A Maiden’s Unwanted Heroic Epic

Chapter 58: Lamentation

***Arc 3 The Precious, Chapter 58 Lamentation*** "......I'm fine." Her shoulders were shaking weakly, and her hands were clinging. Those in the tent were surprised and confused at Krische's appearance and looked at each other without saying anything. Her fragile figure, to most people who know how she usually is, was truly a surprising sight. She looked like a frightened child.

It was Kreschenta who timidly called out to her. "O-onee-sama... um, the Count..."

"Yes, ...to confirm it, Krische..." Bery looked at Krische's face. "Krische-sama, are you hurt?"

"...No....Ah" That's when Krische finally realized what she was wearing and hurried separate from Bery. Bery's white apron was stained bright red with the blood that had drenched Krische. Krische eyes shook, and she mumbled an apology.

Bery hugged her body and said, "It's okay."

She understood why she had come all the way back by looking at her. She must have heard about Bogan and feared for her and Kreschenta's safety. She just stroked her and looked at her bloody figure sadly. She didn't mind the blood staining her clothes and hands. She didn't even think it was dirty.

She continued to do so for a while to calm her down and wipe the blood stain from her cheek. Krische's body relaxed a little, and her breathing calmed down.

Gallen, who saw the situation, looked at Bery. A bitter expression appeared on Gallen's face, and Bery hesitantly asked Krische. "Krische-sama, have you calmed down a bit?" The same thing comes over Bery's face as Gallen's. This girl was not just an ordinary girl, as Bery hoped and wished, but a warrior and commander who was willing to take lives in order to win the battle. At least Bery understood that in this situation, there was no time to just comfort and coddle her.

Krische nodded quietly, and Bery bit his lip and clenched his fist tightly. The main camp was also in turmoil. Bogan was being treated at the foot of Mirskronia mountain. The reason he had not been brought here was that he was too badly injured to be moved. He had lost so much blood that it would not be surprising if his heart stopped at any moment. "Krische, please tell me the situation, staying like that is fine."

"Yes." Feeling her body relaxed with relief, she explained the situation on the front line to Gallen. Selene corps was completing its retreat into the mountains, and the Fourth Corps was acting as its cover. The rearguard was the Second and Fourth corps, and at least the retreat was proceeding without major disruption. Krische told only the bare essential information. "As expected, it seems we have to abandon this place."

"Depending on the situation in Mirskronia, Krische thinks it would be better to let the Third Corps take a rest while it still can. After leaving the Dragon's Maw, we will deploy the Third Corps to the front and retreat from here."

"We have no choice but to do that, huh? Bogan's situation is not optimistic, as far as I heard. ------I hate to break it to you, but we have no choice but to assume that a comeback is not possible."

"I see." Krische nodded as she accepted Gallen's words as they were. The people around him were also clenching their teeth in frustration.

There was too much blood. He was still breathing slightly, but considering the amount of blood he had lost, it was now only a matter of time. Gallen clenched his fists so hard that they bled. "The confirmed traitors are Salva Calgera and Gran Agrand; there are probably several people around them, but we can't grasp the situation."

"Adjutant Calgera was found at the side of His Royal Highness. Krische could not kill His Royal Highness, nor adjutant Calguera." Krische's eyes were downcast, and Gallen shook his head. "Don't overdo it. Krische, you have already done more than enough."

"..."

"Gran also disappeared after he summoned Bogan. I would love to find him, but I don't think it's possible. The situation is bad." Gallen said, his tone abhorrent. "I will continue to act as commander and proceed with preparations for the withdrawal of the main camp. Sorry, Krische."

"Yes, Grandpa. Krische will go to Selene as it is. Krische thinks it would be better for Krische to take over the First Corps."

"I will leave it to you." Gallen bowed his head.

Krische replied, 'No,' and after a short pause, she said. "It might be better to use some of the soldiers in the main camp to support the retreat of the Second Corps. The morale of the Second Corps is currently high, but it won't last long."

"Okay. I'll think about it."

"Yes. Krische will continue to head to Bernaich."

"But... Krische-sama, you should take some rest. You've been running all the way, haven't you?" Bery looked down at Krische with concern. Krische smiled happily and told her that she was fine. "KrischeI feels a little relieved, so Krische is fine." After she said that, Krische reluctantly let go of Bery's body. When Kreschenta saw Krische, she trembled. Seeing Kreschenta's gaze sway from side to side and the sword by her side, probably for self-defense, Krische approached and spoke in a low voice. Because there were many people watching them. "Kreschenta, Krische leave Bery to you."

