It was just as I had expected. Yelena had achieved explosive growth over the past two months.
Though she had started as a mere novice Caster, her victory in a duel against an officer-level combatant firmly established her presence among the Guerrilla members.
"Right... as expected of FrostNova."
It seemed this was the moment the codename 'FrostNova' first took root. Countless Guerrilla soldiers, moved by Yelena's performance, were shouting her name and cheering.
"I can't afford to lose either."
Even a quick glance at the surroundings showed that everyone's expectations had been raised by the spectacle Yelena provided.
The current reality was that the combat branches, who implicitly looked down on Messengers, didn't expect much from me.
I didn't think I could do 'better' than her in a traditional sense.
Since I couldn't use Arts, I wouldn't be able to show the same beautiful, overwhelming power that Yelena did. But I couldn't just sink into despair and give up.
"Because that’s the only way I can stay by your side."
In the game, she met her end as a villain.
I didn't even want to imagine that dear girl, the one who had saved me in that cave, meeting such a horrific conclusion.
So, I had to stop it by any means necessary. To do that, I needed to stand on equal footing with her at the very least.
If I fell behind starting from this very spot, the distance between us would widen indefinitely until there was no place left for me to stand beside her.
"Next is Earth. Step forward."
So, let's begin. Yelena, you earned the recognition of our father and the Guerrilla in your own way.
I will stand by your side using a different method. As a Messenger.
"Father. It has been a while."
"Indeed. It has been some time, Earth."
He was still a father, after all. While others seemed to have already lost interest due to my role as a Messenger, his eyes still held a glimmer of unextinguished expectation.
"Then show me what you have learned over the past two months."
"Certainly. First, I'll start with this radio."
I gave a brief introduction to the Messenger equipment and demonstrated its use—the small radio resembling a P96k, the scouting drones, and the like.
"This radio you see here..."
I scanned the crowd as I explained. While some were surprised that a mere ten-year-old had mastered all the communication devices in just two months, most reactions were lukewarm.
There was the biased view toward Messengers and ignorance regarding communication technology, but above all, what I was showing felt meager compared to the majesty Yelena had just displayed.
After all, who would focus on an explanation of how to use communication devices that most of them didn't even understand?
People always preferred things that were visually striking. An experience seen with one's own eyes is felt more easily than anything else.
In that sense, while Messengers were undoubtedly indispensable, they were frequently ignored because they weren't flashy.
Similarly, unlike Yelena, who had demonstrated her brilliant Arts and combat prowess right before their eyes, my growth wasn't immediately apparent.
"...Yes! Ultimately, this small radio allows us to hear each other's voices as a pair, enabling smoother operations. Father, would you like to check if you can hear me?"
I approached Patriot, my foster father, and handed him a small radio.
Then, I moved some distance away and turned mine on.
"Testing. Communications security. Father, do you hear me clearly?"
- I hear you loud and clear.
Seeing my exaggerated gestures and lines, the expressions of the Guerrilla members turned to pity.
In their eyes, I probably looked like a pathetic child desperately trying not to be left behind by Yelena.
"Father. No matter what happens next, please do not give any orders."
I whispered quietly into the radio. This was a precaution to ensure the 'playing with fire' I was about to start wouldn't be suppressed by a giant fire truck.
- ...It seems you have prepared something. Very well.
He lowered his voice as well. Playing along with a son's mischief is a fatherly virtue, after all.
Now that I had permission, shall we begin?
The stage was set, the audience was ready, and the interference was removed.
Yelena, I'll show you a side of me that isn't inferior to yours.
"Now, finally, do you see this large radio I'm carrying on my back? This is the true flower of the Messenger branch.
The tactical orders Father gives are broadcast to everyone on the battlefield through this radio, and based on that, we turn the tide of battle in our favor."
I took the large radio, which resembled a 999k, off my back, set it on the ground, and began operating it.
- Static...! Static...!
"Hmm? What's going on?"
"Did something go wrong?"
"The Captain's son must be nervous. Looks like he made a mistake."
It must have felt strange to them, not hearing the usual Messenger's voice ringing in their heads.
"Well... it happens. Especially after what the Captain's daughter showed us."
"Expecting anything from a Messenger in the first place was the mistake."
Oho. I didn't think you'd say that so openly. I've memorized your face.
"Ahaha... It seems it's not working well because I'm trying to play back a recording. As you know, I'm young, right? I wondered how many people would actually follow an order seriously if they heard my voice."
"Hmph. I suppose the foster son is right. Unless it's a tactical order from the Captain, there's no need to listen to a mere Messenger."
"A Messenger is just a Messenger, after all."
The murmuring Guerrilla members finally brought their hidden disdain for Messengers to the surface.
Of course, rather than insulting me directly—the Captain's son—they chose to bash the Messenger role itself.
Good. Now was the time to enter the highlight.
"...So. Rather than relying on all of you, who would ignore a tactical order from a fellow Messenger anyway, I decided to make a more rational choice."
- .....! SKREEEEEEEEE!!!!
As soon as I finished speaking, a piercing scream rang out. It was clearly not human, but the cry of a beast.
"Ugh... what's that?"
