Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage-Chapter 594: Dark Choice II

CH594 Dark Choice II

***

The Captain remained silent for nearly five full minutes, weighing their options over and over again.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t see the obvious choice.

It was that the ’obvious’ choice... was not one he could easily make.

Eventually, he could no longer deceive himself.

They did not have multiple options.

In truth...

They only had one.

"We don’t need six people to deliver the sample," the Captain said.

His words lingered in the air like poison as realisation dawned upon his squad.

No one spoke.

That was... until Brenden laughed.

A dry, broken sound.

"Well, I’ll be damned, Cap. You actually came up with a solution," he said with a grim grin.

The others nodded as well.

The Captain’s eyes trembled.

No one rejected his unthinkable proposal.

In fact... they accepted it.

That was the most horrifying part.

Torvar nodded, scratching his beard.

"Indeed. As long as one of us makes it back with the Sample, the scholars and mages can create a cure... and this damned plague will end."

"But what if none of us make it back?" Eli asked quietly.

"Then the world ends with us," the Captain replied.

Silence fell once more.

Heavier than before.

Eli closed his eyes for a moment, letting the truth settle deep within him.

Then he opened them again.

This time, they burned with quiet determination.

"Then that settles it, doesn’t it?"

"Yeah..." Torvar nodded.

The others followed suit.

"The question now is..." Brenden glanced around the group, "...how do we decide the order?"

All eyes turned to the Captain.

The man stared at the dead fire pit for a moment before finally speaking.

"We’ll draw lots."

He reached into his pouch and pulled out six iron nails.

With a casual motion, he snapped one— making it slightly shorter than the rest.

"The one who draws the shortest... is chosen."

Torvar snorted.

"Fair enough."

"The last man standing had better be the best rider or we are all screwed," Brenden added darkly. "Then again, we’ll all be dead anyways."

As the others shot him glares, none of them noticed their Captain subtly marking the short nail.

Soon, the lots were drawn.

The one who drew the shortest nail was...

Eli.

The youngest among them.

The young man stared at the nail in his hand for a long time.

Then, he let out a weak laugh.

"Well... that’s that."

Torvar placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, kid," he said quietly.

Eli wiped at his eyes.

"No... it’s fine."

He turned to the Captain.

"The scholars will find a cure with the Sample... right?"

"Yes," the Captain replied firmly.

Eli nodded.

"Good."

He stood up and walked towards his horse.

"Thanks for everything, buddy," he said, gently stroking its neck.

Then he turned back to the others.

"Make it quick."

The horse died first.

Then, Eli knelt.

No one spoke.

The Captain stepped forward and drew his blade himself.

The young man looked up at him... then at the others.

"Whoever makes it back... don’t let them forget our sacrifice."

With those final words—

The blade fell.

...

Days passed.

Each time, the ritual repeated.

Horse... then rider.

Butchered meat.

Survival bought for a few more days.

The conversations within the squad grew fewer... but darker.

The second sacrifice was Torvar.

Torvar laughed as he sharpened the knife himself.

"You know, I used to hate the bland stew they served us in the army— especially on campaigns," he said.

"I never thought I’d end up as an even blander stew."

"Shut up. You’ll ruin the taste," Bren replied dryly.

Torvar grinned.

"Promise me, you bastards... you’d better eat everything."

"We will," the others said.

Torvar exhaled, relieved.

"Good."

Once again, the Captain stepped forward and took on the role of butcher himself, refusing to let anyone else stain their hands.

The third sacrifice...

The fourth...

And then, at last—

Only two remained.

The Captain.

And Bren... the dark joker.

They sat beside the last remaining horse— the Captain’s.

The knife lay between them, untouched.

The Captain, who had personally butchered his men one by one, had finally reached his limit.

Bren let out a long sigh.

"Seeing you like this now, Captain... I can’t help but find it ironic," he said.

"What is?" the Captain asked hoarsely.

"I think you planned this... No, I know you did."

The Captain remained silent.

Bren smiled faintly.

"I’m not blaming you," he said. "I understand."

The Captain slowly lifted his gaze.

"Someone had to make it back," Bren continued.

He reached for the knife... then tossed it towards the Captain.

"I just hope this world was worth all of this," he said quietly.

"Make sure... it was worth it."

With trembling hands— The Captain carried it out.

...

Three days later, he rode alone.

Starving, half-mad, and yet, against all odds... he reached the gates of the Empire.

He collapsed at the border garrison, his body finally giving out.

The guards had to carry him inside.

Even unconscious, he refused to let go.

It took the voice of a familiar mage —the leader of the scholars tasked with deciphering the source— to finally pry the sealed crystal containing the Origin Sample from his cold, emaciated hands.

Once the scholars received the sample, they set to work immediately.

And, fortunately...

They succeeded.

A cure was developed.

The world was saved.

Against all odds, the soldiers had fulfilled their mission. The Sample had been delivered, and with it came the means to end the plague.

Naturally, everyone wanted to know how they had done it.

So when the inevitable question was asked—

"How did you survive?"

The Captain looked around at those gathered before him.

The Emperor, ministers, nobles and aristocrats, wealthy merchants... The most powerful and influential figures within the Empire.

He could have lied.

He could have embellished his own role... painted himself as a hero.

But instead—

"We rationed," he said simply.

And without withholding anything, the man recounted their harrowing journey from beginning to end.

He spoke of everything.

Even the gruesome sacrifices that made the delivery of the Origin Sample possible.

The details spread across the Empire like wildfire.

Shock turned to horror.

Horror turned to whispers.

Whispers turned to murmurs.

And then—

Came the accusations.

Monster... Cannibal... Butcher...

Now that the plague was gone —now that they were safe— the people demanded justice.

Justice for the ’animal’ who had committed such acts.

The Captain was arrested.

Imprisoned.

Thrown into the depths of a dungeon...

And left to rot for what he had done.

...

Years passed.

The Captain now stood upon the execution platform.

Before him stretched a sea of people, their numbers reaching as far as the eye could see.

All gathered to witness his death.

Unbeknownst to them all...

The man who had once been broken by starvation and exhaustion had not only recovered—

He had grown stronger.

Far stronger...

As he looked out at the guards, the nobles, the crowd, he realised something.

At some point, without anyone noticing, he had become the strongest man in the world.

If he wished, he could kill everyone present.

And walk away.

Yet—

As the crowd hurled insults and curses at him, he did not resist.

He did not move.

He knelt as commanded by the executioner.

A priest stepped forward and stood beside him.

"Do you regret your actions?" the priest asked.

"No," the man replied calmly, standing bare before the crowd.

"Why?" the priest pressed.

The man did not answer immediately.

Instead, he lifted his gaze to the sky.

It was blue, clear.

A stark contrast to the rusted iron heavens he had witnessed years ago.

After a moment, he lowered his head and looked back at the priest.

"Because the mission succeeded."

With those words, he calmly placed his head upon the guillotine.

And then—

The blade fell.

***