, Bel couldn’t help but feel pity.

He had so much talent, yet was so fixated on meaningless things like heroism and honor.

Such things were useless on the battlefield.

“Kid.”

Bel called Adr that way. Adr didn’t realize the word referred to him.

“Are you ready to die?”

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At Bel’s question, every soldier, except Adr, swallowed nervously. There was a vast difference between the way Bel asked this and the usual way officers or superiors did.

Most officers would ask such things just to test their soldiers’ resolve.

But Bel wasn’t like that.

Bel would order a soldier to commit suicide if necessary. He would throw a few soldiers into a blaze if it served the greater cause.

Knowing this, the soldiers began to sweat coldly.

“I’m ready!”

But Adr didn’t understand who Bel truly was. He was an adventurer with some renown, but now, as a mere rookie soldier, he was nothing more than an inexperienced private.

In his mind, he was full of heroic ideals and fantasies about the general standing in front of him.

...If Bin had seen this scene, he would have thought of Adr as a “fool.”

‘He’s so foolish for someone with such talent. He must be around twenty. Of course, he’s young, so it makes sense. He’s never experienced a real failure or defeat, given his natural talent.’

Bel looked at the confident and proud Adr with a sense of regret.

What would happen next would be a huge trial for Adr. His heart would be torn apart, and perhaps he would spend his life fleeing, unable to forget today’s events.

“...That’s enough. The operation is in two days. I’ll brief you at this time tomorrow, so get some rest today and tomorrow to manage your condition. Dismissed.”

Even knowing all this, Bel decided to include Adr in the operation.

You can’t move forward without feeling despair and taking wounds.

So, despite setting up a terrible operation that would break even most veteran soldiers, he included the rookie Adr in the team.

If Adr could survive what was to come, he would become a truly useful soldier. But if he couldn’t?

‘Then he’s just not cut out for it.’

Bel had no intention of coddling this young prospect. This battlefield wasn’t one where you waited for young people to grow.

This was Vallerand.