Despite being a reconnaissance team, the mission lacked even a single silenced hover bike.
Well, that made sense. After all, this wasn't a real mission to begin with—but of course, there was no way the others would see it that way.
"So, you gonna tell us already? What the hell is this mission?"
Dmitri grumbled.
Even if he'd mellowed a bit after the last incident, nature doesn't change so easily.
"The mission is to monitor the movements of the Church of Morte. And if we find signs of anything suspicious, we're to intervene directly."
It was a convenient excuse—but not one that was easy to doubt.
"...What?"
As soon as the words Church of Morte left my mouth, Dmitri's face went pale.
The others weren't any better.
"Church of Morte..."
"Is that true?"
"But if we're dealing with the Church of Morte, we're far too few for this."
"Hey, brother. I know a bit about those Morte bastards myself, but this seems a little much for us."
Even Kurilta, usually so composed, shook his head.
That was how infamous the Church of Morte was among Ark soldiers.
"There's no need to worry. The mission is still fundamentally reconnaissance. There shouldn't be any serious danger."
Sure, it might be excruciating and exhausting—but there would be no lethal threats.
Because I'd make sure of that.
"If you say so, Carl Marcus..."
Despite how hard it must've been to accept, Hildegarde nodded.
Whether it was out of trust in me or something else, I wasn't sure. But it worked in my favor.
'Not like this is a real mission anyway.'
Still, saying we were monitoring the Church of Morte wasn't entirely false.
At this point in time, it was worth keeping an eye on their movements.
'The death of a regional lord-tier monster is a huge deal for the Church of Morte. They won't stay quiet.'
I remembered.
How the cult had gone berserk when a regional lord died.
Granted, in my previous knowledge, the death of the Rotting Body, Opacum didn't usually trigger such a reaction from them—but nothing was certain.
With unpredictable lunatics like the Church of Morte, you couldn't afford to let your guard down.
"But... if this is such an important mission, shouldn't we be riding hover bikes? I don't get why we're walking."
Klutz's observation was sharp.
But of course, I was ready with an answer.
"It's important, but not time-sensitive."
"But isn't it better to finish missions quickly?"
"Sure, having hover bikes would be ideal. But if the Ark won't allocate them, there's nothing I can do."
Klutz went quiet at that.
It wasn't the first time the Ark had been stingy with support due to chronic supply shortages.
"Any other questions?"
I looked over the recon team.
They were all tense—probably because of the Church of Morte—but none of them looked scared.
"Then let's keep moving."
And so, the journey continued.
*
Even if they were still rookies, they were now soldiers who had made it through the Red Line stage.
Perhaps thanks to that, their movement speed was fairly quick.
A smooth, if uneventful, journey.
However, I had no intention of following a typical path.
'I guess it's about time.'
I raised my fist and signaled the team to stop.
"Eyes on me, everyone."
"What's going on?"
"What is it, brother?"
Klutz and Kurilta spoke up.
I looked at them and said,
"Wait here for a moment."
"...Excuse me?"
"Hey, barbarian. What do you mean, 'wait here'?"
"I need to grab something."
Leaving behind the scouting team, who looked baffled, I stepped away for a moment.
There was something I needed to retrieve from within the [Rift Space].
I made my way toward a crevice in the rocky mountain, out of the scouting team's line of sight, and began rummaging through the [Rift Space].
'Let's see here…'
Clink, clink—
What emerged from the [Rift Space] at a glance looked like an ordinary guard or brace.
Of course, it was far from ordinary.
This was a type of training tool.
'Alright then… let's do this.'
I started walking.
* * *
A sudden mission.
And then, a sudden halt to that mission.
To Hildegard and the rest of the scouting team, it was all nothing short of baffling.
"What the hell is going on..."
Klutz shook his head.
While the others seemed somewhat used to Carl Marcus's eccentricities, Klutz was not.
"...He's the same as ever."
"Right?"
Hildegard and Iris shook their heads as if they'd seen this all before.
Dmitri and Kurilta seemed no different.
"Your amazing brother hasn't changed a bit, huh."
"Hmph, if Carl's doing something, there's always a reason. Just watch and you'll see."
Watching the others, Klutz felt as though he had somehow stepped into another world.
"None of this makes any sense..."
How long had they waited like that?
Clink, clink—
From a distance, came a sound that was part metal, part scraping against the ground.
'What's that?'
A strange feeling stirred in Klutz.
As if something not of this world was approaching from the other side.
Clink, clink—
The sound, again and again, unending.
The clinking of metal echoed relentlessly.
'What the hell is that?'
Then, Klutz saw it.
From the distance, Carl Marcus was dragging something heavy toward them.
"What is that supposed to be?"
