Chapter 46 – I Was Betrayed Three Times
"We've arrived."
After nearly two full days of flight, Ross finally reached his destination.
It was an archipelago reminiscent of the Sabaody Archipelago, except these were shattered, broken islands, each one home to a small kingdom.
They had been locked in endless warfare for over twenty years. No one could say how they managed to persist for so long.
This was Galzburg, the nation where war never ceased.
But that didn't matter. Ross had only one purpose here: Bullet. The lives and deaths of everyone else were none of his concern.
After all, this was a place so far beyond the World Government's reach that even if they could intervene, they would choose simply to stand by and watch.
…
"I'm sorry, Nine—but someone has to warn Colonel Douglas!"
A boy shoved another boy down into a trench, using the brief distraction to turn and flee as fast as he could.
All around them were corpses, the dead piled high. They were the only two left alive.
Nine, his ankles shackled in iron fetters, watched the silhouette of his "comrade" retreating. He said nothing.
Once again. And again. And yet again… he'd been betrayed.
Nine stood over two meters tall. His lifeless eyes locked onto the fleeing figure.
Since becoming a soldier, he had been betrayed three times.
The first was during a mission deep behind enemy lines, trying to carry out an assassination.
He'd watched a comrade step onto a mine. Compassion had moved him—out of respect for the bond they'd once shared—and he'd tried to defuse it.
But in the end… he was the one left standing on the mine, watching his comrade vanish without a word.
That time, his entire squad was wiped out. Only he survived—and succeeded in killing the enemy commander. It earned him the first medal that still hung from his chest.
Gunfire crackled along the edge of the trench behind him. Gradually, the shots fell silent. The enemy had realized there was no one left here able to resist.
They advanced cautiously, step by step, their slow approach pressing down on Nine's mind like a boulder.
He dropped his empty rifle and tore the medal from his chest. With a bent clasp, he began to pick the locks on his shackles.
Sitting here waiting to die was never his way.
But no matter how powerful a beast was, if it lost the ability to move, it was still just prey.
He still had time. And he would never surrender.
Click.
At last, after painstaking effort, the fetters fell away.
But Nine didn't move recklessly. The enemy was close—any careless sound would give him away.
If he wanted to survive, he would have to kill every last one of them.
He tore open his ragged shirt and pulled out a small dagger hidden against his chest. Beautiful craftsmanship—sharp enough to score steel. A single stroke would part flesh like paper.
The second betrayal came during a suicide assault.
Nines screamed past him in a hurricane of steel, yet he seemed to be favored by heaven itself—none struck him.
Meanwhile, the other suicide squad soldiers around him were shredded, falling by the dozens.
At the end, when he and a few remaining comrades broke into the enemy's position, they had a chance to seize more glory—more merit for better treatment after the war.
And so, they betrayed him again.
When the enemy lay dead, when there were only allies left, they turned their guns on him.
If he hadn't been wary… he'd have died right there.
That time, out of the entire suicide squad of over three hundred men, he was the only one who came back alive.
Colonel Douglas had rewarded him with a dagger meant for close combat.
And this time—he would make it back again. Alive.
"Area secure. They're all dead."
"Tch. Figures—it is the Bardak Kingdom. Even their child soldiers outnumber ours by several times. Probably bought them."
"Most likely. Damn this war—when will it ever end?"
"Don't get so down. Here, have a cola. Once we wrap this up, we get a three-day leave. What do you say—have some fun with the guys?"
"Hell yes."
"Count me in."
Lying pressed against the dirt wall of the trench, Nine held his knife in a reverse grip, hiding it beneath his arm. Eyes half-closed, he fixed his gaze on the enemy soldiers casually chatting as they picked through the corpses for loot.
He slowed his breathing, willing his chest not to rise or fall in a way that would draw attention.
He counted silently. Thirteen men in uniform—likely the entire search squad, though there could be more on overwatch beyond the trench.
Each man carried a flintlock rifle, safeties on but ready to fire at a moment's notice.
Difficult—but not impossible to kill them all.
Time crawled by. The search of the far trench finished, and the thirteen soldiers slowly made their way over to the spot where Nine had fallen.
When one of them, completely off guard, slung his rifle on his back and walked over drinking a cola—
Shhk!
Before he could react, Nine whipped his knife up in a single clean stroke, slicing the man's throat open. Without pausing, he reversed his grip, sprang to his feet, and charged the others.
Shhk. Thump. Shhk.
Three strikes—two slashes and one thrust. In an instant, three soldiers lay dead.
Only now did the remaining men fully comprehend what was happening.
"Will—NO!"
"Kill this brat! Avenge them!"
"Die!"
They raised their rifles—and fired the moment they were leveled.
Bang bang bang!
In the narrow trench, only the three closest soldiers had a clear shot. The rest scrambled up the earthen walls to gain higher ground and avoid friendly fire.
Nine didn't dodge. The three bullets shrieked past him so close they tore holes in his uniform.
He grinned—and rammed his knife into one soldier's heart. With a twist of his massive arm, he hoisted the dying man's body and lunged forward.
Thud!
The weight of their comrade smashed the next two soldiers to the ground, sending their rifles clattering away.
Nine ignored them—temporarily disabled—and immediately leapt backward.
Bang bang bang!
More shots cracked through the trench as the soldiers above ducked to take aim.
Nine evaded the first volley. With a surge of motion, he hurled himself left, driving his dagger into the trench wall. Using it as a foothold, he launched his body two meters up and out of the trench onto open ground.
But in doing so, he lost his only weapon.
Bang bang bang!
More bullets tore the air around him, and again—by some stroke of luck—none struck him. Only another rip appeared in his uniform.
He bent his legs—then exploded into a sprint.
In a blink, he was upon a soldier, seizing him in a crushing embrace. His enormous strength snapped the man's spine like a twig.
Crack.
The crisp sound reached his ears. Instinctively, Nine released the limp body. Before it could topple over backward, he snatched the soldier's rifle and rolled clear.
Bang bang bang!
The man he'd held was instantly perforated by his own comrades' bullets, riddled with holes.
By now, the soldiers had abandoned any pretense of revenge. What filled them was a single determination—to kill this monster no matter the cost.
As long as he died here, their homeland would have one less nightmare to face.
Even if it meant sacrificing themselves and every last comrade.
He slipped past another volley of gunfire—barely.
Bang!
Nine leveled the rifle. His aim, impossibly precise, blew apart a soldier's skull.
"Five left."
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(Note: Colonel Douglas - Douglas Gray)