Soul Digger-Chapter 76: COWARDS OBLIGATION

Reality flickered in and out for Caesar; his consciousness floated like a weightless feather, and the approaching danger seemed more like a delusion in his dissociated state.

As he pierced through the barriers of wind with his battered body, a wave of constructed thoughts flooded his mind. The immediate scene grew distant, replaced by a recollection of previous events that constantly clouded his psyche.

Three years prior, in a rainforest within the deepest reaches of the Seharan—a region between Saint Flores and the Cornelas city line—Caesar remembered his ordinary days in the Defense Military. Though the supernatural challenges of an Indulger’s life were not yet present, his days as a soldier were far from mundane.

On March 15th, Caesar and his unit were assigned to subjugate a guerrilla squad stealing mineral resources to fund their operations. At the time, both forces had undergone a full week of warfare; men from both sides had suffered catastrophic casualties.

Caesar was among the field soldiers involved in the conflict. Throughout the week, he watched his comrades perish with no accomplishments to their names. He had been a militant for only six years, spending three in training and the remainder on the field. In their camp, he sat upon a wall of sandbags—sacks filled with dirt and held together by a thin yet strong green mesh.

His arms were bruised and battered, smudges of purple and pink decorating his fair skin. His blue hair was shorn a few inches lower than the carpet grass of a football field, and his eyes were soulless, belonging more to a tattered doll than a human being.

He crossed his hands, glaring at the beautiful arrangement of green trees and grass, complimented by the sun’s bright lighting. "How much longer?" Caesar asked the calm winds. "All my friends left me on this earth. Our Commander is stubborn and proud, refusing to call for reinforcements. The remaining food supplies won’t last us till the end of the month. Unlike us, every time the enemy loses soldiers, they gather more men. Most of our weapon stocks have been ransacked and bombed."

"There’s no other way of looking at it; we’re going to lose this battle," he muttered coldly. Caesar then redirected his glare to the sweat on his palm. "I’m not afraid to die. I’m a soldier, after all."

’I chose this life to escape poverty, and I’ll choose death to escape this life if it gets over my head.’

"Who the hell are you talking to?" a thick yet caring voice spoke from behind.

The words were uttered by a man with dark grey hair and tanned skin; his eyes were a darkish blue, set in a scarred and rugged face.

"Beldy, aren’t you supposed to be recovering?" Caesar spoke calmly.

Beldy exaggerated his vigor and yelled with a tone of overbearing positivity, "CAN’T YOU SEE! I’m doing just fine."

"If you say so," Caesar responded coldly. "What did the Commander say? Will you be back on the field?"

"Yeah! According to him, I’ll be a valuable asset in tomorrow’s mission!"

Caesar raised a brow, uttering in a sour voice, "What mission? Our unit was dealt a major casualty count just yesterday. More than half our men were wiped out and our weapons supply has plummeted. What sane man would send us on another attack after considering all the odds stacked against us?!"

"The Commander is," he replied in a deep, pained voice. "He has too much damn pride. He refuses to ask Cornelas for more resources or manpower. To him, ’Our forces alone are great enough to overcome below-subgrade Bohemians,’ or whatever he keeps spitting."

Caesar sunk his eyes back. "If he continues this way, the whole squad will be wiped out. The guerrilla unit keeps getting better, larger, and more tactical with each loss. We can’t afford any more losses; too many good people have died in this forsaken place. I wish the Commander would understand that."

"It’s clear he doesn’t care for any of us, not since the Chief was promoted, leaving us in the hands of someone so irresponsible and foolish," Beldy added, a drained look displayed on his face.

"Is that why you keep going to the battlefront despite your injuries? I’m sure you haven’t recovered, but you still keep going back just to reduce the number of soldiers who die by burdening yourself with most of the operational tasks."

Beldy remained silent at Caesar’s observations.

"You’re a strong man—an absurdly strong man. Even then, you shouldn’t deprive yourself of the gift of rest. Learn to rely on others, submit and accept defeat, and retreat if possible. Otherwise, the entire team will suffer in your state of weakness. Honestly, you and the Commander are incredibly similar," Caesar mumbled loudly to Beldy. "Both of you refuse to accept there are situations that can’t be handled alone."

Beldy clapped in an exhausted rhythm. "I’ve heard enough. My head is kind of dizzy; do you mind if I go back to rest? We have another mission tomorrow."

Caesar shrugged. "You just came to see me when you’re the one who needs company right now. Typical."

Beldy chuckled nervously and staggered back to his lemon-colored tent at the back of a line of pine trees.

’Rest well, my friend. The struggle awaits us tomorrow,’ Caesar smirked genuinely.

BANG!

A dance of smoke, ash, and flame performed throughout the rainforest, leaping from each leaf and root to the next until the spectacle of scorching land and roasting wildlife became the dominant scenery.