"Beats me…"
"Ha! Looks like something a barbarian would do."
"As expected of my brother."
As varied reactions rang out, Klutz remained clueless.
And when Carl Marcus finally arrived, Klutz couldn't believe his eyes.
THUD—!
With a heavy thud, Carl Marcus dropped what he had been dragging.
"Everyone, put these on."
"What is this? You can't expect us to just wear it without an explanation."
Dmitri was the first to step forward.
To his question, Carl Marcus answered plainly.
"Protective gear."
"Protective gear? We don't need—"
"Put it on."
"Hey, barbarian. I think you're misunderstanding something. We've already got all the gear we need from the Ark, and I even have my own. Why do we need to wear something this heavy?"
"Put it on."
"Ha! Are you even listening? What if I say no?"
"Put it on."
Like a parrot, Carl Marcus kept repeating the same line.
Klutz assumed he'd give up soon.
Dmitri's reputation already carried weight among the soldiers, and if someone like him made a stand, an outsider like Carl Marcus would be forced to back down.
Or so it should have been…
"...Tsk, fine. If you insist."
It was Dmitri who backed down first.
A sight too strange to believe even with his own eyes.
And that wasn't all.
"Hey, brother. Is this how it's supposed to be worn?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Hmm, it's a bit heavy, but it does feel sturdy. Not bad."
Following Dmitri's lead, Kurilta, Hildegard, and Iris all began donning the mysterious gear as if they had been waiting for this moment.
It was a scene Klutz had never expected.
"What are you doing? Not putting it on?"
"...Ah. Right."
Under these circumstances, Klutz found it increasingly difficult to back out.
'...Guess I have no choice.'
In the end, Klutz, too, had no choice but to follow the others and wear the unfamiliar gear Carl Marcus had brought.
As he fastened piece after piece, Klutz came to a significant realization.
'This... is heavy.'
Even a single piece easily weighed over 20kg.
And there weren't just one or two—there were four of them.
Combined, they had to carry over 100kg while moving.
"W-Wait! No matter how important protective gear is, this'll seriously hinder our mobility!"
A perfectly reasonable objection.
But hoping for a reasonable response, too, was Klutz's mistake.
"Then don't let it hinder you."
"...Excuse me?"
"Wear the gear and move at the same speed as before."
At first, Klutz thought he had misheard.
But looking around, the rest of the team, including Hildegard, seemed to accept it without question.
"Of course…"
"Well, nothing we can do."
"Hey, barbarian. Do you people always have to do this kind of ridiculous stuff?"
"Of course not. But if Carl's doing it, there must be a reason. We just follow along."
Kurilta, maybe—he was from the same homeland. But the others? Why were they like this...?
Something's not right.
The team's reaction to Carl Marcus felt too far removed from common sense.
Clink, clink—
Dragging his limbs now weighed down by the so-called protective gear—or more like shackles—Klutz moved with difficulty and realized something else.
'Wait... did he carry all of this alone?'
Sure, he dragged them on the ground, but that didn't change the fact that he transported gear weighing hundreds of kilograms by himself.
'What is he, really?'
Of course, there were plenty of rumors about Carl Marcus among the soldiers.
The Dominator of the Battlefield.
The Savior of the Ark.
The Diplomat of Kronos.
And so on…
But the rumors sounded so far-fetched, so exaggerated, few believed them fully.
Yet looking at how the scouting team reacted now…
'It's almost like...'
Almost like the rumors were true.
Unfortunately, Klutz's thoughts didn't last long.
Before he could dwell further, Carl Marcus took the lead again and said,
"Let's get moving."
At Carl Marcus's words, Klutz stepped forward.
And realized.
The real trial was only beginning.
'What the hell is this—!'
It wasn't just heavy.
The gear was designed to intricately restrict arm and leg movement, requiring precise coordination to move.
Even taking a single step was difficult.
"I don't know what he's thinking, but… I guess we'd better follow for now."
"I agree."
The others still didn't seem to know Carl Marcus's true intent, but none of them voiced objections.
Naturally, watching this drove Klutz up the wall.
'This is weird, right? Shouldn't you be questioning this? Why are you all just going along with it?'
But sadly, even while groaning under the weight, the team followed obediently.
As if this was all perfectly normal.
'...I don't get it either.'
In the end, Klutz had no choice but to accept the absurdity.
He couldn't say for sure if this was really for protection, but the atmosphere made it difficult to speak up.
Klutz trudged on.
Each step was still pure agony, but he gritted his teeth and endured.
'There has to be a reason. There must be…'
That's what Klutz decided to believe.
Whatever Carl Marcus's intentions were behind this madness, there had to be a reason.
In more ways than one, it was going to be a long, hard journey.