Chapter 15 The Last One To Survive Is The Clever Coward!
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
It had already been nearly a month since he became a Slave Trooper under the terrifying noble Viscount Eksban. His time limit on life was rapidly approaching—and that was because, right now, he and the other Slave Troopers were marching with the Caesaran Imperial Army under Viscount Eksban to the battlefield.
To be clear, they had barely been given food or water. He was exhausted and could die at any moment. If he could escape, he would. But since the Slave Troopers were placed at the front lines, being watched from behind at all times, escape was impossible even if he wanted to.
But even in this desperate situation, he hadn’t given up.
”Actually, I have a chance to escape,” he muttered, gripping his worn shield with renewed energy.
”Once we reach the battlefield, there’ll be plenty of opportunities!” he said, eyes gleaming despite the grime.
”I’ll take advantage of the chaos!” he whispered to himself. “I’ll escape in the confusion of the battlefield! I absolutely will!”
With that resolution burning in his heart, three more days passed.
The Caesaran Imperial Army and the Slave Troopers had set up camp on the Open Plains—the designated battlefield—when a messenger on horseback urgently arrived, shouting as he galloped in.
”The enemy forces are coming this way!” the rider cried.
”I saw shadows beyond the horizon!” he panted, sweat streaming down his face. “Could it be… humans? Not monsters?!”
Immediately, the order was given to prepare the entire army for an assault.
”The Caesaran Empire must be strong!! Banzaaaaai!!” a fanatic soldier shouted as the battle horn blared. (T/N: “Banzai” is a battle cry meaning “ten thousand years,” symbolizing long life or victory.)
When the horn sounded, the Slave Troopers were the first to charge toward the enemy’s far-right wing. The rest of the Caesaran Imperial Army veered toward the enemy’s weak left flank. As for him, he strategically hung back, running at only half speed.
When the two armies clashed, a terrible cacophony erupted.
”Aaaaahhh!!” came the blood-curdling screams from both sides as steel met flesh and chaos reigned.
The bodies piled up one after another. He quickly tossed aside the rusty sword and battered shield he had been given and snatched a sturdier mace from a fallen enemy. With practiced panic, he discarded his slave uniform, then spotted a dead horse nearby. Without hesitation, he doused himself in the still-warm blood and collapsed beside it, holding his breath and pretending to be dead.
* * *
Several hours passed after the chaos had died down.
Cautiously, he peeked through squinted eyes before slowly rising to his feet. His body was stiff, and his breath shallow.
Both armies had taken devastating losses.
He swung the mace and broke the chain connecting its iron balls, creating a blunt club easier to carry. Trembling, he moved through the battlefield, stepping around corpses—Slave Troopers, Caesaran soldiers, and enemy footsoldiers alike. The ground was slick with congealed blood, and the metallic stench filled the air. The sheer grotesqueness of it all made him feel like he had already died and was now wandering some bloody hell.
After walking for a while, he spotted someone—possibly a noble from the enemy forces. The man wore splendid armor adorned with a unique crest. Judging by the way he had fallen, the man had likely been pierced through a gap in his armor. The body was fresh.
”Sorry, man…” he whispered as he began stripping the armor off the corpse. “But I need this more than you do.”
The armor fit him perfectly—likely because they were similar in build. The inside was sticky and warm with blood, but he forced himself not to gag. If he encountered any of the enemy forces, he could pretend to be an injured soldier in retreat. That might be his way out.
He sheathed the beautiful sword, still in its scabbard, at his waist and placed his hands together in a silent gesture for the fallen. Then, he began walking toward where he guessed the enemy troops had retreated.
* * *
After walking for a while, a group approached on horseback—likely the enemy.
At the lead was a man clad in splendid armor with a matching crest. He reined in his horse as he drew near, peering down at him from atop the beast.
”Lord Byron!! Are you safe?” the noble called out, eyes wide with relief.
The dead man must’ve been a noble, then. He was now wearing the man’s armor—and being mistaken for him.
”No… as you can see, I’m injured… I’m retreating…” he said, speaking with a slight groan, as though struggling.
If he stayed silent, they’d grow suspicious. So he took the gamble.
”Hmm? Lord Byron? Are you alright? Your voice sounds off…” said a knight beside the noble, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
He coughed deliberately, then added in a hoarse tone, “Actually… I’ve been feeling unwell since before the battle. That’s probably why my voice sounds strange.”
The knight seemed to buy it and bowed slightly. “What a surprise! Please take care of yourself, my lord.”
”More importantly,” he continued, playing the part, “I found the Caesaran Imperial Army’s garrison post. I was hoping to claim credit… but in this condition… I’ll leave it to you all. It’s in that direction.”
He pointed toward the area where he’d been stationed as a Slave Trooper.
”What a surprise!” the noble exclaimed. “They appeared and disappeared like ghosts, and our strategist was struggling to figure out where the main enemy force came from… Well done, Lord Byron! Leave the rest to us! We’ll avenge you!”
With that, the group urged their horses forward and galloped away, hooves thundering against the earth.
He exhaled. The tension that had been clenching his gut finally began to ease.
Looking around, he noticed several horses had wandered the battlefield after losing their riders. Though he had no experience riding, he approached one cautiously and managed to get his foot into the stirrup.
”Let’s see… if I tap with my right foot, it turns right… and left for left…” he muttered as he experimented. “To go forward, I tap the reins. To stop, I pull. Okay… seems trained.”
The horse snorted but obeyed.
With a shaky breath, he straightened his back and clicked the reins.
With this… he could finally leave the battlefield behind.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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