The moment Banteno stepped back into camp, his smiling face immediately collapsed. Glancing sideways at the guards walking beside him, he snapped coldly, “Those slaves who sneaked out to watch the commotion, 15 lashes each.”

The guard nodded, but just as he was about to leave, he hesitated and asked, “What about Lady Sisteel?”

At the mention of the old woman’s name, Banteno’s face darkened even more. “30 lashes for her!”

Damn it.

If he couldn’t vent his anger on the New Alliance, at least he could vent it on these fools.

Just thinking about the looks on the bystanders’ faces made his chest burn with rage. He almost wanted to drag that brainless Centurion out and whip him too, but military officers in the Army held higher rank, and the internal factions were notoriously tight-knit. Even if that man was only a Centurion, Banteno couldn’t touch him without good reason.

Slaves, however, were another matter entirely.

Just as the guard turned to carry out the order, Banteno suddenly grabbed him by the arm. “Wait.”

The soldier straightened immediately. “Yes, sir, do you have other instructions?”

Banteno’s expression flickered slightly. “... Make sure the doors are shut.”

The soldier froze for a moment before giving an uneasy nod. “Yes, sir.”

When the order was given, Banteno returned to his tent.

Maybe the guards had followed his words, because once he sat down, the tent flap tied tight, he could hear neither the crack of the whips nor the slaves’ cries outside.

Even so, the anger in his chest wouldn’t ease. The more he thought about it, the more stifled he felt. He had represented Triumphant City in diplomatic missions before, but never had he been treated with such open disrespect.

These damned barbarians, how dare they, just because the Enterprise and the Academy supported them, they were pretending the Army wasn’t important!

It seems the Eastern Army had been too lenient on these people.

True, the Army’s two great eastward campaigns hadn’t advanced the border by even an inch, and the casualties had been staggering. But under the relentless propaganda, both expeditions were declared glorious victories.

Banteno didn’t entirely believe the paper. His daughter worked there, and after years of dealing with the propaganda bureau, he knew exactly how much nonsense they could print.

Still, he never doubted the conclusion. No matter how the barbarians east of the desert bragged, the Army’s victory was unquestionable. They couldn’t possibly have lost to a bunch of wastelanders. The only reason the cost had been so high was because of the meddling from the Enterprise, the Great Rift Valley, and the Academy.

That, of course, was why the Marshal hadn’t held a victory parade. There was simply nothing worth celebrating.

Just then, footsteps sounded outside, followed by the jingle of the bell hanging on his tent flap. Seeing the shadow at the entrance, Banteno frowned slightly, cleared his throat, and said, “Come in.”

The flap lifted.

When he saw it was Pangolin, Banteno’s frown relaxed a little. He leaned back in his chair. “What is it?”

Dropping his usual silence, Battlefield Cheerleader put on a show of outrage and spoke in a low, fiery tone. “Sir, why did we bow to them? If they refuse to show respect, we can just fight again! Beat them until they yield!”

Hearing such foolish words, Banteno scoffed. “You muscle heads only ever talk about fighting! If everything could be solved with fists, why didn’t you solve it last year? We’re here to negotiate, not start another war!”

He sounded like he was scolding Battlefield Cheerleader, but saying it out loud actually made him feel much better.

Watching the self-satisfied curl at Banteno’s lips, Battlefield Cheerleader couldn’t help but secretly admire Spring Water Commander’s advice.

The guy really knows how to work people.

“But still... are we just going to swallow this humiliation? Let them walk all over us?”

“Cooperating with the New Alliance on the Mutant Slime Mold issue is the Marshal’s will,” Banteno said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Compared to that, other conflicts can wait. Of course”, his tone cooled, “Those bastards have gotten far too arrogant. I’ll teach them a lesson and put them back in their place... just not yet.”

Battlefield Cheerleader widened his eyes in mock delight. “What are you planning to do, sir?”

Banteno shot him a glance. “Don’t concern yourself. I know what I’m doing. And keep this to yourself, especially from Quake.”

Quake, his adjutant, was technically only a commander, yet most of the delegation treated him with greater fear than they did Banteno himself.

In the Army, officers ranked above diplomats, but it wasn’t that extreme, there was no reason for a general to act wary of his own adjutant.

Thinking about it, Battlefield Cheerleader couldn’t resist asking, “Sir Banteno, just what’s with this Quake? You all seem... afraid of him.”

“Afraid?” Banteno gave a dry smile. “Not exactly. But his identity’s special. He’s one of the Imperial Guard.”

Battlefield Cheerleader blinked, unfamiliar with the term. “Imperial Guard?”

He had only ever heard of the Youth Corps, the same organization that the New Alliance strategist Vanus once came from.

Banteno didn’t seem surprised by his ignorance. “You’ve never been to Triumphant City. It’s normal you haven’t heard of them. They never leave the capital without the Marshal’s direct orders. Put simply, they’re his eyes. That’s all you need to know.”

He clearly had no intention of elaborating further, and his evasiveness only made Battlefield Cheerleader more curious. Just as he was about to find a roundabout way to ask more, Banteno beckoned him closer and whispered, “Since you’re here, I’ve got something for you to do.”

His words immediately switched Battlefield Cheerleader into mission mode. He straightened his back and barked, “Your orders, sir!”

“I heard the Bugra Free State’s envoy is also in Dawn City,” Banteno said quietly. “Find out where they’re staying, and invite them here for a talk.”

Battlefield Cheerleader’s heart leapt.

Perfect.

He had been planning to sneak out later that night anyway. Now, with a direct order from the general himself, he had the perfect excuse.

He nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir!”

Satisfied, Banteno waved him off. “Go.”

As he watched Pangolin leave, Banteno’s lips curved in a faint smile.

He couldn’t strike the New Alliance directly, but he could let an ally who hated them just as much do the work for him.

Neither Banteno, smug in his tent, nor Battlefield Cheerleader cheerfully walking out realized that a pair of eyes had been watching the entire time.

Standing at the camp gate, Quake smiled faintly before turning away and returning to his own quarters...

...

After leaving the camp, Battlefield Cheerleader didn’t head straight for the Bugra Free State’s lodgings. Instead, he wandered a few alleys to make sure no one was following him.

Once the coast was clear, he followed the map he had memorized from the official site toward the nearest save point.

Every New Alliance settlement had one of these facilities, accessible only to players or officially employed shelter staff.

Inside were clone cabins for saving progress, rentable storage, and NPC shops that sold limited-purchase equipment.

Some of the gear had contribution-point requirements, it was part of the shelter’s reward system for players. A single exoframe could cost a million silver coins.

If sold on the open market, someone could add a zero and it would still be a bargain. Naturally, not just anyone could buy one.

When Battlefield Cheerleader approached, the drowsy clerk at the counter glanced at his arm and yawned. “... Are you a shelter resident?”

Battlefield Cheerleader nodded. “I am Battlefield Cheerleader. I didn’t bring my VM, please use another method of verification.”

The clerk didn’t even blink at the name. He lazily pulled an old iris scanner from the drawer before yawning, “Look into the lens.”

Battlefield Cheerleader leaned in. The indicator light blinked twice.

Then the clerk froze. His eyes went wide at the six glowing zeroes on the screen.

A Knight ranked contribution level!

It took 100,000 contribution points to earn that title, and every player who reached it was a hero who had risked their life for the New Alliance countless times.

In an instant, the clerk’s bored expression turned into awed reverence. “What can I get you, sir?”