That Time an American was Reincarnated into Another World

I spent a week reading over the Orb that Polly had given me. There were four books totalling over 3500 pages within, centered on two main topics: legislation, and strategy. The first 2000 pages went over the legalities of war, the military, operating procedures, history, and more. It was basically everything that gave the Kingdom the legitimacy to do whatever the hell it wanted during war – not that anybody was really in place to protest – and remind everyone who read it that the Kingdom was in control. Stepping out of line had severe consequences, in theory.

In actuality, it depended on the nobility of the suspect, and the decision often rested more on the presiding officer than written regulations. 

The other two books were filled with small-theater-level strategy and tactics, on the level Colonel Polly worked with: not meant to direct an entire battlefront, but just some part of it, in complete detail. They wouldn’t win a war, but for the little corner a Colonel managed? This contained more than enough.

Of course, Colonel Polly’s operations were more than a little beyond what would normally be a Colonel’s responsibility. Stronghold Charlie’s position on the frontlines and its concentration of combat power both contributed to what should’ve been a General’s responsibility, but it was all heaped on Polly. She took it in stride and accepted the challenge, becoming far more competent than even some of the officers above her, and was perfectly poised to seize the open General positions after the fall of Purple Sky. She had already proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could handle a higher rank. 

The two books gave me a glimpse into what she handled daily: considering terrain while positioning, joint operations between soldiers of different power levels, materiel and weaponry logistics, and, most importantly, interpreting Scourge actions. 

One book was for handling humans, one book was for handling Scourge.

Becoming a Colonel was the first step to becoming someone who could meaningfully contribute to the war in the realm of strategy. Of course, most of the information was only supposed to apply on a smaller scale. It wouldn’t, in theory, prepare one for an entire warfront and the smattering of bases that accompanied it. 

But if you were smart enough, it wasn’t difficult to extrapolate and understand the bigger picture, especially with external information channels. Polly no doubt had sources from all over the Kingdom given her bodacious claims regarding her social network and experience.

And, in this realm, I actually had a solid advantage. 

I may not have been a history nerd, but it was always easy to let myself fall into the spiral of sleepless nights and 4 AM documentaries and videos on all things war. I’d seen no shortage of analyses on the world wars — and all their battles — and why things went the way they did. And while much of that stuff wouldn’t apply to this world given the difference in technology and enemy, there were still some constants and parallels that I could draw, especially when I remembered the ancient wars, even the modern wars. 

I highly doubted that this world could possibly compare to the breadth of Earth’s wartime expertise, let alone its complexity. I didn’t care that this world had summoners with magical smarts. Sometimes, tactical genius was an inborn trait that couldn’t be replicated. 

And I grew up in an area where all of that information was free to study all I wanted. Before, I couldn’t dream of accurately recalling it all, let alone learning anything from it. But with my new magical smarts, that was no longer an issue. 

That was why those books Polly gave me came so easily to me. Sure, I needed to memorize them to answer the way they wanted in the future. A test wasn’t where I needed to show my initiative. But that meant nothing for how I would operate in the future. 

The hardest part was the details. Knowing what the Scourge was trying to do required you to pattern together their seemingly-unintelligent actions. There were always brains behind a scout troop or a sudden attack, even though the monsters carrying them out were brainless. It was a Colonel’s job to interpret what a Royal general’s goals were based on the mindless movements of its monstrous appendages.

That meant there was a lot of information on the different types of Scourge monsters, their purposes, and interpretations on why they were fielded. Seeing something as inconsequential as a Scout hideout would mean that they were not only really far from the main Scourge body, but that a large attack force was planning on coming to that area to establish a nest, which was one of the very few reasons a Scout would ever take up long-term residence beyond their home nest or base. 

This also meant that mission reports and observations were incredibly important. Failing to mention that the Scout had made itself a nest could result in the Colonel failing to predict an oncoming attack force, which could result in troops being blindsided and wiped out by a large-scale attack.

They had to pay attention to the small details, which meant parsing through a ton of information from a lot of reports over many days, weeks, or months. After all, the Colonel, in the vast majority of cases, couldn’t be out there in the field. 

Which was why Polly wanted to turn me into a Colonel, or mentally raise me to the level of one. With me on the battlefield, she wouldn’t have to rely on the inferiority of inconsistent mission reports from people less observant and detail-oriented as her.

I came to understand why she was offering this to me specifically. A summoner capable of combat and survival on a battlefield was practically unheard of. 

