Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 1: What is your mission here?!

"Oh!"

"What is the real mission of your military observer group in Seville?!"

Morin was fully awake after taking a solid punch to the face.

As the image in his eyes gradually cleared, he was completely bewildered as he looked at the tall, white man in front of him, dressed in some kind of old military uniform, with a fierce expression.

"Where did you get this? Did you finally get a break and fall asleep while climbing the web?"

The thought popped into Morin's head, but the sharp pain in his cheek and jaw made him realize that he wasn't dreaming.

He just got a solid punch!
Immediately afterwards, the menacing-looking white man in front of her began to speak a long string of words in a language that Maureen had never heard before.

Strangely, however, Maureen found that she could understand what the other person was saying, just like listening to her native language.

You can even tell that the other person doesn't seem to be very proficient in the language.

Now, Morin was completely dumbfounded.

I was clearly a cadet, so when did I become a second lieutenant?
Even if we're talking about Slavic military ranks in Genshin Impact, it should be a level 98 lieutenant general.
And this 'Seville'? I've never heard of that place before.
Bu Dui!

As Morin thought of the place name again, a cold, electronic female voice popped into his head.

[Current information collection rate: 5%]

[Intelligence Management System in Progress]

Molin only felt the screen flash before his eyes, and then an interface resembling some kind of game UI appeared in his view.

The main part of this interface is a huge map, which in outline resembles a map of Europe, except that most of the area is currently unexplored.

The only place with some exploration potential is a large town right in the center of the current map, which, judging from the text label, is the 'Seville' that the officer just mentioned.

Morin determined the location to be roughly in the southern part of what he knew of Spain.

He tried zooming the map to its smallest size, and then he saw a simple street map with a gold star marker—which he guessed represented himself.

On the left side of the map, there are many buttons similar to 'tabs', and we are currently on the 'map' tab.

Below the 'Map', there are also 'Information', 'Intelligence', and several tabs marked with '???'.

Morin tried to click the '? ? ?' tab with his mind, but only a message popped up saying 'Insufficient information to start.'

He then focused his attention on the 'Information' tab, and sure enough, something new appeared.

The large map on the right has been switched to a document-like interface, although it currently only contains a few lines of content.

Seville, the capital of the Andalusian autonomous community, has a population of approximately 110,000 and is the fourth largest city in the Kingdom of Aragon.

The Saxon Empire was a dual monarchical federal state located in central Europe, a powerful empire ruled by the Saxewetin dynasty.

"Damn it, what Aragon and Saxony? Isn't that just Spain and Germany II?!"

After reviewing this information, Morin used his mind to open the 'Intelligence' tab again. This time, there was even less content, just one line of text—

Your military observer group has been attacked and is currently being held captive in the cellar of a residential house in Seville.

As he looked at this information, a series of related information quickly filled Morin's mind, gradually outlining a slightly vague memory.

The owner of this body was also named Morin, and came from another country adjacent to the Kingdom of Aragon—the Saxon Empire.

His specific identity was that of a young officer candidate who had just graduated from Richterfield Central Military Academy.
Oh, he was awarded the rank of second lieutenant ten days ago and should report to his unit.

[Current information collection rate: 7%]

As Morin sorted through the jumbled memories in his mind and was about to switch the tab back to 'Information', he was hit with another punch while still tied to a chair.

"Snapped!"

This time, he and his chair were knocked to the ground.

The interface in front of me was forcibly shut down, and the normal visual experience was restored.

[A dangerous situation has been detected. The system interface is temporarily closed.]

"Hey, damn it. This system doesn't have a time-stop function?"

"Boom!"

Another military boot slammed heavily into his lower abdomen, causing Morin to let out painful whimpers.

He couldn't understand how he had been playing a game just moments before, and how he had been tied to a chair and brutally beaten in the blink of an eye.

"Although I finally got a break and came back, secretly became a lazy bum, never went up high, and took over the entire war zone, I don't deserve this much punishment."

Immediately afterwards, the menacing white officer roughly lifted his chair back up, then walked to a table to the side, picked up a towel, and wiped the sweat from his face.

Only then did Morin have time to quickly survey his surroundings.

Just like what was shown on the map, this seems to be inside a building with low ceilings, no windows on all sides, and lighting relying entirely on a few oil lamps.

In the dim light of a distant spot, beyond the reach of the oil lamp, there was a structure that vaguely resembled a wooden staircase.

Morin guessed that it was probably in a place like a basement or cellar.

Behind the table where the white officer was wiping his sweat, sat two other soldiers dressed in the same style of uniform.

