I often find myself lost in thought.
Most of the time, I imagine the worst-case scenarios, but that doesn't mean I never have ordinary thoughts.
No need for examples—this time was just like that.
"…Ugh, uh…"
This guy writhing on the floor like someone having a seizure.
Suddenly, I became curious about his story and started imagining possibilities.
What if I listened and felt some sympathy, or for some other reason, ended up having to save him?
Countless scenarios flashed through my mind.
Still, since his skills were decent, maybe I'd impose restrictions and use him like a slave.
Or maybe he'd completely reform and gradually earn our trust.
'…What the hell, this is just like Auyen.'
A raider-turned-sailor suddenly came to mind, but whatever.
I even pictured a crucial moment when the mercy I showed today would save me like the flap of a butterfly's wings.
But in the end, it was a pointless fantasy.
[…Of course! No one's ever asked me my real name before!]
Surprisingly, the guy had a somewhat endearing side.
[Because someone tried to rape me in the labyrinth.]
His fall from grace carried some degree of sympathy.
[…It's a world too harsh to live honestly. Oh! Of course, that doesn't apply to strong people like you. Pish.]
Even if the theory that his ruin was to protect his own mind was true—
So what?
"…Uh, ah… huh?"
He didn't apologize in the end.
To those who lost precious people because of your childish delusions.
"Apologize."
If only he had done that, I might have reconsidered a bit.
[Well, maybe dying gloriously is the only goal I have.]
Spouting nonsense like that, I had no doubt.
"…Don't. Just die like trash. That's the truest apology."
With those words, I watched the naked, filthy figure with more than half his head crushed slowly dying.
"Uh, ah…"
His hoarse groans faded, and the blood he coughed up lessened in frequency.
Of course, his body wasn't healing.
If anything, the opposite.
"..."
Finally, his trembling slowed and his gaze turned to empty air.
Was he seeing something?
"Uh… ah…"
He barely moved his lips, muttering something.
I leaned in to listen and caught the gist.
His speech was so slurred it was hard to be sure.
"Uh… ma…"
Funny how everyone says the same last word.
"Um… ma…"
That didn't make me feel sorry.
Hans A, who tried to kill me, had family too.
I clenched my teeth.
If I let this break me, I couldn't survive this world.
"Huh…"
I slowly lifted my head and looked at the sky.
[Goooooo…]
Three moons writhed, formed from corpses.
If there was a hell, maybe it was there.
As I thought this, the ground shook violently.
Rumble rumble rumble—!
I lowered my head and looked toward the horizon.
In the distance, the green world began collapsing.
What this meant was very simple.
「A character possessing a symbol has died.」
Yeah, he's dead.
No wonder I hadn't heard a sound for a while.
"..."
It was the same as when I killed the Dragon Slayer before.
I felt strangely indifferent.
No intense emotions, no satisfaction.
Nor was there emptiness.
So what the hell was I feeling?
Instead of pondering, I drew a line in my mind.
Corpse Collector, Abet Nekrapeto.
Another name erased from the hit list, but many names remained.
'There's a long way to go.'
Well, one by one, I'd deal with them somehow.
「The character moves to Rapdonia.」
When I opened my eyes after returning from the underworld, the first thing I saw was fire.
Flare flare flare—!
Left, right, front, back.
Fire everywhere, thick hot smoke searing my lungs with every breath.
「Activated the Orb of Fire.」
「Reduces all derived fire damage within 15 meters by 50%.」
Phew, at least this makes it a bit bearable.
'Enemies…'
I quickly scanned the surroundings but felt no presence.
'None.'
Well, the entire area was on fire, so that made sense.
Better than being surrounded by enemies as soon as I stepped out.
The problem was, I had no idea where my comrades were.
'What happened?'
I needed to quickly assess the situation.
Until I went into the underworld, we had been fighting Noark forces.
'I was inside for maybe two hours…'
But when I came out, the streets were ablaze and no one was in sight.
One thing was certain.
This wasn't the worst case.
If Noark had won, they'd be waiting here in siege formation.
Holding Astarotta's and Raven's heads as trophies.
'If I read it the other way, that means those two might still be alive.'
Yeah, so…
Flare flare flare—!
Phew, first things first, I need to get out of here.
Though the smoke and fire obscured my view, I could easily find the way.
I'm not just any barbarian—I'm an elite barbarian trained by Rotmiller as a guide.
'There it is.'
Without hesitation, I used [Gigantify] and sprinted through the flames.
But what the hell?
One minute, two, three…
No sign of the flames ending.
'…How far has this fire spread?'
I had no idea, but there was only one thing I could do.
Run toward District 7—my hometown.
Ten, twenty, thirty minutes…
Even this superhuman body quickly approached its limits.
Flare flare—!
The fire itself was fine.
With the Orb of Fire and my high stats, aside from slight burning skin, no real damage.
But the smoke was the problem.
'Damn it.'
They say in fires, more people die of suffocation than burning.
I felt like I was going to die because I couldn't breathe properly.
Though I had almost held my breath with superhuman lung capacity to get here…
Thump thump!
Running full speed and holding my breath was killing me.
Beeeeeep!
Like ringing in my ears signaling my limit approaching.
The heavy footsteps and roaring flames I'd heard before faded.
Beeeeeeep!
My vision blurred, and every second felt unbearably long.
My head spun like I was seasick…
'…Fuck, I'm dying like this?'
They say a healthy mind dwells in a healthy body.
My body, pushed to the limit, kept summoning negative thoughts and tried to refuse moving, as if giving up would be easier.
But…
'…No way.'
How the hell have I survived till now?
Not by sword wounds, not by monster's jaws.
Just by lack of oxygen?
Beeeeeeep!
I couldn't let it end like that.
Smack!
I struck my head to awaken my fading mind.
And…
Thump thump!
Kept pushing my legs forward.
Thump thump!
I lost track of how much time passed.
My sense of time blurred, and I couldn't even tell if I was running straight ahead.
Then—
My legs gave out, and I leaned forward.
And—
Thump!
My body, off balance, hit something hard and I snapped awake.
"Ci…ty wall?"
A castle wall.
No idea how long it had taken to reach here.
"Ci…ty wall…"
Once I recognized what I hit, a sudden surge of energy filled me.
No time to find the gate.
Barbarians are a race specialized not in finding paths but making them.
I grabbed the cracks in the hot bricks and climbed the wall like a cockroach.
Finally reaching the top…
'…I survived.'
My body relaxed as it acknowledged survival.
Breathing was still tough even atop the wall.
But to someone wandering the desert, a single drop of water feels like life itself.
"Hah… hah… hah…"
Despite coughing from the choking smoke, I breathed deeply.
After a while, my body recovered somewhat.
'…Barely alive. Really.'
I stood up on the wall and looked around.
The wall was tall enough to see the entire city on a clear day.
Now, I could clearly see how much of the city was burning.
"This is insane…"
From above, the entire District 8 was ablaze, spewing massive smoke…
"…The fire spread to District 7, too."
Similar for District 7.
From above, more than a third of it was engulfed.
'Damn it.'
I thought of all the money I'd invested and felt a pang, but quickly cleared my mind.
Money can always be made.
In emergencies, priorities must be clear.
Right now, my top priority wasn't money or what comes after, but to somehow survive this war safely.
'Huh… what do I do now?'
Having survived an unexpected brush ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) with death, practical problems weighed on my mind again.
Astarotta and Raven missing.
Clan members hiding in the barbarian sanctuary.
Amelia and Auyen last heard fleeing from District 4…
'I'm worried about Raven…'
Still, I set my first destination as the sanctuary.
Searching the vast fiery sea aimlessly would be inefficient.
Better to join the clan there and search together.
'Astarotta's there too, so no need to worry too much…'
No time to hesitate after deciding.
I quickly climbed down the wall and ran.
Going over the wall was shorter and safer than jumping into the burning city.
Thump thump!
Running recklessly on the wall toward the sanctuary.
"…?"
Tensing up, I stopped.
Through the black smoke obscuring my vision, a figure appeared.
No, more precisely…
"…You've come."
He was waiting for me.
'Black wolf mask…'
A design matching perfectly with the mask 'Briat,' Ibaekho's former comrade, wore.
Thanks to that, I immediately recognized him.
Hirkmuta.
