# "I'll Save Your Life"
"Do you think I'd betray you if you let me live?!"
This was what Ivan heard as he pressed his knee against one of Aipelos's shoulders while exposing the wound.
"Ha! Want to try torture? Go ahead! I am Aipelos, captain of the hundred, from the 6th Dragon Lord's infantry guard division!"
This was what he said as Ivan pressed around the wound, opening it and spreading the torn chest cavity.
From the moment Ivan began pouring the healing potion, the man's once-confident voice started to waver.
"Acid...! This cursed... urrrgh...!! Damn... you... humans...!"
Ivan didn't correct the misunderstanding. But inwardly, he was impressed. This was a wound where an entire lung had been completely torn out. Just imagining what it would feel like to have healing potion poured over such an injury made Ivan's chest feel heavy.
Fortunately, he had no memory of submitting to healing potion with injuries that severe.
He had been unconscious when he suffered his worst injuries. He'd heard they practically bathed him in potion, and even if he hadn't passed out initially, he would have lost consciousness at that moment.
"Urrrgh.... ughh.... it's... useless...."
At this point, Ivan couldn't help but be impressed. The shattered lung was being haphazardly healed, and healing potion residue must have pooled inside the lung—the fact that he was enduring this situation was remarkable in itself.
But soon he smirked.
"Remember me... I won't forget you either. Even in the afterlife!"
*Crunch!*
The man's eyes flashed with determination as he bit his tongue. A horrible crunching sound echoed. Ivan withdrew the potion at that point and sighed.
"A battlefield fighter, I see. Still believing in such superstitions."
"Urgh...?"
"Biting your tongue won't kill you. People aren't made that fragile. The only way an immobilized person can take their own life is through heart failure."
For some reason, the superstition that biting one's tongue could lead to a noble death was widespread throughout the world.
It was astonishing. Had anyone ever seen someone accidentally commit suicide while eating?
People like Ivan, who worked as professional operatives, always had such doubts.
The "brave" warriors, knights, and generals who rampaged on battlefields were especially vulnerable to such superstitions. Probably because nobility and glory in death was their idea of "romance."
After staring at Aipelos with contemptuous eyes for a while, Ivan sighed deeply and checked the remaining amount of healing potion.
This was the last bottle, and less than a third remained.
"This will only prolong your suffering. I don't want to torture you, Captain. This is treatment, and this potion is a healing potion."
"Urgh... ughk...!"
"Stop. You're making the wound worse."
Ivan forced open his mouth and poured in all the remaining healing potion, then firmly held his mouth shut. The man seemed to be trying to spit it out, but soon his eyes glazed over.
His half-severed tongue was soaked in healing potion, which gurgled down his esophagus and spread throughout his body.
Healing potion only treats external wounds. Drinking it wouldn't provide any special benefit unless there was a perforation in the stomach or esophagus.
Of course, if he had esophagitis, it would heal completely with a burning sensation throughout the esophagus, but that's beside the point.
"Urgh...."
"Do you have the strength to speak now?"
"Spider Petrovich...."
"Hmm...?"
With glazed eyes, Aipelos began to mutter absently.
He turned his gaze to look at the thick beard covering Ivan's entire lower face,
Then raised his eyes to examine his eye shape and forehead.
"I heard... you were dead... this method... urgh... ugh.... Annihilation... Squad... so that's it... that's it...."
Was he someone who had been active on the battlefield during the war?
Ivan narrowed his eyes.
"Why did you come yourself? For someone of your caliber to be thrown away like a consumable, your situation must not be good."
A captain of a hundred was merely a low-ranking commander.
In other words, he was common, abundant manpower. Obviously not an important figure.
But that was during wartime, when the demon forces were still intact.
After the Demon King and most of the Seven Dragon Lords died, and the remaining followers were torn apart and driven from the world.
For several years now, they had all been engaged in a power struggle, each harboring their own ambitions based on the logic of power.
In those days, a captain of a hundred would now be a precious "active officer." One whose combat and command abilities had been verified.
"Not... cough! Not anymore."
