This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 497.3: Griffins Death

Cowley listened silently, then sighed, “That inspection... You shouldn’t be telling me this. If I were loyal to General Griffin, you’d already be dead.”

Battlefield Cheerleader rolled his eyes.

Give me a break.

You’re McClennan’s guy. Why else would Willick trust you?

Being reserved and quiet was just part of the role he was playing. He wasn’t actually dumb. But he didn’t say any of that.

“I trust you,” said Battlefield Cheerleader, looking at him earnestly. “You’ve always been my commanding officer.”

Hearing that, a rare smile appeared on Cowley’s face. He hadn’t expected to have such a loyal follower. But the smile soon faded, replaced by melancholy. Staring at the sunset, he sighed, “It means a lot to hear you say that. If only everyone were like you.”

“Like me?” Battlefield Cheerleader blinked, not understanding the sentiment.

“That’s right. Loyal, brave, straightforward... You’re genuine.” Cowley nodded slightly and tapped his cigarette.

He said it casually, but those words hit Battlefield Cheerleader hard. His face flushed involuntarily and he awkwardly looked away.

Like me?

If everyone in your ranks were like me, the Army would’ve collapsed by now.

Clearing his throat, Battlefield Cheerleader quickly changed the subject. “What about you?”

“Me?” A trace of confusion appeared in Cowley’s eyes. After a long pause, he shook his head. “I... I’m not sure.”

Battlefield Cheerleader glanced at him in surprise. He hadn’t expected the man, who constantly preached loyalty, to sound so unsure.

Cowley hesitated, then continued, “How do I put this... My idea of loyalty is unity, cohesion from the bottom up. But what I’ve seen is nothing like that.”

Saying that filled him with turmoil.

Back when he was just a centurion, he never thought about things like that. It wasn’t until McClennan died, and he was promoted by Griffin to commander under Willick, that he began to see the internal workings he’d never known.

The Army wasn’t a single rope made of twisted threads. It was a patchwork of crisscrossing, tangled yarn.

Take the current situation for example... General Griffin wanted everyone to die with him.

To fulfill his dream of conquering the Great Rift Valley, to unite the cowardly scholars and other factions, to expand the Army’s territory east of the desert, he didn’t mind dying. That was his loyalty to the Army and to the Marshal.

But Willick and other generals didn’t want to go down with that madman. They preferred Griffin dead, so the war would end. They believed that was loyalty to the Marshal.

Everyone was doing things in the name of loyalty, but none of it made sense to him. Everyone had their own definition of loyalty.

So what is loyalty?

He even began to doubt whether he himself, who had never truly considered these things, could still be called loyal. Was he even on the right side?

Seeing Cowley so lost, Battlefield Cheerleader didn’t know how to comfort him. Staying in character, he quietly asked, “What should I do?”

“I don’t know, my friend,” Cowley sighed and flicked away his cigarette butt.

Standing up, he patted his old comrade on the shoulder and forced a smile. “There comes a time when every man must choose. Do what your heart tells you. No matter what you decide, I won’t blame you.”

“Honestly, I don’t trust anyone here... except you. You’re the most loyal man I know.”

Battlefield Cheerleader nodded and watched Cowley walk away around a corner.

What a pity.

His dear brother was bound for disappointment.

He wasn’t the most loyal. He was far from it. If there was even a drop of Wislander blood in him, everything he had done would be enough to damn him straight to hell. He was, most likely, the only spy present.

Given how short the time had been, the New Alliance hadn’t had time to send anyone else or build an intel network. The ones who’d been caught earlier were probably all innocent.

“Damn, this is tough,” he muttered, rubbing his temples as he stood up.

According to Willick’s schedule, the day after the next would be the best opportunity. He had to decide soon to gain Willick’s support, like getting a weapon ahead of time or causing a distraction.

Griffin’s guards included strong awakeners. Some of them had completed their second or even third awakening, and there were possibly perception types among them. Since the last failed assassination, Griffin had been on high alert. The mission wasn’t going to be easy.