An 'ancient' group formed by followers of the last great sage, Diplun Groundel Gavrilius.
The wolf mask, presumed member of that group, shrugged at me.
"Long time no see, Bjorn Yandel."
"...?"
"Oh, should I say Prince Lion? Hahaha!"
I quietly sighed.
'Hah, I already have enough on my mind.'
What the hell does this bastard want now?
-x-X-x-
A clearing under ash-gray clouds.
Originally, this place was where barbarians gathered whenever they had matters to discuss or announcements to make.
Other races usually held such meetings indoors for formality and security…
But barbarians found that inefficient.
Why gather indoors when you can stand firmly on your two legs and just listen?
Because of this, the barbarian sanctuary had no proper meeting rooms, and when Bersil asked the administrative secretary-general for a place to hold talks with dozens of people, he was shown this clearing.
Of course, it was hard to understand that such a large group had no proper building…
[Don't try to understand everything. Just accept it—that's better for your sanity.]
Hearing the secretary-general's enlightened words, I found myself nodding unconsciously.
It was genuine advice, and honestly, not wrong.
When dozens gather, huge conference halls actually make communication harder.
'Seeing everyone gathered like this, a naturally horizontal atmosphere just happens…'
Maybe that was a barbarian strength.
Once you accept it, you can see the unexpected advantages.
The clan leaders called out here hadn't quite accepted it yet.
"Ahem…"
"Why call us out here so early in the morning?"
"How can important matters be discussed in a place like this? Barbarians don't even have synagogues or anything?"
"They don't."
"Heh… they say you've advanced a lot but still—"
"Enough."
From Bersil's point of view, these people clearly didn't understand their current situation.
Because they weren't guests.
Therefore…
'I need to say this first.'
Before the meeting started in earnest, Bersil addressed this.
"I guess many don't realize it, but we're refugees fleeing a war. The barbarians are hosts who took us in."
"…Ahem."
"In that spirit, how about we take a moment to express gratitude for providing us safe shelter and food?"
"..."
"You never know. If they throw us out, we'd have to return helplessly to District 7."
At that, Bersil glanced at Ainar, who grinned and stepped forward.
"Yeah, parasites! You saved us, sheltered us, fed us. If you're human, wouldn't it be right to shout a battle cry in respect and thanks?"
"…A battle cry?"
"Y-You mean Behela?"
"Of course!! If you don't want to, you can refuse! We barbarians respect free will!"
"Ah… then I must decline for religious reasons—"
"Oh! Then you can leave the sanctuary right now!"
"Didn't you say you respect free will earlier?"
"Freedom comes with great responsibility. Don't you know that?"
Ainar gave a disdainful look, and the man who was about to refuse went mute, as did other clan leaders.
Bersil saw it was time to give some encouragement.
"Ainar, stop. That person was just declining for religious reasons, but surely grateful to the barbarians."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Of course. That's only natural for humans."
The man nodded eagerly.
Better to say thanks than shout battle cries in front of everyone.
Others chimed in with words of gratitude.
"Miss Pnellen, sincere thanks."
"Our Partia clan feels the same. We will never forget the favor received this time."
Watching this, Bersil smiled quietly.
Though it looked like simple thanks, such small acts build bonds of give and take.
"Vice Commander Gouldland."
"Speak, Commander Erta."
"Can you explain why you called us here this morning? You didn't gather so many people just for thanks, right?"
"Ah, that?"
Bersil stepped forward, as if waiting for the chance.
Then loudly addressed everyone.
"About an hour ago, the barrier between the sanctuary and District 7 started weakening."
Those words struck like lightning in the minds of the explorers who had relaxed since arriving.
"…W-what does that mean?"
"The barrier enclosing the sanctuary wasn't made by Noark! They're too busy fighting the royal family to bother with us!"
Strictly speaking, it was the barbarians stationed in the sanctuary, but that was irrelevant.
"Then why now… what's the reason—?"
"The reason doesn't matter."
Bersil cut off the question firmly and went to the main point.
"The barrier is weakening, that's true. We confirmed the magic supply was cut off and the barrier is naturally breaking down."
"Vice Commander, how much time do we have left?"
A calm voice responded—a leader of the Labrime clan?
Unlike others I wanted to punch, he had always shown rationality.
"It's not exact, but I estimate about an hour."
"An hour…"
"Anyway, since that's the case, we must prepare. I see only two reasons for the barrier suddenly breaking."
"May I hear them?"
"First, some problem caused the magic supply to cut."
"And the second?"
Looking at a man who had just shouted, Bersil answered.
"Noark probably has the capacity now."
"…?"
"To deal with us."
In fact, Bersil considered this most likely, and maybe it showed in his voice.
"..."
"..."
A heavy silence followed.
A clearing so quiet it hardly seemed like dozens were gathered.
Breaking it was a woman's voice.
"So… what do we do now…?"
Well.
If it were up to her, Bersil and I both would have answered, "I don't know."
But…
[From today on, you are our clan's vice commander.]
That wouldn't do.
Bersil closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again.
"Everyone must prepare for battle."
"Can we hear the strategy?"
"Primarily, we'll focus on defense. We'll build a stronghold at the gate and block it; enemies won't break through easily."
"If primarily, then there's a next step?"
"Yes. If an opportunity arises, we'll push forward."
"Push forward…?"
The leaders' eyes widened in surprise, but Bersil shrugged.
Though she was 'mage' and 'ranged attacker,' she now understood.
"Yes. Attack is the best defense."
To protect what's truly precious, you must know how to strike.
Shabin Emour, the barbarian sanctuary's administrative secretary-general.
She was busier than anyone in the tribe.
Naturally so.
The sanctuary's location was unlucky, once again swept by war, and she was the acting head of all sanctuary affairs.
So she had to stay sharp—
"Miss Emour, I brought some tea. Take a moment to refresh your throat."
"…Huh? But I don't have time—"
"Don't you have time for tea? You don't need to carry this burden alone."
"…I understand, but the enemy is about to storm in, how can I rest—!"
Emour looked ready to lose her mind.
After all, her specialty was administrative office work, not war.
"Then I won't insist, but I'll leave the tea here. Please drink it when you can. Sometimes, to be effective, you have to calm yourself deliberately."
"…Thank you, Rotmiller."
Rotmiller had really come just to bring tea.
After setting the tea down, he turned away, and Emour noticed something different.
"Mr. Rotmiller? What's with that gear?"
Rotmiller, usually in neat casual clothes, was now wearing full equipment.
Like he was about to enter the labyrinth.
"Oh… Emour, this is your first time seeing it? I kept my old gear just in case, and now I'm glad."
"Are you… joining the battle…?"
"Isn't that necessary? We need every hand we can get."
"But you were a scout!!"
It might have sounded rude.
Yet Rotmiller smiled gently.
"Haha, don't worry too much. I was a scout, but also an explorer. I went into the labyrinth to protect what's precious."
Emour was speechless.
After all, thinking clearly, she couldn't really stop him.
"Well, I came to say hello. Once I head to the front, you probably won't see me till this is over."
In the end, all she could say was:
"…Take care."
She spoke sincerely, and Rotmiller responded briefly.
"…I will return safely."
With that, Rotmiller left the room.
Left alone, Emour flushed.
'I will return safely…!'
Even sipping fragrant tea, her heart wouldn't calm.
Prince Lion.
Only one person at the Round Table used that title.
Known for swaggering like Auril Gavis's spokesperson.
'Wolf.'
Coincidentally, the 'Hirkmuta' mask the opponent wore was also a black wolf.
But rather than coincidence…
'They must have belonged to that group from the start.'
No doubt, that was why they chose the wolf mask.
"Hahaha, don't be so wary. I'm not your enemy."
"Then why did you block the way?"
"I never blocked you."
"Is that so? Then get out of the way."
I spoke coldly, but he had no intention of stepping aside.
"I said don't be so wary. I'm just here on an elder's orders to offer advice."
The elder must be old Auril Gavis…
"Advice…"
Written with the characters meaning 'helpful' and 'speech.'
Literally, it means 'helpful words.'
But why did hearing that feel so ominous and make me wary?
I didn't know, but perhaps sensing I'd listen, he 'advised' me.
"Since you came this way, you're heading to the sanctuary, right?"
"..."
"Don't go to the sanctuary. Go that way."
He pointed toward burning District 7.
