Chapter 2.13

Ragaen returned to his tent, stating only that he wasn’t feeling well and needed rest. Although he had failed to recall Greta’s face, the uncharacteristic amount of thinking he had done left his head throbbing. Ragaen, who rarely fell ill, was almost immune to headaches, which made the pain all the more irritating and nerve-wracking. Normally, he would have explained the Ritmaom to the knights and conducted training to address their shortcomings, but he had no desire to do so. The vice-commander could handle it.

Sitting on the edge of his cot, Ragaen rested his forehead against his palm and stared blankly for a long time before grabbing a pillow and hugging it. The scent of Dadian leaves, tucked inside the pillowcase, slightly improved his mood.

Suddenly, he found himself wanting to receive a letter from Greta. Reading about her daily life would likely ease his headache and lift his spirits. However, he was currently in such a remote area that only the most urgent messages could be exchanged.

Taking out the note he had kept in his inner pocket, Ragaen read the words written on it over and over again.

Wishing for your safe return. 

—Greta

Greta. He ran his thumb over the letters of her name.

He simply felt like doing it.

***

The Burmato Summer Expedition, disguised as training, was notoriously grueling. Since training was officially part of the expedition, the knights had to endure training sessions in between actual monster hunts, making their suffering all the worse.

“Doesn’t it feel worse than last year?”  

“You think so too? I feel like I can’t breathe. This isn’t just my imagination, right?”  

“And the Commander seems to be in a terrible mood.”  

“Do you think it’s because we got completely wrecked by that Ritmaom on the first day?”  

“N-no way. The Commander doesn’t care about things like that. If we do well, we do well. If we don’t, we don’t. He’s a straightforward person.”  

“True, but still, something feels off.”

The knights had good reason to talk like this.

“Squad 1, rest. Squad 2, start training immediately after Squad 2 finishes. Squad 3, rest. Squad 4, prepare to depart.”

A week into the official training period, Ragaen suddenly divided the entire knight order into four squads and began an endless 12-hour rotation of hunting, resting, training, and resting. Even during their rest periods, the knights couldn’t fully relax. Those who were resting had to process the carcasses of monsters brought in by the hunting squads, collect materials, and handle meals. Essentially, the knights were constantly working, alternating between harder and slightly easier tasks.

“If the Commander were just slacking off, at least we could resent him.”  

“But the fact that he’s doing this alongside us makes it scarier.”  

“He’s not human.”

What sent chills down their spines was that Ragaen, the Commander, barely rested and continued hunting monsters. While the knights at least had rotating breaks, Ragaen declared that he would personally join the hunts, citing the need to prepare for emergencies since the squads were operating with fewer members than planned. From then on, he relentlessly slaughtered monsters without pause.

“Does he even sleep?”  

“I don’t know. I think he takes short naps here and there, but I’ve never seen him sleep during our squad’s rotation.”  

“That’s terrifying.”

When the knights returned to the base after a hunt, they would see Ragaen, who had already washed, checked his equipment, and eaten, immediately head out with Squad 4 without any significant rest. Even though the knights themselves were on the verge of collapse after three weeks of this rotation, Ragaen, who hadn’t eaten or slept properly for three weeks yet showed no signs of faltering, was truly terrifying.

***

Richard, assigned to Squad 4, couldn’t say a word in the face of Ragaen’s sharpened demeanor, which had grown even fiercer since the first day of the expedition. It seemed as though he intended to annihilate every monster in the Burmato mountain range. What was even scarier was that Ragaen occasionally gave Richard an unnervingly sharp look.

“Did something happen between you and the Commander, Richard?”  

“No, nothing at all.”  

“Then why does he keep staring at you?”  

“I have no idea.”  

“Well, whatever it is, I hope you resolve it peacefully.”  

“I told you, nothing’s going on!”  

“By the way, those rumors about him and your sister—are they fake? Maybe he’s actually interested in you—ow!”  

