"Ugh...ggh... Am I... still alive...?"
He didn't know what had happened.
Without warning, a blinding flash of light had struck the command tent where Rodele and the others were.
In truth, it wasn't just their eyes — the command tent itself had been burned to a crisp, along with the soldiers who had been stationed in front of it.
People lay scattered across the command tent where the curtains had burned away.
Every last one of them was a noble from the queen dowager's faction. They had all been, at least nominally, supporters of Rodele.
"Tch... They've got a terrifying magician on their hands..."
"Who are you...?"
When Rodele squinted through stinging eyes to survey his surroundings, a man was standing guard over him, shielding him with his body.
"You're from the Empire...?"
The leader of the reinforcements sent from the Empire — a black-hooded figure whose face and name were unknown to him.
"Was that light magic? No... the area went dark just before. It seems to be a spell that gathers sunlight and fires it as a laser — a solar ray. Rather than pure light-attribute magic, it may even be generating some kind of gravitational lens..."
"What are you... talking about...?"
"Undeniably strategic-class magic. No spell like this was listed in the Council of Sages' compendium of magical arts. So there's a sage-level enemy in this country who's created an entirely new form of magic... Damn it, this was not anticipated!"
The black-hooded man didn't even respond to Rodele's words.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance and kicked the body of a man who had fallen nearby.
That man was the rebel army's de facto commander — Marquis Eiger.
"Ugh..."
"Hey, wake up! Get on your feet, now!"
"Guh...ah...I'm, ugh..."
"Just give the orders to the soldiers already! The enemy is going to charge at any moment!"
"I-It hurts...quickly, give me treatment..."
"Tch..."
The black-hooded figure clicked his tongue loudly and grabbed Marquis Eiger by the front of his armor, forcibly hauling him up.
"Ow...!"
"That's an order... 'Give the orders to the soldiers.' 'Meet the enemy head-on.'"
From the black-hooded man's hand, a strange purple mist emerged and was sucked into Marquis Eiger's ear.
Then, the expression of agony vanished from the face of the Marquis, who had been writhing moments before, and he stood up swiftly under his own power.
"...Understood. I order the soldiers to meet the enemy head-on."
Marquis Eiger went outside the command tent and directed the bewildered soldiers to engage the enemy forces.
By then, the sounds of battle and angry shouts could be heard from outside.
It seemed... giving orders was slightly too late, and the enemy soldiers had already launched their charge.
"...We've been put on the defensive. Can we win like this? No, impossible. The militia must have been scared witless by that first blow and fled by now. Same for the opportunists only after loot and plunder. It'd be generous to say half our soldiers are even fit to fight."
"Hey, you! What are you saying... heal my injuries quickly!"
"Hah...!"
Inside the black hood, the man let out a scoffing laugh.
"Don't make so much noise for a mere portable shrine. I carried you because 'she,' our comrade, willed it... but that's as far as it goes."
"Wha...what...?"
"The conclusion should come soon. It doesn't look like we can wear down the Kingdom of Aiwood any further. But... we were able to turn over one of the kingdom's trump cards. Your existence wasn't a complete waste. Good work."
"............"
"Perhaps that, too, is the work of a reincarnated person... If they'd become an ally like she did, that'd be reassuring, but if they go the way of the 'Celestial Emperor,' we'll have to dispose of them. Ugh, good grief! The future's looking bleak!"
"Guah...!?"
As he ranted on to himself, the black-robed figure stepped on Rodele.
"The empire won't be supporting you anymore. Nothing but a name and bloodline—"
"—a puppet."
"Get executed, die in battle, or take your own life—just die however you like somewhere I can't see. Later."
The black-robed figure's form vanished.
Teleportation magic. A miracle said to be nearly impossible with modern magical techniques, performed right before Rodele's eyes.
Rodele stood stunned for a moment... but before long, his lips trembled as he whispered.
"A lightweight... a puppet...?"
Was he talking about him?
Marquis Eiger, the other subordinates, even the reinforcements from the empire... no one had ever looked at Rodele.
He was being looked down on. Being made a fool of.
The last shred of pride remaining in Rodele's heart stung as if pierced by a thick needle.
"Can I... just let it end like this...?"
He was not the queen dowager's grandson. He was neither a portable shrine nor a puppet.
He was Rodele Aiwood—a single human being.
Could he die without ever showing them that, having been used all the while?
"Gu... uuuuuuuuuuh...!"
Rodele endured the pain and rose to his feet.
Through body reinforcement, he forced his battered body to its limits and somehow managed to stand.
Rodele was terrible at healing magic. Not because he lacked the talent to learn it, but because he had never once intended to.
He, who was more exceptional than anyone, would never get injured. And he had no intention of wasting his mana healing other people's wounds either.
Cursing the arrogant version of himself from those days, he nonetheless took his time, managed to close his wounds, stood up, and fixed his gaze on the battlefield.
"I'll do it... I'll do it... I'll engrave myself into them...!"
Rodele had been a fool... but even so, even the biggest idiot could understand this much.
This war was a losing battle. Defeat was only a matter of time.
Even so, he had no intention of sitting there and waiting for death without doing anything.
He would engrave his existence into as many people as he possibly could.
Not as the queen dowager's grandson... but as the man named Rodele Aiwood.
"Just you wait... just you wait...!"
Dragging his body behind him, Rodele slowly walked toward the battlefield.