Cannon Fire Arc

Chapter 967: Chapter 18: Death and Rebirth

December 5, Plowsonia Prisoner of War Center.

Kosolek entered the room uneasily, sitting across from two blue-capped Judges.

Judge: “Name!”

Kosolek gave Andreas’ full name, which he had hurriedly memorized on the way there.

Judge: “Where is your home?”

“The Duchy of East Steiermark, Tilia.”

This was what Andreas had personally said the first time Kosolek met him.

Because letters always seemed to come from Tilia in East Steiermark, Kosolek remembered it vividly.

As for other details, Kosolek only knew bits and pieces he had heard in casual conversations — for instance, Andreas had a sister and a much younger brother, and he attended secondary school in a town at the foot of the mountain…

The Judge glanced at the files in front of him and directly asked, “Where did you participate in battle for the first time?”

“Yeisk. We occupied the city, and then were—”

“I’m asking about your first battle, not your first retreat.” The Judge interrupted Kosolek impatiently.

Kosolek: “I don’t clearly remember, but I do clearly recall us being ambushed in the fog and having to withdraw from Yeisk!”

The Judge clicked his tongue, then raised an ID document, scrutinizing Kosolek for a few seconds: “Why does the photo on your ID look so different from you now?”

Kosolek: “The war changed me. I mean, I’ve grown thin from hunger.”

The Judge thought for a moment, muttered something in Antenese under his breath, and continued questioning: “Do you have any crimes to confess? Speak honestly!”

Kosolek: “None. My direct superior, Sergeant Kosolek, always told me not to do excessive things because it looked like we were going to lose the war.”

Judge: “That sergeant of yours seems quite conscientious. Where is he now?”

Kosolek hesitated for a moment but then resolutely replied, “He’s dead.”

Judge: “Do you know of any crimes he committed?”

“He told me during our talks,” Kosolek explained every one of his superior’s atrocities and ended with, “He often said the Anteans he tortured to death came looking for him, escorting him to the Infinite Hell where he’d forever atone for his sins.”

The Judge raised his gaze and stared at Kosolek, sending chills down his spine.

Finally, the Judge lowered his head, picked up a stamp, stamped the document, and declared, “Andreas, five months of reform through labor.”

With that, he rang the bell on the desk.

The door opened, and a priest dressed in black entered the room — it was Stas.

The black-clad Priest said, “Andreas, you’ve received a letter.”

Kosolek froze: “Huh?”

Priest: “Your hometown has been liberated. Both your sister and brother survived. They sent this letter a month ago, hoping we could locate you.”

With that, the priest stepped forward, placing a letter into Kosolek’s hand and unlocking his handcuffs.

Kosolek shakily tore open the envelope, and out tumbled a photo along with the letter.

In the photo, a girl in her late twenties and a boy about five or six huddled together, the ruins of a burnt-out wreckage behind them.

But their faces were lit with smiling joy, clearly signaling that the suffering was in the past.

Black-clad Priest: “Rising from the ashes, isn’t it?”

Kosolek stared at the photo in silence.

Black-clad Priest: “I thought you’d break down crying with joy.”

“What?” Kosolek raised his head. “Oh, I… It’s just hard to believe. I thought they were… Right, do you know—”

He was about to mention his own hometown, the place belonging to Kosolek.

The black-clad Priest waited patiently, his expression kind.

In the end, Kosolek didn’t say it.

“Nothing.” He said, forcing a smile. “It’s great, rising from the ashes. Where will I serve my sentence?”

The Antenese Judge responded, “Your crimes are minor. You’ll serve in a reform camp within Plowsonia. Your primary task will likely involve clearing rubble, breaking down the remnants of buildings into sand to be used for reconstruction.”

Kosolek nodded. “Understood.”

Judge: “You may leave now, Corporal.”

Kosolek tucked the letter away tightly, clutching it as he left the room. Stas, the black-clad Priest, followed behind him.

Once out of the inquiry room, Kosolek looked up at the winter sun.

Black-clad Priest: “When spring comes, you’ll be able to go home. Our motherland will be fully liberated as well.”

“Yes,” Kosolek murmured, “Yes.”

————

170 kilometers south of Plowsonia, Kodi Castle Prisoner of War Camp.

Prison Warden Colonel Ferdinand opened the last door to the prisoner dormitories, looking at the bewildered faces of the prisoners. “Alright, gentlemen, you are free now.”

His Anglic accent was thick with a Prosenese undertone, but the Allied prisoners in the dormitory understood him immediately.

“What’s going on?” asked Colonel Jack, one of the prisoner leaders, with confusion. “Have the Allied Forces arrived?”

“The Ante Troops are less than twenty kilometers away.” Colonel Ferdinand replied.

Colonel Jack: “But just days ago, the broadcasts claimed the defense line was unshakable.”

Colonel Ferdinand merely smiled, turned around, and swaggered off toward the castle tower where the office was located, the large bunch of keys in his hand swinging like he was taking a walk in his garden.

The prisoners exchanged glances before finally surging out of the dormitory, only to find that the doors to other dormitories were also open. Prisoners of war from various Allied nations stared at one another in disbelief.

Most of the guards in the castle had already vanished, leaving only one person, who was busy gathering clothes.

Colonel Jack shouted in Prosenese, “Where have all the guards gone?”

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