Orario's rescue efforts were swift, yet it still took nearly three hours to evacuate all the injured civilians from the blast zone.
The explosion's scale had been immense.
If Orario were divided into separate regions, the city could be split into fifty-eight areas, each composed of major blocks—each block further divisible into ten sections.
And this time, how large was the blast?
Three entire areas. More than half of those major blocks were caught within the explosion's reach.
By the extent of the damage, nearly an entire block had been devastated. It was already a catastrophic scene.
Although no Familia territories were directly struck, that wasn't something to be thankful for. Orario's hierarchy stood clear: Guilds, Gods, Familia, Adventurers, and Civilians.
Since the Guild, Gods, and Familia remained untouched, the ones who suffered the most were naturally the Adventurers and Civilians.
Indeed, the majority of those in the blast zone had been ordinary people.
Helpless, defenseless civilians—unable to resist, with no means to survive the explosion.
As a result, there were almost no survivors within the affected zone.
The familias handling the aftermath could see it clearly.
"Ugh..."
Even battle-hardened adventurers accustomed to death and bloodshed found the sight unbearable.
After the explosion, the air grew heavy with the scent of roasted flesh—human flesh seared by flames, releasing an aroma disturbingly similar to grilled meat.
But as that smell reached them, every adventurer instinctively felt a surge of nausea.
They knew exactly what that scent was.
And worse, it was indistinguishable from the meat they had eaten earlier that day. The connection alone made them feel as though they had just devoured human flesh.
"Ugh!"
Several younger adventurers couldn't take it any longer. They staggered to the nearest broken wall, doubled over, and vomited violently.
The sound of retching set off a chain reaction—those who had just managed to hold it together lost control one by one, their stomachs rebelling in unison.
In the past, some veterans might have muttered, "These kids can't handle it. They just haven't seen enough."
But this time was different. Even the veterans' faces were pale.
This scene was too cruel, even for them.
Among those vomiting against the wall was a familiar figure.
"Lefiya, are you alright?"
A cool, clear voice rang beside her. Under normal circumstances, the young Elf would have been thrilled to hear it—but now, she couldn't even think about that.
"Cough... cough..."
"I-I'm fine..."
Whether that was true or not, she could only force out those words. Her sharp elven senses made the smell, the sight, the entire scene hit her far harder than anyone else.
Lefiya tried to block out the stench, but it clung to the air around her, making her stomach twist and burn with acid.
Her gaze drifted to the ruins nearby. Beneath those piles of debris likely lay countless ordinary people.
The thought alone made her face pale, her heart sinking with horror and grief.
"This... this is too horrible..."
"Yes."
A faint trace of emotion entered the normally calm, cold voice.
Ais swept her gaze across the devastation. The information carried by her wind was far more brutal than what the eyes could see.
Beneath the rubble, there were almost no traces of life. Her wind could penetrate through solid stone, and through that invisible sight, she could sense them—countless corpses buried deep below.
Men, women, the elderly, children...
None of them whole. None of them breathing.
Even someone like Ais, who struggled to express her emotions, could feel her anger rising uncontrollably, burning hotter with every breath.
"Ais-san..."
"Hm?"
"Evilus... are they still here?"
"No."
Lefiya's voice trembled strangely.
When Ais turned to look, she saw Lefiya's face—no longer soft or timid, but filled with a grim determination.
Her teeth were clenched, as if holding back tears, yet her eyes blazed with conviction.
In that moment, Lefiya seemed to embody the grief and fury of the people buried beneath the ruins.
Right now, she had only one thought left in her heart.
Exile Evilus.
"Hmph. If you've got the energy to talk, you'd be better off practicing your 'Parallel Chant.'"
The cold, contemptuous voice of the Vanargand cut through the air as he appeared from nowhere.
"Bete."
Ais's expression frosted over instantly. She was clearly angry at Bete's ill-timed remark.
"Tch."
Bete clicked his tongue, turning his gaze toward Lefiya as though waiting for her reply.
This time, Lefiya no longer shrank under the Vanargand's piercing stare.
She had been training under him for quite some time now. Without his help, she never would have been able to grasp the basics of Parallel Chanting.
Having endured his harsh methods, she'd gradually come to understand his temperament.
Wolves taught their young through cruelty, because only by facing brutality could the cubs survive in the wild.
All that viciousness—the snarls, the taunts—was merely the surface. At its core, it was a way of teaching.
Yet the Vanargand's brand of kindness was a heavy one, often misunderstood, and rarely seen for what it truly was.
"Mr. Bete, do you have time?"
"Heh~"
That question brought a rare smirk to Bete's face.
"Even if we go after those bastards, we've got two or three days to spare."
"Two or three days..."
It wasn't much, but if she could sharpen her Parallel Chant during that time, she might actually be of use in the coming war against Evilus.
Within a few seconds, Lefiya had already weighed the risks and benefits in her mind.
"Mr. Bete, I'm ready."
"Hmph. Talk about being ready after today. Small fry, prepare yourself properly if you don't want to die out there."
The words were laced with his usual mockery, yet as Bete turned away, the sharpness in his grin faded.
Those who fought earnestly to live didn't deserve ridicule.
And Bete never mocked those who truly tried—he just knew that sometimes, people needed a little push to keep moving forward.