Chapter 315: No More Starvation
"Rita, Durandal… you two…"
"Lady Kongming," Durandal said, placing a steady hand on her shoulder, her brilliant jade-blue eyes unwavering, "sacrifice has never been avoidable. What matters is why we sacrifice, and what we stand to gain."
"…Have you thought about their families? Haven't enough people died in the two previous Beast Wars?"
"In the first war, I was the one who led the charge," Durandal replied without hesitation. "Three hundred thousand troops laid down their lives on my command. And this time, I'll be the first to step onto the battlefield again. The only thing I can guarantee… is victory."
"Don't you have nightmares?"
"Every night since that day."
Durandal's voice was as calm as ever.
If there really was a world beyond death where sins were judged—a realm of underworld justice—then she would willingly carry that crushing weight, suffer flaying, impalement, oil cauldrons, whatever it took. She had already accepted her fate.
Because that was simply the kind of person she was.
Zhuge Kongming lowered her head, clenched her fists, and said nothing more.
Rita reached out, gently patting Kongming's head, letting out a long, quiet sigh. But even she couldn't offer comfort. Though they were close, Rita's stance on this matter was completely aligned with Durandal's.
Sigurd leaned back on the golden throne, one hand tapping its armrest, the other propping up his head.
"There's one more thing you all need to consider," he said casually. "You already know we're not from this world. Sooner or later, we'll return to our own. If I step in now and eliminate a threat that you could defeat with enough effort… what then? You won't always have me to rely on. If you truly want to protect this nation long-term, you need to be self-reliant. You need to face threats yourselves."
Though his tone was idle, the weight of those words hit all three of them hard.
Yes… Sigurd would leave eventually. And once he was gone, could they really maintain control over this new world order? Could they steer this ship without running it aground?
That creeping doubt gripped them. Sigurd saw it in their eyes but said nothing more.
He understood: they had to grow. They had to learn how to read the tides of the new era and master it. If they couldn't… that was their problem to deal with. He already had his hands full dealing with the End itself—he couldn't afford to worry about the future of a tiny bubble world.
Suddenly, Sigurd turned his gaze toward the palace gates.
There, climbing the brilliantly lit steps with defiant swagger, was Senti—Kiana slung limply over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Yo! Everyone's here? Perfect. Someone take this one home—I've never been to her place, no idea where it is."
Senti sauntered forward, stepping boldly across the ceremonial threshold and over the imperial dais. With a practiced motion, she dumped Kiana unceremoniously onto the table in front of Sigurd.
The action looked rough, but her control was perfect—Kiana didn't feel a thing. She just instinctively curled up and began sucking her thumb, snoring softly with a satisfied hum.
"…Huh? Why's it so quiet in here? What were you all talking about?"
Senti dusted her hands off and rolled her shoulders, looking around the room at the four oddly solemn faces.
Sigurd got up, leaned over, and gave Kiana's soft cheek a gentle poke. He didn't answer Senti's question and instead asked:
"She drank too much?"
"Yup. She nearly ended up hugging a streetlight and barfing her guts out."
"Did you drink?"
"Of course not! And why are you even asking me? As if I believe for a second you weren't watching me!"
Senti pointed at Sigurd's face, clearly annoyed.
Sigurd sighed and replied:
"If you're not out murdering and pillaging, why would I waste time watching you?"
"So… you only watch me when I'm violent? You're not keeping an eye on me the rest of the time?"
Senti blinked in confusion, a little caught off guard by the idea.
Did she… misunderstand Sigurd?
Was he not as overbearing as she'd imagined?
Sigurd shook his head.
"Don't forget, that body of yours once belonged to Fu Hua. I wouldn't go snooping into a friend's privacy for no reason. As long as you're not doing anything crazy, I won't deliberately track your movements."
"Ah… I see."
Senti scratched her head, a little embarrassed.
She'd been secretly convinced all this time that Sigurd had been monitoring her nonstop—and not in a flattering way either. She'd mentally labeled him a paranoid creep more times than she could count.
If she'd gotten him wrong all along… then she was definitely the one in the wrong.
Trying to change the subject, Senti shifted awkwardly.
And then, as if summoned by the silence, fragments of Kiana's drunken rambling drifted back into her mind.
A faint gloom settled in her chest. She rapped her knuckles lightly against her head and asked, "Hey, Sigurd… has anyone starved to death in this country recently?"
"No," Sigurd answered simply.
"Food shortages were the deadliest, most difficult issue in feudal times. That's why the Central Core's first priority was grain production and distribution. Once a third of the central network was deployed, starvation ceased entirely. Why do you ask?"
"Because of that drunk over there," Senti gestured toward the sleeping Kiana, "before she passed out, she kept crying about all the people she'd seen starve to death. She sat on the ground and sobbed like a kid… Anyway, it's good that it's been solved. Sigurd, you're amazing at this kind of stuff. Back when I was guarding Shenzhou, we had more famine deaths than I could count every single year. If someone like you had been around back then… things might have turned out better."
She tilted her head up and let out a wistful sigh.
Senti couldn't even say exactly why she was feeling so upset. Those people were just ants—insignificant lives, unworthy of her concern. Whether they lived or died had nothing to do with her.
And yet…
After hearing Kiana's grief, after remembering those scenes from old Shenzhou… she just felt off. A sick, uncomfortable tightness had settled in her chest.
Sigurd was silent for a moment. When he looked at Senti again, his gaze was gentler than before.
Below them, the three others were visibly shaken by the conversation.
No more people starving to death…
Such a thing, to those who grew up in the shadow of feudalism, sounded like something out of a fairy tale. An impossible dream.
But they knew now—it was real.
Rita looked down at the peacefully sleeping Kiana, her expression soft.
"I remember that," she said quietly.
"It happened when Lady Kiana was still very young. She had a wild streak back then—hated being cooped up in the palace all day, always ignoring the late emperor's orders and sneaking out to play."
"That year, the north was trapped in endless snow, and the south suffered devastating floods. Agriculture collapsed, and refugees filled the streets. Even the imperial city couldn't keep up with aid requests.
"Lady Kiana went out one day during all that… and saw people who had starved to death. According to the palace's daily logs, she refused to eat for three days after that. Not because she was throwing a tantrum or rejecting the palace meals, but because she was secretly wrapping up her food and sneaking it outside the walls to share with the starving refugees. She only stopped when she collapsed from hunger herself."
Rita spoke with gentle reverence, and both Durandal and Kongming were stunned—completely unprepared for this side of Kiana.
The Kiana they knew always acted like a carefree slacker—irresponsible, impulsive, unreliable.
But apparently… there was more to her than met the eye.
Unseen by any of them, the sleeping Kiana twitched slightly, her eyelids fluttering faintly. Inside her shoes, her toes curled gently.
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