This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 497.1: Griffins Death

A hundred meters beneath Horn Fortress lay a concrete-reinforced underground nuclear bunker. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Anticipating that a war with the Great Rift Valley might eventually spill over to the vassals of the Sunset Province, General Klaas had ordered the construction of this bunker with the requirement that it be able to withstand a one-megaton nuclear blast. Theoretically, it was absolutely secure.

At this moment, inside the temporary command room of the bunker, Griffin sat alone at the command desk, staring at a silent radio transmitter. His left arm was bandaged, with gauze peeking through the collar of his uniform.

Though he had narrowly survived the assassination attempt a few days ago, he was far from unscathed as the public believed. Four fragments had embedded in his chest, one of them just seven millimeters from his heart.

It had been his closest brush with death.

To avoid dampening military morale, he immediately moved into the bunker and concealed news of his injury. Though the outside world believed he had been frightened into hiding, after a lifetime of military campaigns, a few assassins could hardly scare him. In fact, he was a little thrilled by the attack.

He had long suspected there were spies among his troops but had struggled to identify them. If an injury could flush them out, it would be worth it.

At that moment, footsteps approached from outside, followed by a soft knock on the door.

"Come in. It's open."

His personal guard appeared in the doorway.

Seeing the loyal soldier, Griffin asked, "Found them?"

"Yes, sir." The guard nodded, but there was no trace of joy on his face. Instead, a faint solemnity could be seen on his face. Noticing the unusual expression, Griffin frowned and asked, "Who was it?"

"The commander of the 3rd Battalion of the 7th Division, and a centurion from the officer corps of the 6th Division. They bribed the staff responsible for the meeting that day."

Griffin was silent for a long moment.

The battalion commander had been handpicked by him. It was difficult to believe that such a loyal young man would betray the Marshal and act as a spy for the Enterprise or the New Alliance.

But what disturbed him more than the betrayal itself was that the assassination attempt involved not just individuals, but two entire Divisions.

That accounted for 40% of his military strength.

After a long pause, Griffin finally asked, "Is the intel solid?"

The guard nodded. "Confirmed. We have reliable evidence, but we haven’t moved yet to avoid alarming them."

"Good," Griffin nodded.

Just as he was about to issue further orders, he suddenly paused, as if something had occurred to him. The guard hesitated, then cautiously asked, "Should we arrest them?"

Griffin was quiet for a moment, then said softly, "Wait. Not yet. Don’t alert them."

"Yes, sir," the guard bowed slightly and withdrew.

The door closed. Griffin let out a quiet sigh and leaned back in his chair, relaxing his shoulders.

His gaze happened to fall on the fluorescent light above. For some reason, he felt his fate resembled that lamp.

Bright, searing, and full of energy, yet doomed to hang in some unremarkable corner, lighting only a single room in its entire life.

As for his ambitions and ideals, they were like a small boat adrift in the torrent of history. No matter how hard he rowed, he couldn’t change the rivers and mountains beneath him.

Unlike officers such as McClennan, who came from noble families, he had been born in a modest household on the outskirts of Triumphant City. Like most children, he participated in his first youth military training at age six.

He immediately displayed excellent leadership skills and was recommended by his instructors to attend the military academy in Triumphant City.

Talent, diligence, and a little luck had ensured that his military career went smoothly. By 29, he had risen from centurion to general.

Then, he met the man who changed his life, General Klaas. He accepted the olive branch extended by the Eastern Expansionists and traveled far east to carve out a future for the Army.

He still remembered the words General Klaas said him 10 years ago...

“There’s no denying the Marshal’s greatness. But Triumphant City has rotted. Those bloated heirs living off their ancestors' glory indulge in vast territories and decadence, forgetting the hatred of 150 years ago, forgetting the ambition to conquer the world, forgetting unity. If left to decay, this empire, held together by war, will one day collapse.”

“To prevent that day, we must find an adversary that forces us to take things seriously. We must keep pushing our borders toward the ends of the world... Forever.”

