Became a Strategist with a 100 Intelligence and 100% Accuracy

I mulled over the prediction once more.

[It depends on the will of the heavens.]
I had seen this prediction before.
It didn’t literally mean that fate rested in divine hands.

Rather, it was an indication that the outcome of the battle hinged not on pure probability, but on my actions.
But… what did it mean for the fate of a war to rest on my choices?
My intelligence was high, but my combat ability was abysmal. My leadership skills were probably low as well—those were qualities of a general, not a tactician.

Sure, a strategist guiding a battle to victory through sheer tactical genius wasn’t unheard of.
But in my case, the title of tactician was little more than a formality.
I was utterly incompetent in the art of war.

And yet, the result of this battle would depend on me?
To make things even stranger, retreating was somewhat close to the correct answer?
Two predictions—both infallible—yet seemingly contradictory.

I was caught in the middle, unable to find the connection between them.
That was when—
"Swen?"

Epinnel’s voice called me back to reality.
She had no way of knowing I was lost in thought.
She was simply waiting for an answer.

I quickly composed myself and replied in a steady voice.
"Ah… yes, Lady Epinnel. I believe your assessment is correct."
There was a slight delay, but I had managed to avoid any suspicion.
"Everyone, listen up!" Epinnel declared. "We are holding the fortress. Prepare for battle. Musel, Jayden, and Airen—I have high expectations for the three of you."

""Understood!""
And just like that, the decision was made.
Rather than following Jinor’s suggestion to retreat, the army would fight under Epinnel’s command.

"Return to your stations."
With those parting words, Epinnel dismissed the meeting.
One by one, the officers left the council chamber.

Before long, only Airen and I remained.
"Swen? Is something troubling you?"
"Lady Airen."

She was one of the army’s most valuable assets.
In a battle like this, a single capable general could turn the tide.
If I failed to find the right answer… it wouldn’t be me who paid the price.

It would be her.
"If something is weighing on your mind, you can speak to me," she said.
"It’s nothing. I must be feeling nervous before battle."

"I see."
She gave a small smile.
"Don’t worry, Swen. Even if it means turning my back on the Aishus Army, I will protect you."

"Turning your back on the army? Someone might hear and misunderstand, you know."
"I don’t care," she said without hesitation. "What matters to me isn’t the army. It’s you, Swen. Have I not told you? I live for you."
She wasn’t just saying this to sound dramatic.

Even during the meeting, she had tried to intervene when Epinnel suggested a ritual.
I was still a recent addition to the army.
Some might even say I was responsible for provoking the Brans Army’s invasion.

Yet, despite how it might affect her standing, she hadn’t hesitated to step in for me.
The reason was obvious.
She believed that rituals—miracles—came at the cost of my own life.

If the only way to secure victory required me to call down another meteor, she would rather choose defeat.
For her sake, I had to find the right answer.
"I feel the same, Lady Airen," I said.

"Mm. …I know."
She smiled warmly.
Perhaps that was why—

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her.
It was a sudden, impulsive action.
I felt her body tense slightly in surprise.

But then—she relaxed.
Her arms came up to rest around my waist.
She didn’t reject me.

She accepted me into her world.
Her warmth grounded me.
Reminded me that I was alive.

That I had something to fight for.
For a brief moment, we simply stood there, holding each other.
Then—

"Swen," she murmured. "I’ll be heading out to take care of my duties. If you need me, come find me anytime."
"Understood."
With that, Airen left the room.

Now alone in the silent chamber, I took a seat and whispered to myself.
"Alright. Let’s do this again."
I wasn’t a genius tactician.

I wasn’t a master of strategy.
I was just an ordinary man struggling to survive.
But I could do one thing.

I could deduce.
All I had to do was eliminate the impossible.
And whatever remained—no matter how absurd—had to be the truth.

This time would be no different.
I took a deep breath and focused.
There were two absolute truths before me.

1. Retreating is "somewhat close" to the correct answer.
2. The outcome of this battle depends on "the will of the heavens"—which, in reality, meant it depended on my choices.
Let’s break this down.
At first, I was too confused to think clearly.

But now, with a cooler head, I realized something.
"My choices" didn’t refer to me as an individual.
The predictions weren’t made from my personal perspective.

They were based on the perspective of the Aishus Army—my current faction.
So this wasn’t about Swen making a decision.
It was about the army making the right move.

Which meant—
"Our army needs to do something. Either make the first move… or prepare for something the enemy is planning."
I reached into my clothes and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

This fortress was located west of Valharat Castle.
Which meant—
It was east of Raklein Castle, the easternmost stronghold of the Brans Army.

In other words, this fortress was within the area I had mapped before.
If we needed to prepare for something, the answer had to be in the terrain.
I unfolded the map and began meticulously analyzing the geography between Raklein Castle and Valharat Castle.

"There are more forests here than I expected."
Could they be the key?
Maybe we could use them somehow.