I was so stunned I couldn't even laugh.
"You said you wouldn't block me, that was bullshit."
"I truly have no intention to block. If Prince Lion goes to the sanctuary this way, I'll step aside."
"Is that so? Then get out of the way."
"If you wish."
Unexpectedly, he ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ pressed close to the wall's edge and let me pass.
So…
Step step.
Cautiously, wondering if he might do something, I walked forward.
Then…
Step.
Just as I was about to pass in front of him—
"Oh, one more thing. Killing the Jester was a bad choice."
"Does my choice matter?"
"It does. At least to Prince Lion. The elder said if the Jester had lived, he would have been a great help to you."
"I doubt that, but I see your elder is quite meddlesome."
"He's merciful and noble."
No wonder he's a diehard Auril Gavis fan.
Finding no more reason to talk, I resumed walking past him.
Step.
One step.
Step.
Two steps.
Step—
After bearing a lot of thoughts, I took three more steps.
'Ha, I'm really losing it…'
Finally, I turned back and asked.
"…Why?"
Though I didn't like seeing his eyes narrow behind the mask,
"Are you saying don't go to the sanctuary?"
Unable to hold back the question, he answered eagerly.
"Who lives or dies depends on where you go."
"..."
"So don't go to the sanctuary, go to District 7. That's the choice that best protects Prince Lion."
"A choice for me…"
I chuckled and asked one last thing.
"Fine. Did that elder tell you about this future too?"
"I don't know what you mean, but that's the extent of the advice I was allowed—"
I wasn't asking for more advice.
With a quick motion, I grabbed his throat and pushed him toward the wall's edge.
"Will you live here, or die?"
If he answers right, maybe I could believe him.
-x-X-x-
There is a prophet named Cassandra.
She foretold the fall of Troy, but the king of Troy did not believe her, and Troy ultimately perished.
Of course, the king had his excuses.
Apollo, who had been rejected by Cassandra, spitefully took away her "persuasiveness." The fact that people did not believe the prophecy was clearly influenced by that "curse."
But…
"Well."
Even if she had persuasiveness, it might not have been much different.
Who wants to believe ominous prophecies?
Even people who pay for fortune tellers run away when they hear bad news.
Would the king of Troy really have nodded and said, "Hmm, we're doomed," after hearing her prophecy?
"Of course not."
Just like I wouldn't.
"Haha… How about calming down a little? I didn't come to fight, Prince Lion."
"I'm not here to fight, but to verify. To see whether I can trust your words or not."
I spoke coldly, and at first he seemed surprised, but then he smirked—like his surprise was just an act.
"You already know, don't you? The elder's power."
"Yeah, I know that old man's ability well. He's a master at playing with people."
Despite my sneer, he quietly replied without much reaction.
"Then why did you stop?"
A sharp question.
"You could have just passed by and headed for the sanctuary. What reason do you have to stop?"
"..."
"Prince Lion, surely you knew in your heart that you might regret not listening to the elder's advice."
I wanted to deny it.
That I only tried to listen to what the old man said, to see what he meant. Even false information is information, and I planned to use it to understand the old man's intentions.
I wanted to say that, but as he had just said, he knew the real reason.
It wasn't that.
"By the way, I asked you earlier if I'd live or die here."
"..."
"The elder didn't give me a clear sign, but… well, since we're still talking, I guess this isn't where I die today."
"..."
"Then will you lift this? It's getting suffocating."
Ha…
"Damn it."
Using my free hand, I tore off his mask.
Swish!
The face revealed beneath was very ordinary.
A mid-30s beastman you could see anywhere in the city…
Hmph, I wondered if I knew him.
"Haha… Were you that curious about my face?"
Seeing that he wasn't fazed at all, I quietly asked.
"Just one thing."
"Anything."
"If you worked under that old man, you'd know about the records, right?"
"Of course."
"Then why do you keep saying the future changes depending on choices? You say you don't believe it changes."
Whether I believe in fate or not is irrelevant here.
I was just curious why these damned true fate believers act like this.
"Hmm… That's a tough question. It might be a long answer, is that okay?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"For example, a man is playing cards with other drunks at a bar. The dealer accidentally deals the cards out of order."
I thought it was nonsense but kept quiet.
"If dealt correctly, he would have had a weak hand, but because of the mistake, he got a very good hand. The others were so drunk they didn't notice the error. So he quietly kept his mouth shut and took advantage."
I still didn't understand what he was saying.
"Now I'll ask you."
He asked.
"Was his original fate to get the weak hand, or was it to get the good hand?"
I didn't grasp the point of the question, but there was no need to hesitate answering.
"The good hand. The dealer's mistake was part of fate."
"Haha, good answer. You learn quickly."
He said so, but honestly, I didn't understand at all.
But…
"As Prince Lion said, a changed fate is still fate."
"And…"
"What we're doing now is trying to deal the cards so someone gets a slightly better hand in a 'very small game.'"
Though I didn't fully understand the content, I was beginning to grasp what he meant.
So I asked.
"So what happened to him?"
He looked a bit surprised but smirked as he spoke.
"In the end, he lost big in that gamble. But because of the good hand, he minimized his losses."
"Even with a changed fate, he couldn't change the fact that he lost."
"Exactly."
He smiled like a teacher giving a gold star.
"But don't worry too much. That man who kept winning and losing eventually grew into a greater person far in the future."
Of course, those words didn't comfort me.
They only strengthened my resolve.
"Decide. The cards have already been dealt to Prince Lion."
I decided never to talk with these damned fate believers on such topics again.
On the castle walls, heat and black smoke rose.
"..."
"..."
After a long silence, unable to wait any longer, he spoke first.
"Is it so hard to decide?"
"..."
"Think simply. If asked which you'd lose, a car or a house, most would choose the car."
That made sense; for most people, a house is more precious than a car.
But in this vast world, there are those who think otherwise.
I'm the one to decide what's more precious.
So…
"I've decided."
After much thought, I decided, and his pupils darkened with curiosity.
"What will you do?"
When he spoke as if he knew everything, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction and shrugged.
"Why should I tell you?"
"...?"
"Now get lost."
With that, I threw him down into the burning District 7.
"Ugh…? Ugh! Uwaaaa!"
He wouldn't die from falling here.
Seeing him genuinely terrified told me he had no clue this future was coming.
Boom!
Watching him fall into the sea of fire, I felt as if years of old indigestion had finally lifted, but that satisfaction didn't last long.
"Phew…"
A stone heavier than years of indigestion settled on my chest.
But there was nothing I could do.
"..."
After tossing him down, I stood dazed on the wall for a while before starting to run again.
Toward the sanctuary and District 7.
The destination I'd chosen after much deliberation.
Though my body was uncomfortable, I entered a closet far more comfortable than anywhere outside.
Sven Parav had decided he wouldn't leave this closet until everything was over, even if he soiled his pants.
But…
"Um…"
Was it too much to expect even a roommate to share that resolve?
"Uh… are you feeling uncomfortable?"
"Could I… just step out for a moment?"
"Eh…? It's dangerous outside the closet…"
"I know, but… it'll really be just a moment."
While saying this, his roommate Lilith Marone nervously shook her leg, like a person on edge.
Because of this, Sven Parav—usually called oblivious—understood why Lilith wanted to leave the closet.
"…Then hurry and be quick."
Though nervous even for the brief moment the closet door opened, he had no choice but to comply.
"Okay… I'll just quickly go next door…!"
Lilith left to deal with her condition, and Sven Parav closed the door, waiting.
After about four minutes, the closet door opened again.
Lilith's face was urgent and anxious.
"Parav…! There's a fire, a fire!"
"Eh…?"
"The entire east of District 7 is engulfed in flames!"
District 7's east faces District 8… was there an incident over there?
"Parav, you should come out and see!"
"…Eh?"
"Come see! It's serious… the fire might even reach here."
"Oh…"
"No, I mean, we might have to evacuate soon."
"Y-Yeah…"
Despite Lilith's warning, Sven Parav didn't want to leave the closet.
Still, a little uneasy…
"Could you please close the closet door for a moment…?"
"…Sure?"
"Just for a moment."
He shut the door himself.
Thump—
His heart calmed as the door closed.
Clack!
Though Lilith reopened the door quickly, that brief peace gave him confidence.
