The Immortal Genius Spearman

“Who are you referring to, sir?”

At Kiaran’s question, her aide, Edmund, tilted his head in confusion. She rarely asked about others.

Kiaran leaned back on the sofa and said, “You know, the guy who went to Makstri.”

“Oh… not just went to Makstri, but the one *you* sent to Makstri, Kiaran.”

“Whatever.”

Kiaran’s expression turned slightly annoyed, but Edmund just smiled.

“Looks like you’re worried now that you’ve sent him off.”

“Why would I care about sending one soldier? I just wanted to see how he’s doing since Vincent recommended him.”

Kiaran waved her hand dismissively.

She wasn’t one to concern herself with others easily, especially not someone far beneath her rank like a mere sergeant.

But Edmund chuckled softly.

“Captain Vincent’s recommendations are trustworthy, aren’t they? Besides, I heard Instructor Leonhark also spoke highly of that soldier.”

“Yeah, but still… It makes you curious. That’s why I thought I’d check up on him.”

Edmund sighed lightly and shook his head as if resigned.

“I did tell you that this is a bad habit.”

“This isn’t a bad habit! It’s about verifying a soldier with potential!”

“Yes, understood. Now, could you please sign this document?”

“…What document?”

“The kingdom is overflowing with thieves. I don’t understand how these people who don’t even fight in battles request so many supplies.”

“There are still people skimming supplies?”

Kiaran’s expression hardened slightly.

She had dealt with issues related to military supplies before and had suffered quite a bit because of those who played games with them.

Edmund sighed.

“Why wouldn’t there be? They think they’re being discreet… but it’s obvious.”

Kiaran clicked her tongue.

“Tsk! Those bastards should all be rounded up and beheaded. It’s unbelievable that even after dealing with this before, it’s still happening… These idiots are rotting the military from the inside.”

“That’s why you need to sign this document. It’s to prohibit the distribution of additional supplies.”

“…Can’t you just handle this on your own?”

Kiaran snatched the document and scribbled her signature.

Edmund, receiving the signed document, spoke.

“I wish I could, but the final procedure has to be completed by you, Commander.”

Edmund then placed another document in front of Kiaran.

As Kiaran signed it, she spoke to Edmund.

“Anyway, look into that guy too. Find out what position he’s in and what he’s currently doing.”

“Understood. I’ll get the information as soon as possible. And this is the last one.”

“Damn, there’s a lot of paperwork.”

“Means you’ve been slacking off.”

“Ugh, shut it!”

Kiaran raised her voice slightly.

But Edmund, seemingly accustomed to this, gathered the signed papers and reviewed them.

“All done. I’ll be off now. Have a good night.”

“Get out of here.”

As Kiaran waved him away, Edmund smiled, saluted, and left the office.

Left alone, Kiaran…

“…”

Stood up and opened a locked drawer.

Inside was a file.

It was a high-level document containing information about the current situation on the continent.

Kiaran pulled out the file and flipped through its pages.

As she read further, her expression became increasingly stern.

“…Looks like I need to prepare quickly.”

A dark shadow clouded Kiaran’s face.

* * *

“Keep your arms steady.”

“When you pull the bowstring, think of extending both arms at the same time. If you only use your right arm, you’ll use too much force.”

“Straighten your chest! A bit more! Hold your posture!”

It was driving him crazy.

Damian was teaching each soldier how to shoot a bow. But…

‘This isn’t going to work.’

Damian’s plan was to retake the base in three months and then defend it for another three months to end the conflict.

But at this rate…

‘It’s impossible in three months.’

Even if they managed to recapture the base, holding it would be impossible.

‘There’s so much to do.’

Even if the accuracy was lacking, getting the arrows to fly properly would be half the battle.

But…

“Oof!”

Thwack!

“Ouch!”

With soldiers struggling to even draw the bowstring and knock an arrow, what could be done?

‘Did I miscalculate from the start…?’

When it came to formation tactics, these guys seemed somewhat useful.

They weren’t slow learners.

If they didn’t know something, they’d learn until they did.

Of course, some excessive force had been used in the training process, but it was only to expedite their education.

However, handling a bow was a different story.

‘This is purely a matter of skill.’

Unless someone was naturally talented, some were struggling even after three days of training.

Damian’s expression darkened.

But then.

Whoosh! Thunk!

A clean sound followed by a solid thud.

Damian turned his gaze to the left.

“…?”

It was the third squad leader, carefully observing where his arrow had struck.

After assessing the position of his arrow on the target, he raised his bow again, seemingly aiming for a better shot.

‘…This is interesting.’

It was impressive enough to simply hit the target.

But to see him re-aim, dissatisfied because it wasn’t dead center…

‘A rare sight.’

