Could it be that the great tornado of war had swept through this place?The war had brought with it a terrifying inferno—the city, stripped of its former beauty and completely destroyed,looked like an enormous graveyard.Everywhere I looked, there were bodies unburied, rotting, and reeking of decay—and refugees who had lost every last trace of hope.
As I looked around the ruined city, a fierce winter wind—its origin unknown—swept through as though mocking the dead and the living alike.The wind, sharp as a blade, scraped across my face.Watching the corpses and refugees, a storm of emotions rose within me,and I felt an unbearable urge to leave this place.
There was not even a hint of defense left in the city—regretfully, it was a reality I had to accept.My vision blurred.Tears welled up, and soon, unable to hold their weight, they began to fall.
This city, filled only with the suffering of war, had nothing left for me to see.The longer I stayed, the more I could do nothing but weep.I longed to return to my wife and daughter—perhaps, if only for a moment, I could recall fragments of memoryand summon their faces, as though remembering something long forgotten.I walked on and on, soothing my aching legs,hurrying to leave the city behind.
Leaving both the dead and the living behind, I finally reached the edge of the city—but whether it was sorrow for the city that had lost its former glory and become ruins,or some nameless grief of unknown weight,an indescribable despair welled up in my chest.
I stopped and gazed at the city for a long time.It looked so cold and lonely that I wanted to embrace it—yet even as I longed to hold it close, I could not,and the helplessness of that made me feel utterly miserable.
"Kyah!"
Just as I was about to take a step toward where my wife and daughter might be,a desperate scream from a woman tore through the air.It wasn't the scream itself that shook me—it was the familiar presence I felt from that direction,a presence I could never mistake.It was Veltis, my old friend.Drawn like a moth to a flame, I hurried toward the soundand the faint echo of that presence.It wasn't some trivial impulse born of heroism—it was the instinctive pull of reunion.
From that direction, I felt a sudden surge of something I hadn't felt in years—a strong, unmistakable connection.My leg throbbed in pain, but I followed the presenceuntil I reached a crowd of refugees gathered in a circle.Surely the woman who had screamed was there among them.I hadn't wanted to involve myself in matters that weren't mine—but the moment I stepped into the circle,a rush of anger and disgust hit me, shaking the foundations of my reason.
"Damn it…"
The wind, sharp as a silver whip, cut through the air—yet a woman trapped by her attackers stood frozen in fear and shock, unable to move.
Among the surrounding refugees, no one had the will to help her.Perhaps she had already resigned herself to her fate.She wrapped her thin arms around her body, resisting nothing but the cold.
"This woman betrayed our Beldoras!" one of the assailants shouted,gripping her hair tightly.Her head swung helplessly in his grasp like a reed in the wind.
"She betrayed Beldoras and aided the Rubenis and Glaveron forces!That's why our kingdom fell into ruin!" he roared, shaking her even harder.
The man didn't stop.The refugees looked away, unwilling to interfere.They had no interest in truth—no concern for justice.I could tell his accusations were lies.They were simply trying to heal their own scars,to soothe their pain and loss by tormenting someone weaker.
"We'll execute this traitor of Beldoras before your eyes!"
I raised my Guidance Sword.Supporting myself on my aching leg, I prepared to charge.I wanted to save her—even if I faced a group of battle-hardened veterans alone,even if the chance of survival was close to none,I wanted to save her.Even if I had to die, I wanted to save her.
I had come here because, somewhere beyond this moment, someone would be watching—I hoped that whoever watched would understand my choice.
"Kill her!"
As I prepared to move, one of the refugees who had been silent suddenly shouted.
"Kill her!" "Kill her!"
Mob mentality is one of humanity's greatest poisons—isn't it?And now it had exploded before my eyes.One voice became many, echoing in unison—each call feeding the next until the air itself seemed to vibrate with bloodlust.
"Kill her!" "Kill her!"
No one questioned whether she was truly a traitor.No one cared for truth.The crowd wanted her dead.Even the woman herself, so frail and emaciated, seemed ready to crumble—her face devoid of color, her eyes empty,as though she too wished for death.
"Kill her!" "Kill her!"
It was a horrifying sight—humanity abandoned.Perhaps, for us, the people of Beldoras,who had endured generations of political strife and existential fearon the continent of Ardelia,such cruelty was almost instinct.
And with Rubenis—our former brothers—invading,and the Helprism attacks burning through everything,a chilling realization gripped me.Maybe this witch hunt was inevitable.Maybe this madness was something that could happen to anyone—even to my wife and daughter.
"Kill her!" "Kill her!"
I could no longer stand by.I charged toward the assailants—they were nothing but twisted men, feeding on the suffering of the weak,creatures who had nothing to do with justice or the war itself.
"Kyah!"
As the shouts of the crowd grew louder, the attackers began beating the woman.The sight shattered what little composure I had left.I rushed forward.
Crack.
One of the attackers yanked her head violently.A glint of steel hovered near her neck.The woman, surrendering to her fate, slowly closed her dim eyes.
"Kill her." "Kill her."
I lunged, but as I did, several of the attackers caught sight of me.Their eyes widened as they saw the Guidance Sword clenched in my hands.
"They're Glaveron soldiers!" someone cried.
In the distance, bloodstained figures appeared—Glaveron soldiers, rifles at the ready.My instincts screamed for me to take cover, warning me of the danger.
"They're Glaveron soldiers!"
The soldiers advanced slowly, scanning the crowd with calm, deliberate eyes.Their movements were almost casual—as if mocking everyone there.
They reached the men who had been attacking the woman.The assailants flinched, fear washing over their faces as they stumbled backward.The woman, who had been on the verge of death moments earlier,crawled away in panic, trying to escape.
Finally, the Glaveron soldiers stopped before the trembling men—a tense silence fell over the square.It was as if time itself had frozen.The men who had moments ago screamed for blood now stood motionless,their faces drained of color, their bodies paralyzed by fear.
They could do nothing but stare at the soldiers in their blood-soaked uniforms—eyes wide with horror, realizing that this time, they were the prey.