Whether there was a big fire in the east or not didn't matter.
As long as he stayed in this closet, he was safe.
That intuition became absolute certainty.
If someone heard him say this, they'd think he was insane, but…
"Yeah, you follow your instincts."
Sven Parav had been saved many times by that instinct, and even Yandel, called the "Giant," sometimes trusted it.
Therefore…
"I'm fine, Miss Marone. It'll be safe here."
"How can you be so sure?"
"You're a mage, I'm a paladin. If we take turns using our powers, even if the whole city burns, this closet won't."
It wasn't an unreasonable claim.
Paladins have shields, barriers, holy enchantments; mages likewise.
"Hmm…"
Maybe it sounded more reasonable than "instinct."
Lilith seemed to agree, and Sven Parav seized the chance.
"Aren't there Noark troops all around outside? It's too dangerous to move now. If we must move, it's better after the fire reaches us. Then the enemy will be distracted by the flames."
"Oh… that makes sense. Then for now, we wait…"
Nodding, Lilith agreed they'd hold out as long as possible in the closet.
Suddenly, Lilith stiffened, staring out the window.
At first, I wondered why—
"…Aaaaaaah!"
A loud scream came from outside, and suddenly he understood.
"Captain! Found a woman hiding here!"
"Aaaaah! P-please save me…!"
"Hahaha! She's begging for mercy? What should we do?"
The moment I heard this conversation, my heart dropped.
Thump!
No, no, no… please no.
I prayed again and again inside—
"P-Parav…!"
Thump!
"…We have to save her!"
As always, bad omens never failed.
-x-X-x-
Standing in front of the gate.
Thud–! Thud–!
It was the very gate that served as the only passage between the Sanctuary and District 7.
Thud–! Thud–!
Thousands of barbarians had gathered before it, each gripping their own weapon and stomping the ground in rhythm.
Thud–!
Honestly… it did make the body feel a little stirred up.
The reality of battle being right at the doorstep was sinking in.
Was that why?
Thump–!
Rotmiller checked over his equipment one more time.
Thud–!
A crossbow for the decisive blow.
A dagger and longsword for close combat.
A round shield used either for ranged defense or protecting important figures.
Gunpowder pouches attachable to arrows, smoke bombs for blinding the enemy, potions, scrolls…
Thud–!
He rechecked all his gear and even the consumables stored in the [Treasure Vault], but thanks to his usual thorough maintenance, there were no clear issues with anything.
"Hoo…"
And after a long exhale, he felt a little less nervous.
Rotmiller loosened up his body one last time.
'Did I… gain weight?'
The gear he hadn't worn in a while felt a bit tight.
But it was only slightly uncomfortable—nothing about the equipment felt unfamiliar or awkward. If anything, it felt like he was finally wearing his true clothes again.
'I really thought I'd never put this on again.'
Maybe that was why, even in times of financial need, he hadn't sold this equipment—he had kept it in storage.
Because, deep down, he must have known.
That a day like this would come.
Thud–!
As Rotmiller instinctively scanned his surroundings, he finally noticed the expressions of those around him.
Faces stiff with solemn determination.
He found those expressions unexpectedly surprising.
Well, if it had been the explorers making those faces, he probably wouldn't have thought anything of it…
Thud–!
Though they stomped the ground in rhythm like it was a festival, even the barbarians showed that familiar tremble that always surfaced just before battle.
'Right…'
They were human too.
If pierced by a weapon, they bleed. If too much blood is lost, they can never see their loved ones again—
"The gate will open soon!! Prepare for baaaattllleeeee!!!"
Suddenly, Ainard, stationed at the front line, shouted loud enough to be heard from a kilometer away, and the barbarian warriors who had been waiting, stomping in sync, roared in unison.
"Behell–raaaaaaaaaaaa!"
A roar so loud it seemed like eardrums would burst from the pain.
But there was no hand to spare to cover his ears.
Rotmiller, with weapons in both hands, stared straight ahead. Right in front of the gate stood the elite members personally selected by Versil Gourland.
Their gear shone with polish, and even their very presence marked them as something beyond ordinary men.
Clench—
Among them, as Rotmiller looked at Ainard, his grip on his weapon unconsciously tightened.
Ainard stood at the gate wielding a massive green glaive said to have been obtained during an expedition.
That back—more reassuring than anyone else's—made Rotmiller think:
Ah, I see.
Those are the people who are called Bjorn Yandel's "companions."
Clench.
But there was no need to feel miserable.
No reason to wallow in self-pity over the difference in talent.
Was it ever any different?
He had always been slow, always lagging behind.
People said he was diligent, but even that diligence hadn't come from desire—it had been the only thing he could rely on.
Admitting this, Rotmiller had left labyrinth life behind and found a new profession.
So there was no need to imagine what it might have been like if he were in their place. They were there now because they had kept moving while he had stopped.
And above all…
Thud–!
He hadn't come here today for that reason anyway.
Yes, exactly.
Clench.
There was no need for inferiority toward others.
Thump–!
Even the scream of intuition warning him of danger was ignored.
"The barrier is down!"
Rotmiller had picked up his weapon today to fight.
"Behell–raaaaaaaaaaaa!"
Just like those barbarians crying out to their ancestral gods before battle.
To protect something precious.
***
What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?
That was the only thought running through Sven Parab's mind.
'What do I do…?'
Sven Parab kept asking himself, searching for an answer.
"Huh? Didn't you hear me? I said we need to help them!"
Should they be helped or not?
Surprisingly, Sven Parab wasn't trying to find an answer to that question.
The answer was already clear.
Thump–!
They must not be helped.
If he stepped out of the wardrobe to help the woman outside, something bad would definitely happen.
That ominous intuition was so strong, it had him torn with indecision.
To some, it might make him look like a cowardly fool.
'What do I do?'
How could he convince Riris Marone not to intervene—to just let it go?
He wrestled with the thought endlessly, but sadly, no good answer came. The golden moment passed.
"…There's a risk they'll discover our location."
That was all he could manage to say in the end, and at that, Riris Marone went silent for a moment.
"…I'm disappointed. I didn't think you were that kind of person."
Her voice, after the short pause, trembled with betrayal, and her gaze turned cold.
Sven Parab felt like someone was stabbing needles into his heart.
"…To me, Miss Marone matters far more than some stranger whose name I don't even know."
That heartfelt truth slipped out, unbidden by the pain.
Flustered even at his own words, Sven Parab hastily added excuses.
"Besides, if we don't survive, we'll never be able to fulfill the promise we made that day…"
Though it sounded like an excuse, it still held some truth.
But Marone's response remained cold.
"If we ignore someone's life just to chase some greater cause, then how are we any different from the royal family?"
"..."
"You stay in the wardrobe, Mr. Parab. I'll save them myself if I have to."
With those words, she walked toward the window.
And after a brief moment of focus—
"Naria Kartehtura!"
A spell chant flew past the shattered window and struck the ground below.
"…Kyaaaaah!"
Only one woman's scream rang out from below—no other noise followed.
That was because Riris Marone, a former military mage, had cast her spell with such precision and speed that it pierced through two heads in a single blow.
"..."
At that moment, Sven Parab, still inside the wardrobe, and Riris Marone, standing at the window, locked eyes.
Sven didn't know what to say, but Marone spoke first.
"…Don't worry. I won't be a burden to you, Mr. Parab."
"Uh… What do you mean by th—"
Before he could even ask what she meant, Riris Marone climbed over the shattered windowsill and jumped to the ground.
And then—
"Ma'am, go back inside the building! I need to move this body first…!"
"Yes! Huh? Ah, I-I'll help too!"
"I'll hold here, you grab the legs! Just the legs, please!"
As he heard the flurry of voices from outside—
Thunk–!
Sven Parab closed the wardrobe door in shame.
***
The start of the battle was almost absurdly simple.
Whoooooooom—!
The translucent barrier that had risen high above the wall began to dim and eventually vanished entirely.
"..."
"..."
Roughly five seconds of silence followed.
And those five seconds were of a strange, unprecedented kind.
Thump-thump.
Blood rushed to the head, narrowing vision. The heart beat so violently it brought on nausea.
And at the same time—
Why aren't they coming?
Was it just a fluke that the barrier came down?
Then… maybe we don't have to fight?
Just as such hopeful thoughts began to cross the mind—
BOOOOOOM—!
