Chapter 10: When the Trigger Is Pulled

“Waaahhh! Drive out those filthy human bastards!!”

“Aaagh! How did they know about the ambush— urk!”

“Th-this is… a trap!! Prepare for full combat!!”

Every time the imperial soldiers stepped forward in panic, they fell straight into pits dug into the ground. Those who barely managed to avoid the traps and reach the village clashed head-on with the orc warriors.

Struck by the overwhelming strength of an orc warrior’s blade, the soldiers fell one after another without resistance.

But the longer the standoff dragged on, the limits of the orc side became painfully clear.

The difference in numbers was brutal.

There were only twelve orc warriors at most.

The imperial army still had around eighty armed soldiers left.

Before long, three or four soldiers were swarming a single orc warrior. As time passed, the orcs’ stamina would drain, and defeat would be inevitable.

That’s why I have to move.

The black-masked man and I had already slipped into the chaotic imperial formation. Under normal circumstances, we would’ve been spotted instantly—but the soldiers were too consumed by battle to even notice two extra men among them.

“The orcs are slowing down! They’re just monsters! Form teams of three and engage them! Rotate once your stamina drops!”

I heard a squad leader shouting orders.

I glanced at the black mask and nodded toward the squad leader.

“Go.”

In the next instant, the black mask vanished—and a dying scream followed.

Before I could even be shocked by the lightning-fast assassination, I quickly gauged the soldiers’ positions and quietly slipped between the clashing bodies of orcs and humans.

Along the way, I narrowly avoided blind spear thrusts and stepped over grotesque corpses without slowing down, calmly observing the situation.

He’s doing great.

The voices of squad leaders shouting commands were rapidly disappearing.

Instead, panicked cries filled the air—shouts about squad leaders and officers being assassinated.

I knew the black mask was skilled—Hessen himself had acknowledged him—but this was far beyond my expectations.

Now all that’s left is a villain’s speech to push things over the edge.

Every time Hessen swung his axe, heads flew and violent gusts tore through the battlefield.

Normally, trained soldiers would look for a breakthrough—but these ones were clearly weaker than usual. Hunger and tension dulled their reactions.

“I protect—!”

The axe moved wildly, stabbing into a soldier like a bull’s horn before swinging sideways in search of its next victim.

“My village!”

A sword grazed Hessen’s cheek, spraying blood into the air. But like a maddened bull released into the arena, the more he was struck, the more his green skin was streaked with red, the more violently he rampaged.

“My family!”

Before long, no one around Hessen was still breathing. Within the reach of his axe, only bodies remained—severed limbs and broken necks scattered everywhere.

The imperial soldiers began retreating, terror written all over their faces.

“M-monster…”

They hesitated.

Though they still had the numbers, news of the centurion and commanders being killed spread from behind, while ahead stood a blood-soaked monster slaughtering their comrades.

And this 5th Infantry Unit?

A unit where soldiers drinking themselves unconscious before battle was normal.

A unit packed with forcibly conscripted mercenaries.

There was no unity. No loyalty to their unit or country.

On top of that, their morale was already crushed thanks to the Besenti powder.

If it were me, I’d be waiting for the moment someone ran—just trying to survive.

Everything was ready. All that remained was pulling the trigger.

I took a deep breath, filling my chest, then shouted with all the strength gathered in my core.

“There’s no hope! I’m running for it!!”

The reaction was instant.

The soldiers who had been fighting out of pressure began murmuring. Then one by one, those who had been glancing around nervously started bolting to the side.

“Damn it! If the commanders are dead, who’s gonna hold us responsible anyway?! Staying here means dying like dogs!”

“W-wait! Take me with you! Who knew there’d be a monster like that?!”

One man became two. Two became many.

“Haa… careful.”

I exhaled, dodging the body of a fleeing soldier as I followed behind them.

The outcome of the battle was already decided.

As I looked at the corpses littering the ground, the groans of the few remaining soldiers, and the blazing fighting spirit in Hessen’s eyes, I bitterly tasted the reality of battle—when someone caught my attention.

“Captain. Don’t smile. I’ll get attached.”

“Cough… We’ve seen each other’s faces for four years… and you’re still not attached? Tch… stubborn bastard.”

“Yeah, so hurry up and get up. Let me get attached already.”

“I refuse. Haa… If I get attached to you, I know I’ll suffer.”

That man… Penguirel?

And the one he was holding—someone called ‘Captain’?

Penguirel’s usually sly expression was dark and heavy. In his arms lay the captain, a deep gash torn across his abdomen, blood pouring out.

This feels… way too familiar.

The moment I heard their exchange, I realized what this déjà vu was.

“This scene is—!”

The cliché scene that appears at least once in almost every novel.

Just as the character is about to give up and accept reality, someone precious gets caught in the villain’s disaster and is on the brink of death—triggering an awakening.

Penguirel wasn’t the protagonist, but he was a supporting character known as the Man of Awakening.

Right now, he might be joking around to forget the brutal reality and the captain’s impending death—but once the captain died, Penguirel would awaken in grief and rage, then wipe out the orc village.

“No wonder it felt too easy.”

If I let that captain die peacefully here, Penguirel would awaken and smash the entire board I’d worked so hard to set up.

“Haa… can’t be helped.”

The situation around us was already over. If I could at least stop a side character’s awakening, I had to try.

So—what’s the first thing you do to save someone who’s dying?

Most people would say: call a doctor, treat the wound, apply first aid.

But what if none of that is possible?

Do I just stand there sucking my fingers while a side character awakens, the quest fails, and my life is put at risk?

Absolutely not.

The answer is simple—summon the all-purpose black mask.

After all, he’d perfectly healed my wounds during the fight with Mishukentul.

If I wanted to keep this captain—who was already saying his goodbyes—from crossing over, I needed to find the black mask.

But how do you find someone so elusive, someone who leaves no trace?

I can’t just shout “Help me, Black Mask!” either.

No. For the sake of my pride alone, I couldn’t say that.

“If we get back… cough— I’ll have to drink that booze you’re buying me…”

“Who’s buying you booze? Drink it with the emergency cash under your bed.”

“How do you know… the emergency cash… Don’t tell me the money that keeps disappearing is— Aaaagh!”

Whether it was rage or pain, the captain groaned, grinding his teeth at Penguirel as he spat blood.

He’s spitting out all the classic lines! At this rate, he’ll really die!

Pride or life?

There wasn’t even a comparison.

Just like when I’d stirred chaos among the soldiers, I gathered strength in my core and shouted—

“Black ma—!”

I couldn’t bring myself to add “help me,” but before the words even finished, a dark figure appeared right in front of me.

Seeing him blink his blue eyes like What is it? made me remember how I’d almost called him like some over-the-top hero.

Stop. Don’t think about it.

I shoved that memory into the darkest corner of my brain and quickly explained—some mercenary captain I happened to know was injured, and I wanted to help.

The black mask nodded without hesitation and followed me to where Penguirel and the captain were.

“This bastard raised me… cough! Fed me… and now he steals my emergency cash?!”

“When did I ever raise or feed you? Captain, you get stabbed and now your memories are falling apart too?”

“You ungrateful little—!”

Judging by how he was grabbing Penguirel by the collar, he hardly looked like someone with his guts nearly spilling out.

But his increasingly pale face told a different story.

“…Who— Ah. Aren’t you the supply soldier, Shin Doyoon? Looks like that ‘supply soldier’ thing was a lie.”

His gaze turned cold.