Maybe it was because the situation had grown too dire.
Hildegard had forgotten entirely that Carl Marcus was even present among them.
That was how intense and dangerous things had gotten.
So, when Carl suddenly stepped forward and blocked the Turncoat Pawn's path, Hildegard could not hide her shock.
["Keee-giit…"]
"Hmph."
No words were needed.
Carl Marcus and the Turncoat Pawn locked eyes—
And then, simultaneously, they charged.
CLAAANG—!
Carl's machete, forged at Smel Workshop and drawn from his left hip, clashed with the bone spear.
Without hesitation, Carl switched the Ark-34 Automatic Conversion Rifle slung on his shoulder into shotgun mode.
Zzzzing—
Then, with eyes as cold as stone, he pulled the trigger.
CHAK!
Shotgun pellets tore toward the Turncoat Pawn's face.
BOOOOM!
Smoke exploded in a sharp blast—
And when the haze cleared, fragments of the bone mask lay shattered on the ground.
It had been a short exchange, but the Turncoat Pawn—untouched by the entire recon team so far—had been damaged.
"W-What the…?"
Hildegard's eyes widened in disbelief.
This was the Turncoat Pawn—
The same monster that had tormented Ark's elite soldiers for days, now fighting even more viciously than before.
Yet Carl hadn't just stood his ground—he had wounded it.
The battle continued.
The Turncoat Pawn grew more violent by the second.
Bone tendrils lashed out in every direction.
Any one of them could slice flesh like paper.
But Carl Marcus danced through them—
As if he had eyes on the back of his head.
'Is that… even humanly possible?'
Only those who had faced those tendrils could truly understand how impossible this was.
Wild, chaotic, unpredictable—
Thicker and harder than steel.
Yet Carl dodged, parried, and shattered them with ease.
'Even with top-tier gear, this is insane…'
They had R-1 Plasma Swords.
DR-404 Revolvers.
Not bad weapons by any measure.
They should've been enough to hurt a Turncoat.
But the recon team had failed to do even that.
'We weren't strong enough…'
But Carl Marcus—he was.
His Ark-34 was an upgrade, yes.
But even accounting for that, it was him wielding it that made the difference.
["Kiii-GIT!"]
The Turncoat Pawn thrashed wildly.
Its mask broken, its body injured—
It lashed out desperately.
CLANG! CLANG!
But Carl met it head-on.
From his back, he drew a BLT-47 Plasma Launcher.
A bolt of plasma flashed—
And split the bone spear in half.
Not even that weapon could withstand the might of Carl's arsenal.
'This… this isn't human…'
The Turncoat Pawn was strong.
But Carl Marcus—was stronger.
To face such a monster head-on, and win…
It was beyond reason.
Like the mythical Skull Knights—like the enhanced warriors spoken of in rumor.
'Even if he's an ether-apt… this is absurd.'
Then—
Carl slipped.
An opening.
The Turncoat Pawn didn't miss it—
It struck with a tendril.
"No!"
Hildegard cried out—
But Carl moved.
His Ark-34 shifted modes instantly.
Zzing!
Chik—chik—chik!
The tendril struck the weapon—
And bounced off.
He had blocked it with the gun itself.
A technique not found in any Ark textbook.
A display of total mastery.
'He's… overwhelming it.'
Carl Marcus wasn't an enhanced soldier.
His physical body shouldn't have been able to match a monster's.
But still, he overpowered it.
The battle was nearly over.
The Turncoat Pawn was breaking apart—
Carl hadn't even used all his gear yet.
Then, Carl drew another weapon.
ICE-54 Plasma Cooler.
A device Hildegard had only seen in Ark weapon catalogs.
Rare—
And immensely powerful.
Carl now held both the BLT-47 and the ICE-54 in his hands.
Zzzzing!
FsssSS!
Plasma and frost—
Light and death—
Fired as one.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM—!
Just once.
That one strike left the Turncoat Pawn mangled and nearly dead.
"…Kii—git."
It turned—
And fled.
"Look at that!"
The recon team raised their rifles, but it was too late.
They couldn't even land a hit on its retreating form.
Carl didn't pursue.
He simply shook his head.
"It fled."
A flat statement—yet thunderous in its impact.
"Is he… really human?"
"Hmph. As expected of a brother. Impressive."
"…A monster."
Klutz, Kurilta, and Iris each muttered in awe.
They accepted Carl's strength.
But Hildegard and Dmitri—
They couldn't.
It was too much.
Too far beyond what they believed possible.
Dmitri's voice trembled.
"How… how is that even possible?"
"What do you mean?"
"The Turncoat Pawn is strong. I know—it nearly broke me. But… you fought it like it was nothing. How?"
"Simple. I'm stronger."
So simple.
And yet, it meant everything.
Dmitri had been born into privilege.
He'd never questioned what he was entitled to.
Noble blood.
A seat of responsibility.
He had joined the Ark forces because it was expected.
But what he had seen just now—
That shattered something inside him.
Would any elder of his family have been capable of what Carl just did?
Dmitri doubted it.
Because Carl was… on another level.
Strength.
Power.
Responsibility.
Were those not the things meant for those who earned them?
Then what was he?
And what was Carl?
Everything he'd relied on suddenly felt… shameful.
'Was I… just a pampered brat hiding behind my family's name?'
A thought he once had—
And buried.
But now, he couldn't ignore it.
"I… want that too."
Dmitri's eyes fixed on Carl.
The man standing so casually, yet towering in his presence.
"Can I… be like that too?"
That's why Dmitri asked.
Could he—like Carl—become that strong?
Carl looked at him.
"You're asking the wrong question."
"…What?"
"It's not about can you be strong. It's that you must be strong. To protect Ark."
Dmitri opened his mouth to speak.
Then shut it.
Because he understood.
"…Right. Got it."
He stood.
Then said—
"Let's continue the mission."
* * *
A major battle had come to an end.
Though they had failed to defeat the Turncoat Pawn, the extent of the damage inflicted on it suggested it wouldn't reappear for the remainder of this journey.
"Finally… is it over?"
"What are you talking about like you actually did something? Carl Marcus did everything."
"…Why are you always like this with me?"
"What do you mean?"
Dmitri and Iris bickered as usual, while Kurilta and Klutz, along with the others, began retreating into their tents to treat their wounds.
Carl Marcus volunteered to take the night watch.
At first, he'd proposed rotating the watch duty, but then overruled everyone with his authority as recon team leader.
And so…
While Carl stood guard alone, Hildegard quietly stepped out of the tent.
Even though she was still bandaged from her injuries, she moved carefully and came to stand beside Carl.
"Do you have something to say?"
Carl's question hung in the silence, and Hildegard's lips moved slowly.
"…Just what are you, Carl Marcus?"