Tanks of reinforced metal fired a choir of shells from their main cannons; heat and fire decorated their armored constructs. Like a carpet rolled flat, Caesar watched his camp fall in a burning cry of crackling wood and choking smoke, the sparkles of the fire like beads on a garment.

Tears fled down his eyes. Covered by large bushes, Caesar watched the remnants of his unit crumble beneath the ominously dull moon.

’I can’t move! Shit!’ His eyes shrunk as his mind raced. ’Beldy! Commander! Lieutenant Commander!’

’Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!’

"All I could do was curse in my head," Caesar narrated, his face lost as though stuck in a daze. A month had passed. He sat on a well-furnished bench, adorned in hospital garments. He parted his lips at the sight of children playing soccer on the field. Beside him stood a tall, well-built man dressed in a formal, tidy black uniform, keeping a firm grasp on his hat.

The man had brown hair, insignia of three stars on both shoulders, and a face bearing wisdom and depressing knowledge. His lips were drawn plainly straight, with burnt-out eyes nearly as frail as Caesar’s.

"Is that all you remember?"

Caesar remained silent at the man’s question.

"Well, that’s enough for today. We’ll evaluate all that we can and see if changing your post is possible. The 6th Unit of the Defense Military may have indeed been wiped out; however, as the lone survivor, you’ll be taken into account as a man of prominence."

"I didn’t survive. I simply lost all my nerve and fell flat on the floor, hiding in the bushes until the massacre ended." Caesar folded his palms and rested his head against the warmth of his skin. "I was a coward through and through! The title of a soldier doesn’t suit me."

The Lieutenant General gave Caesar a disappointed glance and shook his head. "If you insist on saying such things... However, remember one thing: the death of all 5,000 members of the 6th Unit and the operation in the Seharan must remain a secret."

Caesar maintained a lifeless silence.

"I just hope you won’t have to be silenced to keep this incident under wraps," the Lieutenant General spoke solemnly.

"What incident? That the negligence of an incompetent Commander, foolishly posted to the 6th Unit by the higher seats of the Defense Military, cost over 5,000 men their lives?"

"What was that?" The man spoke in an eerie, low voice, using a threatening tone to shun Caesar.

".....Nothing. I simply misspoke." Caesar bowed earnestly. "Please forgive me!"

"Better." The man donned his hat as he turned back. "Do ensure such mistakes don’t repeat themselves, or we’ll ensure it for you."

Caesar watched the man leave with a composed, balanced, and orderly gait. "What was that?" His breath hitched.

’Death!’

His fingers twitched as though he had a nerval dysfunction.

’Death!’

His feet froze, unable to stand up or sit properly; Caesar could barely handle his own weight.

He sighed bitterly, wiping his face with both palms in an attempt to hide his growing insanity. "Did I... did Caesar Ordenhein acquire a fear of death?" He stammered every word.

Caesar was never really an exceptional soldier, neither in strength nor technique. He was good, praised for being among the best, but nothing special overall. What made him such a promising soldier was his polished mind and his numbness toward the fear of death. At that point where he sat, both attributes were like myths to him. Neither was present.

"Sir!" A young boy with a bald head yet gleeful face called out. He stood in front of Caesar, bouncing with a lollipop in his mouth.

Caesar’s gaze fell to the young child, and he forced a decent smile so as not to scare the boy. "What seems to be the problem, kid?" he asked in a kind and caring manner.

The child stretched out his hand and offered Caesar a white piece of paper. Caesar was rather baffled at the sight yet accepted it with a weak smile and vague eyes. He thanked the child and watched him skip to the field with excitement and youth.

Caesar watched the child play ball with the others before being dragged away by an enraged nurse for sneaking out of his hospital room. The scene made him chuckle heartily; a slight pain was alleviated from his heart. After which, he opened the paper and saw a message boldly written in black ink.

"Indulgers are behind everything! If you wish to know more, then become an Indulger!"

’An Indulger?’ Ceaser gaped severely. ’Just what is that?’

"An Indulger..."

’When I tried to inquire more, the child who gave me the letter was never recorded in the hospital documents. On top of that, I became a liability to the Defense Military and was hunted down by their dogs.’ Caesar glared at the false sky of the Antarctic set with deprived eyes and a weary face. Snow graced the tip of his skin before melting over his flesh.

"I’m still alive..."

"Caesar!" Nagita cried, rubbing his hands profusely.

The man-eater was mangled beyond recognition; green fluids burst out of its torn and squashed body. Before the crash, Nagita had swooped in to save Caesar in the nick of time, though he had still been unconscious for over an hour.

Within that time, his pulse dropped and spiked rapidly, and his heartbeats fluctuated. Nagita was over the moon with worry and anxiety as she aided him as best she could within the shattered structures and decaying corpses of the Northern Nickel side.

’I almost forgot why I can’t die. Because I have something important to unveil. I have a reason for living and a cause to fear death.’ His gaze slipped to the snow. ’I am not justified for being a coward regardless.’