# Ivan Petrovich
As many who know him would agree, Ivan is a rational and logical individual who doesn't particularly discriminate between different types of weapons.
During operations, the loss of weapons is like a tax for agents, and a good agent should be able to handle any weapon they acquire with above-average proficiency.
However, though others might not easily understand, he too has his preferences.
He preferred firearms. Especially pistols.
"Why?"
Enrique Sergeyevika once asked this question. The context surrounding it is now hazy, but it went something like this.
It was during a time when they were forced to operate almost like a decapitation unit, not facing regular army corps or common soldiers.
At this level, whether dealing with magical beasts or magical races, line-of-fire detection was typically well-developed. For commander-class enemies, due to the power dynamics in magical races' ecology, they were invariably the strongest individuals in their corps.
When facing such beings, guns quickly lost their effectiveness. No, one shouldn't even fire them. The sound of discharge would attract the attention of magical beasts. Since magical races fundamentally didn't use firearms, gunshots were essentially alarm bells announcing invaders to them.
"Hmm."
"You're dodging the question again."
"Hmm."
She knew this fact too, so she would playfully smile and lead the conversation.
Because he liked that, because he liked their relationship even in this godforsaken medieval setting, Kim Seon-woo deliberately hardened his expression and nodded silently.
"Let me guess. You're trying to look cool! Just for this. Lieutenant Colonel. Hmm... Bang! And now someone asks. Ahem! Lieutenant Colonel, what do you feel when you kill an enemy?"
Enrique started a playful solo interview with a mischievous expression. She then narrowed her eyes sharply and imitated Kim Seon-woo's voice. Her tone was almost identical, and he nearly burst out laughing.
"Recoil."
"Ahem."
"Ah, you laughed. You laughed. Right? See? Sasha, pay up. I told you I could make him laugh."
"Ah, that was a bet you forced on me, Major. I knew I'd lose. And Lieutenant Colonel, you're particularly easy to make laugh around the Major."
Kim Seon-woo would have quickly hardened his face and denied ever laughing. Then Sasha would enthusiastically agree, and Enrique would giggle as she emptied Sasha's wallet.
As the sun set, they would take turns standing watch, celebrating that no one had died that day.
There were days like that.
"Uncle? What are you thinking about?"
"Hmm?"
Ivan briefly scanned his surroundings with blurred eyes. He saw the brilliant sunlit view of the training facility. Different faces from back then.
Ah, right. The question was why he used firearms as his main weapon.
"When I first entered the battlefield, it was out of fear."
"You...?"
"Everyone should fear death."
Ivan answered seriously, looking at Asidis Einarsdottir. Those who don't fear death disappear easily. Fear is the final bastion that guarantees survival. Humans should always live with at least a minimal amount of fear.
"Back then, I was a boy soldier who couldn't even handle a single orc. But a gun would always penetrate an orc's head if I just had the strength to pull the trigger."
"What about transcendents? Or enemies with line-of-fire detection, or heavily armored vanguards?"
"When you meet such beings, you die."
From a conscript's perspective, transcendents, heavy infantry, and cavalry are nothing short of grim reapers. They're high-tier troops you wouldn't normally encounter on average frontlines, and if you did face them, you'd die equally whether you held a gun or a sword.
"Shoot. Target #3."
"Yes!"
Asidis responded energetically and immediately picked up the pistol. After correcting her grip and posture once, the bullet soon penetrated the target.
Basically, from the moment one becomes a transcendent, posture control happens at the instinctive level. With accurate posture and some technique, a properly made firearm will invariably produce the same result.
"Guns remained useful later on. You can eliminate distant enemies without having to swing a sword, and in most cases, it's a weapon that allows for preemptive strikes. Next, shoot."
Directly confronting transcendents on the battlefield is extremely rare. That is, as long as most opponents are ordinary people, guns remain superior to swords.
-Bang!
After hearing Asidis's gunshot and checking the target, Ivan continued.
"Later, they become even more useful. When you see how someone reacts to a gunshot, you can tell whether they're a transcendent or an ordinary person. There aren't many preemptive strike weapons more useful than guns when acting after identifying an enemy."
Ivan nodded as he saw all of Asidis's shots clustered within the circle on the target. 50m live fire. Nothing special, but it would help with posture training.
Just then, he sensed someone behind him.
-Clap, clap, clap.
Someone was approaching while applauding. Heavy footsteps. Judging by the stride and weight, it was an armed adult male.
"An excellent speech."
When Ivan turned around, the man who had been clapping approached with a slight smile. A slender figure, taller than Ivan by a hand's breadth, looked down at him.
"Are you the Hero of this era?"
"The Hero is in the kitchen."
"...?"
The man briefly furrowed his brow before smiling slyly again.
"The self-proclaimed Hero seems to lack skill in jokes."
"That's a misunderstanding."
"...Is this your concubine?"
"That's a ridiculous misunderstanding."
"Uncle!!"