"Yes, Onee-sama."

"about Gotoushu-sama..." Krische searched for something to say to her, but she couldn't. She couldn't say it was not her fault. She also felt it was weird to say consoling words. However, Krische didn't want to blame Kreschenta for something Krische already forgave.

And it was not just her fault alone. It was because Krische had not done well; that was what Krische thought. Even though she, herself, was standing on the battlefield, she let Bogan----

Krische cast down her eyes, paused for a moment, and told her. "No matter what kind of child Kreschenta is, Kreschenta is Krische's little sister." Kreschcenta opened her eyes, and she nodded. She leaned over as she grabbed Krische's blood-soaked cloak. "....Yes." Krische kissed her lightly on the forehead and turned around. "Commander, the Second Battalion has completed the retreat. The Third battalion will maintain the status quo, attract the enemy, and support the Fourth Corps retreat." Selene just kept thinking. To distract herself. "The Third battalion is very tired. Tell them that we will send another support from here. Varga sent half of the Fourth Battalion as reinforcements. Please choose someone who can move."

"Yes, ma'am! 1st, 2nd, 5th, 7th, and 9th divisions, you guys will be supporting the withdrawal of the Fourth Corps. You guys had an easy so far; now it's time to show off your strength!" The Centurion that was called stepped forward and formed a line. "I'll take control of this place. Varga, you go too. Take your adjutant with you."

"But--"

"It's okay, I'm fine. It's best if we could minimize the damage." Selene forced a smile on her face, and Varga saluted.

On the mountainside on the Guildenstein side, the Fourth Corps was acting as the shield. However, it was not possible to let only the excellent Fourth Corps take the brunt of the damage and wear them out. She would need to disperse and calculate the damage calmly. And the damage was the death of the soldiers who followed her.

Selene is now ordering her men to die for their comrades. Her headache was getting worse, and she felt nauseous. Still, she stood and did her duty. That was her role. "Selene." She heard a familiar voice, and at that moment, her face broke into a smile of relief. "Krische..."

"Krische, come here to assist Selene. Umm......." Selene looked at Krische, whose gaze wavered uneasily, and shook her head. Krische looked a little lost. "I saw Krische going up the cliff. His Highness... it seems you couldn't kill him."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I know you're doing your best." Krische's gaze shook even more at those words. She knew better than anyone that she wasn't doing her best. Krische was scared, so she gave up. "The situation is?"

"The enemy is concentrating their forces on the right wing and trying to break through. Not the Fourth Corps, but my side." The Fourth Corps was on the left wing, and the First Corps was on the right-wing cliff side. The enemy probably targeted the hastily created First Corps rather than the more powerful Fourth Corps because of the quality of its soldiers. "Right now, the Third battalion is handling the rear; I am sending Varga to assist with their withdrawal. The current situation places a heavy burden on the Fourth Corps."

"Is that so? Krische understand. Selene, please go back first."

"Huh?"

"It seems Gotoushu-sama is still alive. On Mirskronia's side. Krische will handle the rest." Selene stiffened, and her eyes teared. She was at her limit. "Ok. I leave this place to you, Krische."

"No." The moment she said it, she was already running. Selene ran through the forest and down the mountain. She didn't care if her cheek was bruised by a leaf or a branch. The pain was a small one, but it was a pain that held her back from her emotions and kept her in touch with reality.

She runs past the main camp and heads toward Mirskronia. Soldiers watched Selene running at full speed, some biting their lips in frustration, others bursting into tears. Seeing a soldier slam his fist into the ground, Selene's head was filled with an image that could be called definite.

Don't think about it now. It would affect morale. Many times during the run, she held back the tears that threatened to well up. She pushed down the emotions that made her want to abandon her and just ran.

When she arrived at the Third Corps at Mirskronia, a cavalryman recognized her and immediately ran alongside her, leading her. She thought he was saying something, but Selene couldn't hear it. "Father." In one of the tents, lying on the cot in the center, was a large man. Most of his muscular body was bandaged, and his right arm was missing.

The bandages were still soaked with blood and stained red. "Selene-sama. Right now, somehow, the General managed to stay alive, but--" The military doctor squeezed out his voice and told her. Sweat dripped from the tip of her nose, and her body moved up and down as if to express her disturbed mind. Her hands were strongly gripping the bedsheets.

She understand. She had imagined it too. As long as she was on the battlefield, this kind of thing couldn't be avoided.

Losing your life on the battlefield. As a soldier----as a noble, She knew it would be a proud death. That was what it meant to live as a warrior by the sword.

