Hildegard's visit had been, in a way, inevitable.
She was someone who saw more than most—so naturally, she also questioned more than anyone else.
["She's going to start asking annoying things again. Want me to scare her off?"]
'Let it be.'
["Why? It'd be so much easier if I just chased her away."]
'Sometimes… things like this are necessary.'
["Huh?"]
If Esther intimidated her, Hildegard would surely back down.
But evading questions like that changed nothing.
At some point, things needed to be addressed directly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I used to think there was nothing I couldn't see. But for some reason… I just can't see you, Carl Marcus."
Hildegard couldn't fully perceive me—because of Esther.
A Grade-1 Named Specter like her could obscure perception even from someone with clairvoyant eyes.
"Is that really so important?"
"Yes. At least, to me, it is."
"And what would change, if you could see it?"
"At the very least… I'd know what you are. Carl Marcus, who are you really? Why did you come to the Ark?"
"I'm going to protect it."
"Why?"
Why, huh…
Truthfully, I'd never really thought deeply about it.
It was obvious.
To clear The Defense, I had to protect the Ark.
Why would I waste time thinking about something so self-evident?
But in their eyes, it was strange.
Carl Marcus had no reason to sacrifice himself so deeply for the Ark.
Especially now—when he still had a place like Chronos to return to.
"…I don't know. Never really thought about it."
"You're just… protecting the Ark. Just because?"
"Is that not allowed?"
Hildegard shook her head, exasperated.
"…Fine. But at the very least, tell me this—did anything come out of your missions so far? Any results?"
Results, huh…
In some ways, yes.
Because they'd gotten stronger.
"There were."
"…Then that's good enough."
What was good enough, she didn't say.
But with that, Hildegard turned and returned to the tent.
["That was anticlimactic."]
'Maybe.'
Whether she knew something and chose to stay silent, or whether she genuinely couldn't be sure and decided to leave it alone—
It was hard to say.
But one thing was certain:
Through this journey, Hildegard had changed—if only a little.
'Growth, probably.'
I looked up at the sky, where the dawn was beginning to wash away the last shadows of night.
Blankly—
Just blankly stared.
* * *
Morning had come.
"Ugh… my body's all stiff."
"Be grateful you're still alive."
"What?"
"What."
Starting with Iris and Dmitri—who had grown noticeably closer lately—the recon team members emerged one by one, tidying up their tents.
Unfortunately, the practical training using the Turncoat Pawn had come to an end.
That was inevitable, given that I had shown everyone the sight of me driving Turncoat Pawn away the previous night.
'Besides, the Turncoat Knight took a pretty heavy beating too.'
The Turncoat Pawn who appeared last night had, of course, been the Turncoat Knight disguised under the name.
You could call it a sort of accomplice, to help me establish my alibi.
And in order to make it all the more convincing, I'd dealt the Turncoat Knight a good amount of damage.
So much so that he wouldn't be able to move for a while.
Which meant practical training with the Turncoat Pawn had to end here.
'Well, I got everything I wanted out of this training anyway.'
Hildegard, Iris, Dmitri, Kurilta, and Klutz had each come face to face with their limits during the battles against the Turncoat Pawn.
And those who recognize their limits typically fall into one of two categories.
They either despair—or overcome them.
Naturally, the latter was the direction they needed to go.
And that left one obvious solution:
To keep pushing forward, again and again, until they were strong enough.
["Master."]
'What.'
["That smile's creeping me out."]
'Mind your business.'
In any case, just for today, I planned to give the recon team a bit of a break.
"Where are you going?"
"Just grabbing something."
Stepping away from the team's line of sight, I opened the [Rift Space].
And from within, I began pulling out various ingredients.
["What's all this?"]
"They've worked hard. I should feed them properly."
["You're not seriously about to cook for them, are you?"]
"I am."
["Wow… they say people do out-of-character things before they die. Are you sick or something, Master?"]
"Quiet."
Originally, I'd prepared all this because I wanted them to eat well during the mission.
But these soldiers were so methodical that there hadn't been an opening.
Now, finally, we had a bit of breathing room.
So, it felt like the right time to give them a proper meal.
When I returned to camp carrying the ingredients, the recon team's eyes widened.
"What… is all this?"
"Isn't it obvious? Ingredients."
"Huh?"
Hildegard was the first to approach, asking with clear skepticism.
"Where did you even…? No, more importantly, what do you plan to do with this?"
"I'm going to cook."
"Cook? As in, you're really going to prepare food here?"
"Yes."
