Episode 9: I Mistook the Genre and Ended up Becoming a War Hero

Episode 9: Northern Front (8)

The scent of medicinal herbs and the acrid smell of blood-soaked bandages stung my nose. The familiar stench of a field hospital—a place I’d visited so often it felt like home.

Staring at the ceiling, I closed my eyes. My memories were hazy. After thrusting my sword along the black Wave, everything went dark.

Perhaps sensing my subtle reaction, Rie, who’d been by my side all night, woke in a groggy state and gave a faint smile. Her empty left sleeve fluttered. Despite losing her arm, she was alive.

“Captain, you’re up?”

“How long was I out?”

“About two weeks. Even for you, isn’t that a bit too long?”

“The subjugation…”

Rie gave an awkward smile, hesitating as if unsure how to respond before speaking, her tone disbelieving.

“We won. I only heard about it, so I don’t know the details, but they say you pierced the heavens or something. Anyway, it ended right after that.”

Rie herself had only woken a week after the battle.

Her uncertain reaction confirmed it for me: we had defeated the first demonic beast, Erebeon.

The obsession gripping my mind loosened slightly. Relief at liberating the northern front mixed with irritation that the south, east, and the Red Star still remained.

It was a small comfort that, after defeating the first demonic beast, the remaining threats felt less like despair and more like annoyances. Eight years ago, I was powerless, forced to the northern front. Now, my strength was the key difference. I let out a light breath, feeling a bit unburdened.

“You did well, Rie. Truly.”

“I didn’t do much. This is all your achievement, Captain.”

I wanted to deny that. I knew I wasn’t here because of my own brilliance. I owed my survival to the people of the front lines, sustained by the lives of others.

I still remembered the faces of those who saved me, who kept me alive. I recalled Crim, who guided my clumsy self. I faced the memories of comrades who fought beside me and fell before me. Could I have survived this long without them?

“No.”

I knew that wasn’t true.

“…Captain?”

“It would’ve been impossible without all of you. Thank you.”

Looking at my immobile limbs, I murmured softly, my voice unwittingly trembling with sobs.

“Truly.”

I hadn’t cried when Crim died. Not when my training mates, my comrades-in-arms, or the superiors who risked everything to save others fell. Only now did I understand why I couldn’t cry then.

“Thank you, truly.”

I had held back my tears to honor their deaths with this victory.

***

Two months later, I recovered enough to move, though not fully, requiring walking aids. The Wave resonance that killed Erebeon had taken a severe toll on my body. I spoke quietly to Lady Freya Nordelheim.

“Are you doing alright?”

Freya was gazing at the grave of her father, Baldir Nordelheim, the commander-in-chief who died to a great beast before Erebeon’s defeat. She turned to me with a faint smile, holding a white flower.

“Thank you for fulfilling my father’s lifelong wish. Without you, the northern front would never have been liberated in his era.”

She bowed with formal courtesy, showing deep respect.

“As the next head of the Nordelheim ducal family, I offer you my profound gratitude.”

“It would’ve been impossible to win without you and the commander-in-chief.”

Freya smiled softly.

“I’m always grateful to you, Ian. I don’t know how to repay this debt… Tell me what you desire. As the next head of Nordelheim, I will grant your wish.”

No longer the lively girl, Freya stood with the dignity of a future head of house. People are always changing, never staying still, constantly moving forward and evolving. That change is what makes humans human, embodying the potential for growth.

“My wish—”

It’s no longer about my own survival.

“Is that you stop trying to bear the weight of the fallen soldiers. That the Nordelheim ducal family, which has served as the empire’s shield for over 400 years, be freed from all its duties and burdens. That’s the only wish I have for you.”

I owed Freya so much. I didn’t want to see her wear such a sorrowful expression.

“I’ll carry the weight of the dead.”

I tightly grasped her hand.

“This isn’t your responsibility.”

Freya burst into tears. I quietly accepted her sorrow, just as she had once tended to my scars, silently.

***

For the first time, peace came to the northern front, where battles against monsters and demonic beasts had raged endlessly.

With the first demonic beast was slain, both the monsters and remaining demonic beasts began to disappear.

Three months later, as the survivors nearly fully recovered, a festival was held to honor the fallen and celebrate 400 years of unprecedented peace.

Paper lanterns hung low on the castle walls, coloring the night sky.

The fortress, once stained with blood, was filled with human voices again.

Before a memorial stone in the plaza’s center, soldiers and citizens bowed in turn.

The marble slab, draped In black cloth, was etched with the names of those who never returned. Countless names, each one meaningful.

Incense and flowers wafted on the gentle breeze.

The priest paused for a moment of silence, and all followed, bowing their heads.

Some quietly wept; others stood with clasped hands.

A single paper lantern floated skyward on the wind.

Soon, dozens, then hundreds, rose from the plaza into the darkness, like the souls of the departed ascending.

In that moment, no words or music were needed in the plaza. Irena and I watched the scene in silence. Amid the quiet, she spoke softly.

“…This might be the first truly quiet night.”

No clashing steel or soldiers’ dying screams echoed from the front. Irena tilted her glass, her cheeks flushed.

“Thanks for keeping our promise. I’m a bit disappointed we didn’t finish it together.”

“What are you talking about? We did finish it together. Without those who bought us time, killing that thing would’ve been impossible.”

Soon, bells rang, and the feast began. Franz Eldin, limping onto the stage with a cane, raised his glass high.

“To everyone. And to this night without monsters.”

People raised their glasses, laughing and toasting. They sang and smiled, burying their sorrow. All of it was real.

For the first time in 400 years, a night without demonic beasts arrived. The night sky, free of the monsters’ shadow, was filled with stars.

The clink of glasses, the sound of instruments, and dancing under the lanterns.

Grief hadn’t vanished, but the fragile peace blooming atop it was strong enough to envelop this night.

For now, I set aside thoughts of the southern kingdom alliance, the eastern cult, and the central Red Star.

Irena, sharing a drink with me on the terrace, whispered,

“Hey, Ian.”

Irena had always been plagued by regret. What if she’d done things differently? Could she have saved lives if she’d acted otherwise? Knowing she couldn’t redo the past, yet painfully aware that humans could never achieve perfection, she sank into endless regret and self-loathing.

But now, for the first time, Irena didn’t regret her choices. Even if she could relive her life, she believed she’d make the same decisions again.

“Meeting you was the greatest fortune of my life.”

In an instant, Irena leaned toward me, smiling shyly.

“Thank you.”

What expression was I making? One thing was certain—my face was burning red.

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