Damian quietly watched the third squad leader.

Soon, the squad leader knocked another arrow.

Squeak.

Creak.

The wood creaked with a peculiar sound as the bow bent slightly.

With the string fully drawn, the third squad leader held his breath as he aimed at the target.

Thump.

Whoooosh!

Thud!

Another solid sound rang out.

Damian approached the third squad leader.

“You.”

“…Yes?”

“Have you ever shot a bow before?”

“This is my first time. But… it feels surprisingly comfortable in my hands.”

The squad leader looked at the bow in his left hand as he spoke.

Damian furrowed his brows.

‘Why was someone like him…’

Was he never given the chance before?

But the answer was clear.

‘He must have died before his talent could manifest.’

After all, it wasn’t common for ordinary soldiers to use a bow.

Damian looked at the third squad leader and then pointed to another soldier struggling in the back—a soldier who could barely pull the bowstring, his posture stiff and awkward.

Damian asked, “Can you correct him?”

“…I’ll give it a try.”

The third squad leader walked over to the soldier Damian pointed out.

“Try pulling the string lightly. Can’t do it? Why are you so tense?”

He then took the soldier’s bow.

“The string seems too tight. Let me loosen it a bit… Now, try again.”

Watching the soldier pull the string, he continued.

“Good, that’s better now. Look at the target… Keep your body straight and aligned with your gaze. Yes, keep your arms level. Focus… Are you paying attention?”

Though they only trembled before Damian, the squad leaders held considerable respect even among the other prisoners.

As the third squad leader frowned, the soldier tensed up and began to focus.

Thwack!

Swoosh!

Thunk!

The once hopeless archer hit the target, and the third squad leader returned to Damian.

“Yes, it seems that correction is possible.”

“…Ah, the string was too tight.”

Damian could handle most weapons but knew very little about bows.

Damian looked at the third squad leader and said, “Good. I’m assigning you a special rank.”

“…A special rank?”

“As of now, you are appointed as the archery instructor.”

“…Pardon?”

* * *

People don’t change.

Tayren believed that firmly.

“…This is unbelievable.”

It had only been about two months since Damian had been assigned here.

But in that short time, Makstri had completely shed its former image and transformed.

“One, two! Three, four! One-two-three-four! One-two-three-four!”

The sight of prisoners running in unison to commands felt incredibly strange to Tayren.

Running alongside them, Damian noticed Tayren entering the camp.

“Keep running.”

“Yes, sir!”

After hearing their loud response, Damian approached Tayren.

Sweat beaded on Damian’s forehead.

Damian asked Tayren, “What brings you here?”

“Ah… The commander wanted me to let you know that the previous report went well, so you don’t need to worry.”

“Really?”

Damian chuckled softly at the message.

The commander was clearly trying to take credit.

Damian smirked.

“Seems like you worked hard.”

“Well… honestly, it wasn’t that difficult. But… how did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Those guys. How did you manage to train them like this?”

Tayren was genuinely curious.

When he first arrived, he wondered if he could change this place.

Unlike a typical newcomer, he had tried various approaches.

But all his efforts had ended in failure.

Instead of progress, he found himself filled with disdain for the prisoners.

They were trash for a reason.

Hopeless cases with no room for rehabilitation.

That’s what he thought.

But seeing this now, he wondered if he had been wrong.

Damian replied, “Nothing special. They’re just people too. But… I did have to knock some sense into them first.”

“…Knock some sense?”

“They don’t listen otherwise.”

Tayren nodded, finally understanding. But…

“…They’re prisoners, but some of them are stronger than most officers…”

“I’m stronger. Much stronger.”

“…I see.”

To survive here, one needed the power to firmly put these men in their place.

Tayren realized what he had been lacking.

Tayren asked, “What’s your plan moving forward? There’s been a lot of talk about how you retook the base only to abandon it right away.”

Tayren was also one of those curious about the situation.

Damian replied, “I’m going to reclaim it. And then end it.”

“End it? You mean the war here?”

“Yes.”

The plan was to reclaim the base and hold it for three months.

Of course, the enemy wouldn’t give up easily.

If time became tight, they would likely deploy even more elite troops than before.

That’s why Damian felt pressured.

He had to defend the base, accounting for all such variables…

‘But with the current strength of these men…’

Still, it wasn’t entirely impossible.

Thanks to the third squad leader’s help, the number of soldiers who could use a bow had increased.

Their skills weren’t exceptional, but they could shoot arrows passably well.

But Damian knew that wouldn’t be enough on its own.

To make this plan a success…

“Could you send a letter for me?”

“…A letter?”

“Yes.”

Now, he needed help from someone else.