"Stop."
"Kugh...!!"
Ignak gritted his teeth. Every time he tightened his grip, the artifact warned him fiercely. If he moved even an inch more, he would die. He would certainly die.
Even now, somewhere deep in the forest beyond, death was lurking.
No, saying "even now" is somewhat inaccurate. Thinking back, not for a single moment since entering this forest had he escaped its gaze.
Now he could understand. The reason for kidnapping him and the other leaders, slowly reducing his group, and now putting on this puppet show.
The future shown by the artifact and the insight gradually strengthened through the magic flowing into his body whispered the clear truth.
"Me... me and my brothers. You dare, you dare use us as scarecrows?"
Anger swallowed fear. Ignak ground his teeth and raised his head.
He threw aside the human youth in his grasp and closed his eyes for a moment. The scent of blood wafted heavily among his scorched brothers. The faint scent of his brothers whom he had led to their deaths.
He had crawled miserably in submission to fear, selling out his brothers to save his own life. He had done so willingly. For all demons, the meaning that power was proof of existence meant, conversely, that life was the right of the strong.
Survive, and there will be another chance. That was the ideology of the losers of this era, the demons.
But now, holding this mysterious artifact called the Demon King's Eye. In this moment when black magic of unknown origin was being injected into his veins.
He had returned to being the captain of the [2nd Dragon Regiment, 103rd Infantry Battalion, 23rd Strike Team]. Only now, and cowardly so.
Ignak took a deep breath. With each pounding heartbeat, anger pushed away fear.
There was no way to survive anyway. Even if he slaughtered these youngsters, that "death" would not let him go free. With his newfound insight, he clearly understood his position.
If that was the case, at the very least.
"KRAAAAAAAH!!"
Ignak roared loudly. With reddened eyes, he looked down at the child holding a sword before him.
A slender body and delicate arms, and attire too simple for this place. Hair that sparkled despite being covered in dust, and a clean face.
He would not end his life as a scarecrow for some human noble child. Ignak ground his teeth and raised his staff.
"Tumor!! I offer my atonement through struggle!!"
Ignak shouted and leaped toward the child.
-THUD! THUD! THUD!
The ground shakes. Perhaps it's just her heartbeat contracting with tension.
Isabelle wiped her bitter lips and held her sword upright. Like an enraged bull, the orc was charging toward her.
It was like a wall rushing at her. Considering the difference in height and build, the gap was about that much. In terms of momentum, the creature was nearly at full strength.
The leader specimen. A powerful being who had crushed Oskar in mere seconds.
Was she afraid?
Of course.
Isabelle thought as she slowly drew up her magic. Fear is natural. This wasn't her first battle with demons. Even during the attack on the university entrance train, she had faced opponents of similar caliber.
But combat, fighting, real battle—they're always frightening.
Yet even so, would she give up at that moment?
"Never!!"
In the slowly fragmenting time, amid the rough footsteps shaking the earth, and even in the fierce heartbeat still pounding in her chest.
Isabelle could feel the fallen Oskar, Asidis behind her, and Elfihera who had exhausted all her magic.
-Take up the sword.
Remembering that day's oath.
-Stand in the position of the weak and see through the eyes of the weak.
-Take up your sword not for your power, but for your goodness.
-The reason we take up swords is not for our bravery, strength, or superiority.
"But simply because it is right!!"
Isabelle shouted. For what is right, for the cause that must be protected.
For the friend behind her. For her "uncle" who might be dead somewhere in that forest.
To save them all, everyone within her reach if possible. To do her very best.
No one's death could precede hers. If someone had to fall, it would be after she had finally breathed her last breath.
Today, in this place, no one can die before me.
Isabelle's time finally began to distort.
Time fragments. Senses are diagrammed.
-Click.
It sounds like the second hand of a clock locking into place. It's an illusion between endlessly stretched nerves from magic overload.
The air is heavy. The blade feels even heavier. Her arm, where the charge had seeped in, was still difficult to move. It's not easy. The sword path she had wielded all her life felt unfamiliar.
But still, she swings.
-CLANG—!!
The staff and sword locked together. Sparks flew, and through them, the orc's massive face suddenly came close. Its protruding tusks gleamed threateningly.
Life collides with life. The more steadfast one will survive this place.
So hopefully, even if she falls today, may she breathe just one breath longer than this creature.
So, she doesn't stop. Even though she was being overpowered in strength, build, and perhaps even technique. Nevertheless, she held her sword, swung it, cut, swept, and struck upward.
-CRACK! CLANG!!
Even when her eyes were blurred with sweat and blood, Isabelle's gaze remained sharp, focused solely on the enemy's heart.
"Cough—!!"
Oskar opened his eyes in pain. The intense noise of clashing swords echoed distantly in his ears.
How long has it been since I've had an injury this severe?
The dwarf attack during the first field training. Ah, I broke my leg falling then. It hasn't been that long after all.
Oskar forced a smile, prying up his stiffened cheek.
His left hand was... broken. His sword was too heavy to lift with just his right arm. He planned to order a one-handed weapon as soon as they returned to Pritzenkaya. So he could wield it even with a broken arm.
So now, treating it as practice, he firmly gripped the sword handle with his right hand.
-CLANG—!!
Oskar struggled to open his swollen, distorted eyes. Not far away, Isabelle was fighting.
She was swinging her sword at an incredible speed. But all her attacks were blocked. The orc's attacks were heavy and slow, but each offensive move easily pushed back Isabelle's slender body.