"What?"
"Did you think... we would insist on operations... that were clearly going to fail...? Alliance... your laziness... urgh... makes me... sick...."
When they attacked Asidis, the demons hired mercenaries while hiding their identities.
Probably with the help of followers who remained within the Alliance. And that failed spectacularly.
Afterward, they realized this operation had collapsed before it even began. Their tails had been stepped on before the operation could even be implemented.
*We can't just rely on followers. There's a spy among us.*
Having lost the intelligence war, they now had to send someone trustworthy. They had to succeed.
If not the others, at least one person—the Hero's daughter—had to be killed.
But at the same time, they had to consider failure. If they sent too important a figure and failed, the damage would be uncontrollable.
So Aipelos was a touchstone.
*A commander just good enough that most operations would succeed, but if lost, the damage wouldn't be too great. Just the right level.*
Ivan looked down at Aipelos with bitter eyes. This man had volunteered knowing exactly how he was valued.
Even if the operation succeeded, he couldn't return alive if they wanted to erase all traces.
No matter how much time had passed since the war ended and peace had come, there was no way to return alive without a trace after committing terrorism near Pritzenkaya.
From the fact that he had entered this death trap with death in mind, Ivan felt a strong sense of kinship.
He sighed deeply.
"So there won't be any more terrorism. Since you failed."
"..."
"I'm talking to myself. No need to answer."
Ivan sat beside him and looked up at the sky. Beside him, he could hear Aipelos's rough breathing.
"When you fail and are abandoned, they can say it was just terrorism by 'a small group of extremists.' Your superiors will explain it that way to the Alliance."
"..."
"Your existence has already raised the Alliance's vigilance to extreme levels. Obviously, they won't be stupid enough to plot another terrorist attack."
"..."
"Do you have any wishes?"
"What... do you plan to do with me...?"
"You have three choices left."
Being detained and dragged to Pritzenkaya.
Then he would receive the kind hospitality of the Krasilov Counterintelligence Command. For attempting to assassinate a state figure.
Afterward, the Counterintelligence Command would fabricate that his superiors were the "Crown Prince faction" and begin a political offensive.
Obviously, he would be subjected to severe torture and magical restrictions.
Or, being released and returning home.
The Krasilov Counterintelligence Command would put a tail on him.
No matter how quickly he fled, there was no way to return intact to his garrison from near Pritzenkaya.
Therefore, even if he returned alive, he would be suspected:
*A traitor who sided with the enemy to survive.*
He would either be ostracized among the demons or interrogated and executed by them.
But finally.
"Do you understand your situation?"
"Kill me."
"You have been abandoned by your kind. You can neither go back nor move forward. The only place left is the afterlife."
Ivan gripped his axe and raised it. Slowly, firmly grasping the man's horn.
Aipelos closed his eyes tightly and whispered quietly.
"Though you wander through the valley of death.
Fear not. For I am your comfort."
It was the Demon King's prayer. One he had heard so many times.
When the Demon King was alive, the last words of all demons were generally the same.
They died longing for the Demon King. Fanatically.
Therefore, Ivan also knew the following verses.
"I am the Southern Cross of the darkest night.
I am the lighthouse of the stormy sea.
I am your cradle, and your fortress."
Fear not. For I am your comfort.
Ivan whispered while holding Aipelos's horn.
"Are your parents still alive?"
"...What?"
"If not, I run an orphanage."
"What on earth are you talking about..."
"I embrace war orphans who have nowhere to go. Regardless of country or race."
Four years ago, when the Demon King died. When Ivan decided to retire, the orders from above were as follows:
*Kill the Seven Dragon Lords.*
It meant go and die. It was an order given to all members of the Annihilation Squad.
Of the total eight strike teams that made up the Annihilation Squad, only one survived after that order.
After he returned successfully, Elizabeta wept as she stamped his retirement application. Telling him to never be seen again. To live as if dead.
Apologizing for not being able to stop the order. Thanking him just for coming back alive.
Saying that even when the names of all who had gone before were forgotten, the honor of all who had departed would be eternal.