"Is it an enemy?"
All the surrounding Guerrilla soldiers heard the same scream I did.
"This radio is quite unique. It broadcasts audio within a set range to allies and enemies alike."
Rustle, rustle.
Something began to gather around me. They were ferocious creatures created from animals mutated by Originium—Originium Slugs.
There were all kinds of them. Ordinary Originium Slugs, Acid Originium Slugs that spat corrosive saliva, and even Frost Originium Slugs that carried ice Arts energy in their bloated bellies and self-destructed when threatened.
"Oh no...! Master Earth is in danger!"
"Everyone! Prepare for battle!"
In the sudden emergency, the Guerrilla members scrambled for their weapons.
Yelena also drew the Arts staff and dagger she had used in her duel.
"Stop."
The frantic movements of those drawing their weapons ceased instantly at a single word from their revered leader.
"But Captain! At this rate, your foster son will..."
"Is my son not currently proving his ability?"
At his quiet but firm words, the Guerrilla members looked at me once more.
I responded to them with a smirk.
"What I just played for you, and for these cute little ones, is the scream of a Pompeii-type Originium Slug. What is that, you ask? It's the queen of the slugs."
With the 999k back on my shoulders, I slowly walked toward the Guerrilla. As I moved, the various Originium Slugs began to crawl along with me toward the soldiers.
Hmm. I should take back what I said earlier. Since they're basically bugs, they're actually pretty gross up close. The sight of bugs moving in perfect unison was a spectacle, in a bad way.
- SKREEEEEEEEE!!
Right on cue, the scream of the frost version of Pompeii rang out again.
"Did you know? The queen's scream contains a command for the lower-tier individuals to protect her.
So, if I take a step like this..."
One step forward. Another step forward.
The Originium Slugs, responding to my 999k, advanced with me. The march of the insects was far more bizarre and terrifying than Yelena's beautiful display earlier.
Overwhelmed by the atmosphere, the Guerrilla soldiers retreated a step for every step I took.
"Gah! The bugs are coming!"
"Is Master Earth controlling them? My god."
"La Cucaracha..."
No, these aren't cockroaches. And aside from that, I felt an ominous premonition. Wait... what was it?
Only Father and the Defender squad stood their ground without retreating.
I should stop here. If I go any further, Father's shield will probably crush these things into paste.
"How is it? Isn't this a pretty useful hand to play? I think they're a much more blindly loyal and stable escort force than all of you, who would hesitate and wonder if a tactical order from a Messenger was Father's direct command or the Messenger's own judgment."
At my words, several faces contorted. The guy whose face I memorized earlier was among them. Ooh, how satisfying.
"Enough. My son. A tactical order's effect is multiplied because it is delivered to people. Do not compare our elite soldiers to a mere pack of beasts."
"Yes, that's obvious, Father. But there is a prerequisite for that."
Casting aside my previous playful demeanor, I spoke coldly.
"It's whether or not they actually carry out the order. Do you think it's right to implicitly ignore and refuse to recognize a Messenger as a commander? It certainly does nothing good for the army."
This was a battle of nerves. The reason soldiers on the battlefield looked down on Messengers was ultimately because the Messenger's standing within the military was that weak.
Naturally, considering the impact a Messenger had on the battlefield, this only caused confusion in the chain of command; there was nothing good about it.
The swarm of Originium Slugs was merely a pretext to create a dialogue window to vent the frustration and anger of the Messengers.
"My son has made a very valid point."
Patriot, the brilliant military commander and war hero, caught on to what I was trying to say faster than anyone.
From his perspective, I had provided him with the justification to resolve internal military confusion.
"From this day forward, a Messenger's order shall carry authority second only to my own tactical commands, those of Bulldrokkas'tee. Do not doubt this. If there is anyone who does, they shall settle the matter with me in a duel."
"That was the assurance I wanted, Father."
I smiled and operated the 999k.
- Skreee... skree...
The sound of Pompeii rang out once more, but this time the cry sounded weak and drained of energy.
"The death of the queen brings confusion to the lower-tier individuals."
The Originium Slugs, after twitching for a moment, began to scatter quietly. They would each have their own goals—finding food, finding a nest, or perhaps seeking a new queen.
However, unlike those beasts, the Guerrilla was united by a single purpose. Victory on the battlefield. That is why humans are stronger than beasts.
"Furthermore, I appoint my son, Earth, to the position of Communications Chief in charge of all Messengers, as well as Tactical Staff Officer, a rank second only to mine."
Finally. The long play had ended. It was a victory for both me and the Messengers.
And with this, I was able to stand on equal footing with Yelena.
"Of course, as he has only received Messenger training and is expected to be somewhat lacking in tactical capability, the existing Tactical Staff and strategy team will be placed under Earth's command to assist him."
"I accept your command."
The improvement in the treatment of Messengers was a definite success, but the burden grew just as much. Now, whether it was victory or defeat in war, it was all my responsibility as the Tactical Staff Officer.
But it was fine. I would boldly cast away my former self as an ordinary person from Earth. The person who would be by my side was someone special, so I had to become special too.
I gave a victorious smile to Yelena, who was staring at me blankly.
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