Squad Tournament

Time passed quickly.

It had already been a month since I enlisted.

And today—
was the day of the squad tournament.

Squad leader Cliff Shannon, who had blabbered nonsense about whether I should try dropping out during the stamina test, finally came to his senses only after receiving low kicks until his legs broke.

Thanks to being doused with plenty of high-grade potions, the squad leader's femur healed quickly.

1st squad barely managed to place 8th in the stamina test and advanced to the tournament.

After a month of hellish training,
all the senior members—except for First Senior Lisa Fox—had reached the point where, without realizing it, they sometimes addressed me with honorifics.

Weren't honorifics supposed to be used for people of higher status or older age?

The eight squads of 10th Platoon stood in formation at the parade ground.

The squad tournament for the 4th Company would take place over a total of ten days.

Each day, one platoon's winning squad would be decided.

Today was the first day, when the tournament for 10th Platoon—the weakest platoon—would be held.

Company commander Leonel Jorge, as well as all platoon commanders and squad leaders of the 4th Company, were present to watch.

"Squad leaders of the 10th Platoon, step forward."

The eight squad leaders, excluding those of the two squads eliminated in the stamina test, stepped forward.

"Each of you, draw a ball from the box. Squads drawing the same color will compete against each other."

From inside a temporary tent, murmurs could be heard among the other squads' leaders who were watching the 10th Platoon's squad tournament.

"Oh? That fat bastard showed up again?"

"He didn't get eliminated in the stamina test? With that kind of body?"

"The stamina test is only passed if all squad members make it, so maybe other squads have a weakling or two— but in his case, the squad leader himself is the problem."

"Calling that thing a squad leader. No matter if it's 1st squad—the rest of our squad leaders look pathetic next to that pig."

They were talking about 1st squad leader Cliff Shannon.

Whether it was fortunate or not, they were far enough away that Cliff Shannon likely couldn't hear.

Starting with the 2nd Squad leader, each approached and drew a ball.

His huge frame and bulky muscles reminded me of Brown Hawk mercenary guild's mad dog, Pablo.

"Red."

One by one, the other squad leaders drew their balls as well.

Sometimes it resulted in familiar squads facing off, sometimes rival squads ended up drawing the same color.

But—

Cliff Shannon's face grew noticeably worse.

"Damn... Damn it. The red ball still hasn't come out."

There were only two balls left.

As another squad leader reached into the box to grab a ball—

"I-I'll draw first!"

In a rush, Cliff Shannon shoved the other squad leader aside with his bulky body and stuck his hand in the box.

"Has this bastard lost his mind now?"

The squad leader who was pushed aside glared, but it didn't matter.

Cliff Shannon picked carefully.

He focused all sensation onto his fingertips.

He had to avoid the red ball.

Cliff Shannon fumbled with the two remaining balls for a while, then, with his eyes screwed tightly shut, finally pulled out a ball.

"No luck."

"Tsk. Should've just dropped out during the stamina test."

So murmured the other squad leaders.

A red ball was in Cliff Shannon's hand.

Grimacing, he slowly opened his eyes and, shocked, threw the ball away.

2nd Squad's leader walked over to Cliff Shannon at a leisurely pace,
put his hand on his shoulder, and said,

"I'll be counting on you, 1st squad leader."

"Y-yeah..."

I tapped Simon, the Third Senior, in front of me.

"What's wrong with our squad leader?"

Simon turned around, his expression just as sour as the squad leader's.

"2nd Squad... is the strongest squad."

Of course.

The lower the number—excluding the 1st squad—the better the skill and the more important the missions.

Except for the 1st squad, that is.

"I get that much."

"Last squad tournament, 2nd Squad fought 5th Squad. All of 5th Squad got carried away on stretchers. The training field was soaked in blood. Well, skill matters, but that guy is really brutal. Mad Dog Spiros."

"Mad Dog?"

"That's the nickname of 2nd Squad leader Spiros Vandis."

Do guys with bodies like that always get nicknamed "mad dog"?

"Do you know who I am! Pablo of Brown Hawk, the Mad Dog!"

Suddenly, the image of Mad Dog Pablo tearing across the battlefield flashed before me.

That huge musclebound body and the nickname.

Is Spiros a higher-rank version of Pablo?

"Fourth and Fifth Squads, remain on the parade ground. Everyone else, to the waiting tent."

At company commander Leonel Jorge's command, we moved to the waiting tent.

On the parade ground, the 4th Squad and 5th Squad stood facing each other at a distance.

I turned to Lisa Fox, who was seated nearby.

"How long does the competition last?"

