Chapter 1 - The Silver Grave

Chapter 1 - The Silver Grave

I lived my entire life as a slave.

After my master passed away, his son, who had become the new family head, granted me freedom.

He told me that if I headed north, I could see the aurora I had always dreamed of.

The dark days of my past could finally turn pure white, marking a new beginning.

Eight years ago, on the day I first embraced my newfound freedom and set out toward the north, it happened.

That day, war broke out.

***

"The Captain has to be insane."

"Yeah, the Captain's nickname is 'Mad Dog,' after all."

"I'm not joking here..."

Two soldiers in navy uniforms were whispering to each other.

"How could any sane person come up with a plan like this?"

"What would a rookie like you know about the Captain's mind? Even I don't get it."

I turned my head toward them.

"Dogs have sharp ears, you know."

"S-Sorry, sir!"

The two soldiers immediately bowed their heads.

The rookie among them was the first to raise his gaze.

"With all due respect, Captain..."

He suddenly raised his voice.

"Captain, this mission...! It's incomprehensible! By tradition, by ethics—none of it makes sense!"

Hearing his words, I couldn't help but sigh.

"Rookie."

"Sir, my name is Jin Rodemain!"

"Right, Jin-whatever. Thousands of goblins will be climbing up here soon. We number less than a tenth of that. Those goblins, despite their small stature, have wide feet. That means they can easily climb slick and steep slopes."

After taking a deep breath, I continued.

"I'm sure I explained this already. We're outnumbered, and their physical traits give them an advantage in this terrain."

"Even so...!"

"My duty isn't to teach ethics. It's to ensure the mission succeeds."

Just as I finished speaking, a horn blared.

The roar of the goblin horde followed closely behind.

The green mass of creatures began climbing the hill.

It was only a matter of time before they reached the Imperial soldiers waiting in the trenches.

"Fire!"

At my signal, the soldiers pulled their triggers.

Black smoke and gunfire filled the air.

The goblins advancing up the hill quickly fell.

But the goblins in the rear continued to push forward.

It was like a tense tug-of-war.

The distance between the goblin horde and the Imperial soldiers remained constant.

Until the limitations of our muskets became evident.

"Captain! We're running out of time...!"

"We'll be overrun before we can reload!"

So, I raised my right hand high, making sure it was visible.

A signal to hold.

The next signal came when I clenched my raised hand into a fist.

The soldiers tensed.

When the goblins were nearly upon our defensive line, I gave the order.

"Throw them."

I clenched my fist tightly.

The soldiers lifted the corpses lying in the trench.

"Throw them now!"

The bodies rolled down the hill.

They were the mangled remains of comrades, still dressed in navy uniforms.

The shattered bodies crashed, bent grotesquely from the impact.

"Throw all of them! Let those who've gone ahead fight to the very end!"

The goblins struck by the corpses tumbled off the hill, crushed under the weight.

This bought us the precious time needed to reload our muskets.

"I'm sorry..."

The rookie murmured, lifting a body with tearful eyes.

"I'm so sorry..."

I stared blankly at the rookie as he muttered.

No one could be completely devoid of emotion.

"Shut up, rookie."

Eight years of war had made me this way.

***

"Hey, recruit."

"Jin Rodemain!"

Jin immediately snapped to attention with a sharp salute.

"Word is, you yelled at the captain?"

"I didn't yell, sir!"

"Then why the excuses? Watch yourself. Captains get disappointed over the smallest things."

"My apologies, sir."

"Save your apologies for the captain. You should go talk to him."

"Me? Directly?"

"Of course. Should I go instead?"

"I-I'll go! My apologies!"

"Tsk."

The senior soldier clicked his tongue.

"The corpse I threw… it was my friend from back home, the one I enlisted with. I can't face their family after this."

"That's something to worry about after surviving this mess. Let me ask you—don't you think the captain is crazy?"

Jin clamped his mouth shut.

The silence was telling.

"Imagine being at the mercy of someone like him. What if he decides to toss you in alive next time?"

Slowly, Jin nodded.

"You're right… Understood, sir."

After saluting again, Jin turned and made his way to the captain.

Standing before the door, he hesitated, his hand raised to knock.

A loud crash echoed from inside.

It sounded like something being struck forcefully. The impact shook the doorframe.

"What the hell is he doing now…?"

The noises came in steady intervals.