The man couldn't help but be somewhat bewildered at this point. It wasn't clear whether he was provoking or being provoked. Soon he frowned and said:
"I thought you were enjoying a date, teaching toys so seriously. Quite leisurely behavior, occupying the royal knights' training facility."
"There are plenty of spaces available."
"Unlike those toys, we use 'real' weapons. If the Hero gets hurt, morale drops."
"Hmm."
Ivan looked at the man and nodded quietly.
Fundamentally, knights were combat personnel and field commanders. It was natural for them to be reluctant to have command authority taken by outside guests. In other words, this was a kind of check to intimidate them in advance.
If so, it's better not to respond. Actually defeating this man might lower the knights' morale. Since knights are elite troops, it would be right to ignore them in preparation for upcoming battles.
Above all, he was worried about what might be happening in the kitchen. Since he hadn't taught her the recipe, Isabelle de Etoile might be making some strange risotto or soup again.
"Train well. Asidis, let's go."
"Stop."
When Ivan tried to leave, the man drew his sword and blocked his path. He growled, looking down at Ivan.
"You, and you call yourself a man? I don't intend to speak of honor to someone who isn't a knight, but at least as a man, you should have some pride!"
The man glared at Ivan, who had stopped walking, then retrieved a pistol from the corner of the training facility.
"You show off to your concubine with this toy?"
-Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
He fired rapidly, barely even aiming. But with near-perfect recoil control, the target the man aimed at formed a perfectly circular shot group right in the center.
He looked at Asidis's target next to it and smiled coldly. Asidis had hit the target with only four out of five shots.
"A weapon that doesn't even need training, and you dare occupy the knights' facility to fool around with such peasant toys? You, the Hero, when war is imminent?"
Ivan sighed as he watched the man grinding his teeth. This is, well, a familiar scene.
During wartime, the Hero Party was unwelcome among the knight class.
Basically, the Hero's tactics focused on decapitation operations. It meant assassinating the enemy leader by infiltrating while friendly corps held the enemy's attention.
This naturally forced casualties upon the knight class. The longer the frontline was maintained, the higher the Hero's chances of success. Because they had to fall on the battlefield knowing they would die but unable to retreat.
Therefore, knights couldn't tolerate Heroes entering their camp. Their hatred wasn't ugly envy but a sense of 'injustice.'
-I've lived my entire life relying on my sword.
-I've lived without shame before my honor. I've lived only with dedication!
-But you, Hero. As payment for chasing hope and throwing us all into hell, the world looks up only to you.
-Come, as a knight of Tilles, I will stand proud before my sword today.
Knights who had trained in martial arts their entire lives could never accept a Hero who appeared overnight pushing them into deadly situations. It was unjust. Their sense of injustice was legitimate in a situation where their entire lives were being negated, where they had to struggle with their whole lives at stake.
However, the Hero answered all those duel challenges with one sentence:
"If you defeat me, take my place."
"...What?"
"Isn't it natural? The stronger one should bear the responsibility."
"How dare—!!"
At Ivan's words, the knight charged forward in rage. Stopping at a distance where the blade almost touched, the knight glared at him, breathing heavily.
"Do you not know the value of honor gained in an instant? Do you consider it a cheap responsibility to be thrown away in youthful passion?"
"Do you wish to continue this conversation?"
"You—!!"
The knight struck downward with his sword, still extended. Under the sun, the blade gleamed coldly.
"Don't lower your arm!"
"Hmm."
Ivan was sitting with his arm raised in the Saintess's reception room. The Saintess looking at him muttered with a deep sigh.
"You make fifteen men half-crippled and you're so proud..."
"They are fine."
"Just because you poured that cursed substance on them and treated their external wounds doesn't mean people are fine! They're all having infantile regression and crying for their parents!"
"...That was a healing potion..."
Ivan's small protest didn't convince the Saintess. She continued grumbling.
"Those people were part of the Royal Knights."
"They were skilled."
"And those people were assigned to the Elsros front collective army."
"...Hmm."
Seeing Ivan's expression, the Saintess spoke weakly.
"Your brother was scheduled to go to the Albania front. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"It means they were meant to die."
"Yes."
This is a typical divide-and-conquer strategy. When facing two countries simultaneously, rather than handling a two-front war, it means giving up one side and focusing on the other front.
The front where Ivan participates must not be defeated. Rather, it should overwhelmingly push the enemy back with victory.
At this time, his opposite direction, the Elsros front, had to be defeated. Just until a point not too critical. Boldly enough for the enemies to boast of their military achievements.
After being defeated to the limit and then stalling the front, the Albanian command would first suspect this.
-Aren't we being pushed back because the Crusader Army is only providing support to Elsros?
It's logical reasoning. Realistically, would a country allocate stronger military power to a specific front while being invaded? And assuming the enemy's military power is average, it must be that the rear support was biased, not that they fought poorly or the allies fought well.
After all, no one wants to prove their own inadequacy and incompetence.
Add a minor level of information warfare, and it's done. Unless enemies come united as one, an allied force cannot easily overcome its inherent limitations.
