Chapter 740: Follow Me or Don't — It's Your Choice
Vice Principal Lieutenant General Denoix greeted Charles warmly and shook his hand, welcoming him on behalf of the academy.
He gave a brief introduction to the assembled cadets, then handed the podium over to Charles.
As Charles stood at the lectern, the applause slowly faded.
Everyone waited in suspense, wondering what kind of grand and inspiring opening Charles would deliver.
But to their surprise, Charles said:
"I'm guessing most of you are thinking right now about how to get me off this stage, aren't you?"
The entire crowd froze.
They were used to formal, polished speeches. None had expected such a blunt, provocative opening.
And yet—it struck a chord.
He had spoken the unspoken truth.
Some cadets couldn't help but laugh.
Charles immediately pointed at one of them.
"See? I knew I was right!"
Laughter rippled through the parade ground.
The heavy, hostile tension that had hung in the air began to loosen.
"Let's keep things relaxed, soldiers," Charles continued. "If you don't want to listen, feel free to interrupt me. I want this to be an ordinary conversation.
There's no such thing as 'respect' or 'disrespect' here.
On the battlefield, none of that matters. Got it?"
A few bold cadets called back:
"Understood, General!"
Charles nodded, satisfied.
"Today's topic is the Battle of Verdun—along with the Somme."
"The first was fought by the French. The second, by both the British and the French."
"The one thing they have in common is this: a lot of people died.
The British lost a hundred thousand men in a single day."
"I've seen those battlefields. Many times."
"I've seen soldiers crawl over corpses, scream in pain, die in despair—desperate for help that would never come."
"Machine guns covered every inch of the battlefield.
Anyone who dared to move was gunned down instantly."
A cadet shouted from the crowd:
"We've studied those battles, General."
"We know what you did at Verdun.
But the real defense was led by Pétain.
And at the Somme, the offense belonged to General Foch."
A heckler.
Trying to downplay Charles' role by crediting the old guard.
Charles waited patiently for them to finish, then spoke again, smirking slightly:
"You think I'm lecturing you about battle cases? About military theory?"
"No, gentlemen. I'm talking about your future."
"Those men who died on the battlefield—that's your future."
"I just want you to picture what you will look like on that battlefield."
The cadets were stunned.
He had called them "gentlemen," not "soldiers"—an insult wrapped in civility.
Charles ignored their reaction and continued:
"Let's look at some numbers.
Verdun had a casualty rate of two out of every five—that's 40%.
The Somme? Three out of five. 60%.
And that doesn't count those who died in hospitals after being evacuated.
"What that means is: if you're mortally wounded, make sure they don't carry you out alive.
If you die in a hospital bed instead of on the field, your family might lose their pension."
No one laughed.
These weren't statistics that were normally discussed—they were said to "damage morale."
But every cadet knew it was true. Newspapers had reported the figures.
The academy had simply chosen to ignore them.
Now Charles gripped the edges of the podium and leaned forward.
The playful tone vanished. His voice turned sharp and steady:
"And despite those horrific losses—they didn't win."
"Guess which unit finally broke through and took Verdun and the Somme?"
"That's right. My 1st Armored Corps."
"Our casualty rate? Just 6%."
"Out of 20,000 soldiers, only a little over a thousand were lost."
"We recovered huge stretches of land, captured enormous supplies, and took in hundreds of thousands of prisoners."
He straightened up, chest lifted proudly.
"Believe me, I don't care if you believe in my military theory. Not at all."
"I only want to ask you one thing: two paths lie before you—death and failure, or victory and survival.
Which will you choose?"
"It's that simple. Just make a choice."
"That's all. Thank you."
Silence.
The parade field was utterly still.
All eyes stared blankly at Charles as he stepped down from the platform.
Time seemed to freeze.
Only Charles was moving.
Vice Principal Denoix hadn't even processed it yet.
That was it?
The speech had lasted less than ten minutes.
He had expected a long lecture, a back-and-forth debate… but nothing.
Kobdo sat dumbfounded.
Charles had just used results to define truth.
In academia, this kind of approach was taboo.
But in war?
It was the only thing that mattered.
War was reality.
And it was the future these cadets were marching toward—inevitable and inescapable.
Only now did Kobdo understand what Charles had meant in the car:
"Follow me or don't—it's your choice."
He had thought Charles said it in anger.
But that was the entire message of the speech.
Follow or don't.
But if you don't, you die.
Somewhere in the crowd, a few claps began to sound.
The cadets snapped out of their stunned daze.
Applause spread across the field—slow at first, then wave after wave.
At the same time, whispers passed between them:
"He's right. If it were you, which path would you choose?"
"I'd follow Charles. I want to win… and I want to live."
"Nobody wants to die—especially not in defeat."
"If we reject Charles now, and later we're forced to use his tactics anyway… isn't that pathetic?"
Vice Principal Denoix was bewildered.
How had everything changed so quickly?
Could a few simple lines really shatter decades of doctrine and theory at Saint-Cyr?
Did he hear that right?
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Painvin—sitting behind the principal with the instructors—was in awe.
This man was clever. Ruthless. Sharp.
If Charles had tried to debate theories, even a genius like him couldn't win against a thousand hostile minds.
But instead, he jumped outside the box—used battlefield data to deliver a dimensional strike against cadets with no war experience.
They couldn't argue. The data was real.
Their futures were real.
In the end, all arguments led to the same conclusion:
You don't have to trust Charles.
You don't have to fight like him.
You don't have to join his army.
But if you don't…
You'll die.
As the applause filled the field, Painvin walked over to Charles and said:
"General, allow me to take you to the lounge.
Afterwards, we'll be visiting the academy's museum."
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