"Time? There's no such rule. It goes until every member of a side is incapacitated. See over there? The white tent. The priests for healing are stationed there."

Even priests?

Just for a squad tournament?

Priests who serve the god Remedium possess the authority to heal using their holy power.

Not everyone who becomes a priest gets healing authority.

Only those chosen by the god can demonstrate that power,
and the magnitude of the authority varies by the god's choice.

However, after living by the sword and watching them myself,
I don't really know about divine selection—it's just a matter of who has more talent.

Priests who wield healing authority would probably have done just as well as mages instead of priests.

Anyway,
there are very few priests able to exercise healing authority, and because of that rarity, the value of Remedium temple priests keeps soaring.

That's also why the Remedium temple is exceptionally wealthy compared to temples serving other gods.

The booming voice of 1000-man commander Leonel Jorge, reverberating solidly thanks to his internal power, rang out.

"4th Squad and 5th Squad, begin the competition!"

After a brief pause—

"Uraaah!"

4th Squad moved first.

With an energetic battle cry from the squad leader, the 4th Squad members, lined up in a row, charged at 5th Squad.

What's this? Disappointing.

No tactics, no strategy.

Even when I led Brown Hawk mercenary guild, we didn't fight like that.

Though, to be fair, it was even worse before I took command.

Cheng!

Weapons clashed, emitting harsh metallic sounds.

Whoosh.

The 4th Squad leader's big, heavy sword sliced through the air.

Thud!

The opponent blocking with a shield went flying into the distance.

They intentionally targeted the weakest one first.

Not a bad tactic.

If you reduce their numbers like this, you can eventually gain a better position.

I turned to Lisa Fox.

"What happens if someone gets killed like that?"

"What, are you scared?"

No way.

"They usually don't fight that fiercely. It's just a competition—there are relationships to consider between squads."

I turned back to watch the fight.

Lisa Fox was right.

The two squads looked intense at a glance,
but the outcome was already decided.

Thud!

"Ugh!"

5th Squad members began dropping out, one after another.

Starting with the weakest, naturally.

Now, those with more skill were being surrounded and attacked by two or three at a time.

A natural defeat.

4th Squad was relatively skilled, and it seemed very likely the two squads had discussed the outcome beforehand.

For this kind of collusion to appear in a draw-based tournament, it means more than one or two squads made agreements.

That 4th Squad had probably reached informal understandings with multiple squads about how to handle matchups.

I glanced over at company commander Leonel Jorge.

Things aren't going your way, are they, Leonel?

With matches going like this, it's hard to find any hidden talents.

Even if someone loses, you need someone to show their real skills under pressure for there to be grounds for reassigning squads.

Apparently, each squad leader is closely connected with the others.

That might make army life smoother for them, and foster camaraderie, but it's poison for developing real skills.

"This squad tournament. Has everyone been colluding all along?"

"More or less."

"Then why didn't our squad make any deals beforehand?"

Lisa Fox turned to look at me.

"Are you really asking?"

"Yes."

"Because we're 1st squad. The 1st squad that nobody wants to bother with."

Ah—

Cannon fodder.

The squad that's supposed to die first if war breaks out,
despised and treated worse than animals even in peacetime.

The squad I made into that.

"Now I get it."

"Get what? That our squad is trash?"

"No."

Trash, what nonsense.

Even just watching this match,
Deputy-Squad Leader Leonard Schuler, First Senior Lisa Fox, Second Senior Bier Nolan,
they certainly don't have skills inferior to the others.

The only real weak links are the fat, incompetent squad leader Cliff Shannon, and the thoroughly cowed Simon.

"Then what do you get?"

"The reason Leonel—no, the company commander—put our squad together like this."

"The reason for putting us together like this? You just figured that out?"

First Senior Lisa Fox,
so you already knew?

"Because we all have some major flaw. I'm a woman with a criminal record, the deputy-squad leader was transferred for insubordination, Bier is just an idiot, and the rest—you know without me saying."

That's not quite right.

Sure, it's half-true.

He did gather people who wouldn't complain if placed in 1st squad.

But that's not the real point, Lisa Fox.

"Bastian and I don't have any real flaws."

"You're orphans, aren't you?"

Ah.

So it was a flaw after all.

"Anyway. There's another reason the 1000-man commander put us all in one squad."

"Oh really? And what is that?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

I looked over at the 1000-man commander again.

You really went over every detail assembling this squad, didn't you, Leonel Jorge.

Fine.

I'll move as you want.

1st squad has my first companion, Bastian.

And there are a few more people here who are too promising to waste as cannon fodder.

This situation—

It's going to be fun.