A Regressor's Bucket List Chapter 80

Pssh-

Hooo-

Gazing at the horde of Orcs lining the Bloodflow Gorge, the commander of the 77th Garrison, Colonel Hank, took a drag from a large cigar and asked.

“Think it's possible?”

And.

“…It's impossible. How could it be?”

The answer was immediate, without a second's hesitation.

Jackson replied to his question as if the conclusion had already been reached.

At that confident answer, Colonel Hank let out a chuckle.

“…Well, if you say so, I guess it is.”

“……”

In truth, the one who asked the question already knew.

The reason the Orcs of the 77th Garrison had entered a lull after the last battle was precisely for this next one. They were taking their final rest.

And having made thorough preparations, the number of Orcs filling the width of the gorge seemed greater than in any previous battle.

It wasn't just a number indicating a battle like any other; it was a number that radiated the will to completely push the 77th Garrison out of Bloodflow Gorge.

He had anticipated things would turn out this way, which was why he had blown up the phone lines requesting support from his superiors.

“To think the one who came as a Penal Soldier is a Hero-Slayer…”

“……”

“Heh heh—you can't run away because you're scared, you know.”

Jackson scowled at the teasing mutter.

“Are you teasing me right now? Isn't this whole mess because you needlessly requested support?”

“Of course I'm teasing. And who knew it would turn out like this? It was all for you.”

“……”

“Still, headquarters sent him, so there must be a good reason. Who knows, maybe he'll be the one to turn the tide of this battle?”

“……”

At Colonel Hank's musing of a "who knows," Jackson gazed at the distant figure of Prisoner Number 4331, draped in rags, and thought to himself.

‘A lunatic who claims he'll switch between four positions without any weapon or armor?’

“As if.”

It was the biggest load of bullshit he'd ever heard.

He'd be lucky if the guy didn't just stab him in the back and try to kill him.

Seeing Jackson's unusually fierce reaction, Colonel Hank burst out laughing, `Kwahahat-`, and wiped away the tears that had formed.

A brief silence followed his laughter.

“…This will probably be our last battle.”

Breaking the silence, Colonel Hank spoke in a low voice, his tone shifting.

“If we lose, that is.”

This wasn't just some careless remark meant to boost morale or instill a sense of do-or-die desperation before the battle.

The situation was truly that dire.

Over 90% of Bloodflow Gorge was already effectively occupied by the Orcs, and the 77th Garrison's current position was at the very edge of the gorge.

If they were pushed back from here, it couldn't be resolved by simply retreating a little and setting up a new base as they had before.

Beyond the gorge lay a wide-open plain, and setting up a defensive position there would make it a useless garrison, inefficient and incapable of performing its defensive role.

“…I'm counting on you. Hold them back, somehow.”

“……”

“I should be getting back to my post.”

Just as he was about to end the conversation with those heavy words, it happened.

Bwoooo-

The sound of the Orcs' distinctive ram's horn echoed throughout the gorge, and the Orc horde began to move faster than expected.

Of course, that wasn't a major problem.

Although it was a bit earlier than expected, the 77th Garrison had already been arranging its formation, having sensed the precursors to battle.

Moving a little faster was within a range they could cover by hurrying up on their end.

The real problem was…

“…Hm?”

…that Prisoner Number 4331, who had been standing still until now, suddenly broke formation on his own and charged toward the enemy lines.

Paaaat-

It was a rash move.

Of course, it was common for a Hero dispatched to a small garrison like this to act on their own will and their Constellation's orders rather than following the commander's.

It was strange for a Hero-class individual to obey a normal person's orders in the first place.

But.

Even that had its limits.

“That… That crazy bastard.”

Prisoner Number 4331's sudden action violated even the most basic principles of combat that common sense dictated.

- Chwiik!

Normally, a Hero would be deployed to the battlefield after the allied and enemy soldiers clashed and formed a front line.

No matter how strong a Hero was, they couldn't display their full abilities when surrounded.

This was because even ordinary Magical Beasts were not completely incapable of damaging a Hero.

An attack from a Magical Beast striking from a blind spot could definitely damage a Hero, and while it wouldn't be immediately fatal given the gap in their power, the 'accumulation' of such damage could be sufficiently threatening.

Thwack-

Sure enough. As he leaped into the middle of the enemy camp and began taking down Orcs, his arm was bent at a bizarre angle.

“I knew this would—.”

At the sight of such a foolish, almost curse-inducingly stupid act, Jackson was about to rush out to drag him back by the hair.

But his feet wouldn't move.

The reason was simple.

“—happen?”

Without even glancing at his strangely bent arm, he swung it to attack.

And at the end of that swing, the arm was instantly 'restored to its original state'.

This absurd phenomenon—taking damage and healing at the same time—was repeating on a 'second-by-second' basis.

[The Constellation, 'Olympus's Ruffian', smiles at the familiar ruffian's performance.]

