What Do You Wish For With Murky Eyes: Record of Highserk War - Chapter 17

After the fall of Aidenburg, the first night arrived. The Duwei Squad took turns patrolling the abandoned shack along the river, which served as their sleeping quarters.

Walm usually had someone to accompany him, but today, he was savoring his tobacco alone. It was an unthinkable action in the midst of the battlefield, but due to the thorough suppression during the day, urban security was rapidly recovering.

In addition, except for the Highserk soldiers, there was a strict curfew in effect. Only the reckless or foolish dared to venture outside.

He tossed salted river fish, spoils of war, into his mouth. Originally meant to be added to soup or eating after being desalinated, it was excessively salty. If not for the fact that Walm had been drained of both his physical and magic energy in the last battle, he would not have eaten it.

To rid his mouth of the salty taste, Walm took out his flask and tilted it to his mouth. The alcohol rushed through his mouth and descended into his stomach. He exhaled lightly and looked up at the sky.

The twin moons were faintly floating above, as if playing a game of tag. If it were a half or full moon, the night would have felt brighter than in Walm’s former world, but tonight was a new moon, and the surroundings were dark.

Every time he looked at the moon, it was a strong reminder that he was in a different world. With a cigarette in his mouth, Walm lit it with elemental magic. He couldn’t return to a life where he carried a lighter, even if he wanted to.

Purple smoke slowly spread through his lungs. As Walm exhaled, the smoke dispersed into the air and vanished instantly.

The intense battles during the day seemed like lies, as silence now dominated the night. Walm didn’t mind talking to people, but he enjoyed spending occasional moments alone like this.

In military life, time alone was precious. Other squad members also, when safety was ensured, occasionally found themselves in solitude.

Scratching his head and letting his entire body relax, it’s clear that his exhausted body and mind are in need of sleep.

Despite his absent-mindedness, Walm never missed a faint sound. The source of the noise was emanating from a corner of the pier.

Ferries and fishing boats were being used for the pursuit of the Ferrius remnants. Someone could have come to enjoy solitude like Walm, be attempting to escape from the city, or even there was a possibility of a small animal like a cat—though the latter is unlikely.

Not only soldiers but also many civilians are attempting to escape the city. While initial escapes were overlooked, the Highserk Empire, not desiring a mass exodus, currently restricted movement from the city.

“Who’s there?”

He asks, but there is no response. Perhaps they think they can remain hidden, or maybe they are deliberating on what to do. If there’s no one there, Walm will become a rather foolish person.

He tosses the cigarette to the ground and crushes it with his foot.

Most of his armor and equipment are left in the shack. He’s only wearing gauntlets and a longsword.

“I’ll say it one more time. Who’s there?”

Walm deliberately clangs his sword, and figures emerge from the shack used for fishing.

“You’re not Highserk soldiers. It’s prohibited to go out at night. You understand that?”

It’s a pair of individuals. Blending into the darkness, their silhouettes are barely discernible.

“I- I’m very sorry, sir.”

An elderly man and a young girl apologize, their voices trembling. Wondering what to do, if they’re not malicious, perhaps a stern warning followed by sending them away would be enough—Walm takes a few steps closer and starts chanting a spell.

“«Torch».”

Walm looks to the two, turning his gaze from the light source. Illuminated by the manifested light, a surprised white-haired old man and a blonde girl come into view.

They seem like a grandfather and granddaughter attempting to escape from the city where rape and robbery are occurring.

Their clothing is typical of civilians, but something doesn’t sit right with Walm.

The old man has age-appropriate wrinkles, but his chest and shoulder width are broad, indicating he was well-built in his younger days.

The girl’s hair is dirty with soot, but her body odor was faint. Additionally, her fingernails and fingers are clean. Engaging in labor would usually make hands rough and calloused, but hers are not. There are also no traces of sunburn.

“…Why are you outside?”

“The city is dangerous with looters and rapists. We were thinking of seeking refuge with relatives in the country.”

Walm’s intuition had already hinted that these two were not ordinary citizens. They might be high-ranking military officials, wealthy merchants, or even nobles.

“Are you a soldier?”

“No sir, not anymore. I participated in a war decades ago. Now, I can’t even wield a sword.”

The old man explains with a fearful expression.

“You seem well-trained for someone in retirement. At your age, a bent back would be more natural. And the young lady has remarkably clean hands. Was she some sheltered child?”

“Good health is my only asset. My granddaughter, left orphaned at a young age, was raised carefully to spare her from hardships.”

Walm silently stared at the two without confirming or denying. He took a step closer, and the color of the old man’s eyes turned darker. Walm’s skin tingled, suggesting the old man is quite skilled.

No weapons are visible in their belongings, but there’s a possibility of concealed weapons or items from a magic bag. Moreover, there are even warrior monks who can surpass armed opponents with their bare hands. Vigilance is necessary.

It’s not confirmed yet if they are nobles. Even if they were, considering that most prominent figures have either been captured or killed, it seems meaningless for Walm to obstruct these lower-ranking individuals desperately trying to escape.

The old man’s strength is also unknown. He displays wisdom enough to pretend to be an amateur, but doesn’t seem to care if he’s seen through. Walm fears that if he pokes too much, a snake might jump out from the bushes.

As he continued the stare-down for a few seconds, contemplating whether to call for reinforcements, an out-of-place sound resonates. The source of the sound is the girl; her stomach growled in the midst of this chaotic situation. She possesses quite a bold stomach.

“Um, well, this is…”

The girl’s pale face breaks into a blush, looking adorable.

“K-kukuku, Ahaha!!”

Seeing Walm burst into laughter, the two look at him in astonishment.

“My bad, my bad. It was just too cute. Don’t pamper her too much, if she’s so cute and neat, some bad soldier will snatch her away. ‘If the house is safe,’ go back. I’ll let you off this time.”

The two bow their heads in unison and start to disappear into the alley.

“Wait.”

The two instantly tense up. Walm returns to the spot where he was smoking and offers them two bottles.

“Sorry I already ate some, but I guess you’re hungry. Consider it a little something for your stomach.”

What he handed over was the bottled salted river fish and a small bag of dried beans.

“T-Thank you very much.”

The girl received it with a perplexed expression. The old man looked at him as if he couldn’t understand.

“It’s been a terrible day. This is just a hypocritical gesture to ease my guilt. Don’t hesitate, there’s no poison or anything.”

As Walm offers the bottle and small bag, the girl reaches out and takes them. Though hidden under her hood, gathered inside for easy movement, her golden colored hair resembling a supple wheat field can be seen. Her eyes, reflecting the light from «Torch», are the same golden hue as her hair.

“Thank you very much.”

In that universally appealing soft smile, Walm found himself captivated. Despite the brevity of words and actions, each one was graceful, revealing a high level of refinement.

“Oh… you’re welcome.”

Walm lights a cigarette and leaves the spot. On the way back to the squad, he watches the river. Due to the scarce light in the night, it’s extremely difficult to see across the river. Still, in the darkness, a boat crosses the river without using torches or magic.

“I guess they can’t go back home after all.”

The sight of the invader, sympathizing with the victims is incredibly absurd. These might be the family or neighbors of people he’s killed. One could say it is legal murder with the impunity of war. Moreover, with little patriotism or love for the homeland, Walm, swept along by the circumstances, has no cause, no pride and no shits to give.

“Do I think I’ll be forgiven? Damn hypocrite.”

The destination for one who has lost their way in life may become extremely harsh. Walm is trying to adapt to this world, whether for better or worse.

He no longer has confidence that he can retain the humanity and morality cultivated in the previous world.