"Ugh, forget it. If I interrupt him at the wrong moment—"

"Who's there?"

The captain's voice filtered through the door.

"J-Jin Rodemain, sir!"

"Ah, Jin-whatever. Come in."

Taking a deep breath, Jin pushed open the door.

The moment he stepped in, a blinding light assaulted his eyes.

Raising his arms to shield his face, he squinted against the brilliance.

When the glare subsided, he slowly lowered his hands.

The captain's quarters came into view—a strange and dazzling sight.

It glowed without any lamps or lighting.

"What do you want?"

The captain's voice barely registered. Jin's focus was elsewhere.

The walls shimmered, packed from floor to ceiling with silver dog tags. They gleamed like unpolished ore, a macabre yet mesmerizing display.

"Why are you here?" the captain repeated.

"Doesn't the light bother you, sir?"

"This?" The captain shrugged, scratching his white hair.

"Looks pitch black to me."

The juxtaposition was jarring. His emerald eyes, as vivid as jewels, bore an emptiness that dulled their brilliance—like discovering a precious stone was just a dull pebble.

The captain held a hammer in his right hand.

"Have you been hammering dog tags into the walls, sir?"

He gave a small nod.

"May I ask why?"

"It's… a hobby."

"A… hobby?"

"Say what you came to say."

"My apologies, sir! About that day—I'm deeply sorry!"

Jin bowed deeply at the waist.

"That day?"

"The hilltop battle, sir. I sincerely apologize."

"Hm. Is that all?"

"Yes, sir."

"Got it. Dismissed."

"Understood, sir."

Jin saluted and turned to leave.

Just as he reached for the doorknob, he hesitated. Turning back, he spoke up.

"Actually, Captain…"

He glanced at the walls, scanning the rows of dog tags, and then continued.

"To be honest, I already knew about this place. Everyone in the 63rd Company does. This 'Silver Grave.' There's no way we couldn't. And I know this isn't just a 'hobby,' sir. No sane person would turn dog tags into a grave for fun."

"You called me crazy back then. Now you're changing your mind?"

"The tags on these walls… they're all your regrets, aren't they, sir?"

The moment he asked, a low rumble filled the room.

It was a sound like gathering storm clouds, pressing down on his body.

"Recruit."

Jin didn't need to look to know.

The sound of cannonballs soaring through the air was all too familiar by now.

"Get down."

***

The corpses lay scattered, like a school of fish dragged into a net.

The ground was split, and buildings had collapsed.

I was buried under the debris of the shattered company commander's office.

A silver grave I had built over eight years.

I had dug my own grave.

My past crushed me.

"Commander...!"

He was holding up the rubble with his back.

He wouldn't last long.

A large splinter of wood pierced through his back and jutted out of his abdomen.

Blood dripped from the sharp tip of the wood, trickling down onto the cheek of the new recruit below.

"Commander, why did you... save me?"

"Over there... those are my comrades from training."

I shifted my gaze to the fragmented wall.

"I had no family, so my comrades were the first family I ever had. Though we didn't share blood, we bled together."

Especially the comrade who had been the first to die by my side.

His blue eyes came to mind.

"He was a pretty skilled mage. He had the magic of clairvoyance, but tragically, he lost his sight. That injury claimed his life in training."

I suppressed the blood rising in my throat and continued.

"Next to him was the scion of a prestigious family with unique magic. But he died before he could truly master it."

"Commander, you mustn't keep talking!"

"And beside him, there was a swordsman who used blood as a medium for magic. A genius craftsman who ran an armory from the age of sixteen. A hunter who was so skilled with herbs that we entrusted our wounds to him. If they had lived, they might have seen the end of the war. My comrades were the strongest unit—except for me."

I lowered my head and glared at the splinter piercing my abdomen.

A jagged, knife-like shard of wood.

"Rookie, I have acrophobia—a fear of pointed objects. I can't stand sharp ends, even pen tips are overwhelming for me. Swords and spears? Even worse. When I was a recruit, we didn't even use muskets, so there was no avoiding it."

The blade's spine and edge converged into a point.

That point felt as though it would pierce and pluck out my eyes.

Sometimes, just brushing against it felt like my bones would be shattered.

It was merely the tip of something, yet for me, it was the beginning of terror.

"I was a half-baked soldier in the past."

"But... Commander, you can fight with your eyes closed, can't you?"