A magic cannon blast shattered the gate to pieces.
Fortunately, the magic blast had been absorbed by the protective spells cast by the mages, so there was no additional damage beyond the gate being destroyed.
But still…
Shhhhhhhhh—!
Even the thick dust cloud couldn't hide it.
"They're coming…!"
The sound of hundreds, thousands of soldiers charging echoed, quickly growing louder.
"Behell–raaaaaaaaaaaa!"
His first experience with "war" was nothing like what Rotmiller had imagined.
Though he had believed the elites standing before the gate would form an impenetrable wall, their formation was meaningless before the surge of thousands.
They could barely hold back the massive flow—but stopping every tiny stream that broke through was impossible.
"Aaaaaargh!"
"Kill them! Kill them all!!"
Thin streams that broke through the front line clashed into the second.
"Kraaaagh!"
"Aaaaargh!!"
As if the eerie silence moments before had been a lie, the space in front of the wall transformed into a place filled with blood and screams.
A chaotic melee where strategy and formations held no meaning unfolded—
Right before his eyes.
Fwoosh—!
Rotmiller, briefly stunned, came to his senses the moment an arrow grazed his ear and began swinging his weapons like a madman.
Slice—!
He slashed an enemy with his longsword.
Thwip—!
Fired a bolt straight through another's head.
BOOM—!
Tossed a gunpowder pouch into a group of enemies, rolled his body to shield an ally—
He did everything he could from his position.
And it wasn't just Rotmiller.
Everyone present fought the same way.
"Ainard Prnelin is here!!"
"Didn't they say killing that bitch gets you a Tier-2 essence?"
"Dieeeee!!"
Ainard, swinging her green glaive, showed what it meant to fight one against a hundred with overwhelming martial prowess.
BOOOOM—!
Then came Elwen Fornaci di Tersia, in her bloodshade state.
Even those who didn't possess such fame displayed years of teamwork within their clans.
And alongside them were the unwavering barbarian warriors.
"Behell–raaaaaaaaaaaa!"
"Kill every last one who dares enter the Sanctuary!!"
It even looked possible they could repel the Noark forces—
But it didn't take long for that hope to shatter.
BOOM—!
"Magic cannon! It's a magic cannon!"
Noark forces, now occupying the top of the wall, began firing the cannons they had finished setting up down at the defenders.
BOOM—! BOOM—! BOOM—!
Each time a magic blast struck the tightly packed defense line, several—sometimes over a dozen—were killed or maimed.
Beeeeeeeeeeep—!
Was human life always this easy to erase?
For the first time in his life, Rotmiller felt like his very soul was being swallowed by the reality of "war."
Haa… haa…
It hadn't even been ten minutes since the battle began, but his breath was already at his throat. His arms and legs had lost strength.
And perhaps due to the deafening noise, his eardrums were likely damaged—because at some point, all he could hear was a sharp ringing.
"...!"
The scream of a dying warrior beside him made no sound.
"...…!!"
Neither did the roars of the enemies charging at him with killing intent.
Only two sounds remained for Rotmiller.
Beeeeeeeeeeep—!
That sharp ringing that dulled all thought.
And—
Thump–!
The pounding of /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ his heart, screaming to survive.
"...!!"
"...!!"
Amid the silent storm of malice and despair, Rotmiller swung his weapon.
Thump–!
Forcing himself to ignore the unshakable sense of dread.
-x-X-x-
One minute, two minutes, three minutes…
Time passes.
Slower than at any other moment he had ever experienced.
Four minutes, five minutes, six minutes…
The longer it goes on, the more suffocating it becomes.
The air inside the wardrobe that once felt comforting now wraps around him like a vice, tightening around his entire body. Within it, his heart beats slowly.
Nervous. And nervous again.
Seven minutes, eight minutes, nine minutes…
Is she okay?
What if she's been discovered by other Noark soldiers and something terrible happens to her?
In the pitch black, scenes of tragedy whirl through his mind.
Thump—!
That too was a kind of intuition.
Though the target of that "intuition" wasn't himself, but another.
Ten minutes, eleven minutes, twelve minutes…
Sven Parab did not rest for even a second. He pressed his ear tightly to the wardrobe door and focused all his attention on the sounds outside.
"..."
"..."
Since the moment Riris Marone had hidden the corpses and entered the building across the street with the woman in danger, nothing more could be heard.
They must have found a good hiding spot in there…
Clack, clack, clack.
Every time enemy troops marched past the street, Sven Parab felt a chill down his spine.
This wardrobe is safe.
That intuition, which had saved his life many times before, told him so.
But…
Twenty minutes, thirty minutes, forty minutes…
Was that building across the street just as safe?
Intuition answered: No.
And objectively, the situation made that clear too.
If it were truly safe, then the woman hiding there wouldn't have been captured in the first place…
Besides, there had already been that earlier "incident."
Clack, clack, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» clack.
Then, once more, the sound of heavily armed soldiers echoed down the street.
Clack—
Their footsteps stopped in front of the building.
He desperately hoped they'd just pass by—but as always, that ominous feeling turned out to be right.
"…They disappeared while scouting here?"
"Yes, their last reported position was right nearby."
"Haa… Why the hell would they go out this far to scout at a time like this?"
"Maybe they used scouting as an excuse to look for something worth money."
"Or to go chasing tail."
"...."
A vulgar exchange, full of Noark's signature disorder and crudeness—no trace of Lafdonia's military discipline.
Which only made Sven Parab's anxiety grow stronger.
He could easily imagine what kind of end awaited someone who was captured by men like that.
But…
Thump—!
That's always how the world had been.
It felt like misfortunes fed on his fears and anxieties, growing stronger the more he worried.
The more afraid he was, the more certainly disaster would appear before his eyes.
Just like this.
"…Huh? Wait a minute, I sense a presence."
"A presence…?"
"It's faint with time, but… yes, there's no mistake. Someone died here."
"Can you be more specific?"
"Hold on."
How much time passed after those words?
Then the man who had told them to wait spoke again.
His voice was quiet—much quieter than normal—but to Sven Parab's ears, strengthened by divine power, it was perfectly clear.
"It was about an hour ago. Three people died here."
"Matches the number of missing. And if it was an hour ago, then it's unlikely to be someone else."
"From what I can tell, the bodies were moved and traces of blood wiped away with magic. A cleanup."
"Can't your black magic track where the culprit went?"
A man, likely the commander, asked—and Sven Parab silently prayed for the answer to be no.
And then…
"Hmm… Black magic isn't omnipotent."
"…Is that so."
"But I can read where the bodies went. They were taken into that house over there."
"Then we should check it. There's a chance the culprits are still inside."
"Of course we should check. The way the bodies were cleaned up suggests some skill… but even skilled people often don't understand black magic well. If I hadn't sensed the presence, I wouldn't have noticed anything."
"Still, let's file a report before breaching. Hey, Reksten!"
The commander called someone, and that someone—frozen like a fresh recruit—responded and began babbling hurriedly.
He was clearly reporting back to headquarters…
Damn it.
His mind started to race again.
Should he intervene before they finish?
Or should he stay put?
If they searched the house and didn't find Riris Marone or the woman, that would be the best outcome…
"Captain! Report completed as ordered!"
While he debated, everything proceeded.
The golden time was gone. Now all he could do was watch.
"Combat formation. Proceed with caution—we don't know how strong the enemy is."
The Noark soldiers carefully entered the building, and each passing second felt eternal.
Thump, thump, thump…
Time filled with endless anxiety and doubts about whether his choice had been right.
It ended around the seven-minute mark.
"…C-Captain!"
BOOOOOOM—!
"AAAAAAAAAGH!"
An explosion and screams shattered the silence at once.
And the battle began.
"…Kyaaaaaaah!!"
Marone, being a former military mage, resisted desperately even after being discovered—but in the end, she lost.
"Shit! Seven of ours, for one damn bitch…!"
Thud—!
A dull impact. Then another scream in a familiar voice.
"Khk…!"
"…Wait. Her face looks familiar."
"…Riris Marone! Former military mage—Bjorn Yandel's comrade!"
"What…? Hahahah! Hahahaha! This is a massive achievement!"
"If we take her back alive, we'll be hailed as heroes!"
Capture.
That word gave Sven Parab a fleeting hope.
