"You crazy woman! You dare hit me? You don't want to live anymore, do you?!" The Marleyan quartermaster screamed angrily, clutching the red handprint on his face.
In contrast, Serena was equally furious. If her subordinates hadn't been holding her back, she would have rushed forward and torn that greedy fat man apart.
"Bastard! It's because of you! You bastard! How much of our Third Regiment's supplies have you skimmed off? Every shipment gets smaller and smaller—what are we supposed to fight the Middle Easterners with? These bullets can't even fill a chamber! And the medicine? I just want to know where the medicine allocated to our Third Regiment went! Damn you—do you even know who we're fighting for?!" Serena roared at the Marleyan quartermaster.
The quartermaster's expression turned uneasy for a moment, but it was quickly replaced by a vicious glare. Just a mere Eldian—descendants of devils—daring to act so arrogantly in front of him?
A cushy post like quartermaster wasn't something just anyone could get. The fat man, Bagge, had secured it through his family's influence. Faced with the temptation of money, he had fallen without a shred of principle. And since he managed the logistics of Eldian units, he had even more justification for his corruption.
Descendants of devils—what right did they have to make demands? Fighting for Marley was simply atonement for their ancestors' sins. They should be grateful Marley gave them the chance to redeem themselves.
As for supplies? What were Eldian lives worth? Even the Middle Easterners despised them. Some radical Middle Eastern units didn't even take Eldian prisoners—they simply wiped them out.
Moreover, the Eldian units Bagge oversaw were infamous cannon fodder. To the higher-ups, their lives were just numbers. What profit could be squeezed from cannon fodder? Bagge envied his colleagues. Not only could they resell supplies, but their Eldian units would even "show filial respect" in roundabout ways.
Meanwhile, the cannon fodder under his charge were dirt poor and stubborn to boot. He had hinted many times, yet received almost nothing—especially from this Third Regiment and that Eldian madwoman in front of him. Stubborn as a mule. Every time she cursed him out. This time she even struck him. Utter lawlessness!
So Bagge had decided to "discipline" the Third Regiment. The supplies delivered this time were even fewer than usual. That was why Serena had exploded the moment she saw that the shipment wouldn't even last a week.
"This is rebellion! You—go slap that madwoman twice. Teach her a lesson so she remembers it!" Bagge shouted, hopping in anger as he pointed at Serena and barked at one of his men.
At once, the Eldian soldiers around them turned hostile in their gazes. This guy was too arrogant! Serena clenched her fists, ready to see who would be teaching whom a lesson.
But Bagge's next words stabbed straight into her heart.
"Think you're so capable? Then conjure supplies yourself! Fine—if you don't fight back, I'll be magnanimous and give you all the supplies behind me. Otherwise, you Eldians can march onto the battlefield on empty stomachs!" Bagge sneered, pointing at the dozens of supply trucks behind him.
Hearing that, Serena loosened her clenched fists. The expressions of the surrounding Eldian soldiers grew complicated.
Serena bit her lip and stared at Bagge. "You mean that?"
Bagge scoffed. "I, Bagge, never go back on my word!"
Serena took a deep breath. "Fine. Your words. Do it."
"You can't!"
"Don't trust him—he's no good!"
Serena simply shook her head at her subordinates' protests and stepped forward.
Bagge grinned maliciously and ordered his strongest Marleyan soldier forward. Madwoman. You actually believe me? If I dare sell supplies, do you think I'll keep my word?
Serena knew Bagge was untrustworthy. But the Third Regiment desperately needed supplies. In every battle she had watched her men—the backbone of the Eldian Restorationists she had painstakingly cultivated—die for lack of medicine, stare in despair at fortresses for lack of ammunition, charge while starving for lack of food… She could only gamble on this slim chance.
A Marleyan soldier, two heads taller than Serena, stood before her. His arm was as thick as her thigh. Without hesitation, under the anguished gazes of the surrounding Eldian soldiers, he swung his hand down.
Serena closed her eyes instinctively. But the expected burning pain never came. Instead, she felt only a breeze brush her cheek.
Opening her amber eyes, she saw a palm large enough to cover half her face halted before her. At the wrist of that hand rested a slender grip.
The tall Marleyan soldier struggled, but that seemingly slender hand held a force of ten thousand jin. Agony twisted his face until he let out a scream.
Everyone present was stunned. Serena looked at the tall figure standing before her. Sunlight fell gently across his face. His deep black eyes were calm as water. The scar on his face didn't seem out of place—instead, it added to his presence. Serena froze for a moment, then quickly came back to herself.
"Loya?"
Yes—it was Yago who had stepped in. That Marleyan quartermaster Bagge had truly disgusted Yago, and he couldn't hold back any longer.
With a twist of his hand, the Marleyan soldier—who stood a head taller than Yago—collapsed to the ground screaming, clutching his wrist.
Yago then walked straight toward Bagge. Though expressionless, the oppressive aura around him made Bagge tense instantly. Noticing the Marleyan uniform on Yago, Bagge realized his identity—likely the Marleyan officer assigned to control this Third Regiment.
But what was a Marleyan officer assigned to cannon fodder worth? Not fit to speak before him, Bagge. The previous commander had groveled like a lapdog.
Yet the Yago before him clearly had no intention of currying favor. Seeing the soldier writhing on the ground, Bagge trembled.
"You—you—who are you?! Don't come any closer! Stop him! All of you, stop him!"
Bagge's men rushed forward at once.
But Yago continued walking calmly. When the Marleyan soldiers reached him, he simply raised his hand.
Before anyone could react, fists and kicks flashed—and more than a dozen Marleyan soldiers lay groaning on the ground. The remaining soldiers immediately retreated over ten meters away in fear.
Just like that, Yago reached Bagge without obstruction, looking down at him from above.
A bead of sweat slid down Bagge's forehead. The pressure was so overwhelming he didn't dare move. Swallowing hard, he stammered, "I…"
Smack!
"What 'I'?"
Bagge staggered back from the slap, disbelief filling his eyes.
"You dare hit me?!"
Smack!
"That's exactly who I'm hitting!"
"I'm the quartermaster!"
Smack!
"Oh? The quartermaster?"
"I'll cut off your rations!"
Smack!
"Cut them off?"
"Stop! Stop it!"
Smack! Smack! Smack!
"Stop?!"
With countless handprints covering his face, Bagge dropped to his knees with a thud, clutching Yago's leg.
"I was wrong! Big brother, stop hitting me! I was wrong!"
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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