Or perhaps…
"…No."
I changed my approach.

This wasn’t the time to think from our perspective.
I needed to think like the enemy.
"If I were in the Brans Army, what would I do?"

If I were Chel Brans…
If I were Parfalle, the Brans Army’s chief strategist…
What would I be thinking?

On what basis did they decide to send fifty thousand troops here?
I emptied my mind and focused.
If I were the Brans Army—

"…I wouldn’t send my troops here at all."
That thought struck me like lightning.
Something about this entire situation felt off.

Why launch a sudden invasion?
To anyone else, it might seem like a trivial detail.
But to me, it was glaringly obvious.

"They wouldn’t just send their forces blindly."
"Because I’m here."
"Because Swen exists."

I had faked miracles before.
And not just once.
I had done it while I was still in the Brans Army.

There was no way they had forgotten that.
And Parfalle wasn’t a fool.
She was one of the most brilliant strategists in the central region.

There was no way she would overlook something so critical.
Yet, she still sent an army.
Which meant—

***
"Raklein Castle."
There, Chel and Parfalle sat in private discussion.

The only thing between them was a single map, drawn with the details of the surrounding terrain.
"Strategist, I’m relieved to see you well after all this time."
"I’ve heard the news. Our lord has ordered you to occupy the Aishus Army’s territory, correct?"

"That’s right. Knowing that you, Strategist Parfalle, will be at my side, I feel more reassured than ever."
"And I, knowing that General Chel will lead the vanguard, feel as if I’ve gained a thousand troops."
After exchanging pleasantries, Chel got straight to the point.

"First and foremost, the one defending the fortress is Epinnel Rosenkross."
Epinnel Rosenkross.
A woman known for her well-rounded abilities, widely considered the greatest general in the Aishus Army.

Parfalle was well aware of her reputation—one of the famed "Three Pillars of Aishus."
Among them, Hernandorf was the strongest in sheer combat power.
Emma was the most intelligent and politically astute.

And Epinnel was the one who could unite them both under her leadership.
If anything were to happen to Baranga Yuri Aishus, there was no doubt—Epinnel would be the one to take the throne.
That fact alone was enough to illustrate just how formidable she was.

"Our scouting reports indicate that they have around forty-eight thousand soldiers.
While it’s not a castle, it’s still a fortress—meaning that as long as we bring enough siege weaponry and handle their forces strategically, we should be able to take it.
However, our lord has informed me that reinforcements will be sent here as soon as the western front is secured.

I am torn on whether we should wait for those reinforcements or attack before the enemy has time to prepare."
Chel fixed his gaze on Parfalle.
"Strategist, I would greatly appreciate your counsel."

"…Shall I speak my thoughts freely?"
Parfalle ran her fingers over the map as she spoke.
"No matter what methods we employ, it would be impossible to capture the fortress in our current state.

A full-scale attack is simply not feasible."
"Impossible?" Chel frowned. "Forgive me, but I fail to understand your reasoning."
"Have you already forgotten, General? What happened at the northern fortress?"

"…!"
The incident in the north.
Within the Brans Army, it was known simply as "the time stones fell from the sky."

And at Parfalle’s mention of it, Chel immediately understood what she was implying.
"Ah…"
"Betrayal didn’t come from Airen Juliet alone.

She had Swen under her command—a man of remarkable insight.
He was sharp enough to see through Aishus’ strategies, intelligent enough to counter them.
Rumor has it that in the northern fortress, Swen performed a grand ritual, calling upon the heavens to bring forth a miracle.

Now, if our army were to charge recklessly at the fortress and expose our entire force—
Do you really think they would simply engage us head-on?
Would they not attempt the same ritual once more, knocking on the gates of heaven yet again?"

Chel remained silent, his expression grim as he listened.
"The exact mechanics of his ability remain unknown.
Perhaps it truly is magic, as the rumors claim.

Perhaps it is something else entirely.
But from our perspective, there is no need to test it for ourselves."
"…Hrrmmm."

"Of course, this does raise the question—
If he truly possesses such power, why hasn’t he used it to attack us first?
But as I said, there is no need for us to conduct that experiment on his behalf."

"Then what should we do? Are you saying we have no path to victory?"
"There is a way."
Parfalle’s finger traced the map back to Raklein Castle.

"In order to secure a complete victory in this campaign, we must launch an attack on the fortress.
No, to be precise—
It’s not the attack itself that matters.

It is the fact that we are launching one."
Chel, catching onto her intent, nodded.
"Then, what you’re suggesting is…"

"Exactly."
Parfalle nodded.
"The soldiers we send toward the fortress—"

***
"…The soldiers being sent toward the fortress are merely bait… aren’t they?"
I murmured aloud without realizing it.

After endless cycles of thought, questioning what I would do if I were in the Brans Army—
This was the answer I had reached.
Bait.

The vanguard force advancing on this fortress…
I couldn’t shake the thought that they were nothing more than bait.