Could it be because the massive tornado called war had swept through? The war had brought along a terrifying inferno. The city, which had lost its former appearance and was utterly destroyed, resembled a vast graveyard. All that could be seen were corpses that neither lay buried in the ground nor stopped rotting, emitting a foul stench, and refugees, with not even a trace of hope remaining.
Even as I looked around the city, a sharp winter wind, whose origin I could not tell, kept tormenting the corpses and refugees as if mocking them. The winter wind, cutting like a blade, scraped across my face. Watching the corpses and refugees, a complex and painful feeling made me want to leave the city.
There was not even the minimum defensive force in the city. Regrettably, this was a reality I had to acknowledge. My vision began to blur. Soon, tears welled up in my eyes, and the tears, unable to bear their own weight, began to flow.
In this city, filled only with the pain of war, there was nothing more for me to see. The more time I wasted here, the more all I could do was shed tears. I wanted to return to my wife and daughter as soon as possible. Perhaps, if only briefly, I could recall fragments of memories and conjure their faces, as if hoping to remember something forgotten. I walked and walked, soothing and comforting my aching legs, in a hurry to leave the city.
Leaving behind the corpses and the living, I finally reached the edge of the city. But perhaps due to the sorrow for the city, which had lost its former splendor and was left in ruin, or some inexplicable grief of unknown value, a despair beyond words welled up in my chest.
I stopped and looked back at the city for a long while. It looked so cold and lonely that I wanted to embrace it. Yet, even as I wished to warmly hold it, I could not, and I felt utterly miserable.
"Kyah!"
Just as I was about to take a step toward my wife and daughter, a desperate scream from a woman pierced the air. It wasn't her scream that unsettled me. Rather, it was the familiar presence I sensed from the direction of the scream that rooted me in place. That presence was unmistakably my long-time friend, Beltis. Like a moth drawn to a flame for no reason, I hurried toward the source where I could feel Beltis's presence and hear the scream. It wasn't a trivial impulse of a petty hero—it was to reunite with my old friend, Beltis.
From the direction of the scream, I felt a surge of a long-forgotten, intense connection. I couldn't be certain, but if my memory served me right, that presence was unmistakably Beltis's. The pain in my legs limited my movements, yet I followed Beltis's presence and arrived at the place where the refugees were gathered in a circle. Surely, among that crowd, the woman who had screamed was there. I hadn't wanted to get caught up in conflicts that weren't mine, but the moment I cautiously stepped into the circle of refugees, I was overwhelmed by anger and hatred, and my reason began to waver.
"Damn it!..."
Despite the sharp wind cutting through the air like a silver whip, a woman, trapped by attackers, was being threatened, paralyzed by shock and fear.
Among the surrounding refugees, there was no will to help the threatened woman. Perhaps she was already resigned to her fate. She wrapped her bony arms around herself, resisting only the cold.
"This woman has betrayed our Veldoras!"
One of the assailants grabbed the woman's hair tightly and said. The woman's head, held by the assailant's hand, swung mercilessly like a weed in the wind.
"This woman betrayed our Veldoras and aided the Rubenis and Glaveron forces! That is why our Veldoras is in this state!"
The man continued shaking her head without pause. The refugees had no interest in the truth. They merely looked away and remained passive. Surely, the man's words were false. I believed that. They were likely attempting to heal the wounds, scars, and painful, bloodstained injuries they had endured through the war by tormenting this woman. That must be the truth.
"We will execute this traitor of our Veldoras before you all!"
I slowly brought my Guidance Sword forward. Supporting my aching leg, I prepared to charge at the assailants. I wanted to save her. Of course, facing them alone—battle-hardened veterans of countless wars—I had little chance of surviving. Yet I wanted to save her. Even if it meant dying, I wanted to save her.
The reason I had come here was because somewhere, that one was surely watching this situation. I desperately hoped that the one observing it would think the same as I did.
"Kill her!"
While I prepared to save her, one of the previously passive refugees shouted loudly.
"Kill her!"
"Kill her!"
One of the greatest causes of societal corruption is mob mentality, right? And now, mob mentality erupted in an instant before my eyes. As one person shouted to kill her, others echoed in unison as if by agreement.
"Kill her!"
"Kill her!"
No one doubted whether she was truly a traitor. No one cared about the truth. Those gathered there wished for the woman, reduced to mere bones, to die. Of course, even she herself, under constant threat, appeared so emaciated that she seemed ready to crumble, having lost all flesh and color, as if she too wished for death.
"Kill her!"
"Kill her!"
The horrific sight of humans being abandoned. Perhaps, for us, the people of the Kingdom of Beldoras, who have lived through generations of complex political conflicts and existential threats on the continent of Ardelia, this was a natural reaction.
Moreover, with Rubenis—once our brothers—launching an invasion, compounded by the Helprism attacks, I was gripped by the fear that this witch hunt might be an inevitable outcome. A rising dread took hold of me that my wife and daughter could fall victim to such circumstances.
"Kill her!"
"Kill her!"
I could no longer allow the situation to worsen and charged toward the assailants. They were nothing more than twisted and distorted individuals, using a helpless victim to satisfy their desires, completely irrelevant to international affairs.
"Kyah!"
As the voices of the refugees urging her death grew louder, the assailants began inflicting violence upon her. The horrifying sight made me feel my rational mind snap, and I moved toward the attackers.
[Crack]
One of the assailants shook the woman's head mercilessly, and a sharp blade hovered near the nape of her neck. The woman, resigned to her fate, gently closed her eyes that no longer held any glimmer.
"Kill her."
"Kill her."
The moment I charged to stop those threatening her, some of the assailants made eye contact with me. They looked at my firmly gripped Guidance Swords with shock.
"They're Glaveron soldiers!"
As I prepared for the deathmatch to save her, one of the refugees shouted loudly. In the distance, Glaveron soldiers armed with assault rifles came into view. Yet, my divine sense warned me of the danger and urged me to take cover.
"They're Glaveron soldiers!"
The Glaveron soldiers, in blood-stained uniforms, approached with a leisurely gait, scanning the surroundings. As they did, it seemed as if they were mocking everyone present.
They approached the assailants threatening the woman, who shrank back in fear, stepping away. The woman, who had almost lost her life moments ago, crawled to evade danger. The Glaveron soldiers finally stopped in front of the assailants who had been terrorizing her.
A tense silence fell between them, as if all time had stopped. Those who had gone mad at the woman swallowed hard, their faces filled with fear and horror, powerless to act, staring at the Glaveron soldiers in their blood-stained uniforms.