But…
"Eh, what are you talking about? That's old news. Command said ages ago we don't need to bring her in alive."
"Oh… really?"
"Still, it'd be a waste to kill her clean."
"Of course. She killed seven of ours—we can't let her go easy."
"I lost an arm, damn it!"
Even that tiny speck of hope was brutally crushed.
Thud—!
Another blow landed, and Sven Parab quietly closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Thump—!
His intuition beat in his chest, whispering to him.
If you plug your ears and ignore it…
Thump—!
You will survive.
Even if Riris Marone, who risked her life to save others, dies.
"…Hey! Talk! Are you alone? Any comrades?"
"...."
"Whatever. You'll talk after some fun."
You will survive.
"Oh! Captain! There's someone else in here!"
"…Kyaaaah!!"
Even if innocent civilians die.
"Please! Leave them alone!"
"Look at her face change, huh?"
You'll survive.
But…
"WAAAAAAAAAAAH—!!"
"What the—there's a damn baby?"
"P-Please! Please spare my child! Just my baby, please!"
…Is that truly the right thing?
"NOOOOOOOOO——!!"
Sven Parab no longer questioned himself.
「Sven Parab has cast [Blade of Judgment].」
Huff… huff… huff…
He ran, forcing his breath to remain steady as it climbed up his throat.
There were two reasons.
Rhythmic breathing lets you run longer.
And…
"Chase him…!!"
Right now, only running far would mean survival.
Huff… huff… huff…
Brown Rotmiller sprinted at full speed through the familiar forest path.
He wasn't deserting.
They had been forced to fall back after the barrage of magic cannon fire from the walls, and then the overwhelming numbers broke the front line entirely—an official retreat order had been issued.
It was a logical move.
Feign a retreat, stretch the line thin, and then strike at the top brass with an elite force—
He only knew about that plan because he was a former comrade of Yandel's.
But…
Thud-thud-thud—!
That "former" in his title carried a heavy weight.
"Yandel cherishes that guy!"
"Catch him! He's worth at least a Tier-3 essence!!"
A relentless pursuit followed him.
That was why he was running alone through the dense forest.
He had started out with other barbarian warriors, but it hadn't taken long to realize he was just dragging them down.
Huff… huff… huff…
So he kept running, and running.
Unlike Yandel's true companions, he didn't have the strength to take on dozens of enemies.
But maybe—just maybe—by running, he could keep those enemies tied up.
That was all an ex-guide-turned-adventurer could do now.
Yes. So…
Huff… huff… huff…
He forced his legs to keep moving, though they screamed to stop.
Thump, thump, thump, thump!
He ignored the pounding of his heart that shouted it had reached its limit.
BOOM—!
He detonated his final smoke bomb and kept running—
Thwip—!
But then, an arrow tore through the smoke and pierced his abdomen, knocking him to the muddy ground.
'Running no longer possible.'
Rotmiller quickly made a decision. He crawled to the nearest decent-looking tree and began climbing.
Then…
Whoooooooooosh—!
A strong wind blew away the smoke, and the pursuers entered the area below.
"Damn it, where'd he go?"
"You think we lost him?"
"Judging by that arrow, it hit. He won't have gotten far!"
"Search every inch…!"
The pursuers scattered below.
Rotmiller stayed calm and made another decision.
What do I need to do to survive?
He might not have reached the upper floors, but after years of exploring the labyrinth, he knew how to make the right call.
'I need to treat this wound.'
If the search took too long, he'd be found. And in this state, he'd be helpless.
So first, treat the injury.
But since the enemy was right beneath him…
'As quietly as possible.'
Rotmiller pulled the arrow from his abdomen with his own hand.
Then bit down on the arrow like a gag—
Ssssss—
—and poured potion over the wound.
"...!!"
It always made him wonder whether healing was worth the pain.
And it reminded him how amazing Yandel truly was.
That man had endured this kind of pain and kept fighting.
How was that even possible?
'Ah…'
Even as he asked himself, he knew the answer.
To survive.
His jaw clenched instinctively. Blood rushed to his head. His veins bulged. But he held back the scream.
But—
"…Huh?"
He was unlucky.
He had made all the right decisions.
But…
"F-Fuck! You scared me!"
He was simply unlucky.
The one who spotted him wasn't even searching—he was slacking off, pissing on the ground.
Thwip—!
The moment he looked up mid-piss and saw Rotmiller, he fired his crossbow. The bolt pierced Rotmiller's thigh.
Thud—!
He fell to the ground, broken and defeated.
By the time he came to, he was completely surrounded.
"Nice. That's at least a Tier-3 essence. What should we do, captain?"
"Capture order was revoked. Just take his head and ID."
The conversation, devoid of emotion, felt more like logistics than execution.
And so, his fate was decided instantly.
"Mind if I do it?"
"You?"
"When will a guy like me ever get to kill Yandel's buddy?"
"Suit yourself."
A sly-looking man stepped forward, twirling a dagger as he approached.
"This might hurt a bit. Knife's short, so I'll have to saw."
Rotmiller didn't beg.
He closed his eyes.
He figured he had maybe a few dozen seconds left.
And in that time, memories flashed before him.
His parents, who died in his childhood when they couldn't pay taxes.
The orphanage director who raised him with love.
The old guide who taught him his skills with no strings attached…
Gratitude. Regret. Bittersweet memories.
His life had been hard—but not without joy.
And if he had to pick one joyful moment—
"I think… that was the best time of my life."
"Huh? What's this bastard muttering?"
How's Hikurod doing in all this chaos?
Did he evacuate safely? He hoped so.
Even if their blacksmith shop got caught up in the war, safety came first.
He should've visited more.
Regret surged.
And other companions came to mind.
Misha Kalstein.
Bjorn Yandel.
And…
'Riol Worb Dwalke.'
Would he welcome him with a smile?
Or scold him for coming too early?
He didn't know—but he laughed.
"You're laughing…?"
Of course.
Only now, with death right in front of him, did he truly understand.
"Man…"
He used to think:
If that moment ever came, maybe he'd finally understand what that friend felt back then.
What a naive thought.
"…He really was something else."
And what about him?
Brown Rotmiller.
A man too ordinary, left behind while those he cared for moved forward.
Even his end as a former explorer was utterly ordinary.
"You done? Keep talking and I'll start cutting."
He wanted to live.
He didn't want to die.
There were too many things left undone. Too many things yet to do.
But…
Shing—!
Now it really was the end.
"...."
Rotmiller closed his eyes.
One last face passed through his mind.
Not his savior. Not a dear comrade. And not someone he'd known for long…
'I should've been more honest.'
Damn it.
Why were there so many regrets?
"The star that rises at twilight shall guide us all…"
Like any ordinary person facing death, he called the name of the divine in his final moment.
And then—
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!
A sudden explosion roared.
He opened his eyes.
He didn't know what was happening.
But he was grateful.
"Hey… what the hell do you think you're doing to my guide?"
It seemed…his story wasn't over yet.
-x-X-x-
District 7 and the Sanctuary.
Which one should I go to?
To be honest, neither choice was easy.
[Depending on where you go, someone will die.]
If I go to District 7, A dies.
If I go to the Sanctuary, B dies.
I didn't know exactly who A and B were, but I was certain both were comrades I valued equally.
However…
[That choice will be the one that best serves the Lion of the Cross.]
That damned "old man" gave me that advice through the wolf. He said letting A die and saving B would be more beneficial to me. So, I should head to District 7.
He even tried to justify it, overlaying this whole thing with some metaphor about fate being a card game…
Tadadadat—
In the end, after much deliberation, I made my choice. The place I was originally going to. I decided to head to the Sanctuary.
The reason for this decision wasn't anything complicated. I do agree to some extent that even a twisted fate is still fate, but…
Screw doing what's best for me.
Aurell Gaviss isn't someone I can trust. And if someone has to die either way, then the right move is to follow my own choice. Even if I regret it later, at least it'll be my own decision, not someone else's.
That old geezer still doesn't get me. If he was going to offer advice like this, he should've known from the start that I'm naturally rebellious…
…Wait?
Was that the point all along?
The thought crossed my mind, but after a moment's reflection, it didn't seem likely. Even without his advice, I was always going to head for the Sanctuary anyway. No need to come all this way just to stir things up.
Screw it. Stop thinking.