So to put the current situation simply:
"It's an achievement being thrown to Elsros so they can boast adequately."
"Yes, I've seen that often. That kind of thing."
"I see."
One shouldn't retreat, giving up territory without troop losses. To avoid enemy suspicion, one must provide at least minimal achievements. Shouldn't one at least pretend to resist?
So it's a desperate measure. If the knights, especially the Royal Knights, are defeated, it would be undeniable. A battlefield where the most loyal and elite forces are being ground down would naturally appear to be the most dangerous front.
Meanwhile, the collective army with Ivan participating crushes the enemy. Spreading misinformation and sending deserters as spies.
Later, when the Albanian corps is completely surrounded or at least reaches its offensive limit point, then the Crusader Army would ensure that neither Albania nor anyone else would fully trust the Pope's directives.
After all, who knows which country the Pope might support at any moment? Fundamentally, all monarchs care more about their own kingdoms than a crusade.
Ivan felt a bitter taste. He had excessively stopped those who were driven into a corner while breaking their pride.
"...I'm sorry."
"Hmm?"
"I said I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been like this, but I just complained to you for nothing. Lower your arm. Really, what are you doing?"
Has she lost her mind? Ivan quietly lowered his arm and sat down.
The Saintess covered her face with a deep sigh.
"Honestly, the knights were wrong. We've seen that a lot. Why wouldn't I know? But, you know. It's just. You know. I... I'm essentially pushing those people to their deaths."
"Patricia."
"So, I know. I shouldn't be like this, but I just... complained to you. Childish, right?"
"No."
"I tried to attack the Pope at the council. If the Pope hadn't joined hands with the Seven Dragon Generals, I would have killed him. By tying him to the stake and branding him a heretic."
"..."
I know. In a world where faith has disappeared, to unite a divided church, both the Saintess and the Pope needed a scapegoat. And they both considered each other the most suitable sacrifice.
What they both wanted was the same: the stability and peace of the church. The method they chose was also the same: the sacrifice of the other. Only the difference in approach existed.
The Saintess tried to argue through a prophet that "a world without divine intervention is right."
The Pope tried to argue through divine power that "God is angry at the corruption of the world."
If one of them had clearly lost at the council, the church would not have split, and war would not have broken out in the Southern Six Nations. And those remaining would have joined forces against the coming threat rather than declaring holy wars against each other.
That is the sin the Saintess speaks of.
"If only I had..."
"Enough."
Ivan cut off the Saintess's words. He looked at her with cold eyes and said:
"What would have happened then?"
"...Pardon?"
"Who could stop the Pope who joined hands with the Seven Dragon Generals? After the situation calmed down, could the Pope truly conclude everything he had done with his own hands?"
No, impossible. The Seven Dragon Generals corrupt souls. It's a curse that even transcendents cannot resist, one that even Maximillian couldn't resist.
A soul broken by the Seven Dragon Generals cannot be recovered. It's not something that can be overcome by will.
So, from the moment he joined hands with the Seven Dragon Generals, the Pope had already crossed a river of no return.
"Your choice was not wrong. If you had given up, the church would have appeared united. It would have seemed peaceful, as if there had never been any division. But would that truly be the 'church's' peace?"
Could a church that spoke of God's will and taught God's love remain in that peace? The organization might persist, but the ideology would not remain. Faith would be contaminated, and believers would no longer praise the Lord as before.
Seeds of corruption would be planted. Throughout this entire civilization. Since this world believed in monotheism, in that case, no one would be able to stop it. Lamerix would become the god of humans.
"Believe in your choice. Don't regret the past. Don't think about those you drove into peril. They are not heading to death by your command, but martyrs who lost their lives to the blades of the corrupted."
"Do you really think so? That I... that I... that it wasn't just the result of my desperate struggle to survive?"
"I'm sincere."
If it had truly been a righteous cause, the Saintess would not have spared her own life either. As far as Ivan remembers, she never once lived sparing herself.
To begin with, someone who cherishes themselves doesn't walk toward the demon realm. So everyone in that place, all of us in those days, at least in that moment...
Yes, we were pure. That's how it could be expressed.
Ivan poured tea into the Saintess's cup and stood up.
"And if it's something someone has to do, didn't we swear not to transfer our disgrace to others?"
"Brother..."
"So be proud. Don't show compassion to those who fight under your command. That would be insulting their resolve."
"Then what should I do? If I don't pity them, what should I do?"
"Revenge."
Ivan concluded as he left, turning his back on the Saintess.
"And for those who remain, hope."
That is the mindset of the Hero Party. Not to pity the dead. Like the salute slogan of the Annihilation Squad, not to pity those who departed first.
Rather, one must be proud. To not insult the final honor of the dead, one must be able to say they departed brilliantly. One must be that brazen.
Ivan closed the door and left. The sound of soft sobbing could be heard through the door crack.
Now it's time to prepare for the expedition. It means the grand strategy and military organization are complete.
There will be war.
As always.
Ten days later, the first engagement occurred at the border.