If the assassination failed, or even if it succeeded but his identity was exposed, ‘Pangolin’s’ mission would be over.

“Should I say goodbye to the NPCs I know...”

He thought of that reporter Penny, the nurse who told jokes while bandaging him, and the cook who complained about his appetite.

His head started to hurt and he couldn’t help but scratch at it in annoyance.

Forget it.

He was a spy, after all. If the mission was over, they would meet again if fate allowed.

Just then, two men approached. He recognized them, they were Willick’s men.

One of them stepped forward and whispered, “General Willick requests your presence.”

To discuss the details of the mission?

Determined to commit to his persona, Battlefield Cheerleader responded with a calm nod. “Alright.”

Maybe it was his godly aura, but the two men looked at him differently now, as if they were in awe of some legendary figure.

Was it just his imagination?

While thinking about that, he followed them to the entrance of Willick’s tent.

The two stood guard on either side. Without hesitation, Battlefield Cheerleader strode confidently inside.

A table had been set with an elaborate feast. There were roast pig trotters, stewed beef, grilled fish and chicken, even the chicken soup he had been craving.

A month ago, a meal like that wouldn’t have impressed anyone, but with current shortages, it had to have taken effort to arrange.

He couldn’t help but gulp.

Damn. Is this a farewell dinner?

It seemed Willick had assumed he would act on the plan by the appointed date.

Wearing a military uniform, Willick sat directly across the table.

His expression was unreadable. There was part admiration, part reverence, and maybe a hint of fear. Or perhaps all of the above.

Since it was clearly a farewell, Battlefield Cheerleader didn’t stand on ceremony. He sat down confidently.

Just as he was about to reveal his decision, Willick raised his wineglass with great ceremony and declared, “On behalf of the hundreds of officers and more than 50,000 soldiers at Horn Fortress... Thank you for everything you’ve done for us!”

Hearing this baffling declaration, Battlefield Cheerleader froze.

I haven’t even done anything yet.

Isn’t this... a bit premature?

He stared blankly for two full seconds, then frowned and asked, “What did I do?”

There was no deeper meaning to the question, but combined with his calm demeanor, it sounded to Willick like a knowing wink.

Willick immediately understood. With a hearty laugh, he shot the fellow comrade before him a knowing look.

“Right! You didn’t do anything! Let’s not mention that crazy bastard on this day of celebration!”

Before Battlefield Cheerleader could respond, Willick drained his wineglass and warmly urged him to eat. “Don’t worry, being too obvious won’t raise suspicion. General Yalek is one of ours... Griffin is dead. Even if his cronies are still around, they’re just keeping their heads down.”

“It’s over! Thanks to you, this stupid war is finally over! Once we’re back in Triumphant City, I’ll treat you again!”

Griffin is dead?

Hearing that, Battlefield Cheerleader was stunned.

With Willick’s sudden warmth, he realized the man must have mistaken him for the assassin.

Well, it wasn’t too surprising.

Griffin had been safely locked away in the bunker. He couldn’t have just banged into a wall and killed himself, but something still felt off.

Silently grabbing a chicken leg, he began to eat under Willick’s watchful gaze. There was no point in arguing with food. He was hungry anyway.

He would let Willick misunderstand. As long as he didn’t confirm or deny anything, the man wouldn’t go around bragging, nor waste time investigating the cause of Griffin’s death.

As for silencing him... It was even more unlikely.

There was no evidence it was him, and even if there were, so what?

Griffin’s loyalists were suppressed, the new governor-general was from Triumphant City. The expansionist faction was dead, and all pro-ceasefire factions would see him as one of their own.

Battlefield Cheerleader suddenly felt a little melancholic.

He couldn’t believe Griffin was really dead.

But then again, the war was probably over.

He wondered... Did that mean his mission as a spy was complete?

It had been almost six months since he last saved his progress...