The more I thought, the more I got distracted. So I emptied my head and focused solely on getting to my destination.
Ten minutes, twenty, thirty… After who knows how long of sprinting—
KWA-KWAKWANG—! KWAHHHHH—!
Faint explosions echoed from afar, and the walls I was running along trembled violently. What the hell was going on over there?
Tatadadadat—!
I pushed my speed even further and finally reached the wall adjoining the outer perimeter of the Sanctuary. But the gate was still a long way off, so I was about to keep moving—
"…Hm?"
I saw it completely by chance. Even though it was hard to get a clear view from the ground thanks to the thick foliage.
"…Rotmiller?"
My first guide was kneeling in front of a tree stump in a pitiful state.
What the hell is going on?
As I watched, some bastard approached Rotmiller with a sword in hand. No need to think. I kicked off the rampart with all my strength and leapt.
And then…
KWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!!!
As if I'd used [Leap], the moment I landed, the ground quaked violently, and the bastards surrounding Rotmiller stared at me with wide eyes.
"What the hell do you think you're doing to my guide?"
Rotmiller, too, looked at me like he'd seen a ghost. And in that moment, I realized instinctively.
"…Yandel?"
A was Rotmiller.
***
It didn't take long to clean up the situation. Every time I swung my hammer, some bastard's skull burst open, and that was that. Well, more than half of them scattered like cockroaches, so I missed a lot, but…
Still, the battle was over. That's what mattered.
"You alright, Rotmiller?"
"A…"
He still hadn't come to his senses, but when I poured potion on his wounds, he snapped back.
"Guess not, huh?"
Chiiiiiik—!
"GAHHHHHH!!"
With just one potion, Rotmiller sprang back to life like a fish freshly pulled from water.
"Ugh! Hkk… ughhh…"
That burst of vitality was too much, though. It took a while for him to calm down enough to hold a conversation.
"Yandel…"
"Looks like you're conscious now."
"…You saved me."
"How's your body? I've got more potions."
"…I'm fine. It's healed."
Alright then.
"Anyway, Yandel, how did you even get here…?"
Ah, that?
I get the curiosity, but explaining that would take way too long.
"Let's talk about me later. For now, I want to hear what's going on here."
"A…"
Hearing that, maybe Rotmiller realized that satisfying curiosity could wait?
He snapped back into his old reliable self and gave a succinct briefing. Summed up, it went like this:
"Noark forces dispelled the barrier first and began their assault. We were outnumbered, so we retreated. Meanwhile, our elite forces used the expanded front lines to slip behind enemy lines and strike the Noark commanders."
"Only… I don't know whether their plan succeeded or failed… We must hurry to assist them…"
Which is why I quickly hoisted Rotmiller onto my back.
"…Huh?"
Rotmiller didn't seem to understand why I was picking him up.
"Why are you… Leave me. I'll only slow you down."
To be fair, Rotmiller wasn't wrong. He hadn't changed—but I'd changed a hell of a lot since my half-assed team days. He'd only get in the way now.
Still…
"Aren't you my guide?"
Even so, I couldn't just leave him behind. I wasn't even sure if saving him once had been enough.
Yeah, that's why…
"You're the one who has to tell me where to go."
I said it jokingly, and Rotmiller froze for a second—then chuckled softly.
"…You really haven't changed a bit."
"They say changing means dying, don't they? I plan on living a long life."
"…I don't know if the plan succeeded, but let's head toward the gate for now."
With Rotmiller on my back, I sprinted toward the gate.
Naturally, Noark bastards were swarming the path. Not that they were much of a problem.
KUUNG—! KUUNG—!
Normally, a soldier would try to block an incoming enemy, but seeing me charge in like a tank, the Noark bastards just dove to the ground and scrambled out of the way.
These guys really are unfailingly polite in the face of strength.
Thanks to that, I quickly passed through the forest path and arrived at the gate, where the signs of battle were still fresh.
…So many dead.
Corpses littered the area in front of the gate. There were plenty of Noark bodies, but just as many of our own. Most were barbarian warriors.
Crunch.
Among the fallen were faces I recognized from my time living as a barbarian. The guy who bought a house the moment land registration opened. The guy who whined that the rite-of-passage gear was unfairly good and asked me for one too—only to get punched. The guy who asked me to name his newborn son so he'd grow into a strong warrior.
Grrrk.
Seeing their faces, my jaw tensed on its own, but first, I swept the area and finished scanning for threats.
"…!"
"…Hic!"
For some reason, every Noark bastard who made eye contact with me flinched and looked away or backed off…
Not important. Skip.
Only two things mattered.
The place where the gate should be—the entire section of wall there had collapsed, blocking the only passage between the Sanctuary and District 7.
And then…
"Wait? Isn't that Yandel?"
"What? Sir? It's him! It's hiiiiiim!!"
For some reason, my comrades were peeking down at me from the top of the wall.
The moment our eyes met, I started counting.
Ainard, Versil, Misha, Elwen, James Carla… Except for Amelia, Auyen, Parab, and Marone, everyone else was safe and accounted for—
"Yandeeeeeel!!!"
Suddenly, Elwen gracefully jumped from the high wall and soared toward me.
She wouldn't get hurt at that height with her physical abilities, but still—I instinctively caught her as she fell.
"Where have you been!! We were really worried about you!!"
"I'll explain later. Tell me what's happening first."
"A…"
There were Noark troops around, but not so many that it made conversation hard. Maybe because of my reputation—they just stared from a distance, not daring to approach.
"Rotmiller told me you went after the Noark command. Did that work?"
"Ah… that… it failed."
Though Elwen said "failed," after hearing the full story, it was better than that. They hadn't killed the command, but they lured Noark elites out beyond the wall and brought it down behind them.
"Now we're occupying the top of the wall, blocking reinforcements from entering the Sanctuary!"
Hmm… so that's why they were up there. If I hadn't found Rotmiller, I'd have met them on the ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) rampart.
"Anyway, about Mr. Gowland…"
Maybe it was because we hadn't seen each other in so long? Even talk of war seemed to make Elwen chatter excitedly.
I cut her off with a smirk.
"Enough. The next move's obvious."
"…Huh?"
No "huh" about it. As long as we hold that wall, no more enemy forces can enter the Sanctuary. Which also means the ones already inside are now cut off from their main force.
There's only one thing left to do.
"Time to wipe them all out."
"…Ah! I knew you were smart!"
I was used to Elwen's mindless praise, so I let it wash over me and scanned the area again.
Maybe word had spread about the wall collapsing—or maybe I'd drawn too much aggro by charging in—but more and more Noark bastards were gathering in the clearing.
One, two, three, four… Too many to count. Killing them all one by one with my hammer would take forever.
So…
"Elwen, get ready."
"…Huh?"
"It's time for 'that.' Been a while, huh?"
"Ah… th-that…?"
Even without a subject, she understood perfectly and began casting her skill.
「Elwen Fornaci di Tersia casts [Spirit Form].」
Didn't even need to specify the element.
「The Wind Spirit merges with the character's body.」
「All attacks gain evasion modifiers.」
「Magical damage taken is doubled.」
「Strong bonuses to piercing and slicing.」
「Agility stat massively increased…」
Nothing better for mowing down crowds.
「All attack ranges are tripled.」
「Character casts [Sweep].」
With the sweep, my hammer extended like a staff and grew in proportionate size.
KWAHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!!!
A satisfying boom echoed across the battlefield. But my mind was far from clear.
"R-Run away…!"
"H-How are we supposed to fight that…?!"
A was Rotmiller. And he survived because I came to the Sanctuary.
Which means…
KWAHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!!!
Who the hell is B?
-x-X-x-
Sven Parab, having come out of the wardrobe, headed toward the window. His head felt hot, perhaps from too much stress, and even his "thinking" was different than usual. It felt as if another personality buried in his chest was the one controlling him.
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
From the moment he came out of the wardrobe, his heart had been pounding madly, but without any further hesitation, he jumped out the window.
And...
Whoooosh—!
First, he attacked the black mage who had been standing in the rear completely unguarded. It wasn't a rational choice but something that came from his subconscious. Only after cutting the black mage's throat did he begin to think.
Slick—
Having easily killed the black mage, who was the dangerous variable, the rest wouldn't be all that difficult—or so he expected, and that expectation didn't turn out to be wrong.
