"Today, I would like to bring up a somewhat sensitive topic."
Since I was the one hosting this meeting as the Tactical Staff Officer, I spoke first.
"The subject of today's meeting is not about strategy. I want to discuss the direction in which the Guerrilla should move forward."
The participants stirred at my opening statement. The only one who didn't look flustered was my father, whom I had tipped off in advance.
"The direction of the Guerrilla? What on earth do you mean by that?"
The Guerrilla had been an elite force under Patriot since their time in the Ursus military. They had always fended off enemies under his command, and every officer here owed him their life at least once.
Therefore, Patriot's will was the Guerrilla's will. Even if the task of rescuing the Infected was arduous and dangerous, and even if they received no proper support, they followed and trusted him because it was the will of the Great Captain.
Well... from my perspective, it's hard to fully grasp, but I suppose it makes sense. In the game, Patriot was the very man who had protected Ursus for over a hundred years.
It was likely that various debts of gratitude kept these people by his side.
But that was a matter of sentiment. As the Tactical Staff Officer, I had to consider reality.
"Everyone gathered here should be aware of how this unit is currently operating."
At my words, the faces of several officers darkened. They knew better than anyone else about this abnormal structure where one man's personal wealth fed the entire unit.
"...Tactical Staff Officer, what exactly are you trying to say by bringing this up?"
"If something is wrong, isn't it only natural to fix it? If we continue to maintain the status quo like this, the unit will collapse in less than two years."
And that 'two years' was calculated purely on troop maintenance costs, without even considering variables like inflation. When external factors were factored in, my father's fortune would likely be completely drained within a year and a half.
"Therefore, we must find a breakthrough. There are two ways. One is to bring in money from the outside, and the other is to create something self-sustaining on this land. If you have any good ideas, please speak up."
Silence fell over the meeting room as I finished speaking. And that silence persisted for a long time. Wait, what? Do these guys not know what brainstorming is?
"Any opinion is fine. I just want to hear your thoughts."
However, despite my urging, they remained silent. Are former career soldiers naturally slow at thinking on their feet?
"Tactical Staff Officer. It's not that we haven't thought about it."
The Vanguard Squad Leader broke the long silence and spoke to me. He didn't look at me with the same distrust as in the previous meeting.
That was because it was largely thanks to me that the Vanguard squad, which used to suffer constant casualties, had returned from the last mission without shedding a drop of blood. Judging by the atmosphere, he didn't seem to be looking for a fight this time.
However, my brow furrowed instinctively. The emotion in his eyes was none other than helplessness.
"Do you know who we are dealing with? It is the Ursus Empire."
"We are already treating Ursus as an enemy, aren't we?"
"Even though we are acting against Ursus's policies under the Captain, there is a clear difference between us opposing Ursus and them treating us as a true enemy! Such economic activities could easily be seen as high treason!"
I understood his point. Until now, despite the military disturbances we caused, Ursus had ignored us thanks to the deterrent power of my father, Patriot—a man who was essentially a living weapon. To them, the risk of engagement was simply too high.
However, engaging in economic activity or exerting influence over the surrounding land was a different matter entirely. It would be viewed as a rebellion threatening the throne. Since any force threatening the authority of the Emperor would eventually cause a major disruption in governance, the Empire would seek to eliminate us even if it meant braving the risks.
"No, look here. Can't you see this graph? Are you saying we should all just wither away and die in a year and a half? We have to find a way somehow!"
The former staff officer—the Sarkaz who was now effectively my deputy—immediately retorted. Having helped me investigate the past few years of resource consumption and compile the data into graphs, he knew the severity of the situation better than anyone.
With things as they were, the meeting room naturally split into two factions. One side argued that we had to establish some kind of countermeasure immediately, while the other side insisted we shouldn't provoke the Empire unnecessarily.
The former was mainly composed of soldiers who joined after Patriot deserted, while the latter consisted mostly of those who had followed him since before his desertion.
"Enough."
My father, who was effectively the chairman of the meeting, finally spoke.
"Earth. It seems you do not yet know the terror of the nation called Ursus."
In that moment, he was not acting as a father. Everyone in the room was overwhelmed by the sheer presence of a veteran general who had seen it all.
"Do you know of Victoria's Steam Armor? Even an ordinary person, when piloting that monstrous machine, boasts enough power to handle an entire squad alone."
As my father spoke, he activated his Arts. The Sarkaz race, to which Patriot belonged, handled Arts better than any other race.
And what my father excelled at most was sorcery related to death. His words became a power that forced a vision upon me.
—A giant machine reveals itself. Its size alone was a form of violence. I saw it crush a soldier into a pulp with its foot. On the path it had traversed, a carpet was made of the corpses it had trampled.
"What about Kazimierz's Silverlance Pegasus? They are troublesome enemies who charge with overwhelming mobility to shatter formations."
—All I could see was light. The brilliant light soon became a wedge, causing a massive collision. The defensive lines we had painstakingly built collapsed, and the enemy, utilizing their superior mobility, mowed us down as if they were harvesting crops.
"I must also mention the Apostolic Knights directly under the Pope of Laterano. The strange weapons they call guns are simple, yet incredibly efficient. They are those who take lives more easily than anyone else."
