Chapter 342: Gotta Find an Excuse Before the Fight Starts
Steven wandered into the guerrilla camp, intending to drop by Yelena's squad. Maybe chat about their latest missions, maybe ask what she thought of Talulah's grand plan to form the Reunion Movement.
But to his surprise, neither Yelena nor the Yeti Squadron were anywhere in sight.
To be precise, the entire squad seemed to have vanished. Judging by the empty campfires, it wasn't hard to guess what had happened—she'd likely taken her brothers and sisters out on another mission.
And not just them. Even Patriot's elite shieldguards were missing.
If they were deployed as well, then something serious was going down.
Another mine raid, maybe?
It seemed likely.
With that thought, he opened up his minimap and started scanning for the girl's marker.
Sitting in the Infected camp listening to endless sighs of despair was just depressing. Going out on missions with the guerrillas was far more fun. At least fighting got his blood pumping—without the risk of being infected by all that negativity.
Besides, he was genuinely curious. What kind of mission was important enough to mobilize all of the guerrilla main force? If there was that much "fun" to be had, then of course he couldn't miss out.
Fortunately, Steven had tagged Yelena and the other key people ages ago. The minimap didn't show their exact positions unless he was close, but it was enough to give him a general direction. Which is good enough.
After checking the map, Steven narrowed his eyes against the cold wind and set off once more across the familiar snowfields.
. . . .
The border of Ursus was as frigid as ever. With winter looming, the icy bite in the air was even sharper, carried by gales that felt as though they wanted to freeze the entire world solid.
Steven himself no longer felt much of anything from the weather—but just looking at it made him click his tongue.
If the Infected hadn't been taken in by the guerrillas, they'd be left to endure this brutal winter on their own. Just by imagining it, he could already sense the breath of death closing in.
No wonder Talulah was so desperate to save them. The situation really was that tragic.
When it came down to it, Ursus's treatment of the Infected was simply too cruel. In Kazimierz, the Infected weren't welcome either, but at least it wasn't a policy of total extermination.
And Iberia? Please. Those lunatics were so wrapped up with the Church of the Deep they barely cared about the Infected at all. For them, disdain and persecution just weren't on the schedule.
Come to think of it, across all of Terra, Iberia might actually be the fairest place for the Infected. Not because of kindness—but because they simply didn't give a damn.
'Still,' Steven thought with a wry grin, 'if my potatoes really do save that half-dead nation and help it rise again, who knows if they'll keep that same attitude. It's hard to say.'
Amusing or not, his musings were cut short as he finally caught up with the guerrillas.
What greeted him was a battlefield strewn with bodies—an Infected patrol squad, cut down to the last man, the snow stained with their blood.
These so-called "Infected patrol squads" weren't even official Ursus forces. They were little more than gangs of thugs, hired muscle cobbled together into a mock army. And ironically, they were the ones who most often brutalized the Infected.
So when the guerrillas fought them, there was never any thought of holding back. Trash like this didn't deserve mercy. Killing them was practically doing the country a favor.
And it wasn't just the guerrillas who thought so. The Ursus government never treated these scum as legitimate troops either—just disposable tools for dirty, shameful work. Losses? Completely irrelevant.
That's why he was certain that if even Patriot's personal shieldguards had been deployed, it wasn't just to clean up small fry like this. Something bigger had to be happening.
He pressed onward, following Yelena's marker, curious to see exactly what kind of enemy warranted such a mobilization.
The deeper he went, the more the corpses changed. The ragged thugs of the patrol squads gave way to black-armored soldiers—Ursus regulars, their equipment far better than that of the infected patrol squad.
"Oh? Even the regular army's involved? Now that makes things interesting."
Steven stroked his chin as he studied the bodies.
These weren't the pathetic dregs from before. And yet… not a single Yeti Squadron or shieldguard lay among them.
Which meant Yelena's squad had cut through them without taking losses.
Thinking about it, that wasn't surprising. The shieldguards under Patriot were monsters in their own right, and the Yeti Squadron weren't exactly pushovers either. With Yelena at their center, amplifying their Originium Arts, every one of her "brothers and sisters" fought like an ice-born master. Their combat experience, their coordination—it was a nightmare for anyone facing them.
He had seen them fight before. Alone, each one was about on par with a standard Rhodes Island operator. But together, with Yelena weaving her frost-born power through their formation, their strength multiplied manyfold.
Their tactics and abilities were built entirely around her as the core. With her in play, even clashing with a squad of shieldguards wasn't unthinkable.
…Well, unless Patriot himself was leading them. Against that monster, even two Yelenas wouldn't tip the scales.
As far as sheer martial might went, excluding him, Patriot was the peak of humanity in this world—or at least the peak he had seen. None had surpassed him yet.
"So who exactly are they after, to make even the regulars throw themselves away as cannon fodder? Now I'm curious."
His minimap confirmed Yelena's position—and two unfamiliar markers beside her. Gray, meaning neutral. Not friend, not foe.
"Neutral, huh? So… negotiations are on the table?"
Steven scratched his head, clearly intrigued by whatever had drawn out the guerrillas in force.
And when he finally reached the scene, he found himself stepping into a tableau of tension—two sides squared off, swords practically at each other's throats.
Several members of the Yeti Squadron already lay fallen on the ground. Their bodies and wounds were shrouded in a black mist—something disturbingly familiar to Steven's eyes.
And it wasn't just the mist he recognized.
The two towering men facing off against Yelena were dressed in black, strange respirators covering their faces. At a glance, Steven immediately placed them.
'Well, look who it is. The "Emperor's Blades"… or was it the Royal Guard? I don't remember. '
All he remembered about them is that the five whom he had met were hunting down the first Collapsal that he met.
He narrowed his eyes, glancing at the names hovering above their heads. Still gray, not red. Neutral. Which meant his guess was right.
'But why the hell are they clashing with the guerrillas?'
Weren't they supposed to be busy chasing the Collapsal? Since when did they have time to pick fights out here in the snowfields?
Rubbing his chin, Steven frowned in thought—then shook it off.
Watching wasn't his style.
Instead, he moved immediately toward the injured Yeti Squadron, the ones still clinging to life despite that ominous mist clinging to their wounds.
With all the care of someone handling wayward chicks, he hauled each battered fighter upright, dousing them liberally with his stock of Lingering Healing Potions.
That entrance, of course, drew every eye at once.
The two masked enforcers looked startled. But Yelena, recognizing him, visibly relaxed.
A moment ago, she'd been steeling herself to hold the line, ready to cover a retreat for her wounded brothers and sisters. But with him here? That pressure lifted.
Steven raised his head, grinning at the three staring figures.
"…What? Why're you looking at me? Don't mind me, keep going. I'm just a bystander, a professional corpse-picker, doubling as field medic. Pretend I'm not here."
He waved them off casually, as though this really was none of his business.
After all, he wasn't here to pick a fight with the Emperor's Blade. Yelena valued the Yeti Squadron deeply—called them her brothers and sisters. The least he could do was drag them out of the line of fire.
But as for drawing steel against the Ursus enforcers? Hard to find a reason for that. Their names were still gray, after all. Technically neutral. They hadn't done anything to him personally. In fact, last time they'd even been… well, polite.
He'd even thought they seemed like a surprisingly reasonable bunch.
But…
If they tried to lay a hand on Yelena or the Yeti Squadron—if they hurt people he cared about—then the situation would change entirely.
Which was why, for the moment, Steven was perfectly happy to sit back and let them make the first move.
He'd much prefer if they were the one who start the fight.
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
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