"But… isn't starting a fire during field operations usually forbidden?"
"I'll be using heating packs. No need to worry."
Regardless of Hildegard mumbling beside me, I pulled out the heating packs and sealed kits I had already prepped from the [Rift Space], and began cooking.
The first dish was curry.
The scent was strong—too strong to typically be used outside the Ark—but I'd already confirmed there were no beast hordes or monsters nearby that would be drawn to it.
More importantly, curry was one of the easiest meals to prepare by tossing in a bunch of ingredients and letting the heating pack do the rest.
'Even if a beast horde did show up, it wouldn't be a problem.'
Next dish: meat.
Not just any meat—a lot of meat.
We weren't on a camping trip, but if camping had a heart, surely it was grilled meat.
'I'd love to use charcoal, but… best not to push it.'
Not out of fear of attracting monsters or beasts, but because dealing with them would be annoying.
'I could just invoke Ankelenth's Domain and drive them off easily… but with people watching, best not to.'
Thankfully, the Ark's heating packs provided enough heat for grilling, and with a frying pan, I could manage just fine.
'And then…'
The third dish: ramen.
An internationally beloved food in the old world, and just as popular within the Ark.
'Not difficult at all.'
I dropped some ramen into a large pot and placed it over a heating pack.
"Hm?"
"What's that smell?"
"It's coming from over there, I think."
As the scent of food wafted through the camp, the recon team naturally started to gather around the makeshift kitchen.
"What's going on over here—wait, what is this?"
"Hmph. Carl, as expected—you know how it's done. A warrior should eat well."
"What is all this?"
"Like you see—food."
"And why are you doing this now…?"
Klutz couldn't hide his confusion, but I ignored him and laid out a makeshift buffet.
"Eat."
"…Huh?"
Iris blinked from the front of the line, seemingly unable to comprehend the situation.
"Breakfast."
"Where did you even get all this…?"
"No need to worry about that. But if you wait too long, you'll miss out."
Just as I said, while others hesitated, Kurilta was already piling food onto his plate.
"Hey! That's unfair!"
"Damn it!"
The rest of the recon team scrambled, grabbing plates and cutlery to join him.
["They're really digging in."]
'They've earned it. They deserve a reward.'
["Then what about me?"]
'You can't eat anyway.'
["Wow… is this some kind of ether-based discrimination? Ever heard the phrase "everything has a soul"? I can eat!"]
'Then eat.'
["Forget it. It wouldn't taste good anyway."]
'…Then what do you want me to do?'
As the surprisingly extravagant breakfast continued, Iris spoke up.
"Wait… aren't we supposed to be on a mission? Is it okay for us to be having a feast like this?"
"There's no need to worry. The objective is close."
"The objective…?"
Realizing what I meant, the recon team members' faces turned pale.
"About 30 kilometers south of here is a Church of Morte outpost."
"…I think I'm going to be sick."
"Anyone got stomach meds?"
"Damn it."
The reputation of the Church of Morte was so foul that even elite soldiers of the Ark couldn't help but groan.
Of course, they wouldn't actually be engaging the Church of Morte directly.
I had no intention of letting that happen yet.
'They're not ready to face a Church outpost head-on. That'll come later.'
Especially a western outpost—those weren't exactly low-level.
For now, our goal was simply to observe and report on their movements.
"Once you've eaten, we're moving."
"…Right away? But I think I overate…"
"We have to go."
After the meal, the soldiers' faces shone with an oily gleam of satisfaction.
It was clear the meal had been a success.
"Can't believe we're being pampered like this on a mission… What a world."
"Hmph. All thanks to Carl."
"Yeah, yeah. This time I agree with you, Kurilta."
Klutz chuckled, nodding at Kurilta's words.
And so—after the meal—we officially resumed our journey.
With only 30 kilometers left to the Church of Morte outpost, there was a good chance we could finish the mission and return within the day.
"Let's move out."
With me in the lead, the recon team resumed their march.
* * *
As expected of trained Ark soldiers, hiking 30 kilometers in full gear wasn't especially difficult.
However, one problem arose when we arrived at our destination.
"What the hell…"
What we found was nothing but ruins.
Where the Church of Morte's outpost should have been, a wasteland greeted us instead.
"What?"
"This… isn't a Church of Morte outpost."
"It looks like it was attacked. But it's too… precise. I doubt this was a beast or monster attack."
The conclusion was clear.
'…The Church of Morte outpost is gone.'
Something that shouldn't have happened.
And yet—it clearly had.
The outpost had vanished.
Or more accurately—been annihilated.