"To you, it might seem that way. Rookie, two weeks ago, before you joined the 63rd Company—I finally learned to fight that way."

"Finally...?"

The rookie repeated the word, "finally," in disbelief.

"Yes, you asked if I have regrets."

The rookie slowly nodded.

"My head is filled with nothing but regrets. If only I had learned to fight properly a bit earlier, I wouldn't have built this grave. Instead of wielding a hammer, I would've held a sword... fought beside them before they died..."

"Commander..."

"I have one favor to ask, Jin Rodemain."

"You... remembered my surname?"

Instead of answering, I glanced around the crumbled walls.

"Live to the end. Live on, and when the day comes, remember them—you remember them too."

"N-no! Commander, you can still—!"

"My name is Mago. I have no surname."

"Commander!"

"It's only two syllables. Surely you won't forget."

I gently closed my eyes.

"No, you don't need to remember my name. But just this one thing—I really did... try my best..."

To those who had gone ahead and waited for me.

To all of you, I'm finally coming back.

***

The white curtains flew into the air.

They fluttered with the wind, as though they had wings.

Free, untamed flapping.

The curtains flew over the stone wall.

What am I looking at?

More importantly, how?

How am I even seeing this?

"Mago."

I could even hear the voice.

Then, the sound of a horse's neigh echoed in my ears.

"Mago! Stop daydreaming and help out!"

Curtains, clothes, white fabrics—all were tossed around wildly by the sudden gust of wind.

Even the aged stable door broke apart.

A brown horse trying to escape.

The horse my master cherished like his own child.

It shoved aside the servant blocking the entrance and wandered aimlessly.

"The gate! Close the gate!"

Two servants by the mansion gate hurriedly began to shut it.

The gray iron gate creaked as it slowly closed.

"Mago! Hurry!"

I was going to lose it.

I instinctively sprinted.

Just as the horse reached the mansion's entrance, the gate shut tightly.

I grabbed the reins of the disoriented brown horse.

The servants heaved a sigh of relief.

"Mago, that horse... Did you just catch up to it?"

With my left hand gripping the reins, I wrapped my right arm around the horse.

Avoiding its kicking hind legs, I flipped it over and hoisted it above me.

I placed the struggling horse onto my shoulder and headed for the stable.

"Incredible... I knew you were strong, but this..."

"Mago! Hold on tight!"

One of the servants hurried over with a lasso.

He slipped the noose over the horse's neck.

Then, he quickly tied the other end to a stable post.

"Done. It's secured," the servant said, cautiously stepping back.

The murmurs of the servants reached my ears.

"His strength isn't just ordinary..."

"What was the master thinking, keeping Mago around? If he ever turns on us..."

"Don't worry about it."

The rest was obvious.

"Mago can't wield a weapon."

"Can't wield one? With that kind of strength?"

A fear of sharp points.

That was my affliction, my obstacle, and my regret.

But letting it paralyze me was in the past.

Just like everything else, like what I now saw and heard—events of the past.

I slowly surveyed my surroundings.

All the servants were dressed in black.

The sudden gust of wind.

The escaping horse.

"It's exactly the same as the day of the master's funeral."

The day I gained my freedom.

The day I gained it and lost something else.

I clenched and unclenched my fists.

The smooth leather of the horse's skin, the brush of its fur against my fingers.

The weighty pain on my shoulder.

I felt it all.

"So, this isn't a dream..."

I peered into the mansion's lobby.

Guests dressed in black mourned as they gazed down at the casket.

The master had been a cruel man. If he was going anywhere, it would surely be hell.

While sending someone off to hell, this couldn't be hell itself.

"What's with this sudden wind... It's chaos."

The late master's eldest son—the new head of the family—approached me.

The master's death didn't grant me freedom.

The next master was standing before me.

Before studying abroad at the Magic Academy, this young lord was infamous as a wastrel.

"Mago, I've been looking for you. I've got a gift for you."

I lifted my head and met his gaze.

Once again, I saw his gleaming blue eyes.

The very same eyes of the one etched in the north wall of the commander's office, top-left corner.

"I've been looking for you too."

"Huh?"

The first dog tag.

The mage who had lost his sight to an arrow, robbed of his clairvoyant magic.

"A chance... to have no regrets."

This wasn't a dream.

It wasn't hell.

One by one, the possibilities narrowed down to a single conclusion.

This was likely the past.

I was reliving the past.