"…Who are you!"
"Kill him...!!"
Only after the black mage's head was cleanly cut off did the Noark soldiers realize it was a surprise attack and charge in. Surprisingly, among them was someone who recognized him.
"Sven Parab...!"
It wasn't that his name had become famous, really…
"He's Yandel's comrade...!"
It couldn't be helped, since the person he worked with was so damn famous.
"You bitch! So you did have comrades nearby after all!"
His identity had been exposed in an instant, but he didn't care. He focused only on swinging his sword.
Whoosh—!
Slick—!
Each time the sword swung, arms and legs flew off at the least, necks at the worst. It was a battle so one-sided it could hardly even be called a fight.
Slick—!
The seemingly long but actually short battle ended, and when he came to, there were no Noark soldiers left around him.
"..."
Sven Parab lowered his head and looked down. The great white sword he had newly obtained after leaving behind his status as a holy knight and parting ways with the Church of Reatlas was soaked in crimson blood.
Sllrrk.
As he shifted his gaze slightly to the side, he saw the corpses sprawled across the ground. Lifeless bodies, warmth fading from them.
"…Mr. Parab?"
Sven Parab suddenly became curious. He didn't know how skilled the black mage he killed in a surprise attack had been, but the Noark soldiers had been clearly weak. That's why even someone like him had been able to beat them.
And yet…
'Why were these people…'
Why were they so desperate to torment people weaker than themselves?
"Mr. Parab...!"
Hearing Marone's trembling voice filled with fear, he snapped back to his senses.
Thump, thump, thump, thump...
As his intensely agitated state of mind began to settle, the 'intuition' he had momentarily forgotten kicked in again.
Thump!
This place is dangerous. If I stay here, I might die. Sven Parab turned his head in a panic to look back at the window he had jumped from.
But...
"N-No good..."
Sven Parab instinctively understood. Even if he went back there and curled up in the wardrobe, it wouldn't be safe anymore. The only place in this city he thought was "safe" had now vanished.
"Mr. Parab...?"
But there was no time to despair. These men had reported to command before locating Marone. Once they noticed the lack of contact, they would immediately dispatch additional troops.
Then, what must I do right now?
Without the intuition that had always helped him choose, the decision came even faster.
"…We need to move immediately."
We have to get out of here. As soon as possible.
***
He was sprinting through a street filled with an eerie aura.
Tatadadat—!
On his back were three people: a mage, a mother, and a baby in her arms.
"…Where are we going? That way's where the fire is."
"That's why we're going that way."
The reason he chose the eastern part of District 7, already half-consumed by flames, was simple. Fire was less frightening than people. If it was a place where fire was still spreading in real time, then troops would be fewer. It was clear at a glance that trying to put the fire out had become impossible.
Hiding somewhere near it was the best option, and if things went wrong, the backup plan was to dive straight into the flames and survive with magic and divine power.
Yeah, so...
Thump, thump—!
Ignoring the intuition warning that the place was dangerous too, he kept running.
Tatadadat—!
With every step, he felt a chilling sensation like walking on thin ice. Well, that was to be expected, since he was carrying three people. The mother was significantly larger than average too, so both his arms were effectively sealed, and if they were discovered by enemies like this, the situation would turn very bad.
"I'm sorry."
As he kept running, an apology came from behind. It was the voice of Liris Marone.
"What for?"
"…For yelling at you, thinking you were that kind of person."
Hearing those guilt-ridden words, Sven Parab felt a stab in his chest.
"…You don't need to apologize. You didn't say anything wrong."
"No, I was wrong."
"…?"
"Because in the end, you saved us. So that means what I said was already wrong."
Hmm… well, does that make sense? It felt a bit forced, but he didn't bother to refute it. In this situation, arguing didn't serve any purpose, and besides, he felt like some of his regret had eased.
About the decision to come out of the wardrobe—
"Um… are we really heading toward the eastern part of the city, where the fire is?"
This time it was the mother. Maybe because the earlier situation had been so abnormal? Her tone was calm and carried a sense of refinement. At the same time, there was a sense of quiet strength.
"We didn't even get to properly introduce ourselves earlier. Thank you so much for saving me and my child..."
That made Sven Parab even more uncomfortable.
"…I didn't do this for thanks."
To be honest, just moments ago he had been wondering—
If it came down to the worst-case scenario, would he abandon the mother and child?
It had been a realistic concern, and even now, he hadn't reached a definite conclusion. But even while struggling with the thought, he knew. If that moment came, abandoning those two and saving only Liris Marone would be the unquestionably right thing to do—
"Still, thanks are thanks."
"..."
"Anyway… what I meant to say is, if we're going to the eastern part of the city, what about heading for the eastern Reatlas Church branch?"
It was an unexpected name.
"The Church of Reatlas…?"
"Yes. My husband's an explorer, and with how dangerous the world's gotten lately, he used to talk about where we should evacuate depending on the situation."
"…But judging by the fire, the eastern branch is likely already engulfed in flames."
"No, that's exactly why we should go. My husband said that the eastern branch in District 7 is the only one with some kind of divine resistance to fire—apparently, there's a holy enchantment covering the entire building."
For a moment, he wondered if she had misunderstood something. Even as a former holy knight of Reatlas, he'd never heard of that before. But...
"Do you know what rank your husband is as an explorer?"
"…He's rank 3."
That raised his trust level significantly. He wasn't some random fool—if he was a rank 3 explorer, he wouldn't give his wife false information about where to evacuate.
Besides…
While administrative bishops might know the state of every branch, holy knights didn't. An explorer worried about his wife might have collected better info.
'A fireproof building, huh...'
If it was true, it'd be the ideal shelter in this situation.
"The problem is whether we can reach the building safely… Is that even possible? I heard that Mr. Yandel could just stand there unfazed in the fire thanks to something."
Ah, she must mean the Fire Orb... Well, that thing was pretty famous.
"If Miss Marone and I work together, we can get the three of you… no, four including the baby, there safely."
As long as we don't encounter more enemies along the way. He left that part unsaid.
"Oh… that's such a relief. We're really lucky. To have met people like you in a time like this..."
"Yes… But may I ask why you were hiding there in the first place? I thought evacuation for District 7 already ended long ago… You didn't leave back then?"
It was a sudden question, but he was curious. And her story was truly tragic.
"No, we did leave. But… the other districts were so overcrowded that people like us had no choice but to settle on the outskirts. It was so close to the front line that we could hear the fighting and the killing every day."
"..."
"And then… I guess the royal army must've taken a big hit, because the Noark side suddenly surged in."
The Noark army swept in like a tide, and swept back out just as fast—taking civilians with them indiscriminately. Other refugees who had been captured said it was to use them as human shields, but ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don't copy, read here) she didn't know for sure.
Before she could be thrown onto the front line as a human shield, she managed to escape.
"A huge fireball fell from the sky."
A retaliatory strike from the royal army after taking heavy losses. That attack didn't care about the fate of the captured civilians. She had simply been lucky to survive and flee in the confusion.
"There are probably a lot of people like me still hiding in District 7. Just the ones who were taken that day must've numbered in the thousands..."
"…I see."
The saying that war breeds tragedy felt more real than ever.
As he listened to her story, Sven Parab found himself thinking—what had happened to that woman's husband?
After a moment's hesitation, he left the question unanswered. Right now, focusing on running was more important than satisfying curiosity, and there are things in this world one doesn't need to ask to understand.
In the middle of a battlefield where anyone could die, what kind of rank-3 explorer would leave his wife with a child all alone?
So Sven Parab didn't ask. But military mage Liris Marone was different.
"Um… what happened to your husband?"
A cautious question. But contrary to expectations, the mother's voice showed no particular emotion.
"I don't know. When all this happened, he had been conscripted due to the mobilization order. I just… I really hope he's safe..."
Marone offered her words of comfort.
"I'm sure your husband is safe. He's probably running around like mad right now, desperately searching for you."
It was a warm sentiment, but the mother's response was lukewarm.
"Well… I kind of hope he doesn't do anything reckless and just stays somewhere safe..."
"…Sorry?"
Marone tilted her head at the unexpected reply, and the mother perked up her furry black ears in embarrassment.
"It's just… my husband's terrible with directions... I'm worried he'll end up going somewhere dangerous trying to look for me..."