So.
"If you only want to survive, you can abandon yourself and live as if dead, forgotten."
"I don't deserve that."
"Everyone deserves it. Loyalty and faith don't define your life."
If you wish, I'll break your horns. That will be the last chain binding your body.
But if you want, I'll lower the axe a little more.
That is the final choice to live as a person, or to depart as a person.
At Ivan's words, Aipelos closed his eyes.
Taking a deep breath.
Then breathing rapidly.
"I want... to live."
"Good decision."
*Crack!*
One more person was added to the roster of St. Vasilisha Orphanage.
Orphan, 50s, demon origin.
After the failed assassination attempt on Asidis, the threat from demons increased significantly.
The fact that Isabelle's tutorial was designed to be so difficult was, in other words, due to Ivan's own actions.
And that means:
*The tutorials don't happen simultaneously.*
This isn't a game where each character has to handle events from the same starting point upon character creation, but rather there are timing differences in the events experienced by each starting character.
Ivan stroked his chin, deep in thought.
The demons aren't simply AI moving according to predetermined patterns.
Like everyone else in this world, none of them are mere NPCs.
Even events that proceed according to clichés can ultimately reach fluid conclusions depending on variables.
If that's the case, what can be anticipated? What should be done?
Ivan turned his gaze to Isabelle.
She was looking at the survivors with sad eyes.
*Saving these people and getting them to graduate.*
Because this other world is an academy genre. Because it has to be. Even if there are no players, characters, or NPCs.
That one thing must not change.
Other thoughts can wait until later.
"Mister."
"Hmm."
"If I hadn't boarded this train today, would the families of those people... the people on this train have survived?"
Because the dead, too, aren't just NPCs sacrificed in a cutscene.
Probably, yes.
Ivan looked at the dimly brightening night sky and answered.
"Do you know how many people the Hero killed?"
"...What?"
"Including indirect casualties, it's estimated at about thirty thousand per year. The number of people who died being pushed into battles that were clearly going to be lost, to support the Hero's operations, to draw the attention of the Demon King's army."
The Hero Party is basically an assassination squad. To kill the Seven Dragon Lords and the Demon King.
So, to make them let their guard down, you had to give them a winning hand in other areas.
As a basic grand strategy of attacking the east while defending the west, there was a time when defeat was forced on other fronts to support the Hero Party's infiltration.
"Everyone who was there at the time knew that fact. The Hero, me, even the frontline soldiers."
"..."
"But the Hero smiled even in that moment."
Otherwise, if he imagined his failure, if he lamented his inadequacy.
If he was crushed by his own burden.
It would mean all the lives lost for him alone would have been in vain.
So the Hero chose to smile instead. Even in times when hope was so scarce that one had to search the sky for the morning star.
Because he himself had to appear as hope to everyone.
Because the moment he collapsed, the Allied Kingdoms would be finished.
"Look."
Ivan raised his hand to point at the sky.
In the east, the sun was rising, dyeing the sky blue.
In the west, the moon had already hidden its face. But even at the edge, far away.
The morning star still shines in the brightest times.
Just as it always shone in the darkest night.
"Ah...."
"That is the star your father carried in those days, and now the star you have inherited.
A hero doesn't mean the strongest person."
"The most... brave person...."
"Yes. We called a hero someone who doesn't kneel under any burden and doesn't lose their smile at any moment. So now, you must become their hero."
Looking at the survivors gathered in sorrow, Ivan pressed her head firmly.
"Daughter of Maximillian, Isabelle. Raise your head and straighten your back. The sad receive sympathy, but those who always smile are admired. Live with hope, rising up, remembering gratitude before guilt for someone's sacrifice. Live proving to everyone that their sacrifice was not in vain."
Like the morning star. Not losing its light even when beside the brightest moon.
Clearly shining even beside the rising sun.
As a symbol of hope, like that.
Isabelle stared blankly at Ivan, then suddenly came to her senses and said:
"Have you ever thought about shaving that beard?"
"No."
Ivan answered with disgust.
ep5. Morning Star.