To his left was another elderly officer, dressed in a different uniform, who was bound hand and foot. His gray military uniform was in the same style as his own.

Now Morin roughly understood his situation. If it wasn't some kind of outrageous prank, he had most likely encountered the much-anticipated transmigration, and had directly stumbled into the hellish situation of being 'captured by hostile forces'.

The white officer casually tossed the wet towel back onto the table; the sweat and blood stains on the towel were particularly glaring under the oil lamp.

He turned around and walked back to Morin in a few steps, his heavy breathing hitting Morin's face with an unpleasant smell of tobacco and sweat.

"Oh!"

Another fist came flying, hitting Morin squarely on the left cheek, making his ears ring and his mouth taste like rust.

"I'll ask you one more time: what is the real mission of your Saxon military observer group in Seville?"

The officer's roar exploded in his ears.

"Do you Saxons intend to break the agreement and formally intervene in the civil war of the Kingdom of Aragon?!"

Morin winced in pain, mentally cursing the other man's ancestors for eighteen generations.

Are these people crazy?

I have no idea what you guys are talking about, bro!
He desperately wanted to yell back, but reason told him that speaking up now would only result in another beating.

The original owner of this body had a chaotic memory, and his mind was completely blank regarding the so-called 'mission'.

The only thing he can do now is to keep his mouth shut and be like a gourd with its mouth sawed off.

The other two officers sitting behind the table glanced at it briefly before continuing to puff on their cigarettes, seemingly indifferent to the atrocities committed.

"What kind of skill is it to lose your temper with a second lieutenant?"

A hoarse but powerful voice came from the side.

"If you have any problems, you can come at me."

Morin turned his head with difficulty to look at the source of the sound.

It was the elderly officer who was wearing the same gray field uniform as him.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his face was covered in bruises, but he stood ramrod straight, showing no signs of the wretchedness of a prisoner.

Upon hearing this, the white officer slowly lowered his hand from Morin's hair, a sinister smile appearing on his face.

"This is the first time I've ever heard of such a request."

He turned around, slowly walked up to the elderly officer, and without saying a word, punched him in the face.

"Oh!"

The chair legs scraped against the rough floor, making a screeching sound.

The elderly officer's head was knocked to one side, and blood quickly seeped from the corner of his mouth, but he didn't utter a sound.

The white officer seemed still not satisfied and raised his hand, ready to strike again.

At this moment, the two officers who had been sitting behind the table finally made a move.

They stubbed out their cigarettes, stood up, and walked over.

One of the officers, who appeared to be of a higher rank, raised his hand to stop his colleague from continuing the assault.

He walked up to the elderly officer, circled him, and carefully examined his field gray uniform and the epaulets on his shoulders.

"August von Mackensen".

The officer spoke, his voice much calmer than the previous one.

"I never expected to capture such an important figure as you here as the Lieutenant General of the Saxon Army."

Morin's heart skipped a beat; he hadn't expected the old man beside him to be a general.

No wonder you spoke so confidently just now.
Wait, why does this name sound so familiar?!
Before he could figure out the familiar name, a new question arose in Morin's mind—how could a mere second lieutenant like himself have been captured along with a general?
On the other side, the general known as Mackensen slowly raised his head. Although his face was bruised, his arrogance, which came from his very bones, did not diminish in the slightest.

He even tugged at the corner of his bleeding mouth, forcing out a contemptuous expression.

"Since you know my identity, you should understand the nature of the military observer group."

Mackensen's voice remained steady.

"We are here at the invitation of Ferdinand VII, the rightful ruler of the Kingdom of Aragon, and enjoy diplomatic immunity. Your blatant attack on our military observer group is a blatant provocation against the Saxon Empire. Could this not be considered an act of war?"

"Diplomatic immunity?"

The officer who arrived later chuckled softly, as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world.

“General Mackensen, this is Andalusia, not the capital Madrid. Given the current state of the Kingdom of Aragon, the king’s orders may not carry weight here.”

He paused, his tone softening and becoming less aggressive.

“We have no intention of being enemies with the Saxon Empire. But Your Excellency, you and your men have appeared in a place where you shouldn’t be, so we just want to know why.”

He spread his hands, adopting a reasonable posture.

Upon hearing these words, Lieutenant General Mackensen stared intently at the officer who had spoken for a moment, then let out a cold laugh.

"Ha, you're saying we've appeared where we shouldn't be."

"Then why are your Britannian troops here as well?"

　It's my birthday today, so I'm releasing a new book!
　　
　
(End of this chapter)