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“The operation is proceeding smoothly. At this rate, it seems the Guardian War will be over soon. Excellent command, Hero.”
The leader of the First Knights Order, Yorne.
She exhaled briefly and smiled at the commander of this operation. Although she rarely acknowledged others, she simply couldn’t hold back now.
A large-scale operation took place under conditions where the two most critical forces of humanity, ‘Kyle Toven’ and ‘Raniel van Trias,’ were unavailable.
『The Guardian War of Latenaile』
It was that man, sitting in the commander’s seat, who led this operation to success, which everyone thought would fail. Usually, he remained overshadowed by Kyle Toven and Galahal, the most heroic among heroes…
‘The one called the most realistic hero.’
Yorne thought that this man too was more than worthy of representing humanity as a hero, as she spoke his name.
“Thank you for your hard work, Destel.”
The most realistic hero, Destel.
He answered Yorne’s smile with his own.
“It’s thanks to the First Knights holding their ground. It was a reckless operation, but I appreciate you coming along.”
“Isn’t it a request from the Hero? I simply fulfilled my duty as a knight.”
Knights are the sword and shield of humanity, and heroes are the champions representing humanity. So it was only natural for knights to act on the orders of heroes, but…
“Before being a hero and a knight, it’s a thank you from person to person. What good is a title? It’s about gratitude for you who followed orders without hesitation into a dangerous operation.”
Destel insisted on saying so.
He kept adjusting the collar of the Hero’s robe, smiling wryly, as if he felt the outfit didn’t suit him.
“Now I can finally take a breath.”
Destel sighed deeply and wiped his eyes. Feeling the tension ease, he noticed the cold sweat trickling down his back.
…In a battlefield, where dozens or hundreds would die because of a single mistake he might make. The role of being ultimately responsible for that battlefield was a weight far too heavy for a young man who had dreamed of being an actor in a small village.
‘Still, somehow I pulled it off…’
Destel looked down at the knights from atop the castle wall. Those who had trusted and followed his command. Watching the sweat and blood they shed, he genuinely felt relieved that it wasn’t in vain.
“That said, it’s a burdensome position.”
“…Is that so?”
“No matter how I see it, I feel like I don’t belong here.”
At Destel’s murmuring, Yorne tilted her head. She blinked and questioned him.
“Then, who should be in this position?”
“Who else but someone noble like you.”
Destel pointed to Yorne, leaning against the castle wall.
“Someone like you, standing here with the sole mindset of serving humanity. Someone who has wielded a sword and honed themselves to stand on the battlefield since childhood… This is the rightful place for such a noble person.”
Destel smiled bitterly.
“Not a village bumpkin like me who just happened to gain power.”
“That’s not true.”
“Huh? What did you say?”
“I said that’s not true.”
Yorne said firmly.
“Is it necessary for you to belittle yourself like that? In my eyes, you are more than capable of standing in that position.”
“…Me?”
“Really, must I say it out loud?”
She smiled wryly.
“I cannot command as you do. I wouldn’t have led this operation to success either. It’s because of you that we could protect this vital stronghold of humanity.”
To begin with, she said,
“A common human from a small village, whom you call it, you standing here without knightly training… Isn’t that more remarkable?”
“…Is it really like that?”
“A weak human, fearful yet fulfilling their responsibilities… Isn’t that a splendid story? At least, that’s what I think.”
Gazing at the smiling Yorne, Destel couldn’t look her in the eye. Feeling ashamed, he turned his head and awkwardly cleared his throat a couple of times.
“What an honor. To hear such words from the leader of the First Knights.”
“Uh, yes, I too…”
Just as Yorne was about to continue her words.
Yorne’s body stiffened. Destel, noticing the anomaly, turned his head quickly. What the two of them saw was beyond the castle wall.
…The horizon had turned black.
The pitch-black horizon approached at a rapid speed, like a wave crashing in. It consumed the corpses of the beasts that filled the plains, and the two realized the identity of the oncoming darkness.
“Black… fog”
Yorne muttered in a trembling voice.
As if she didn’t want to believe her own words. Moments later, a loud alert echoed in their ears.
「…Black fog is approaching.」
「In the fog, there are countless beasts.」
Beasts. Black fog.
Something that symbolized the Betrayer (背教者).
Destel’s eyes widened. Black fog? Why is the Betrayer here? Just as Destel hastily attempted to give commands, he found himself hesitating to assess the situation.