After the first week of crunching all the information in the book, I spent the second week relaxing a bit more and going back to my typical advancement formation training routine. Although I could memorize all the knowledge, I needed real data in order to understand and use it. For that, I needed to study things with Polly, but after we got back from the Treehouse, she had been a bit busy. The Scourge was definitely preparing for an attack on the Treehouse, possibly even Stronghold itself. The Snow Doves would need to be mobilized; they were called for the Treehouse just a few days after we got back. Their absence also made Stronghold more vulnerable, so us, the Pathfinders, started going out on more patrols to pick up the slack. Polly was in charge of coordinating all this, and it left little time for me. 

That wasn’t to say she wasn’t giving me things to do, though. She had started to test me by asking for more and more details on reports, seeing if I could remember to provide key details as well. And while free access was out of the question for now, Polly also practically threw bundles of old reports my way, letting me parse the information.

Yet the days still passed by leisurely, despite the looming tension of battle in the air.

Patrols certainly weren’t eventful; there wasn’t a single Scourge contact, and the only casualty was a quickly-mended slip and fall.

Even with how busy Polly was, HQ was quiet too; one of her Colonels was on leave, while the other had left with the Snow Doves.

The week passed quickly. My leg felt as good as new, and while I didn’t have much of a chance to practice with the White Death’s rifle, I was still able to get a read on some of its unique properties. 

This M/28-30 was more accurate than the M1 Garand. Its MOA was noticeably tighter; I could more reliably hit targets from further away. What was more important than all of that, though, was the attunement I felt with the rifle when I used it. 

When I first felt the rifle, I noticed an incredible improvement in my ability to estimate distances. With my eyes, I could estimate distances within 500 meters down to the meter mark. Beyond that, accuracy started to go down, but being able to know when something was 720 or 760 meters away was very nice. 

With a bit of experience wielding the rifle on patrols, I started to understand the spirit a bit more. These weapons weren’t just hunks of metal and wood. They were living things, and this particular spirit allowed me to bond with it much more than other, less powerful spirits. 

Thus, when I really focused, I could ‘reach out’. It was an odd feeling, like my Aura was extending out into the distance, but much more refined, more focused. Anything within 600 meters was fair game; past that, it got too straining to maintain. Within that range, the moment I pulled my trigger, I just knew if my bullet would hit or not. It was almost like drawing the path that the bullet would travel.

Put simply, it was precognition for shooting. I no longer took shots that I was going to miss, only shooting when I knew I would hit, despite inherent inaccuracies at long ranges.

The White Death understood his weapon so thoroughly that he grasped its inaccuracies and could adjust to them himself. I was merely borrowing that incredibly deep link only developed through experience and time. The second I touched another rifle, these feelings would fade. I would still retain the ability to estimate distances, but until I got in tune with another rifle, I wouldn’t understand it and predict its shots with perfect accuracy. 

Still, even though I would someday give up this rifle for more powerful options, it opened up a whole new world to me. It was another level of shooting mastery that I had never been exposed to. Now, I was beginning to understand the level I needed to strive for. 

Like that, the third week came around.

……

…

……

“AAAHHH!! Help me!!”

I let out a long pained breath, pushing myself to keep leaping across rooftops until I got near the street. 

A little girl was stumbling in my direction, a man mere steps behind her, scrambling for me. He picked her up as he passed by, just as a group of monsters chasing them rounded the corner. 

I lifted my rifle and opened fire. 

Six beasts jerked and danced to the tune of my rapidly aimed shots, dropping to the scorched street with little ceremony. One of the beasts, just a bit tougher than its fellows, dropped a moment later, sliding to a halt on the slick of blood the street had become. 

The shots I took attracted more attention, and even as I turned my squinting eyes skyward in search of more hostiles, a group rounded another corner.

I shot them as they came, dropping them as they came bounding and scuttling toward me and my charges. Some took entire magazines, and I struggled to get off the roof and into an alleyway.

They were tough. This force was nothing like the ones I had fought before.

I kept one eye on the running pair going down the street as I slammed in magazine after magazine, watching their faces contort in exertion and terror as the thing that was chasing them finally shoved its way through the smoke. 

A light, the color of a raging star, pulsed in a way no light ever could as it illuminated the monster it belonged to.

A Bellowbeast. Even as I dispatched the last few stragglers trying to make their way to me, even as I emptied the rest of my magazine, packed to the brim with the harshest Psyka I could muster, even as I waved to the man and the little girl he carried to sprint for the alleyway that would give them safety, its throat inflated as it filled with inhuman fire, lighting the blackened cobblestones beneath its feet. 

It shrugged off the rounds that flattened against its skin; the full size cartridges didn’t even stagger it for a moment, and it soon flooded the street with murderous flames. 

