Three more days passed.
Inside the frontline, a heavy cloud of despair loomed over everything.
The once-bustling streets, now neglected for days, were littered with garbage and debris.
At a street intersection, Alison stood with her bow in hand, eyes locked on a monster not far away. Its grotesque form resembled a stitched-together patchwork of horrors, its body covered in strange appendages, and its wide, gaping mouth let out a frenzied roar as it lunged toward nearby soldiers.
Alison didn't hesitate. She raised her longbow and loosed several arrows in swift succession, piercing the creature's skull and limbs with deadly precision. Her expression remained grim as she watched its life force fade away.
Only when the monster fell completely still did she give a cold command to the soldiers beside her:
"Burn it. Don't leave a single piece behind."
"Yes, ma'am!" they responded without delay.
With a quiet sigh, she said nothing more. She stowed her weapon and moved on to the next area.
In these past few days, scenes like this had unfolded countless times.
Unnoticed by many, the frontline had already become a deadly zone.
More dangerous even than the forests overrun by magical beasts.
Twisted monsters born of plague, along with mutated venomous insects, lurked in the shadows like silent assassins.
A single mistake was enough to spell death for ordinary people.
And for the many powerful figures within the defense line—including both Legendary and Demigod-Rank warriors—their main task was to repeatedly sweep and eliminate these threats, struggling to maintain even the most fragile semblance of order within the zone.
Even if that order was hanging by a thread.
It was only by witnessing their relentless efforts firsthand that the soldiers and civilians inside the frontline still held the will to persevere.
If not, morale and hope would have crumbled long ago…
Yet despite all their efforts, Alison could clearly feel that the frontline was already terminally ill—sliding rapidly toward collapse before her very eyes.
"It can't be saved anymore…"
Though she kept pushing forward, deep down she knew the truth.
Her grip tightened on the bow as memories of the recent emergency meeting resurfaced.
---
Just days ago, during yet another high-level meeting within the frontline.
Looking visibly exhausted, Emosen addressed the senior officers present, confirming the grim reality that everyone had already begun to suspect:
"This front line isn't going to hold much longer. I've already ordered the countries behind us to begin constructing emergency fortifications. All we can do now… is buy time.
As for the civilians inside the city… While most are still alive for now, sampling data shows that at least one-third have already been infected. And that's not even accounting for those diseases we still can't detect—so the actual number is probably much higher.
These people are slowly turning into uncontrollable monsters…"
Though Emosen didn't say the rest out loud, everyone in the room understood what he meant.
The very civilians they were sworn to protect had now become one of their greatest liabilities—on the verge of completely spiraling out of control.
Faced with this, they had only one option left.
And it was the most terrible one imaginable.
The room fell into suffocating silence. No one spoke. Even breathing felt like too much.
"…I understand what you mean."
After a long pause, a Demigod from the Beastkin race finally sighed and broke the silence.
"If sacrifice is inevitable… then at the very least, let us preserve a bit of their dignity."
Unlike some of the younger Demigods, he had lived for tens of thousands of years—longer than many gods themselves—and this wasn't the first time he had witnessed a tragedy of this scale.
Though pain and guilt still gnawed at him, he was far more familiar with the crushing weight of helplessness.
After he spoke, a human Demigod also voiced his agreement.
Whether they wanted to admit it or not, they all understood the truth.
If the infected from the frontline made it to the rear, it would lead to an even greater catastrophe.
Someone had to support Emosen's proposal.
This wasn't a question of cruelty anymore.
Though it pained them deeply to abandon the civilians, it was a decision that had to be made.
And so, one after another, more Demigods began nodding in agreement with Emosen's plan.
Whether they wanted to or not, as the highest decision-makers in the region, they had to step up and do what they believed was right.
Alison, too, wanted to speak out against it. But she understood—that was the only viable course of action.
Her expression shifted with inner turmoil. In the end, she simply bit her lip and remained silent.
Her silence… was a tacit agreement.
She knew full well how ridiculous her actions seemed.
Because tacit approval, in the end, was no different than open endorsement. Both meant the same thing: agreement.
It didn't make her morally superior.
If anything, it made her look weak.
And that filled her with a deep, biting sense of shame…
---
Not long after, Emosen's proposal passed—with 57 votes in favor and 11 abstentions.
Another proposal, titled "Observe the Plague," also passed—41 in favor, 27 abstentions.
Observe the Plague: While the plague rages within the frontline and the number of patients is at its peak, observe and document the characteristics of the infections. Spare no expense in deploying alchemical agents for experimental treatment. The goal is to gather as much data as possible for future development of cures and to prevent such disasters from happening again.
In other words, not only had they decided to abandon the infected civilians—they were now determined to extract every last bit of use from them.
It sounded heartless. But this had nothing to do with cruelty.
It was the cold, necessary judgment of those in power.
---
Polluted Zone.
Deep within the same quiet underground cavern.
Before Orsaga stood a magical projection—unchanged from before.
But this time, he was holding something like a controller in his hand. Within the projection, the once-formidable pursuit team had been whittled down to just four or five battered survivors, clearly worn out and near collapse.
They were still being relentlessly chased by a swarm of monsters.
This battle had already dragged on for several days.
Orsaga had feasted; the enemy had suffered—some crippled, some dead.
Staring at the demon before him, its head pierced with several metal spikes and its eyes dull, the squad leader felt nothing but frustration.
This was the twentieth one.
At first, he hadn't thought much of it—just that some enemies were unusually tough. But as more of these controlled puppets showed up, he realized the truth:
Someone was manipulating these monsters to stall them—to entangle them in constant combat with the monster hordes and prevent them from escaping.
And that strategy had worked.
They should've been long gone by now, but instead they'd suffered heavy losses.
Worse still, inside this Polluted Zone, the monsters were far stronger than during the attack on the front line—thanks to the reduced suppression of the world's natural laws.
And under Orsaga's control, this puppet was fighting with terrifying finesse.
Every move was a masterclass in combat technique, keeping the squad off balance.
If they hadn't been carrying specialized gear for combating monsters, they would have been wiped out already.
Then—he heard it.
Familiar screams rang out from nearby.
Turning, the squad leader saw that even his few remaining comrades had fallen into desperate straits—on the brink of death.
He clenched his teleportation device, still jammed and useless.
More monsters were closing in from all sides. He knew his time had come.
No hesitation.
He pulled out a small black cube from his gear.
Originally meant to be used on Orsaga himself—now, it was use it or lose it.
He cast a furious glare at the puppet Orsaga controlled…
Then, driven by rage and desperation, activated the device.
A pulse of black light surged out from the cube, centered on his hand—then quickly collapsed inward.
Silently, utterly.
Everything within several kilometers was annihilated, leaving nothing behind.
Only a massive crater remained where they once stood.
Back in the cavern, watching through his spell projection, Orsaga casually tossed aside the now half-crushed controller and sneered:
"Knew you'd pull something like that…"
Old trick.
When the hero can't beat the boss, he pulls off some last-ditch death move to drag the villain down with him.
That's exactly why Orsaga never showed himself.
Even with the upper hand, he stayed hidden and played it safe.
His enemies clearly came prepared. There was no doubt they had more tricks up their sleeves.
Now that one more nuisance was taken care of, he stretched lazily and grinned:
"Since the warm-up is over…
It's time for the main act to begin."
With that, the projection shifted—its focus turning toward the frontline.
__
T/N:
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