「…After checking, there are five Carapace Dragons.」
Destel’s mind came to a halt.
“What… did you say?”
Five Carapace Dragons.
Even Kuntel the Sword Saint, who could only manage a couple, faced this? Now, to have that many attacking with just the people present in the castle?
Rumble…
The ground trembled.
The black fog was advancing. Destel couldn’t speak for mere seconds, but for someone, that small amount of time was more than enough to make a decision.
Crack, Yorne seized Destel’s wrist.
“Flee, Lord Destel.”
She made a choice.
“We will handle this.”
She smiled.
“It was an honor to serve you as well, Lord Destel.”
Destel stared blankly at her silhouette as she jumped down from the castle wall. Immediately after, with a violent tremor, the castle wall crumbled. Emerging through the collapsing stones were the Carapace Dragons.
————————!
With the roar of the Carapace Dragons, the fog surged into the castle. The encroaching fog. Crackle, as the Carapace Dragons burrowed into the ground. The rumbling earth. Knights losing their balance and falling. Black fog swallowing the knights. Giant Carapace Dragons leaping from the ground.
Blood.
Screams.
Flesh.
Death flowed profusely.
*
The Guardian War of Latenaile failed.
Destel survived, having sacrificed most of the personnel present there. The majority of the forces stationed in Latenaile perished. Only a handful returned to the stronghold.
When they returned, Destel stepped out of the tent and walked aimlessly towards those who had returned.
“…”
Blood, screams, groans, and the wounded.
Destel walked through the dying ones. The commander who had abandoned them to escape, what face could he show here?
Destel felt disgust for himself.
Yet, despite that disgust, no one blamed Destel. The moment they made eye contact, they quietly bowed their heads instead. They merely said they were glad he survived.
No one resented him. Not a single resentful glance was thrown his way. That fact only made Destel suffer more.
His mouth felt parched.
Destel wandered around the injured within the tent like a madman. Among them, he spotted the familiar armor style. The armor of the First Knights.
“One.”
To a knight who had lost an arm.
No longer able to wield a sword, unable to stand on the battlefield again, to a knight who would no longer be a knight, Destel spoke.
“Just one thing, I ask.”
“…What is it, Lord Destel?”
“The leader of the First Knights, Yorne…”
“She has fallen.”
His mouth dried up.
“…I’m sorry.”
“…It’s not your fault.”
Releasing the knight, Destel exited the tent. As he walked among the knights, he gathered information. They said.
The leader of the First Knights, Yorne, took command in Destel’s stead. Collaborating with Galahal, the Spear Dragon’s companion, she resisted the Carapace Dragons.
They all said she remained at Latenaile Castle until the very end. The more he heard their words, the more Destel’s expression hardened.
Graaaargh!
We must tear it out. The wound is infected…
Pain relief, pain relief spell…
Screams. Groans.
…It’s too late.
The infection has progressed too far…
The delay in response…
Death, the sound of breaths that couldn’t be heard.
Silenced grief poured from the knights in front of death. Mourning priests and the sound of sobbing that couldn’t be held back.
No matter where he looked, no matter where he focused his gaze,
It was all just pools of blood.
Countless people bled for him. Noble beings who had honed their lives over a lifetime, those far more dignified than himself, bled and perished. The blood they spilled seized Destel by the ankles.
“…”
Destel stood still.
Amidst the injured, he looked down at his own feet. He observed the emblem he had draped over his shoulders. Objects akin to the symbol of the Hero. The things that made them willingly shed blood.
…The emblem shouldn’t bear weight.
Right now, that emblem felt heavier than ever. Without saying a word, Destel took off the emblem. In a daze, he walked forward, and before him were the knights. There was Galahal.
Galahal was comforting the knights.
Despite losing his comrades, he was encouraging the knights, claiming he would do better next time, trying to smile for them.
Beside him stood Heinkel, the Knights Order Leader.
Heinkel was also shouting about next time and that their sacrifice was without compare, declaring he would surely repay that sacrifice.
“Ah, ah…”
Staring at them.
Even knowing it shouldn’t be like this, a hollow laugh hung on Destel’s lips. He felt an unbearable sense of alienation from them.
How could they… be like that?
The operation was a success. All variables were controlled, every effort was made to reduce sacrifice… It was a flawless operation. Even if asked to craft a better one, it was impossible.