The countless wounds on his body were those of a warrior. It was a medal for bravery. In that case, she had to send him off with pride. Lying before her was a true hero.

It reminded her of the time she lost her mother. She was kind and cool. Her mother, whom she admired, was always smiling, and she had her smile even in her dying moments. Her father, who was also deeply saddened, comforted Selene without shedding a tear. She, too, should have been like the two people she respected.

As long as it was on the battlefield, it couldn't be helped. And she was the one who was supposed to lead the troops. She was not allowed to let her emotions get the better of her.

And yet-- "Ahh, f-father..." Unable to bear it, She burst into tears and choked back her sobs. She fell to her knees and clung to the bed, unable to hold back the overflowing tears.

Her helmet rolled off. She wore elegant armor; however, at the same time, her back was small. Those who were watching looked at her with a sorrowful expression without being able to say a word.

Selene Christand----the only daughter of the hero Bogan Christand. She was full of talent and a hard worker; she fulfilled her duties splendidly, no matter how much her small body had been burdened with. There was no one in Christand who did not know this.

No one in Christand would scoff at the sight of such a weeping girl clinging to her father as weak-willed. She sobbed and shook her shoulders as if the tension in her body would break down. Even with her armor on, she was nothing more than a girl, and that girl had literally done everything in her power. She sobbed, and her shoulders shook as if the tension in her body would burst. Even with her armor on, she was nothing more than a girl, that girl had literally done everything in her power, and this was the result.

Her efforts had been reduced to nothing by a despicable betrayal, and she had lost her father.

Some turned their head away, some wept because it was much too cruel. The death of a respected hero, even if they understood, it was unbearable for them. Everyone was gripped by a sense of deep sadness, and rage seethed in their guts.

Then how much grief the Hero's daughter must have felt?

They could not even find the words to express their grief.

Nothing be moved; only sobs echoed in the tent.

----There was a hand that stroked Selene's cheek.

He had lost his right arm, and his remaining left hand tremblingly moved to gently wipe away the tears flowing down her beautiful cheek. "Fa-father...?" Selene turned her tear-stained face. Her beauty was like that of a child, and Bogan, who saw it, said nothing. He tried to say something, but the sound, without forming into words, was lost in the wind.

Selene desperately grabbed his hand. A firm, hard hand. They were much bigger than Selene's, and they were warm.

Bogan only looked at Selene and smiled with his eyes. "Father..." A brave, masculine face. A beard that she hated when she was little because he would rub it on her cheeks. She used to be afraid of his face; it always looked angry. But it was the face of her father who was dearer to her more than anyone else.

His thick arm trembled as he lifted it up and placed it on Selene's head. Bogan's eyes shook as if searching for words, then he firmly looked at her. ----I leave the rest to you. Slowly, without words. The lips moved. It was too short to be the name of his daughter, and it's not 'I love you.' But it was a very Bogan word in every way.

The hand caressed her head, without words, conveyed the depth of his love and then lost its power. As if to show he was holding on to his life only to convey that.

Selene stared at the loosely dangling hand. "No! Father, that's...!" Selene clung to her father. Even though she realized that his heart was no longer beating. "Say something, anything, ...please...Father,......!" That is the last. Never again will his mouth open, Never again will he stroke her head. She couldn't take it anymore and shouted as if she was screaming.

The surrounding people saluted while distorting their faces, and one of them moved to her side. "Selene-sama, We will move the General. Please come with us, Selene-sama." Selene shook her head repeatedly as if she were a spoiled child. The man gave directions to the others, told them to prepare a covered carriage, and waited by her side until she calmed down. He made no attempt to rush her.

When the carriage arrived and took her and Bogan inside of the carriage, Selene was still clinging to her father's corpse. After seeing Selene off, Krische called out to Varga.

"----Varga, support for the Third battalion retreat is canceled."

"Huh?" He frowned, and a confused expression appeared on his bear-like face. "What does that----"

"Message, Fourth Corps Commander Faren, stop supporting the retreat. And please instruct him to make way for the enemy on the right wing. We will lure him into a mobile defense stance and kill them." The Fourth Corps was deployed in the center of Bernaich's left wing. The center of it shifted formation to support the withdrawal of the entire First Corps, acting as the shield. When weighed in terms of the quality of the troops, it was the Fourth Corps' losses that should have been minimized.

Normally, the Fourth Corps should have retreated first, but the Commander of the Fourth Corps, Eluga, was concerned about Selene's mental state, so he took the role of guarding the rear himself. Eluga is tactful and has an excellent eye for tactics.

