My Immoral Detective System

The first troops used crossbows to engage the enemy. This time, they were mounted on horses because they feared that if the enemy fired cannons, they wouldn't be able to escape. Back then, the chief had this idea as he made it the first step into defeating the enemy, and nothing has changed.

A group of soldiers was standing behind Martin, who was squinting his eyes at the enemies. In his chest, his heart was pounding faster than it had ever before. As he continued to calculate in his head, his gaze never left the enemies. When he tried to think of possible countermeasures for situations that were unexpected, his mind went blank.

It didn't matter how hard he tried to think of anything. Suddenly, he felt his chest tighten, making it difficult to breathe. The soldier behind him called out to him just as he was about to pass out from anxiety. "Commander, is it safe to fire?"

Martin glanced at the soldiers behind him who were at his beck and call. Why? Why were they even asking him? They should know better when to start the fire, shouldn't they? But why were they asking a soldier with average skills? The more he thought about it, the more he trembled. His face turned pale with anxiety. His forehead was soaked in sweat, and he glanced at the enemies one more time before turning his eyes away.

When would be the best time to shoot the arrows? He recalled that the commander would demonstrate what to do on the battlefield while they were practicing. In both windy and calm conditions, they had trained. As a result, the chief had divided the army into two parts and forced them to fight each other in mock battles with fake weapons. Those were the days when Martin was still a trainee. This meant he used to stand far behind the temporary commander that their chief had chosen during the mock battle.

Every time the temporary commander gave orders, he had only one thought in his head: How do they know when to shoot the arrows at the right time to corner the enemy? Not knowing this, Martin wasn't the kind of student who would go looking for answers. He would shrug it off and carry on as if nothing had happened.

In front of so many of his colleagues today, he was a commander, and the same question kept popping into his head, but he had no one to ask about it. Because the situation was so critical, he could not afford to waste any more time thinking about it.

He muttered a curse. It would have been better if he'd asked his question earlier. But he was powerless to do anything about it at the moment. As a result, he would simply call out blindly, relying on his instinct. He parted his lips and yelled, "Fire!"

A hail of arrows rained down on the enemies. Sadly, it appeared that the enemies had anticipated this outcome. In order to defend themselves, they raised their shields the moment the arrows were about to touch their heads. 

Martin's mind flashed with another memory all of a sudden. It wasn't the first time he'd seen this kind of thing happen during practice. His temporary commander had then given the order to attack again without giving the other side a second chance to the enemies to counterattack him. As a result, the enemy was attacked and failed brutally in the mock battle.

It had irritated the soldiers acting as enemies back then that a temporary commander could inflict so much damage so quickly, despite the fact that their weapons were fake. Everyone, including their chief, had praised such a temporary commander back then.

The youth closed his eyes before he glanced at the enemies still protecting their heads from the attack.

"Prepare to shoot!" Martin yelled at the top of his lungs. "Fire!"

When the black robbed soldiers were about to lower their shields, another set of arrows was fired at them. Another attack prompted some of those who had already begun to lower their shields. Some of them panicked and went to grab their shields, but it was too late. In the end, many enemy soldiers were killed.

As soon as he saw that scene, Martin's eyes glowed brightly. Now he understood why soldiers were so passionate about combat. Winning had a drug-like effect on them!

But the victory was short-lived as the enemy's cannons fired a hail of fireballs. Martin's face turned pale, and his mind went blank.

What should he do?

He had a million thoughts, but none of them told him what to do. The soldiers behind him also got anxious. One of them urged their temporary commander. "What should we do next?"

Martin clenched his teeth, glanced up at the sky, and said, "Scatter! Quickly!"

After he gave the order, every single soldier left the area immediately. Nearly everyone who was standing in that area had been able to escape when a fireball struck it, but some of them weren't fast enough. Despite their best efforts, they were unable to escape death's grasp and were killed by fire.

Those soldiers, screaming at the top of their lungs, died in front of the young commander's eyes. Martin's heart was pierced multiple times by their voice, which was filled with pain. Those dead bodies made him anxious to the point where he was having trouble breathing. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he watched the scene.

Why?

Why were they fighting such a brutal war?

Why didn't he choose the scrolls and forced the king to stop the war? It seemed to be a better choice. At the very least, they'd be alive! By forgoing the chance to become a hero, what did he gain? He was doomed to death!

His limbs trembled.

Suddenly, an older soldier called out to him. "Keep your eyes off of them, commander. They died in peace, knowing that we were there to protect the kingdom. If you can, please control your emotions and give the order."

When Martin turned around, he saw his senior nod at him before casting a cold glance at the enemies. " After years of combat, our soldiers become accustomed to seeing death. Other people in your place would be more concerned with killing all their enemies than with surviving. Normally, we would accept the death of ten soldiers in exchange for the killing of even one enemy, but you are an exception. You're innocent enough to make sure we have lesser casualties. That was why the chief chose you. There was no way to win, but he was aware that you would choose a path that didn't result in the death of every single person. It seems….It seems as if the chief had no other choice."