The overwhelming difference in build and strength level was obvious, but what was decisive was visible to his eyes from one step away.
That orc must have an extraordinary "intuition."
He didn't think its technique was impressive. There was no such indication even when they crossed swords. Just "intuition." Perhaps an ability like "combat precognition."
He had seen it several times, reading the sword path in advance and responding before the attack was even delivered. Even now, and just a moment ago.
Oskar grumbled. How on earth do you defeat something like that?
When it can't be matched in strength or magic. If even technique doesn't work, how on earth do you win?
Even so.
"I must save them."
Oskar smiled and raised his sword. He limped toward the battlefield. Circulating a handful of magic, he stepped into the space where the blade flashed at a speed invisible to the eye.
He is the son of Gil Ber. The eldest son of the Tilles Guardian and a decorated knight of Tilles. And the duty of a knight is only one.
Always be righteous.
Simply being strong in force does not make one a knight. Those who simply ride horses are not called knights.
A knight is a symbol. A symbol proving that humans can be good even in the darkest moments. Even knowing that not all humans are good at all times, and that there are more evil people in the world.
Even if it's a foolish act, a dull action, even if there's no gain or honor.
One must prove that humans can be good, and that they can devote themselves entirely to goodness.
Be righteous in every moment. That's what Tilles teaches.
So, take up the sword.
His right arm was too intact to flee while being protected by a girl his age.
Even if it's just a handful, there's still magic left in his body.
He can still fight.
"I must protect them."
Time flows slowly. The blade rises slowly. In the night of the forest, in this dim time of death where the only light sources are moonlight and campfire.
A morning star blazes.
Asidis couldn't avoid Elfihera's lightning strike. It was too close to dodge.
In a half-unconscious state, she watched her two friends charging at the massive orc.
Ah, the Knight Department, really.
That thought crossed her mind. They were trained to fight. Unlike her. She was just a bit stronger, but had never taken knight classes.
Just a music student. Who escaped to study music despite being the daughter of a Hero Party.
When such thoughts came to her, she suddenly looked down at her body.
She was still standing.
Though her whole body was trembling from the electric shock, she was still standing on two feet.
Though it was painful as if she might collapse to her knees at any moment, though her quivering muscles were screaming in protest.
Through her dazed ears, she heard her father's voice.
-Kneeling means you still have the strength to bend your knees.
-A warrior of Droan walks forward as long as their knees can move.
'But what if I'm really about to die?'
-Look at the sky, Essie. Can you see the stars?
'Yes, Dad.'
-The stars are the tips of your ancestors' swords that have torn through the darkness. Warriors of Droan always walk forward.
-Not just in the moment of death. Even after death. If there's a fight, forward; if you can still move, forward; if you still have the mind to think.
-Forward.
-Even death cannot stop a warrior of Droan. We don't avoid death. We believe we can someday kill death itself. Just like your ancestors did.
-Forward.
"Forward."
Asidis picked up the axe dropped by the orc and walked.
Because a music student isn't needed at this moment. Because this is a moment that needs a warrior of Droan.
Because she can still move, still think, and still has an enemy to face.
"These fools, these humans...!! This one and that one!!"
Elfihera grumbled, pinching her nose that was bleeding from the recoil of excessive spell use. Without even enough magic left to maintain a long-range spell, she was running.
Toward the place where her comrades would be fighting. Desperately, even as her skin was scratched all over by shrubs and undergrowth.
"Don't die yet!!"
Elfihera ran through her blood-tinged vision. How much magic did she have left? Obviously barely a trace! Do humans not know about tactical retreat? You have to survive first!
Such short-sighted creatures. Just like hunting dogs. Those loyal beasts that latch onto their prey until death once they're fixated on something.
Short-sighted, weak, smelly, and allergy-inducing as they are.
Humans and dogs have one more thing in common. From the perspective of superior beings, they need to be protected. That's the duty of elves.
Yes, protecting vulnerable species is the burden of civilized beings. Can't be helped.
Elfihera smiled wryly and stretched out her hand. Without magic, she would indiscriminately collect and consume magic from the atmosphere. The spells she could use with such an inefficient method would be nothing special, but.
Still.
-CRACK!!
Blood tears flowed from the intense recoil. Her nosebleed started again. Her fingertips trembled. But still.
"I am a Grikenkos."
Even if her magic hits rock bottom, she should still be able to weave spells as the daughter of Beolgrin.
Because honor and pride are her everything. Not giving up, stretching out her arm, aiming at the orc's head.
Closing one eye to aim.
Circulating magic to align.
Tick. Listening to the sound of gears turning, mmm good. The tempo and tuning are perfect. As expected of a genius like me.
I have to save the humans.
Fire.
"Commander, I'll fire... I'm going to fire."
"Wait."
Ivan quietly extended his arm and pulled down his adjutant's gun barrel.
"Our role is just to observe."
"But that... that's too extreme a situation for students!"
"For students, yes."
Ivan answered with his gaze fixed on the battlefield.
"But it's a necessary situation for heroes who have just taken their first steps."
Follow me.
Ivan gestured with his chin and jumped down from the tree.
He wanted to see today's battle, which might become the first sentence of a long epic, from a closer place.
His role had always been one step behind, both during the war and now.
He might not be able to share the spotlight shining among those protagonists, but.
Still, Ivan ran like he did back then.
He didn't particularly like heroes. Maximillian had been a madman, after all.
He just admired them.
Even after he turned his back on the world and went into seclusion.
And even now, in this moment, watching the birth of new heroes.