Chapter 18

Pudiva stood before Justy, puffing out his chest, though his breathing was uneven and his fingers trembled against his trouser legs.

Justy frowned, looking at the soldier before her who seemed fragile enough to be blown over by a gust of wind. "Why do you want to join?"

"Sir, I desire honor."

"What are your skills?"

"I can manufacture AE16 grenades, I am proficient in bomb disposal and landmine clearing, and I have experience in demolition."

"Where did you learn this? Do you have any certifications?"

"I graduated from the Starry Wilds Higher Academy. Professor Ryan is my father."

Justy felt as if she were hallucinating. "Who did you say your father was?"

Pudiva felt ashamed of relying on nepotism. He whispered, "Mosola Ryan."

"Follow me."

Justy took Pudiva to the communications room, where a liaison officer contacted the Starry Wilds Academy to verify Pudiva’s demolition capabilities. Upon receiving a positive confirmation, Justy had Pudiva provide his father’s contact number. A few seconds later, the call connected.

"Is this Professor Ryan?"

"It is. May I ask who is calling?"

The base's number was encrypted and hidden, so the recipient could not see it. Justy replied, "I am Pudiva’s commanding officer, Justy."

"May I ask what this is regarding?"

"Pudiva wishes to participate in the Military Silver Cup. Our team recently defeated the third-ranked Colfer Base, and we have a small problem we were hoping the Professor could assist us with."

The other party was silent for fifteen seconds. "Speak."

Ten minutes later, Justy left the communications room with a smile. Pudiva, meanwhile, was flushed red with embarrassment.

The other fourteen team members warmly welcomed Pudiva to the squad. Next month, his father, Professor Ryan, would come to the base to teach. Justy instructed everyone to look after Pudiva. They treated him with courtesy, took turns helping him train his physical stamina, and offered only encouragement instead of criticism, patiently serving as his training partners.

Mosola Ryan was an absolute expert in the field of demolition; even seeing him was difficult. Pudiva was his youngest son, who had joined the military under a concealed identity, claiming he wanted to make a name for himself and avoid living in his father’s shadow. Because his physical fitness was below average, he had been assigned to the Melis Base.

Ryan applied for a month of annual leave. When the Imperial Security Department asked him about his situation, he said he needed to tutor his son. The officials in charge of processing the request looked at him as if he were joking, and referred the application to their superiors.

Frank, the Director of the Security Department, pushed open the door. "Old friend, where are you going?"

Ryan adjusted his glasses, his wrinkled face devoid of expression. "Tutoring my son."

Frank looked troubled. "Your youngest son has already graduated; what could he possibly need tutoring in?"

"He’s participating in the Silver Cup. I’m going to tutor the kids."

"That is some deep fatherly love."

"Approve it quickly; I have many other matters to attend to."

Frank said, "A month is too long. We cannot afford to have you away for that long. Ten days."

"That won't do. My son’s team beat the Colfer Base, and they intend to take first place."

Frank was surprised. "Doesn't Melis always forfeit? How did they beat Colfer? Don't let yourself be fooled."

Ryan took off his glasses and wiped the lenses. "It is clearly recorded in the Silver Wing Training Camp logs."

Frank hurried out to confirm that the Melis Base had indeed won two matches against the Colfer Base recently. He returned and signed the approval for the application.

"Pudiva has made something of himself."

Ryan smiled. "He is reasonably clever."

Frank bore the pressure, refusing to reveal the truth even when scolded by the military. Ryan was going to teach solely for the sake of his son’s future. Winning the Silver Cup was an excellent credential; one could gain honor without ever stepping onto a battlefield.

At the Melis Base, Ryan arrived with four security guards. He was surprised by Justy’s youth.

The demolition course began that day, wasting no time and covering numerous explanations of principles. That month, Justy mandated celibacy, including for herself. Everyone absorbed knowledge day and night, thoroughly researching the underlying theories. Demolition required mathematical calculations, so sleep was kept to an absolute minimum.

Ten days after Ryan force-fed them knowledge, he began teaching explosive ratios. Everyone wore blast-proof suits and detonated their own explosive packs. The ones who learned the fastest were the villagers who had never been formally schooled; because their minds were a blank slate, they did not cross-reference other knowledge or confuse formulas, leading to quick and accurate calculations. Everyone carefully memorized the methods for disarming landmines.

On the final day, Ryan taught them how to craft simple grenades using easily accessible materials. While their explosive power was limited, they were still effective. Justy led her team in bowing to Ryan, expressing deep gratitude. Should they be unfortunate enough to go to war, the content he taught could increase their chances of survival.

Ryan looked at Justy, his tone indifferent. "If you do not take first place, I will come to collect my tuition fees."

Justy nodded, her face taut. "We will definitely take it."

Ryan looked at Pudiva. "Pudiva, if you don't take first place, don't bother coming home for the Holy Spirit Festival."

"Yes, Father."

The group saw Ryan off to the edge of the base. Once the airship was no longer in sight, they expressed their sympathy for Pudiva. "Being a celebrity's son must be tough."

"He even forbade you from going home for the Holy Spirit Festival; how pitiable."

Pudiva, finally understood, vented, "Ever since I was little, he hasn't been like a father to me; he’s been more like a teacher."

With two months left until the competition, Avery spoke to Justy apologetically. "Arthur wants to collaborate with me; I can't refuse."

"I knew you were unreliable."

"Oh, come on, don't say that."

"Then tell me where the competition will be held, and I will forgive your betrayal."