Griffin remembered how blood had surged through his veins back then. He had wanted nothing more than to charge to the front and fire the first shot of expansion.

But soon, he realized things weren’t as simple as he imagined.

One by one, the thinkers of the Eastern Expansionist faction died on the frontlines. Their sacrifices earned no sympathy from Triumphant City. Instead of strengthening the faction, these losses weakened it.

Even the Army Commander himself, after witnessing the strength of the Great Rift Valley, became vague in his support.

If he had been younger, he would’ve felt angry and humiliated by the betrayal. But now, he no longer felt rage, only a cold analysis of how to solve the problem.

Sacrificing themselves to gain support from other factions was the wrong approach.

General Klaas had already paid for this mistake with his life. Instead of earning charity, it pushed their political power further to the sidelines.

At the root, the other factions saw no benefit from the expedition, only endless trouble.

Only by bringing those other factions in, making them share gains and losses, could he hope to unite them.

So he changed Klaas’s strategy. He no longer aimed for a direct invasion of the Great Rift Valley but instead proactively sought peace.

After that, he turned the kingdoms of the Sunset Province and the desert into opponents. He planned a series of victories that gave ambitious young officers a chance to earn accolades, drawing them to support his campaign.

If all went well, the ancient grain-producing regions would fall under Army control.

And even if things didn’t go smoothly, the interests pulling other factions in would compel them to increase their stakes in him.

For instance, that nuclear warhead and the earlier combat aircraft had been secured through officers under his command, especially those from noble families, who funneled them from their respective factions.

As for General Klaas’s legacy, it had been spent during the expedition.

If all went horribly wrong...

He would sacrifice everyone, including himself, using hatred to unite the remaining factions.

Suddenly, the radio’s signal light blinked.

Seeing this, General Griffin sat upright and reached for the receiver.

Before he could speak, a familiar voice came through the line.

"This is Joseph."

Hearing the name, Griffin heaved a sigh of relief. This man was a subordinate of the Army Commander. His presence meant the Marshal hadn’t abandoned them.

But then came the second sentence, and the blood drained from Griffin’s face.

"The Marshal has seen through your plan. I’m not the only one coming to the Sunset Province. Cohen is here too."

Griffin turned pale. After a long silence, he swallowed and asked, "What did he say?"

There was a pause on the other end. Then, Joseph asked instead, "Are you loyal to the Army?"

Sensing what was coming, Griffin’s voice trembled as he answered, "My loyalty to the Marshal is unquestionable."

"Good," said Joseph calmly. "You have two options. Die as a hero or die as a traitor. You know what I mean. The choice is yours."

Griffin gulped. "... Did I do something wrong?"

Joseph replied plainly, "Starting a war with the Enterprise won’t bring us any good. The Marshal thinks so too. I understand how you feel, but this isn’t the right time."

How he addressed Griffin marked a clear divide between them now.

Griffin fell silent for a long time. "I understand."

"You have 20 minutes."

Without waiting for a reply, Joseph hung up.

Griffin closed his eyes.

Five minutes later, he pressed the intercom on the command desk. Soon, a young officer entered.

His name was Karloff, captain of Griffin’s personal guard and his most trusted subordinate, even more than his adjutant.

Standing at attention, Karloff said crisply, "Sir, you called for me?"

Griffin slowly began, "I have 15 minutes left to live."

Karloff froze.

When he recovered, he stared at Griffin in shock. "What are you saying?"

"Don’t panic. This is the Marshal’s order," Griffin replied calmly. "I need you to do two final things for me. First, tell everyone I died of a stroke. Second... protect my body. No one is to approach it, perform an autopsy, or learn the truth. At least until Joseph takes me back to Triumphant City."

He paused, then added, "My will is in my suitcase. Please pass it to my family."

Karloff’s face cycled through disbelief, anger, and sorrow. He couldn’t believe the Marshal would give such an order. The Army would never sacrifice its own people for political compromise, let alone a decorated general.

It had to be some bastard pulling strings behind the scenes.

Clenching his fists, Karloff took a step forward. "Sir, what if we..."