After the battle, the Imperial officers gathered in the command tent to tally the results. Exhausted, with blood still staining their armor, they leaned back in their chairs. Despite their fatigue, their eyes gleamed with life.

“10th Legion reports 4,829 casualties, including 1,439 deaths.”
“The 8th Legion reports 1,189 deaths and 3,291 wounded, totaling 4,480 casualties.”

The Imperial losses were concentrated in the 10th and 8th Legions, which had borne the brunt of the royal army’s initial charge and the intense pressure in the center before the enemy was fully neutralized.

The royal army had deployed its best soldiers in the vanguard, but they were unable to penetrate the heavily armored elite infantry of the Empire, whose sole objective was to hold their ground while retreating strategically.

“The 1st Provisional Legion sustained 472 casualties, including 117 deaths.”

The 1st Provisional Legion, which had supported the 10th and 8th Legions after remaining in reserve, faced relatively few losses, as they encountered a demoralized royal army.

“The cavalry losses are as follows: 51 deaths and 134 wounded.”

The Imperial cavalry, which struck the conscript-heavy rear of the royal forces, suffered minimal losses, as the enemy cavalry had quickly decided to retreat.

“Total casualties: 9,966, including 2,796 deaths...”

Gerhardt was astonished at how the Empire had managed to emerge from the battle with only 25% losses despite facing a numerically superior force on open plains.

“Now, for the enemy’s losses.”

Before Gerhardt could dwell on his surprise, Viktor began to report the royal army’s casualties.

“The enemy fielded approximately 65,000 soldiers. Of these, about 30,000 were killed, 15,000 wounded, and 30,000 taken prisoner. The enemy cavalry suffered minimal losses and managed to escape.”

“...Good heavens.”

Half of the royal army had perished, and the other half had been captured. Gerhardt exhaled deeply, almost in disbelief.

“This outcome was inevitable. The 10th and 8th Legions had to withstand the enemy’s fiercest attacks—”

“That’s not what I meant, Deputy Commander Viktor.”

Viktor mistook Gerhardt’s sigh as a lament over their own losses. He started to defend the sacrifice of the two legions, but Gerhardt gently interrupted him.

“How could we face an enemy of 65,000 and expect no losses? What leaves me speechless is...”

Viktor observed the officers around him. Their expressions were restrained, as if suppressing words they dared not speak. Behind them, Anna stood with a deep smile, her gaze fixed on him.

Gerhardt stepped closer, his face lighting up with an uncharacteristically bright smile.

“This... This is remarkable. In all my years on the battlefield, I’ve never seen such an overwhelming victory.”

He clapped Viktor on the shoulder, beaming.

“To have such a brilliant general in the Empire is a blessing. I’m already eager to see the future stories you will write.”

“...Thank you, Commander.”

As Gerhardt spoke, the other officers and staff rose and surrounded Viktor.

“Did you plan this result from the moment you advanced the center?”
“Indeed.”
“I was curious why you held back some of our forces in the rear despite our numbers being smaller. In hindsight, their role was crucial!”
“...”
“Once again, your strategy was extraordinary!”

The officers praised Viktor’s tactics while the staff officers bombarded him with questions about the operation’s details. Viktor, wearing a thoughtful expression, responded to each one.

When two armies of infantry clashed on open plains, conventional wisdom dictated that the side with greater numbers had the advantage. The officers, expecting heavier losses, lauded Viktor’s strategic insight, while the staff eagerly analyzed his methods.

“At the end, loosening the cavalry’s encirclement to sow confusion among the enemy was pivotal. I believe that maneuver minimized our losses and secured total victory.”
“Keeping the escape route narrow and stationing cavalry outside the perimeter to intercept fleeing enemies was a brilliant touch.”
“Deploying the infantry in a simple linear formation also played a significant role.”

Some officers refrained from approaching Viktor, instead analyzing his strategy with reverence.

“Hmm...”

Gerhardt watched the officers with satisfaction. With the enemy king and key leaders captured, he considered peace with the Kingdom of Brotan inevitable. The kingdom no longer had the strength to refuse the Empire’s terms.

“...It won’t take long now.”

Gerhardt was already considering retirement, confident that Viktor was ready to become the Empire’s symbol. With the officers unanimously recognizing Viktor’s achievements, Gerhardt felt the day was fast approaching.