It was not the best tactical solution, but still, he did so while knowing that. She was grateful that he did so. For Krische, even if it had been a million lives against Selene's, it wouldn't even be worth it to think about it. "Varga, we will use the Third Battalion on the right wing as bait. We will use the entire Fouth Battalion to advance toward the center near the right wing, and when the enemy bites into the 3rd Battalion, we will knock them off from the flank, down the cliff." The Fourth Corps had lost more than enough men. They could not afford to let the enemy cut them down their number any further, or else the enemy's pursuit would not stop. A counterattack was essential.

The Third Battalion would be the perfect decoy. Isolating the right wing from the support of the 4th Corps in the center would inevitably put the 3rd Battalion in a tight spot. It was to create a vulnerable point deliberately. From the start, the enemy concentrates its attack on the right wing, Third 3rd Battalion. They would easily exceed the defense maintenance limits and try to break through. That was the aim.

Unlike stationary defenses, which receive the enemy attack from the front and repel them back, mobile defenses intentionally open holes in the battle line, lure the enemy in and then devour them. Even birds soaring freely in the sky show an opening at the moment they aim for their prey. The bird would then be caught and devoured with a single blow.

Although there is a high risk that one wrong move could result in a complete breakthrough and collapse, there is also a great deal to be gained if it's successful. Krische emphasized efficiency to the end. "T-Then the damage to the Third Battalion will be" Varga grimaced. Krische's order was completely different from Selene's order. She would abandon her comrades, who had taken the rear, becoming their shields, and use them as bait. That would be too outrageous, he thought, and implicitly urged her to reconsider.

Commanders are expected to hold the lives in their hands as numbers and tactics are the very logic of mathematics. But in actual operations, each of those numbers was still a life. Each person offers their life to the commander, and the commander binds those lives together and makes them into a sword. It was an outrageous way to treat those who had the courage to come forward and offer themselves to take on the rear. "That's much too cruel treatment for those who have offered to take care of the rear." He knew of Krische's capability. But the battlefield is not just numbers. Logic and madness.

Varga, who knows the world of the battlefield, a place of sublime honor, glared at her. "Krische judge that the overall loss of military strength will be less that way. Currently, the enemy's morale is high, and if we don't break it first, they will continue to cut down our military strength during the retreat. Krische feels bad for the Third battalion, but that's their role." Varga's gaze could even frighten the most experienced soldiers. However, Krische did not show any reaction to it and then told the messenger. "The Second Battalion is to fall back. However, please order them to carry the rations in the mountain ridge fortress to a remote location and hide them. Just carry as much as possible without overstraining it. Krische will use it later. Please instruct the Fifth Battalion to move forward a little more so that they can support the Third Battalion, which has retreated. Order the Third Battalion to abandon the current situation and to give priority to retreat above all else." The messenger hesitated slightly but then began to run as if scattering. By ordering the Third Battalion to abandon the current situation and retreat, the right wing would inevitably be pushed back. The enemy, aiming to break through, would jump in with joy. That was what she was aiming for.

When she finished, she looked at Varga. "This is a situation where the enemy will chase down our forces if we retreat. Without counterattacks, the enemy's morale will only get higher as they attacked us one-sidedly. But if we counterattack and make them abandon the pursuit, the Fourth Corps can safely retreat. And the veteran soldiers of the Fourth Corps should be emphasized in terms of current military strength." Then she approached and stared into the face of the man who was disbelieving and displeased with her. "----Varga, do you not understand?" Icy purple crystal eyes. Cold eyes as if it was a snake. Varga shook his head with a bitter look on his face. "No."

"It's logic that Selene could understand, of course. But Selene was a little confused. It's no wonder she didn't realize it. But you are now effectively the representative of the Adjutant, the replacement for Krische. So, to minimize the danger to Selene, this is something you should have suggested to her." Discomfort crawled into her chest. Even though she could feel relieved, it still swirled around without disappearing.

'If only there were multiple Krische.'

If that were the case, Selene wouldn't have been saddened. "Cruel? What are you talking about? A soldier's role is to kill the enemy for a specific purpose. Do you think that your role is to put Selene in danger with your stupid logic?" She made Selene sad. Krische could not avenge Gotoushu-sama.

The man in front of her was rebellious.

Various discomforts were mixed in within Krische. "If that's the case, Krische will kill you right here. We don't need a single incompetent person on Selene's side. ----What's your answer?" Krische's right hand rested on the hilt of the curved sword at her waist. It was a threat. But she showed no hesitation in doing so. If he still showed defiance, she would cut off his head. All she had to do was to select one new person from among them who would listen to her without saying a word.