* * *

As is the case with most battles, it was not easy for the tide of war to be turned by a 'single person'.

No matter how outstanding an individual was, a war was a kind of flow formed by the sum of countless individuals.

When averaged out, an individual's excellence would be buried by the vast numbers, providing only minor fluctuations, not enough power to create a trend reversal or overturn an already established hierarchy of superiority. That was the norm.

Of course.

If there was a fundamental difference in 'class', the story changed a little.

Class was a concept that served a role similar to a difference in dimension.

It was a concept that explained a vast difference in influence that transcended the meaning of equal individuals and could not be described simply on the level of an 'individual'.

The Order's practice of differentiating between 1-star and 2-star Heroes was also an extension of this concept.

Therefore, the influence a single Hero had on a battle could not be explained merely by their influence as an 'individual'.

A Hero's participation in battle went beyond that of an outstanding 'individual' and could greatly affect the flow of battle, which converged toward a general trend.

Intuitively, it was like a modern weapon, a 'gun', being introduced into an ancient war fought with cold weapons.

‘…….’

But.

Even so.

Even considering all of that.

Jackson thought the current situation made no sense.

- Waaaaah!!!

It wasn't that he didn't know the special meaning of a 'Hero's participation' in the War against Demons.

He himself was a Hero, after all, and he knew that the reason the 77th Garrison, composed of ordinary soldiers without magical support from The Order, had held out for so long was because of his own participation as a Hero.

But this couldn't be explained on that level.

Even more so considering that, just before the battle began, he had been convinced of the 'retreat of the defensive line' during his conversation with the commander.

“…Just what.”

The recovery of Bloodflow Gorge.

It didn't stop at just fending off the Orcs who had charged in, prepared to overturn the garrison; he had driven them out completely.

Out of Bloodflow Gorge.

All the way to the mountain range beyond the gorge where they had originally resided.

A great change had occurred in the 77th Garrison, which had only repeated a cycle of holding on and retreating for years.

- Waaaaaaaaah!!!

It was a great victory.

An indisputable great victory.

The soldiers' thunderous cheers echoed off the cliffs of Bloodflow Gorge.

‘…….’

In Jackson's mind, there was only one reason why the battle had led to this conclusion.

'The participation of the Penal Soldier.'

He could say it with certainty.

That one variable alone had completely overturned the expected outcome.

“……”

Still unable to sort out his troubled mind, Jackson stared at the figure of Prisoner Number 4331, who was covered in blood and had a cigarette dangling from his lips.

When he first jumped into the middle of the Orc horde without any discernible plan. No, even when his arm was broken by an Orc's attack, he couldn't bring himself to trust the man.

In the first place, he had a preconceived notion about Penal Soldiers, and the man's claim that he had no fixed weapon or position and would just adapt on the fly had sounded like the ravings of a madman.

But the Penal Soldier's performance from that point on had completely overturned his thoughts.

“……”

How could he even begin to describe that absurd fighting style?

Would a berserker driven mad by vengeance feel something like this?

It was, quite literally, a battle scene the likes of which he had never seen or heard of before.

It was as if the options for 'defense' and 'evasion' had been erased from his mind.

In the battle traces left where he had swept through, there was no sign of defense or evasion.

There was only attack and advance.

What was more surprising was that, just as he had said himself, he didn't have a fixed weapon or position.

He snatched the 'ram's horn' from the Orc that had signaled the start of the war and used it as a weapon, he stole an Orc's club and used it, and he even used the bodies of the Orcs themselves as weapons.

And while doing so, by some unknown means, he nullified all damage done to him with an inexplicable healing ability, committing an indiscriminate 'massacre'.

It was no exaggeration; to Jackson, it looked as if he were watching an entire team.

The distinct, well-balanced movements created by Heroes in each position moving organically were all melted into Number 4331's combat.

‘…….’

Among the many surprises, what astounded him the most was his 'sustainability'.

No matter how strong a Hero was, there was a limit to the output of their Mana Circuit, and consuming more Mana than they could handle would inevitably lead to a state of depletion.

That was the very reason why a Hero couldn't fundamentally turn the entire tide of war.

After exerting maximum output, they would inevitably need a period of rest.

But Penal Soldier 4331 moved his body from the beginning of the battle to the end, performing his role without a moment's rest.

It was something Jackson could not do.

Putting aside the fact that he couldn't produce that level of combat prowess, even if he could, his Mana Circuit would be depleted in less than 30 minutes.

It was impossible even with the help of magic from an Acolyte Priest or things like potions.

…And that difficult feat was accomplished by Number 4331, who had come as a Penal Soldier.

“…I couldn't believe it, but.”

“……”

“So it was him. The subject of that rumor.”

Jackson wasn't the only one marveling at him.

Hearing the meaningful mutter next to his ear, Jackson turned his head to see Colonel Hank also looking at him.

“…A rumor?”