Sitting nearby, he observed Viktor intently.

-Clap!-

“Now, I know you’re all eager to discuss more, but let’s save such conversations for after we’ve finished our duties. Tomorrow, we march for Saint-Toir. Prepare the camp and finalize the battlefield cleanup.”

“Yes, Commander!”
“Yes, sir!”

The applause quieted the excited officers.

“You will oversee the battlefield cleanup.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Colonel Klaus, prepare the barracks for the prisoners.”
“Yes, Commander.”

Gerhardt assigned roles and dismissed the officers.

“Let us savor the victory at Saint-Toir. Don’t you agree?”
“We do, sir.”
“Absolutely, Commander!”
“Thank you. Keep your enthusiasm in check and ensure everything is finished properly. This meeting is adjourned.”

The officers exited the tent.

“I’ll take my leave as well.”
“Very well.”

Viktor, lost in thought as he studied the reports, saluted Gerhardt and left the tent.

Alone in the command tent, Viktor reflected on the results of the battle.

“...”

He saw the outcome as inevitable.

Though he lacked Hannibal’s genius for strategy and tactics, Viktor possessed a minimap, a detailed tactical map, and access to thousands of years of humanity’s accumulated military knowledge.

Unlike Hannibal’s disciplined Roman opponents at Cannae, Viktor faced poorly trained conscripts incapable of even maintaining formation. The enemy’s so-called elite troops were no match for the Imperial forces, and their collapse came swiftly.

It was as if he had copied answers to an easier exam, yielding a better score than Hannibal.

-Tap. Tap.-

Still, Viktor didn’t think that meant he couldn’t take pride in victory. The Empire had won decisively. Guillaume’s direct command had been shattered, and both he and the royal leadership were now prisoners. A peace agreement with Brotan was inevitable.

“...”

From outside the tent, Viktor could faintly hear the cheers of his soldiers. Their joy was natural. Even junior officers and soldiers had approached him, eager to share how fierce the battle had been and how proud they were of their victory.

Yet...

-Tap.-

Why couldn’t he share in their joy?

Why did the cries of the dying echo louder than the cheers of the living?

“...”

Viktor stared at his thumb, bleeding from where he had bitten it too hard.

Perhaps it was because he had lived a modern, peaceful life far removed from death.
Perhaps it was because the "perfect general, Viktor," he portrayed was just an act, hiding the fragile human within.
Or perhaps it was because he had not personally wielded a weapon, yet his hands were stained with the blood of those who had trusted and followed him.

-Tap. Tap.-

He tried to justify his decisions, recalling how he had sent the 8th and 10th Legions to endure the brunt of the attack while sparing the Provisional Legion.

How could anyone find joy in war? War meant death.

He had steeled himself against the deaths of enemies long ago—accepting it as the nature of war. But the deaths of comrades, those he had spoken to just the day before... that was different.

The memories of men like Ivan, who had admired him despite his common birth; Georg, who had boasted of being his village’s best fighter; and Anton, who had dreamed of writing poetry, began to fade.

“...”

The thought terrified him.

What if, by forgetting them, their existence was erased entirely?

What if, by forgetting responsibility, he became indifferent to death?

“Ugh...”

He resented the younger version of himself who had chosen the officer’s path so lightly. But there was no turning back. He could not lay down this burden now.

Already, Viktor’s name was built on a mountain of corpses.

This world, designed for endless conflict, left him with only one choice: to bring the wars to an end as swiftly as possible. And to do that, he had to survive—even if it meant others died.

“...Ugh. Ugh.”

His attempts to justify himself sickened him.

Would it be better, he wondered, to fully embrace the role of “Viktor the Great”? To justify the deaths of others as necessary for the greater good? To focus solely on the results and benefits?

Would that solve the contradiction?

What would the “Great Viktor” do?

“...Ah.”

A green dot on the minimap approached the tent. It was Anna. No one else would dare enter while he was alone.

-Swish.-

Viktor quickly composed himself.

He wiped the blood from his mouth and hands, smoothed out the crumpled reports, and buttoned his uniform.

-Flap.-

“Ah, Anna. Have you finished your tasks? If not, I could assist you.”

He greeted her

warmly as she entered the tent.

“...General.”

“Hm?”

Anna, her voice low and her gaze softened, slowly approached him.