Chapter 22: The Boy Soldier Barrett

The name of this country has long since been forgotten. Nowadays, people generally refer to it as the Country of Endless War. Although it remains a country in name, it split into two factions decades ago. The opposing forces, each occupying one side of the island, both claim to be the sole legitimate successor to the kingdom, and for nearly a century, they have been tearing each other apart.

Roja walked amidst a landscape of broken walls and ruined structures. According to Dylan, this place was once the most prosperous port in the country before the civil war broke out, but now it is nothing more than a desolate ruin, long abandoned by its inhabitants.

Following behind him, Dylan spoke calmly, "Due to the perennial conflict, both sides of the civil war have implemented strict martial law in their respective territories. Every resident of this country has been forcibly rounded up into designated settlements."

Roja took a deep breath. The dark energy in this country was so dense that it permeated even these uninhabited ruins.

"It seems they’ve done a fine job, then," Roja said with a smile. "Let’s go find someone to ask for directions."

Passing through the ruins, an endless expanse of farmland appeared before Roja. The vibrant green wheat seedlings swaying in the breeze gave Roja the feeling of having arrived at a prairie, which was quite refreshing. In the fields, many laborers were busy irrigating the crops. Roja noticed that these farmers were either elderly people on the verge of collapse, gaunt children, or even heavily pregnant women. There was not a single able-bodied adult among them.

Well, there were young people present. On the paths bordering the fields, soldiers armed with guns patrolled back and forth, while in the fields themselves, overseers holding leather whips and long swords kept a watchful eye on the laborers. Roja watched as several slow-moving elderly people and children were immediately met with the overseers' whips.

Roja took a deep breath. A thick wave of dark energy surged toward him.

"Whoa!" Roja squinted, intoxicated. It was wonderful. But there was something even better.

Roja looked up toward the distance beyond the fields. There stood a massive fortress surrounded by high walls; that must have been the settlement Dylan mentioned. The dark energy hovering over the fortress was even more concentrated. Roja licked his lips involuntarily.

"Who goes there!"

Angry, startled shouts rang out from near and far. The patrolling soldiers had discovered Roja and his group and were rapidly closing in, their guns aimed at them. Roja raised an eyebrow. These soldiers were absurdly young—they looked no older than fourteen or fifteen.

"Lord Roja?" Dylan asked softly, his right hand already transformed into a blade.

"No, no, no," Roja waved his hands repeatedly. "They are doing a great job; we are just here to ask for directions."

As he spoke, he stepped forward.

*Hum!*

An invisible aura rippled outward, and the soldiers rushing toward them collapsed instantly like stalks of wheat being harvested.

Dylan felt the powerful aura washing over him. Though he maintained a calm expression, his heart was racing, and he clenched his fists in excitement. *Haoshoku Haki!* Indeed, Lord Roja was also a supreme conqueror among millions! It was only natural; if Lord Roja did not possess the King's Haki, that would be the strange thing!

"My apologies," Roja looked gently at the soldiers who had collapsed to the ground, nearly unconscious. "Could you take us to see the person in charge here?"

Shortly after.

At the center of the fortress stood a building that could be described as luxurious. Roja stood on the second-floor balcony of the castle, quietly observing the scene inside the fortress. There were no residential houses to be seen; the interior was filled with factories—garment factories, food processing plants, weapon factories, and pharmaceutical plants. Dark energy rose from each of them, a truly spectacular sight.

The only building not emitting dark energy was at the main entrance of the fortress. The soldier who led them in had introduced it as the nursery. After children were born in the fortress, they were sent there to be raised collectively until they were of use.

"They've got a system," Roja said with surprise.

Both factions of this country were implementing the most thorough martial law, and everything under their command served the war. To both sides, the populace were merely bullets to be fired at the enemy. Those with combat ability became soldiers; those without combat ability but with relative productivity—mostly adult women—went to the factories; and those with less productivity went to farm and handle logistics.

"Lord Roja, it's done."

Dylan’s calm voice came from behind. Roja turned to see Dylan, his hands stained crimson, dragging a bruised and battered man onto the balcony.

"Thank you for your hard work, Dylan." The polite Roja first thanked his follower sincerely. Then, he looked at the battered man with an expression of regret. "Can you answer my question now?"

The man who, just minutes ago, had been arrogantly calling for his troops to kill Roja, was now as humble as a house dog. He prostrated himself on the ground, his forehead touching the floor, his body trembling uncontrollably. "P-please, go ahead and ask!"

"Wonderful. As expected, communication is the best way to reach a consensus." Roja nodded in satisfaction. "Do you know a man named Douglas? He should be the commander of a youth soldier unit."

"Douglas..." The man paused for a moment before answering immediately, "Y-you mean Douglas Gray? I know him, I know him! The youth soldiers he leads have been active on the front lines; he is quite famous within our army!"

"Excellent!" Roja clapped his hands happily. "Then hurry and take me to someone who can help me find him!"

Douglas Gray was unimportant. The young soldier who inherited his surname, however, was very important.

...

Artillery roared, flames and smoke billowed, and bullets whistled, dancing a storm of metal. This was the battlefield where the two armies clashed. Amidst the chaos of the front, Douglas Bullet was charging forward.

He carried a satchel of explosives, launching an assault on the enemy's fortress. The seven-year-old boy maneuvered with expert zigzag movements, rolling and diving as bullets whizzed past him and shells exploded nearby, yet they were always a step too slow. The soldiers blocking his path couldn't even react to his speed; in the blink of an eye, he was upon them, snapping their necks with ease.

Bullet was a child soldier. He was an orphan abandoned by his mother, and Officer Gray had adopted him, so he felt he should serve the army as a soldier. Bullet had no complaints. He had never seen a world outside the military, so he had no longing for anything else.

The only thing Bullet craved was the "medal" awarded by Officer Gray. Medals were only given to soldiers who performed great deeds, and all the youth soldiers longed for them, for they were not just honors—they were paths to becoming officers. For the youth soldiers, who were treated as cannon fodder—tasked with leading the charge, stepping on landmines, or clearing paths with explosives—the temptation of a medal was incomparable.

Bullet didn't have any obsession with promotion; he simply craved that honor. Having grown up with nothing but weapons by his side, Bullet always felt envious whenever he saw those who received medals surrounded and praised by everyone. He wanted someone to come close to him, too. But only one medal was awarded each year. So, Bullet worked harder than anyone else.

Bullet, who was far taller and stronger than his peers, suddenly leaped, tossing the explosives in his hands into a gap in the fortress.

*Boom!*

With a thunderous roar, the fortress was blown to pieces. Amidst the oncoming shockwave, Bullet’s medium-length hair fluttered high. The young child wore a happy smile.

*I’m getting close, right? The medal!*

As the battle concluded, the youth soldiers left the field early. They were the ones to lead the charge, but cleaning up the battlefield was not their business, and they couldn't even dream of the spoils of war. The regrouped youth soldiers were all in low spirits; after all, they had lost nearly a third of their number in this battle, and the survivors were all wounded.

Only Bullet was the exception; his face was filled with anticipation, looking forward to the day he would receive his medal.

"Bullet!"

It was Officer Gray’s voice. Bullet looked up abruptly. *Why is the Officer calling for me? Could it be that he’s going to award me a medal?*

Bullet looked over expectantly. He saw his most respected Officer Gray approaching with two strangers. One was a man he didn't recognize, and the other was a boy about his own age.

"Yo! You must be Douglas Bullet, right?" the unfamiliar boy, who looked about the same age as Bullet, said with a smile. "Nice to meet you. From now on, you're with me."