The operation succeeded. It was on the verge of success.
What overturned all of that?
A disaster. The army of the Betrayer. Before the disaster, humans were powerless. The plans meticulously built up by humans, the efforts made, the sacrifices, held no value against the disaster.
…The sense of unease he always felt.
…But the questions he had always averted.
At this moment, they filled Destel’s mind to the brim. So much so that he couldn’t erase them. He knew he shouldn’t think this way, but the voice slipped out of his lips.
“It’s just whim.”
Destel mumbled weakly.
“It’s nothing but whim.”
What came out of his opened mouth was the poison Destel had harbored. The sorrow he had suppressed. The pent-up words spilled forth.
“It’s of no use at all. The operation, the strategy, they’re all unnecessary. If they push in, that’s the end.”
The leader of the First Knights, Yorne.
Even to Destel, she was a capable person. Far beyond his own worth, she was a noble being. A shining human being. Yet, even such a shining person bled for him, sacrificed their life.
Then did the blood they shed, the lives they gave, have any value?
If I live.
If I survive in their place.
Can I achieve something?
“Whim. Simply maintained by the whim of disaster in this battlefield…”
Destel groaned.
No, as if he could achieve anything.
“What meaning does it have in such a battlefield…?”
Destel slowly raised his head.
There was Galahal watching him. The knight order leader was watching him. Countless knights were there. Receiving their chilling gazes, Destel let out a hollow laugh.
Knowing he shouldn’t, still, a voice escaped his lips.
“What, in the end, does it mean?”
Everyone is insane.
That day, Destel thought that way.
1.
Forgotten ancient gods are approaching. Abaddon, the lord of the cursed land, stirs. The overwhelming enemy forces that fill his vision make Destel recall the scenery from that day.
“…”
Destel’s gaze trembled.
He unintentionally took a step back. However, retreating was only a single step. Unable to step back any further, nor to advance, Destel slowly turned his head back.
“Bel, Belnoa…!”
“Urgh, ugh…”
There stood Belnoa, coughing up blood as he rose. Yet, Belnoa struggled to find balance. The young man who had run ahead of Destel now stood behind him.
…Destel looked ahead once more.
Behind him were his juniors.
In front of him were enormous enemies. Could he temporarily block their advance? It didn’t feel likely at all. Truly.
“Mo…”
Destel murmured in a trembling voice.
“Mimic. Immortal…”
The coward once again tried to hide himself by mimicking others. However, the emblem that had been fluttering had long since settled heavy. The emblem did not respond to Destel’s call.
Due to uncertainty. Because Destel couldn’t mimic the immortal Triton. In this moment, even he believed it was impossible for himself.
Therefore, the emblem did not respond to its master’s call. Destel’s hands trembled. In the absence of mimicking someone’s power… only a pitiful coward remained in this place.
A coward who could do nothing alone. A coward too fearful to flee or move forward.
“Ah, please, why…”
Destel gripped his emblem tightly.
His eyes were trembling with fear. His heart was pounding wildly as Destel gritted his teeth, clenching his upper and lower jaws together.
Isn’t it my turn to step up?
Shouldn’t I step up handsomely for my juniors?
You are a hero, you must do so.
Destel wished he could overcome his fears and step forward, just like the heroes from stories. Yet, one who had lived all his life as a coward found it hard to shake off his dread.
He feared death.
He feared those colossal enemies.
So overwhelmed with fear, he couldn’t endure it.
…Characters from stories and tales, heroic stories often charge forth all too easily. Their fears rarely get described, and when they do, it’s just a line or two.
But for Destel, it was different.
‘Please…!’
To describe the inner workings of a single human being here, fear alone could fill dozens of pages to the brim. An array of thoughts made his breath quicken to the edge.
“That’s not a blessing but a curse.”
What lingered in his ear was a tale he had heard long ago.
“Poor child.”
A Betrayer he had encountered one day.
Caressing Destel’s cheek in fear, she whispered into his ear.
“The power you hold is a curse.”
“A curse for a coward, for a child who cannot become a hero, for a child who cannot shine.”
From that place, the Betrayer foretold.
“You will keep running away until the very end.”
“And you will hate it.”
“You will hate this curse that you call a blessing.”
Destel looked ahead with trembling eyes.
There stood the Giant God, lifting its foot.
“…Ah.”
The Giant God stamped its foot down.
Boom! The earth trembled with a thunderous roar.