Krische looked at Varga with cold eyes. "I didn't misunderstand. I was wrong." Varga squeezed out a few words. Even this bear-like man was afraid of the girl in front of him. The girl was not as she appeared when she was with Selene; there were only inorganic eyes as if she were not the same person. "The only thing we need to do now is to retreat while maintaining our forces as much as possible. Any objections?"

"Yes, ma'am. No."

"We don't have much time. All Krische asks of you is to understand it and act on it."

"Understood." Krische cut his gaze from Varga and looked at the soldiers standing in line. The soldiers' faces were also tense, and Krische frowned. She had heard about the poor quality of the soldiers. She knew a soldier's skill level when she saw them. "The Fourth Battalion is not well-trained; Krische will accompany them."

"Yes ma'am. ----Fourth Battalion, I will change the previous instructions! We will now take all our troops and launch a counterattack against the enemy together with Adjutant Corps Commander. We will assemble immediately, move in line to the center, and knock down the enemy who is biting the Third Battalion down the cliff!" Varga suppressed all emotion and simply moved to fulfill the role Krische had asked him to play. He knew that Krische was abnormal. She sees and perceives her soldiers as numbers, with no empathy.

Naturally, Varga did not have the same feelings toward her as he did for Selene, and all he had was his military duty.

After that, half of the Third Battalion dead. The battalion adjutant was killed, and the battalion commander, Keith, was severely wounded with a broken arm and countless hemorrhages.

This was the result of concentrated damage. The Third Battalion, which was ordered to retreat without any support, was targeted in the rear by the enemy as it retreated, and the enemy soldiers, drunk with victory and elated that they had broken through the enemy, swarmed around it.

However, it was only a set-up, a trap using the 3rd Battalion as bait. They were caught up in the frenzy of the battle, and the beast took them by the throat from the flank. A surprise ambush from the flank. The result was so great that the Fourth Battalion's counterattack caused the enemy to bleed nearly three times as much.

The Cursed Child, Krische Christand, takes advantage of the forest's cover and relentlessly reaps the commander-level personnel. Bloodflowers bloomed and then disappeared, and the pursuing forces fell into a state of panic after losing their commander.

The hero who was encouraging his allies until just now had turned into a corpse before they knew it. The silvery hunter lurks in the darkness of the forest, only to reap the lives of heroes.

The ambush and the monster----as a result of the combination of these two elements, the soldiers realized that they had been lured into the hunting ground and gradually stopped advancing, even throwing out their swords and turning their backs. As if in unison, the Fourth Corps rolled out their reserve force and calmly bit the fleeing enemy soldiers in the back.

The pursuit battle that the Gildanstein troops were conducting in the mountains had suddenly turned into a retreating battle. The men who were drunk on victory are thrown into a hell of a scream.

Gertz Wiring realized the disadvantage at the mountain from the commander's screeching report and decided to call off the pursuit. This formidable army led by a Hero would inflict even more blood loss on the enemy by counterattacking, even in a retreating battle. Gertz, who had a long military career, naturally knew this.

Gertz, who thought they who had lost Their leader Bogan would lose their power, immediately changed his perception and immediately decided that it would be foolish to pursue in the mountains.

Gertz's decision that the Christand had not lost its power even without Bogan was indeed a wise one. What was unexpected, however, was that the frontline chain of command had suffered a more devastating blow than he had imagined. Orders were not being relayed to everyone, and the soldiers did not even know who was in command.

As a result, the damage on the Gildanstein side, including deaths, serious injuries, and deserters, amounted to nearly 4,000 casualties, compared to 1,500 losses for the Christand forces during the Bernaich's retreat. However, there was little praise for Krische, who performed a perfect withdrawal battle.

She killed more than anyone else, was bathed in blood, and never stopped. Scraping the flesh of the respected heroes around her, smashing their skulls, snapping their necks, and easily transforming into a mute mass of flesh, there was only a pool of blood at her feet. It was as if she was born out of that pool of blood.

It was not a battle but mere carnage. She drove her enemies to the brink of collapse without mercy. She ruthlessly hunted down the heads of those whose will fight had been broken as if to make an example of them. As if to instill fear even in those whose will to fight had been completely broken.

She was dyed red and black, dripping drops of blood and sweat. She killed more enemies than anyone else, but still, no one praised her as her hero. She leaned against a tree, breathing heavily, and no one appreciated her. The soldiers looked at her from a distance, only to fear her, while remembering what she was called.

----The Cursed Child, Krische.

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