—The smells of metal, blood, and gunpowder mixed in a dizzying swirl. Allies around me collapsed one by one. I couldn't tell if they were angels or demons. With just a slight pull of a finger, life vanished so effortlessly.
"Gasp!"
I was momentarily dazed by the shocking scenes that had flashed before me in succession. I wasn't the only one. It seemed the vivid scenes of death shown through my father's sorcery had been displayed just as graphically to the other participants.
"No... I don't want to die..."
"Ugh, bleargh!"
...If that weren't the case, there wouldn't be such reactions. These were scenes of war that could make even the seasoned members of the Guerrilla tremble in fear. My own hands were shaking.
I stole a glance at Yelena. She was flustered, looking around at the others' reactions in confusion. Fortunately, it seemed my father hadn't used his sorcery on his daughter.
"What I have mentioned are the strongest forces of the nations surrounding Ursus. Yet, the nation of Ursus fought them all simultaneously and emerged victorious."
His statement threatened me like a blade. It was as if he were asking if I, a mere boy, dared to think we could survive after making an enemy of the Ursus Empire—the very empire that had crushed the majestic warriors he just showed me.
"Heh, hehe..."
Fine. You're the one who appealed to the emotion of fear first, Father.
I turned on the 999k radio so that everyone in the Guerrilla could hear me.
"Father... then why hasn't the current Ursus swallowed them all yet?"
"..."
"It's quite strange. If they won battles against such terrifying forces, shouldn't Victoria, Kazimierz, and Laterano be erased from the map by now, replaced entirely by Ursus?"
Father didn't answer. Fine, I'll say it for him. I need to give Yelena a history lesson anyway.
"When greed is excessive, one's stomach eventually bursts. In the end, didn't they collapse because they turned even Yan and Higashi into enemies by trying to maintain an impossible multi-front war?"
"My son. You are clouding the essence of the problem. We were discussing how Ursus possesses enough power to trample us. Mentioning the history that followed is inappropriate."
He was pointing out a logical fallacy. But persuading people isn't done through reason alone.
"How is it irrelevant? In the end, Ursus's actions were their own undoing. Regardless, because they fought a losing war on too many fronts, their territory expanded, but they couldn't stabilize it."
The people in the meeting room looked at me as if I were strange for stubbornly continuing even after my logic was challenged.
"Ultimately, the burden fell entirely on the citizens of Ursus, and their discontent reached the heavens. Do you know where Ursus redirected that anger?"
I took a moment to catch my breath. Everything I said before was just fluff. This was the important part.
"The Infected."
At my words, the atmosphere in the room froze instantly. As they called themselves the Guerrilla who saved the Infected, most of the members here were Infected themselves.
"How was it in the past? Discrimination against the Infected existed, but there were ghettos—segregated areas where the Infected could at least live in peace.
Mean-spiritedly, Ursus gradually cut off the food supply to those places, and the ghettos slowly lost their meaning. People began to lose their homes and their food.
If it had stopped there, it might have been fine. But didn't they eventually throw the Infected into Originium mines, and when the death toll wasn't high enough naturally, didn't they use guns to control the population?"
For the new generation, I incite hatred.
To those who hadn't experienced the strength of Ursus firsthand, it didn't matter how much power the Empire had or how easily they could suppress us.
By comparing the past and the present, I emphasized how much Ursus had discriminated against the Infected, drawing out the anger in their hearts to cloud their judgment. I made them focus on a single goal: sticking it to Ursus out of blind rage.
"Who are we? Father. We are the Guerrilla. We are the shield of the Infected.
Did we not desert the Ursus military for the sake of the Infected's right to live? If we were afraid of their retaliation in the first place, we should have just lived quietly.
But we didn't, and that is why we have a reason to exist. If we aren't here, how can the poor Infected of the tundra hope for anything?"
For the old generation, I remind them of their mission.
They are the ones who have already experienced the horrors of war. So, I challenge the convictions they hold that surpass that fear. They certainly know how terrifying Ursus is, but I force them to weigh fear against conviction on a scale.
Eventually, the scale will tip toward conviction. After all, the Guerrilla is a group that can only exist if it has the goal of liberating the Infected. Conviction is the medium that constitutes them; they cannot abandon it.
The atmosphere was ripe. It was damn hard work getting this far. I never wanted to see such horrific scenes through sorcery again, so I drove the final wedge.
"We are the Guerrilla. But unfortunately, the Guerrilla now stands at a crossroads.
To wait for our resources to dry up and slowly prepare for disbandment. Or to overcome the fear of an uncertain future and become the shield of the Infected. That is all I have to say. The choice is yours."
There was no way this strategy—which I had successfully used to persuade my father separately last night—would fail. The mood had already shifted.
Whether fueled by anger or pushed by a sense of responsibility, the overwhelming terror of the Ursus military had been downgraded to a fear that could be overcome.
In the subsequent meeting, various opinions were voiced. The officers each had plans they had been considering, and my father appropriately coordinated their opinions, adopting those that were reasonably feasible.
What did I do? I sat there with my mouth shut, exhausted from the agitation... I mean, the persuasion. My jaw felt like it was going to cramp from talking so much, so I just sat quietly and stroked Spiky, who had come to my side at some point.
It was no secret that Yelena's proposal for a 'Pet Originium Slug business' gave everyone a good laugh.
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