"......" Suddenly, his strength gave out, and the arm holding the knife dropped limply. The knife seemed very heavy. James Lane's haggard face showed a tired smile as he nodded and said, "Not bad, you have some guts... cough, cough, cough, cough..."

He lowered his head and coughed painfully a few times, then looked up. "Since that's the case, I'll give you another choice."

"......" He had been waiting for this.

Henry Clark nodded, looking at James Lane, his eyes asking, or rather waiting, hoping.

"Join the army." James Lane simply said three words.

Join. The army?!

Henry Clark was stunned when he heard it, even feeling inexplicably and absurdly excited for a moment. Searched high and low only to find... nothing. Just when all seemed lost, a new path... appeared before his eyes.

He quickly figured it out: the "army" James Lane was talking about probably wasn't the kind of army he imagined, nor what ordinary people of this era would think of.

He turned to look at the corpses, the wounded, the weapons on the ground, thought about their enemies... and besides, these people weren't wearing standard military uniforms.

"What... kind of army?" Suppressing his inner disappointment, Henry Clark asked tentatively.

"You'll know once you go... never mind, you'll find out sooner or later anyway. It's just, we're that kind of soldiers."

Soldiers like us, fighting mysterious and powerful enemies. Soldiers like us, who can die or be wounded so easily. Soldiers like us, carrying secrets, not knowing when we'll return...

James Lane didn't go into further detail. He stopped there, straightened his chest, and in his teasing tone there was a hint of desolation and pride, and he smiled again.

"Then, how long do I have to serve?" Henry Clark asked seriously and persistently, like a stubborn fool who still didn't understand the situation.

For a moment, the group of people nearby all had faint smiles on their faces, but before those smiles could bloom, a few suddenly fell silent, their expressions darkening.

James Lane seemed to have a slight emotional fluctuation as well. He looked at Henry Clark, thought seriously, his gaze frank but his tone a bit heavy, and said, "Maybe three to five years, maybe more than ten... maybe, a lifetime."

After speaking, he turned his head, silently looking for a few moments at the bodies of his comrades not far away. When he turned back, his eyes were completely dim, filled with pain and sorrow.

This wasn't an explosive kind of grief; it was long-lasting, lingering, something one had to gradually get used to. Perhaps it only existed in those long and brutal years of war, when people who shared the same trench day and night could fall at any moment.

Henry Clark waited for a while, then continued to ask, "Will I be able to go home and see my parents in the future?"

When he asked this, his eyes were filled with deep pleading.

James Lane nodded. "After a certain period, when you've earned enough trust, you'll have the chance for family visits. You can."

"...Okay."

This was, so far, the only answer that could be considered good. Henry Clark responded, then continued to ponder.

"Were you planning to ask about getting married and having kids next?" Breaking the somber mood, James Lane spoke up, a bit playfully, a bit teasingly.

The people beside him let out a few dry laughs.

Henry Clark was a little embarrassed too; he had actually forgotten about that.

"You'll have plenty of time to ask about those things later. For now, let's leave it at this. Alright..." After a brief pause, his tone changed. James Lane looked up again, meeting Henry Clark's eyes. "Otherwise, I really would have no choice but to silence you."

"......" Henry Clark had originally wanted to try struggling a bit more.

But James Lane had already said this. This time, his tone carried no threat, but rather a bit of helplessness and struggle, even a hint of concern, or perhaps reluctance.

Yet Henry Clark could tell—this time, it was probably for real.

If he insisted on refusing, or tried to escape, the other side might really have no choice but to kill him.

And judging from the casualties among their comrades in the recent battle, they must have long been used to death, used to facing it, causing it.

So, this other choice—Henry Clark actually had no choice at all.

Chapter 4 Everything Has Changed

In the past ten-odd minutes, Henry Clark, who had failed the college entrance exam twice, now stood at the third major crossroads of his life and gave what was perhaps his best response, his finest answer sheet so far.

Because of this, he successfully escaped a deadly crisis and won another kind of choice.

However, the result was still disappointing and frightening. What he was about to do had just been laid out before his eyes.

Corpses, wounded, battle, powerful and unfathomable enemies... all of this filled his heart with gloom and despair.

"But, there are still more people alive here."

Henry Clark forcibly shifted his thoughts, and his gaze, to look at those moving figures. They were busy, quickly packing the "spoils of war" into bags of strange material.

"There's a chance to survive. As long as there's a chance, I have to try my best to live."

"This way, I can visit my family in the future, see my parents again."

"So now, since things are already like this, maybe... I can still fight for something more?"

Henry Clark muttered to himself in his heart, and kept thinking.