"You really put me in a difficult spot."

"It’s not like I’m stopping you from taking tenth place."

"Your mouth is truly annoying."

"Don't make me come over there and beat you up."

"It’s between the Henia Desert and the Bispon Forest. Prepare yourself to be hunted."

"Why?"

"Your practice match at the Silver Wing Training Camp was watched."

"Damn, that’s dirty."

"The water runs deep. Be careful."

The top three teams of the Silver Cup were always stuffed with children of prominent families; it was hardly strange that they would know the strength of the various teams in advance. When Justy told her team the news, everyone except Pudiva was furious, claiming it was unfair. Some teams possessed data on everyone else, while they knew nothing.

Justy remained calm. "Even Professor Ryan is willing to believe in us. Do you lack confidence?"

"No!"

Justy wore a rare, serious expression. "If we can receive the news in advance, it isn't the worst-case scenario. We still have time to change the outcome."

"Yes, Sir!"

They began re-watching recordings of past competitions, but with a different mindset and perception than before. Justy paused the feed. "You have one minute to secure weapons and food. Grab as much food and water as possible, then run and hide."

Someone asked, "Sir, should we not take weapons?"

"The food and weapons are far apart; there isn't enough time. In harsh environments, weapons cannot replace food. I want you to preserve your stamina. On the last day, the Holy Grail will appear, signaled by a light. By then, only a few strong teams will remain. Even if they wipe you out, you will still place in the top ten; they won't waste time teaming up to deal with you. Don't go looking for the Holy Grail—just blow them all up, and that is victory. We only have this one chance to win. Before then, you need to endure, wait, and be careful not to be discovered. Over these two months, you must figure out how to handle physical needs like eating without being detected, and come up with the simplest methods for large-scale demolition."

Justy had devised the strategy, but how to execute it was up to them.

As the fifteen of them ate dinner together, Arcs said, "The commander wants us to stay immobile for ten days. Do you think we can do it?"

Pudiva pushed up his glasses. "If we want to win, we must. I’m grateful for the commander’s guidance; otherwise, I wouldn't have known how to find a way out under siege."

Tanzia suddenly said, "We don't necessarily need to be all about explosives. If an explosion triggers a massive fire that surrounds them, no one can get out. Wouldn't that be more time-efficient? After all, large-scale demolition requires quite a lot of explosives."

He was already thinking along the lines of Justy’s plan.

Sanders vetoed, "No, what if someone breaks through? We won't have guns."

That evening, the group was smoking at the outdoor training ground.

"I still wanted to act heroically."

"Forget it. If you stand out, you'll be the first one killed."

"We snipers can stay still for a long time; don't you guys hold us back."

"Damn, is it appropriate for you, a support staff member, to say that?"

"The method has changed. We aren't support anymore."

"Exactly, so don't you hold us back."

Pudiva squatted, using a pebble to draw on the ground. "If we manage to take first place in one clean sweep, it will surely shock everyone. No one will care about our early performance; they will only remember the final result. Sigh, I really want to express my adoration for the commander."

Toran glanced at him. "Bottle it up. Don't bother the commander."

Pudiva rolled his eyes at him and huffed.

The next day, everyone began practicing in the wilderness, maintaining long periods of immobility. Because the Melis Base had not participated in the past, they were always overlooked. The food poisoning or accidental injuries seen at other bases never happened here. Suddenly introducing new faces was too abrupt. Apart from the practice matches at the Silver Wing Training Camp, nothing else was known about the situation at the Melis Base.

On the last holiday before the competition, Justy was in the field using equipment to search for her team. "Arcs? Arcs?"

Like a game of hide-and-seek, Justy wandered, searching. "Sanders? Sanders?"

Only her voice echoed in the open space. Justy pointed her gun at a certain spot and fired, but there was no movement. She then fired at other locations, one by one, still with no reaction.

"Everyone, mask your thermal signatures."

Justy looked at the instrument in her hand; at that same moment, all thermal signals in the vicinity vanished.

"Switch to the encrypted channel."

Justy’s communication officer stood beside her, working to locate and connect to a frequency, using static to interfere with the team's communication channel. After fifteen minutes of exhausting every method, he said, "Commander, no issues found."

Immediately afterward, Justy tossed a grenade forward. A loud boom followed, and high heat instantly rose, sparking a small fire in a localized area. There was no movement in the surroundings. Half an hour later, after Justy left, someone finally jumped up to stomp out the fire and throw dirt over it.

Justy returned unexpectedly. Everything looked the same as before; there were no footprints. She said, "Detection passed."

She stared at the surroundings. There was no sound, no movement. When she pretended to leave, someone stood up.

"Did I say we were finished?"

Justy’s chilling voice nearly scared the soul out of Arcs, along with the four snipers who were with him.

That night, the five of them were punished with starvation to ensure they remembered the lesson. If an enemy had keen intuition, they might grow suspicious and probe. One person being exposed would implicate the entire team.

The five of them stood outside, looking pitiful. Not only did their teammates not pity them, but they also deliberately teased them one by one.

"The head chef made us a high-nutrition meal today."

"The steak was fried so tenderly."

"And the shrimp, they were so big."

"I loved that thick soup, the mushrooms were so fresh."

"Eating the extra portions felt so good."

The five hungry ones cursed them. "You bastards!"

"Vomit it out, that's ours!"

"Give it back to us!"

They were so hungry they couldn't sleep until midnight, and drinking water didn't fill the void. The mistake they had made during the day left a deep impression because of the hunger.