Seeking Help

Translator: CinderTL

In a classroom at the Grayman Military Academy, Bryce Alder slammed his pointer against the edge of the sand table, the metallic clang causing all the "students" to look up.

A sharp smile appeared beneath Bryce's thick beard.

Looking back, he was once just a wild knight from the countryside. Who could have imagined that one day he would be teaching military strategy to the "big shots" from the capital?

Klein, Leicester, Ophina... These were seasoned generals who had long followed Princess Catherine into battle. In the past, he could only look up to them, but now they addressed him as "Teacher Bryce" with every word.

What a sense of accomplishment! "Gentlemen, I presume you are already quite familiar with the various rules and regulations of the Alden army."

"But that is only one aspect of what makes this army formidable!"

"Today, I will unveil the mathematical secret behind why the Alden army can defeat those traditional forces." His pointer gestured toward the large blackboard behind him, where the Grayman Combat Dynamics Equation was prominently written.

"Look at this formula!" Bryce's finger moved across each symbol, "This represents the total combat effectiveness, this is individual soldier efficiency, this is the number of troops, and this, is the battlefield width coefficient." He turned and drew two battle lines on the blackboard, "Traditional dense formations have a low battlefield width coefficient because only the front row soldiers can engage the enemy."

He quickly sketched a traditional soldier formation on the blackboard, illustrating the predicament of rear-row soldiers being unable to participate in combat. Suddenly, Bryce's pointer swept horizontally: "But when we widen the formation—" He swiftly drew a pair of sparse horizontal lines, "The battlefield width coefficient skyrockets! Now every musketeer can fire simultaneously!"

He rapidly performed calculations on the blackboard:

"Traditional formation: N is 1000, β is 1, W is 0.3, resulting in P=300, while the Alden army's horizontal formation: N is 1000, with a training advantage β of 1.2, W of 0.9, resulting in P=1080."

"A threefold difference in combat power!" Schroeder circled the result with red chalk, "So in the battles against the Orcs, as you have witnessed, we abandoned the traditional formations and instead widened our battle lines." His pointer traced the terrain on the sand table, "The Orcs' dense charges fell right into this mathematical trap—their β value actually decreased due to crowding, while our W value reached an astonishing 1.1!"

Klein suddenly slammed the table and stood up: "So those seemingly thin and fragile horizontal lines... were actually a meticulously designed killing formula?"

"Exactly!" Schroeder lifted the sand table cover on the desk, revealing a precisely surveyed battlefield model beneath, "Before every battle, the staff officers calculate the optimal W value. Sometimes we even deliberately retreat—" His pointer indicated a depression, "Just to lure the enemy into terrain that allows our battle lines to fully deploy."

Outside the window, the synchronized firing of musket training echoed, forming a cruel harmony with the still-wet ink on the blackboard. The former royal army generals stared silently at the formulas on the blackboard, suddenly realizing that their years of combat experience were being redefined by these cold, unfeeling numbers.

What was even more terrifying was that this theory was turning every ordinary soldier in Alden into a precisely calculated variable in the equation of war.

...

After finishing the day's lessons, Ophina followed her usual routine and had dinner with her companions. Upon returning to her residence, she slammed the bedroom door shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place echoing sharply in the empty room.

She stood by the window, admiring the night view of Alden Town, her fingertips lightly tapping on the window frame.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that at this time, Catherine would usually have come knocking on her door with some newly discovered snacks.

But for the past week, she had been busy studying new military theories, while Catherine had been accompanying her husband Paul to some academic conference. They hadn't seen each other in a while—for Catherine and Ophina, a week was already a long time.

Her fingers unconsciously caressed the scarf Catherine had left behind during her last visit.

"I haven't actively sought her out. Is she mad at me? Or..."

"Has she forgotten about her old friend just six months into her marriage?"

Ophina muttered softly, throwing her coat heavily onto the back of a chair.

"Hmph, someone who values romance over friendship..."

She complained to the empty room, her tone tinged with longing.

"Ophina, I need your help."

"Princess Catherine?" She spun around abruptly, her military boots scraping loudly against the floor. But the room was empty, only the curtains swaying gently in the evening breeze.

"I couldn't be mistaken. That was definitely the princess's voice!"

She searched the room thoroughly, checking under the table, inside the cabinets, and everywhere else, but found nothing. She then opened the door and carefully inspected the living room.

"Am I hallucinating?" Ophina began to doubt herself.

"I need your help!" The voice suddenly rang out again.

This time, Ophina pinpointed the source of the voice with certainty—it was coming from within her own mind.

For a moment, she thought something might be wrong with her mental state, and a sense of panic crept in.

But having been on the battlefield, she quickly forced herself to calm down.

"Calm... calm..."

Ophina sat quietly on the bed, meditating, her mind gradually steadying with each breath.

It was very strange. As her heart calmed, the voice in her mind became even clearer.

"We're trapped in a strange place and need you to bring us back."

Now, Ophina had to face reality. She tried asking in her mind—though it felt bizarre—"Princess Catherine, is that you speaking to me?"

"Yes, Ophina, you can hear me?"

Catherine's voice was unmistakably excited, like a drowning person grasping at a lifeline.

"I hear you. It's really you!"

Ophina responded in disbelief, "What's going on? How can you transmit your voice into my mind? Is this... magic?"

"The process is a bit complicated. I'll keep it brief."

"Paul and I, along with Eileen and Ladia, were attacked..."

"Are you all right?" Ophina was startled and couldn't help but exclaim.

"We're fine! But we've been transported to a strange world and are trapped here."

Ophina hurriedly asked, "What kind of place is it?"

"I can't really explain it clearly," Catherine replied with a hint of helplessness in her tone.

"Tell me, what do I need to do to bring you back?" Ophina remembered the crucial point in the other's words and got straight to the point.

"You need to find a way to come over here and then 'take' us out."

"No problem!"

"Uh..." Catherine's tone suddenly became a bit awkward, "I should probably explain the situation here first..."

(End of the Chapter)

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