The autumn wind was cold and biting—winter was almost upon them.
Yet, the streets of Heim City were packed full of refugees.
Ever since Hel had ordered a full retreat and the consolidation of defenses, every citizen of her domain had fled to Heim City for shelter.
The population had doubled almost overnight, and with it came a flood of new problems.
After all, these people were her subjects—their food, clothing, and shelter were all Hel's responsibility as their lord.
And right when things were most desperate, a few greedy merchants decided to take advantage of the chaos and raise grain prices to profit from the crisis.
Hel had no patience for that.
She executed them on the spot and hung their bodies from the street lamps, then confiscated all their property.
That temporarily solved the food problem—but it also terrified the city's remaining merchants and nobles.
Soon, panic spread among the wealthy, and one after another, they fled the city.
Even many of the so-called "honorary nobles" who had sworn loyalty to Hel deserted her.
After all, their loyalty only hovered around sixty points—it wasn't true devotion.
And humans were creatures of instinct: they naturally sought benefit and avoided harm.
Choosing whether to die for one's lord or to flee with one's family to survive—
that, too, was a form of choice.
Everyone had the right to choose, and Hel didn't try to stop them.
However, no matter who they were—noble, merchant, or commoner—Hel confiscated all property left behind in Heim City.
She then redistributed the homes and estates to the refugees who had come seeking shelter.
After all, those who stayed had chosen to defend their homes with their lives.
If she allowed those who fled to profit while the brave were left with nothing, it would be unjust.
"Good day, my lord."
"Vivian? I thought the church people had already left a few days ago."
Standing atop Heim's city wall, Hel turned toward a group of church clerics approaching from behind, surprise flickering in her eyes.
Not long ago, Father Gerhard had already departed with all his belongings—
escorted by a full company of church knights bound for the safer royal capital of the Mandrake Principality.
His departure had spread the news of the beastman invasion through the city like wildfire, causing the wealthy to flee in droves from this now-doomed place.
"Yes, my lord," Vivian replied. "Three days ago, Father Gerhard said he needed to attend a conference in the capital—something about how to respond to the beastman invasion."
Hel snorted.
"Bringing all his possessions just to 'attend a meeting'?
Anyone who didn't know better would think he was running away from punishment."
Her tone was sharp and irritated.
Gerhard's flight had disrupted her plans.
She had intended to enlist the help of the Holy Tribunal Church in defending the city.
After all, none of the local lords could abandon their territories now;
so as the church's regional leader, Gerhard should have stayed—even a coward should've had that much backbone.
If he dared to flee at such a time, how did he expect to face anyone ever again?
But clearly, Hel had overestimated his courage.
Calling him "as timid as a mouse" would've been flattery.
The beastmen hadn't even arrived yet, and he had already deserted.
Worse, he took with him a group of honorary nobles, wealthy merchants, and adventurers—leaving the city with less than half its original extraordinary-level defenders.
Of course, Hel didn't particularly value their strength; a few skeleton soldiers of hers could have easily wiped them out.
But the problem was—she had to hide her power.
How many of her forces could she afford to show in public?
Undead creatures?
She would have to kill anyone who saw them, unless she wanted to be hunted down by the three great human empires.
Mechanical golems?
Might as well hang a sign over her head saying, I have a goblin ruin!
As a proper transmigrator, Hel knew well the danger of "having treasures that invite trouble."
Especially since, on the surface, she was merely a frontier count—a low-tier mage at best.
And she was absolutely certain that if her secrets were ever revealed,
the army of the Sacrifice Kingdom would flatten her territory by the next morning.
And it wasn't paranoia—there was precedent.
The adventurers who had discovered the goblin ruins in the Windmill Nation years ago?
None of them met a good end.
So, why did she develop the magic cannons?
For money? Of course not.
It was all to maintain her disguise.
If not for that troublesome War Witch, she wouldn't have to go through such elaborate effort in the first place.
Vivian could only smile awkwardly at Hel's biting words.
Truthfully, she was angry at Father Gerhard too.
His decision to flee, taking all the knights with him and leaving only the ordinary clerics behind—it was as good as abandoning them to die.
It was infuriating.
Gerhard had actually invited Vivian to go with him.
She was, after all, an extraordinary individual herself—a mid-level mage, five-star ranked.
And unlike the others, she wasn't even from the Mandrake Principality;
she had no real reason to stay and die in Heim.
But she refused.
She had lost her parents as a child, and during the years when every relative treated her as a burden, it was the church's nuns and clerics who took her in.
She didn't truly understand the "Lord of Holy Light" she worshipped—whether He was real or not didn't matter.
What mattered was that she wanted to protect the people who had once protected her.
To abandon them like Gerhard had—to treat her fellow clerics as burdens and leave them to die—that was something she simply couldn't do.
And so, she stayed—the last extraordinary being left by the church in Heim City.
"All right. Regardless of the reason, I appreciate your aid," Hel said at last.
Seeing Vivian's uneasy expression, Hel realized she was taking her anger out on the wrong person and softened her tone.
"Thank you for your understanding, my lord."
"Still," Hel continued, "you alone are enough. Have the regular clerics stay in the city to help maintain order. Stability inside the walls is just as important."
"Yes, my lord."
Vivian didn't argue.
Here, Hel was both the lord and the commander.
The church had come to assist—so they would follow her orders.
After organizing the clerics' duties, Vivian returned to Hel, ready to offer further help.
But Hel gave no new instructions.
Instead, she reclined in her chair, waiting silently.
Before long, Lily arrived after finishing her own tasks.
"Everything's arranged, young master," she reported.
"Well done," Hel said. "Now—how far have the beastmen advanced?"
"The northern Ashton County has completely fallen," Lily replied, pulling a rolled-up map from her cloak and spreading it across Hel's lap.
"At present, the beastmen are crossing the Ashton Bridge and moving toward our domain."
Hel studied the crude map.
Geographically speaking, the Heim Territory was actually quite defensible.
To the west lay the Black Mountains; to the south, the Monster Forest.
The north and east were separated from the rest of the region by the Black River.
The only bridge connecting them to the outside world linked directly to the north—through Ashton County.
In other words, anyone who wanted to invade Heim would first have to take Ashton.
That explained why, despite the Mandrake Principality already losing so much territory,
the beastmen still hadn't reached them—yet.