Chapter 2: The Silver Wing Medal

Robin knew he had to stall for time—time to research the system.

He cast a glance out of the corner of his eye at his fellow prisoners. They were all numb, consumed by despair. Even those who had shown some spark of life earlier were now shivering, having lost all desire to live. After all, the lieutenant who had connections, and the formidable second lieutenant, were both dead.

"What is the basis for your killing?" Robin asked, his voice strained yet deliberate. "Even if these prisoners were sent to dig potatoes, wouldn't they be more valuable than just being executed?"

"Hahahaha... basis?" The captain laughed. "An interesting question."

"I’m simply in a bad mood and feel like killing, that’s all. That is the price you pay for your defeat!"

"Value? Your only value is to entertain me."

"As for a basis..." The captain gestured toward the hollow-eyed men lying on the ground. "These walking corpses—killing them is meaningless. They were already dead to begin with. It is far more interesting to extinguish the hope of those who are still alive."

The captain was in a foul temper today. His favorite pastime was killing people at their moment of greatest triumph or when they caught a glimmer of hope. One prisoner had cited international conventions, hoping the captain would follow protocol. Another had begged for mercy, trying to awaken the captain’s empathy. One had tried to bribe his way out, unaware that as a rebel, his family’s wealth was already forfeit. Another had revealed his father’s status, but the military and the police were entirely different systems—and even if a commissioner’s son became a rebel lieutenant, the commissioner himself would be in no position to save him. Another had tried to rely on his own strength to seize the captain, only to be effortlessly countered and killed.

The captain thrived on this kind of sick pleasure.

Taking advantage of the captain’s monologue, Robin mentally engaged the system.

[Warlord System]
[Personal Panel]
[Inventory]
[Intelligence]
[Talents (Locked)]
[Supplies (Locked)]
[Map (Locked)]
[Campaign Simulation (Locked)]
[Note: Functions will gradually unlock as you attain specific ranks or territories.]

Robin quickly checked his inventory. There were only nine slots: a wallet, a Silver Wing Medal, a blood-stained letter, and twenty thousand Federation credits. Space-based equipment—its specific capacity and function remained unknown, and it was useless for now.

The personal panel contained an attribute section and an equipment interface.

[Host: Unnamed]
[Gender: Male]
[Age: 18 (26)]
[Strength: E+]
[Endurance: E+]
[Agility: E+]
[Spirit: D-]
[Magic: E-]
[Note: E is the average for a normal human; theoretically, the limit for an unawakened person is E+.]
[Transcendental Trait: Not Awakened]
[Achievement: Holder of the Silver Wing Medal]
[Ability: Sniper (Master)]

The ability section could be expanded to reveal lower-tier skills. As for equipment, there were slots for head, torso, wrists, belt, legs, and feet, along with slots for primary and secondary weapons. Currently, he only wore a blue-and-white striped hospital gown, which provided no stat bonuses. On the display, his abdomen was highlighted in red, indicating an injury.

*The limit for a normal human is E+... and my Spirit is D-. That’s interesting.*

Knowing his physical stats didn't help him right now. It seemed he had to pin his hopes on intelligence. He opened the intelligence system, and the details of the captain appeared in his mind.

[Vincent Raven-Dale]
[Gender: Male]
[Age: 28]
[Strength: C-]
[Endurance: D]
[Agility: C+]
[Spirit: D+]
[Magic: D]
[Transcendental Trait: Leg Enhancement]
[The third son of Frontier Marquess Sid Raven-Dale. Lacking paternal affection since childhood, he has developed a cruel, bloodthirsty nature. He respects heroes and desires to become one to earn his father’s recognition.]
[Weakness Analysis: Lacks intellect, boastful, and eager to publicize his achievements to gain his father’s attention. He cannot handle his father’s disappointed gaze, nor can he withstand negative public pressure. He fears being a burden to his father, yet fears being forgotten if he fails to make a scene.]
[Note: The longer you interact, the more comprehensive the intelligence.]

No wonder Vincent was so arrogant, shooting prisoners at will and executing the commissioner’s son without hesitation. He was the son of the Marquess? But being only a captain suggested he really was out of favor. Still, he clearly wielded significant privilege. His authority likely rivaled that of a field officer, enough to make even some generals yield to him.

Robin felt a weight lift. Knowing the enemy’s psychological weakness was a divine tool in war. He knew exactly what to do.

"Although you are trash, even a roll of toilet paper has its use," Vincent said, cracking his knuckles as he approached Robin. He looked down at him. "I observed each of you when I arrived. At the time, your emotions were sadness and confusion."

"Seeing me kill, you felt fear and anger."

"Yet, you were calm. You did nothing."

"You are different from those waiting to die."

"They did nothing because they were waiting for the end. You did nothing—what were you preparing for? Did you think, like him, that you could resist me?"

Vincent stared at Robin, his killing intent intensifying. "You watched him die and you held back, but I want to tell you: patience is useless!"

He was laying out Robin's emotions, wanting to make the kill more satisfying. And... of all the people he had slaughtered, this one was the only one who still held a spark of spirit.

Just as Vincent prepared to strike, Robin finished reading the intel.

"Heh, you really should kill me," Robin said, channeling the acting skills he’d once used to bluff his way through job interviews. With a touch of arrogance and the resignation of a man facing his end, he said coldly, "I sniped nine of your second lieutenants, two lieutenants, and one captain. I was personally awarded the First-Class Silver Wing Medal by Grand Duke Benito."

"In your eyes, I am the one who deserves to die the most."

Vincent froze.

*Bang!*

Vincent’s fist slammed into the wall right beside Robin’s head, making his ears ring. Vincent’s face was less than three centimeters from his own. Robin’s heart skipped a beat, terrified that the man would kill him before he finished his sentence.

"You were awarded the First-Class Silver Wing Medal?" Vincent’s gaze was ravenous.

"Ha. Is there any surer way to court death in enemy territory than to claim to be a First-Class Silver Wing Medal holder?" Robin narrowed his eyes. "Do I have any reason to lie?"

"Hahahaha..." Vincent suddenly straightened up and burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?" Robin frowned. "Do you want to humiliate me or torture me?"

"I can tell you plainly, I will not yield!"

"No, no, no..." Vincent straightened his uniform. As a soldier—even one like him—he had to respect the Silver Wing Medal. It was a creed among the military.

The lieutenant’s father could use power to buy his son a rank. That second lieutenant had decent combat skills, but he wasn't on Vincent’s level. Vincent hadn't looked down on them, but a second lieutenant, even as an officer, was just a coward in his eyes. However, a person bearing the Silver Wing Medal had to have been on the front lines, fighting the deadliest battles and performing countless feats under a hail of bullets. If such a medal were granted lightly, the Iron-Blooded Grand Duke Benito wouldn't be where he was today.

"What is your name?" Vincent asked solemnly.

"Robin. Robin Rommel." Robin combined his own name with that of his predecessor.

"Lord Robin Rommel, you are an enemy worthy of respect. I, Vincent Raven-Dale, issue you a formal challenge!"

"Let us decide our fate in the manner of soldiers!"