“Do you want to die?”

After silencing his babbling colleague with a punch, Richard, true to his straightforward Lievo nature, approached Ragaen directly.

Sensing Richard’s approach, Ragaen turned to face him as he drank water. The sharp aura around him softened slightly. From behind, Richard’s fellow knights could be heard murmuring, “See? See?” while nodding their heads.

“Commander.”  

“What is it, Sir Lievo?”  

“Why do you keep staring at me?”

The knights of Squad 4, who had been watching with great interest, collectively gasped. They hadn’t expected him to ask so bluntly.

“……”

Ragaen silently stared at Richard, who had come closer.

Richard Lievo had strong, rugged features. The Greta he remembered was small and soft, with a gait reminiscent of a puppy. She was different from Richard. But brown hair. Brown eyes that gleamed slightly red under the sunlight. They were undeniably the same color as Greta’s. That was why Ragaen kept looking at Richard.

He hoped that by doing so, Greta’s face would come to mind.

“If it made you uncomfortable, I apologize.”  

“No, it’s fine. Honestly, it was just a bit overwhelming. I know I’m handsome, but if you keep looking at me like that, the others might think you’re interested in me, Commander.”

Ragaen’s brow furrowed deeply.

At that moment, everyone realized one thing.

Ah, at least the Commander isn’t interested in Richard.

If looks could kill, Richard would have been dead right then and there.

***

When Ragaen and Squad 4 returned to the base after their hunt, an incident occurred.

“Commander! Sir Michael has deserted!”  

The previous night, Sir Michael, who had been crying and pounding the ground, saying he couldn’t eat Nibelota meat anymore, had finally caused trouble.

“Deserted?”  

“Yes. Sir Michael has been so elusive that we haven’t been able to find him for three hours.”  

“Three hours? What about training?”  

“Ah, we’ve suspended everything to search for Sir Michael. If night falls, his life could be in danger.”

The vice-commander, who had fought in the Great Demon War, took a step back at the sight of Ragaen’s face, which he had never seen even on the battlefield. It was terrifying, as though he might rip apart anyone in front of him at any moment. His eyes burned with fury.

“You’re saying the schedule has been delayed by three hours.”  

“W-we’ll find him soon.”  

“I’ll find him myself. Call everyone back and resume training.”

Ragaen left the base and returned two hours later with Michael in tow. Michael was clutching a root of kudzu, seemingly determined never to let it go no matter what.  

Michael, clutching the root, was placed in the middle of the training ground that the knights had meticulously prepared. He trembled as he anxiously watched Ragaen.

“Sir Michael. Do you have anything to say?”  

“I-I can’t eat Nibelota meat anymore!”  

“And you think that’s a valid reason to desert, disrupting the entire training schedule?”  

“But it’s all for survival! How can I… Nibelota meat tastes so awful, and I’m starving, and… sniff!”

The knights surrounding them hesitated and stepped back because of the chilling aura emanating from Ragaen.

“From now on, if anyone even thinks about desertion or causes any disruption to the training schedule, this is what will happen.”

Thwack!

Ragaen’s fist struck Michael’s cheek.

“Ugh!”

From that moment, Michael was beaten to the point where dust rose around him. The beating was so merciless that the knights watching trembled and covered their mouths in shock. The vice-commander spoke firmly.

“Pay close attention. The Commander is hitting him properly. He’s controlling his strength to avoid causing permanent damage and is avoiding striking any truly dangerous areas. You can see that this is a calculated beating meant to discipline Sir Michael. Even hitting someone like this requires exceptional skill. Watch and learn. Especially the way the Commander uses his feet—it’s practically an art form. Of course, Sir Michael’s determination not to let go of the kudzu root even in the midst of this is also something to admire.”

What are we supposed to do with this knowledge?!

In any case, one thing was certain: after that day, no one voiced any complaints about the grueling training schedule or the horrendous monster meat diet.