The man glanced back for but a second, and, with the intense heat singing his hair, didn’t even hesitate for a moment before throwing the girl to me in the alleyway, no more than eight to ten, old enough to understand what was going on — and experience the terror that comes from comprehension — but not old enough to do anything about it. I reached forward and grabbed her as the fire drowned the man, unheard whispers on his lips.

In the few moments I had left, I wrapped the girl in my hood, stumbling back a few steps in an attempt to gain some distance, any distance at all, from the flames tumbling into the alley. Even beneath my gear and hood, it was like standing in an oven.

Even as the fire rushed over me, I took a last few steps, but, deep down, I knew it didn’t matter.

I couldn’t hear the screams, but I felt them. 

The fire was gone in a matter of seconds. Everything was in flames, even the ashes on the stones charred to dust. 

I lifted myself from the floor, opening my arms to find nothing but a small body.

Skin flaked off my chest, nothing more than cinders. Outside my inadequate embrace, it partially crumbled, revealing cracked bones and burnt flesh.

Even through the mask, the smell reached me. I wanted to retch, but the danger approaching me only kept coming closer.

Still, my eyes remained locked on the corpse, once alive just seconds ago. 

The danger stopped, that thing looking down on me from a rooftop. 

“I can’t say I’m a fan of cooked meat anymore. Especially not that cooked. All the flavor is gone. Little girls are the good ones too. Why couldn’t you protect her better?.”

I finally lifted my eyes to find the sadistic piece of shit, nothing but smiles as it looked down from above. 

Completely black eyes and a face I could never stand. There wasn’t even a trace of mutation on it either. The process wasn’t difficult, forced, either. It had changed willingly. 

My mind almost drew a blank. The overwhelming anger and frustration paralyzed me. I couldn’t understand. 

Why did this have to happen? Why did the Scourge exist?

I would sacrifice my life if it meant stopping them, killing them all. But that was too easy, apparently. My death meant nothing. 

No, it was my life they wanted. My time, my blood, my sweat, my sanity. 

With every death, with every murder, they continued to chip away at it. I hadn’t quite noticed at first. I could brush off death so easily back then. I still could now. But its toll grew. I could feel the cracks forming.

I didn’t want to. I felt like I could resist it, either by simply not caring or accepting it as part of the job. Death was everywhere, I’d encountered it everywhere I went, and there would always be more. It was just a fact of life and I’d gotten used to it. It wouldn’t, couldn’t faze me. 

But that wasn’t true. The cinder stuck to my chest, the body cradled in my arms. I dropped the corpse when the threat to my life started growing even more, but I only felt heavier when I stood. 

I looked into what passed for eyes on the thing with a twisted perversion of a smile. That deep, corrupted abyss that made me shiver with unadulterated hatred. 

Killing this thing would bring me no joy. I used to think the comfort of their death was enough. I used to think that it could keep me going. The fact that one less monster was walking this planet, sparing one more person from death and destruction, was fuel that helped me through even the most straining days. 

But even as I imagined the corpse of this fiend plastered across the floor, I felt nothing. There would be no accomplishment, no relief that it could no longer harm those that were still alive. 

There was only one thought on my mind, even as my body moved on its own, as it had a thousand times before, seeking the death of this monster. 

It wasn’t enough.

……

……

“Haaaahhhh!”

I shot out of my bed, almost screaming. 

My dream, my nightmare, echoed through my thoughts. The force with which it recoiled through my mind was enough to leave my nose dripping blood. I could taste it on the tip of my tongue, could just barely smell it with each breath I took.

Despite my amazing memory, details faded as fast as they came, almost as if something didn’t want me remembering it. 

Yet the feeling remained all too vividly. I looked down at my bare chest. There was no ash, no charred flesh. 

But the sheer rage… it made me feel like my head was going to explode. It was powerful, much more than I was currently. 

But with the fading memories, that feeling also dulled. I was able to filter it out and keep myself under control. Still, I sincerely hoped nobody would come to check on me. I didn’t know what I would do. 

Minutes passed as my mind gradually came to full lucidity, no longer clouded by the thought that I needed to kill everything around me. 

I didn’t just hate the Scourge. I was feeling sincere anger toward them.

In a sense, the Scourge was only half the problem. The other half was the people defending against it. They were another problem.

This wasn’t just my hatred for nobles seeping through. This was something else, something I was only mad about a good time from now. Question was, why?

What the hell did they do to get me so pissed off?

After the mind-numbing thoughts started to fade away, a piercing headache hit me as my nosebleed slowed to a trickle. It seemed like it was too late to go back to sleep, so I got out of bed with a sigh, deciding to think over things later. 

It was 4 AM, and today, we were being deployed.