Over the past ten days, the 42nd Squad had achieved remarkable victories in subduing the enemy hordes on the Eastern Front.
A great achievement.
But not the greatest.
"Squad leader. Training is complete."
A calm voice, brimming with pride.
It could only belong to Austin.
They've changed.
Morlowe thought as he observed the group assembling before him.
The most important success.
This transformation in the soldiers' attitudes had become the young commander's greatest source of pride.
In just over a week, the battalion members had acknowledged Morlowe's capabilities.
Though not all of them, of course...
A bitter smile crept across Morlowe's face.
Austin couldn't tear his gaze away from the young leader.
His swordsmanship is exceptional on its own, but his ability to read the flow of a battle and command his soldiers accordingly is equally astounding. He seems like a veteran who's walked the battlefield for ten years.
And because of that, Austin felt a strange contradiction within himself.
I want to return to my squad…
If he returned to his battalion and earned a bit more merit, he'd surely become a captain within a few years.
But I want to stay by his side far more than I ever imagined.
Morlowe was only eighteen.
He was still young.
And that could only mean one thing: his untapped potential was as vast as the ocean, capable of reaching new heights.
Perhaps one day he'll become a commander whose name is known across the kingdom… no, across the entire continent.
A commander who rules over sky and land.
A comrade who commands the world alongside his general. That wouldn't be a bad future at all.
A slight, foolish grin appeared on Austin's face.
He was snapped out of his daydream by Morlowe's composed voice.
"That makes ten days. How many members have chosen to return to their squads?"
"Four, sir."
"Fewer than I expected. And you, Austin? What will you do?"
The question seemed casual, almost tossed aside.
The soldier locked eyes with his captain.
"I want to serve by your side, sir."
An expression akin to that of a child seeing snow for the first time appeared on Morlowe's face.
"Good. I'm glad to work with you," the young man said, extending his hand.
"Me too, sir," Austin replied, gripping it firmly.
That very day, the four who still saw Morlowe as a mere upstart returned to their respective squads.
"They're out of their minds. Every single one of them."
"Are they really planning to serve under that brat?"
"I hope they don't regret it when they become cannon fodder."
"My mother always said—picking the right people is a skill."
Mockery and scorn spilled from the mouths of the four.
But they couldn't have known.
They could never have known that they would be the ones to regret their decision for the rest of their lives.
____________
"Alright! It's time to begin team training."
Morlowe started the drills with his remaining members.
It was a practice he hadn't skipped once in the past ten days since becoming squad captain.
At first, all the members—except Frederic and Glenn—had shown resistance to these exercises. But now, it had become routine.
It was a training method Morlowe had developed at the Academy, refining it through countless sleepless nights.
From his first day in the capital, he'd realized one undeniable truth: most students and teachers focused solely on honing their own roles, neglecting other critical aspects.
In a world where everyone wields a gun, holding a rifle doesn't guarantee survival.
From the beginning, Morlowe had understood this simple yet profound reality.
For now, charging in a square formation is all we can do.
It was the simplest of formations he'd devised over the years, studying ancient wars and poring over old history books.
But soon, the dynamics of battle will change. Like the beat of a butterfly's wings, I too will create a tsunami.
Morlowe clenched his fists as the thought surged through him.
Various formations, tactics, and strategies would become indispensable.
Even with a twenty-person squad, sound strategy and coordinated movements could significantly increase their chances of victory.
If my instincts are correct… we'll become the strongest squad the Empire has ever seen.
Unconsciously, Morlowe bit his lip until it bled.
In front of him, the sixteen remaining members were running across the plains, fanning out to the right and left.
"Remember! Swinging your weapons and charging forward isn't fighting; it's getting massacred while hoping to take the enemy down first! We need to account for our squad's current position and our objective."
Morlowe's firm, powerful voice carried on the wind.
"We must understand our allies' situations and figure out how to assist them."
A voice filled with resolve.
"You must be able to decide the best course of action based on this knowledge."
Without warning, Morlowe raised his thumb and index finger skyward, waving his hand.
It was one of countless signals he'd taught his subordinates over the past ten days.
The members scattered to the right abruptly halted, then veered left.
A swift maneuver, but not swift enough for the young captain.
"Training isn't just about conditioning our bodies. We must study the signals, the movements, the formations, and the strategies—even in moments like this. We need to reach a point where our bodies move instinctively, without thought."
"Yes, sir!"
A spirited response.
It's impossible for them to learn everything in just ten days.
And precisely because of that, repeated training followed by further study was essential.
Suddenly, Morlowe struck his right shoulder with his left hand, forming a fist.
Swish
The running soldiers began to slow until they stopped completely.
Before them stretched an open plain.
Standing still, Morlowe gazed at his squad.
The sun's rays seemed to crown him, dancing across his face.
"It's time to truly become a phantom squad."
The young man proclaimed.
The throats of every soldier went dry, as if parched by desert heat, at the words spoken with such unwavering conviction.
And finally, even the sun seemed to concede, retreating beyond the flat earth, as if to yield to someone destined to shine brighter than anything else.
____________
The 7th Company soon achieved countless victories.
And even amidst their triumphs, the Rose Troop, to which the 42nd Squad belonged, stood out with every battle.
"It's thanks to the phantom squad."
"They say the commander's a kid with a five-star role!"
"That's not the scariest part. Even without him, the squad has reached a level of skill where they can operate independently. And that Frederic… I've never seen anyone wield a spear like that."
"They say they train on their own, even during breaks."
"That's not all! People claim they're practicing strange, unseen exercises!"
The newly forged 42nd Squad quickly gained fame among the soldiers of the 7th Company, proof of the attention they were garnering.
____________
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Drums thundered across the camp, rousing it from slumber.
"Attention! Prepare for battle! A goblin horde has invaded the Pedian Plains!"
Instantly, all soldiers emerged from their tents, flooding the rally grounds.
At the center stood Morlowe and the 42nd Squad, ready for orders.
Beside them, Gale and his advisors mounted their horses, prepared to ride.
"The Black Squadron, Argentum Squad, and Iridium Squad are battling a goblin army!"
Gale's steady voice cut through the stillness.
"There are about two thousand goblins! Our mission is to rescue the three battalions!"
In his hand, a long sword pointed westward.
"Rose Troop! Move out!"
"Charge!"
At the vanguard, cavalry and special infantry.
Beneath them, the trembling earth quaked under the soldiers' advance.
And at last, Morlowe spotted them in the distance.
Focusing his mana into his eyes, the miles ahead seemed to shrink into meters.
Yet, the scene before him felt strange.
They don't seem to need help...
Morlowe thought, staring straight ahead.
The three squadrons had already driven the goblins back, forcing them to the forest's edge.
Victory was within reach.
"Chwee!"
Even the monsters seemed aware of it.
At the cry of what appeared to be their leader, the remaining green-skinned creatures cast aside their weapons and bolted into the woods.
"After them!"
"Kill them all!"
In a heartbeat, the three squads charged after the fleeing monsters.
Thud-Thud
Thud-Thud
Thud-Thud
Thud-Thud
"Faster! Faster!"
Gale's voice grew increasingly tense.
And then, they too were swallowed by the forest.
____________
The sunlight barely pierced through the canopy, and finding their entry point had become impossible.
A chill ran down Morlowe's spine.
That alone was enough for him to grasp the situation.
Damn it...
"Ambush!"
His gaze locked on the unnaturally shifting forest around him.