40 - The Outcome Of A Certain Battlefield

Those who had gathered to defeat a single monster now walked the highway like wraiths.

Not a single person spoke.

One mercenary had brought along the decoy carriage used for the poisoned bait, which at least allowed them to carry the seriously injured. Yet in the face of this devastation, such a thing was far too small to be called “fortunate.”

Their march, full of dragging footsteps, moved at a crawl, and it was not until the morning of the second day that they finally returned to the town of Lecole.

The following day, Arngail, the guildmaster of the mercenary guild, read a letter with a grave expression.

Its contents were not so much accusations as outright scapegoating.

The knight who had commanded the lord’s army placed the blame for the expedition’s failure squarely on the mercenary guild.

According to him: “The mercenary guild withheld information about the new species of monster, and because of this, our side suffered heavy losses. Though we fought bravely to reduce the number of dead, more than half of our soldiers were already wounded, leaving us unable to counterattack and forcing our retreat.”

In reality, only eighteen soldiers had died. Out of 557, 456 had been wounded. By any measure, the number of dead was abnormally low.

The knights insisted this was due to their own “valiant efforts.”

The lord accepted this claim, and thus the failure of the subjugation mission was pinned on the mercenary guild.

The company Dawn’s Battlefield, which had actual combat experience against the new species, was singled out for penalties.

And those penalties were written clearly in this very letter.

“Ridiculous! We gave them every scrap of information we had!”

Arngail kicked his chair in fury.

But since it was the lord’s order, the guild had no power to refuse.

Since the great war against the Empire, there had been no large-scale conflicts. In that time, the mercenary guild’s standing had steadily worsened.

The kingdom had even tried to eliminate the danger of mercenaries gathering private armies.

To survive, the guild had accepted state oversight.

This was the result.

Mercenaries had become convenient sacrificial pawns for leaders who wished to shirk responsibility.

And the guild was forced to take part in concealing the truth.

“Must I deliver this news again…”

Arngail glared bitterly at the letter on his desk.

It was impossible for half-crippled companies to defeat a calamity-class monster.

This was, in effect, a death sentence—a neat scapegoating, the wiping away of responsibility. The outcome would inevitably be written off as: “a mercenary company lured by a high reward was annihilated by its own poor judgment.”

All of it would proceed on paper, and in time, be forgotten.

Another mercenary company would vanish, and Arngail could do nothing but grind his teeth.

In the town of Lecole, the mage Diera wandered the stalls.

She had lost her newly purchased staff in the battle, and spent her treasured mana crystal as well.

And she had gained nothing for it. Now, when searching for a replacement magic focus, her purse was so light she had to prioritize price above all.

She wasn’t starving, but magical tools were expensive by nature.

If she wasn’t careful, she might not even have enough to make it back to Seizeria.

So she scrutinized not only shops but even street vendors.

(But the more I think about it, the less sense it makes. Just what was that thing?)

Before she realized it, her thoughts were consumed by the new species of monster.

Monsters were humanity’s enemies. If you didn’t kill them, someone would be killed.

For anyone born in Seizeria, that was common sense.

Since its founding, the Kingdom of Seizeria had been tormented by monsters.

Even those who weren’t hunters—adventurers—inevitably crossed paths with them.

By every measure of her knowledge, experience, and common sense, that monster was abnormal.

She thought of the devastation that would result if it were left unchecked.

But this wasn’t Seizeria. This was the Kingdom of Canaan.

Shaking her head, Diera forced her thoughts to change.

(Orland, he fought it one-on-one, so it’s no surprise he was remembered… but why was I recognized?)

Could monsters really distinguish individuals by face or voice?

She tried to recall, but outside of rare exceptions in texts, she had never read of such cases.

Those exceptions were situations where someone had fought countless battles in one place for so long that memory imprinted itself.

So why had it remembered her?

“Could it really be that intelligent?”

She shook her head, denying the words that had slipped out.

That would be the worst-case scenario—one that would undermine the very definition of monsters.

So she considered another angle.

(Some distinctive feature… something easy to remember. My distinctive feature…)

Her eyes lowered.

But no—that was only a human perspective. She looked away from her chest, but then recalled their first encounter.

She had been nearly naked.

And again this time, while struggling in its grasp, her upper body had been nearly bare.

(…It couldn’t be that it remembers me by my chest, right?)

When it had held her, when had its movements stopped?

Why had it refrained from acting?

The thought, absurd as it was, began to feel disturbingly plausible.

“Remembering people by their chest… what a rude creature.”

Diera muttered with a wry smile—just as a familiar figure jogged up.

“The captain is looking for you. Could you return to the base?”

She didn’t recognize him immediately, but after hearing him speak, she remembered seeing him before as a messenger.

Since she had things to discuss anyway, she nodded and let him guide her back to the base of Dawn’s Battlefield.

Lost in thought among the market stalls, she hadn’t even realized where she was.

The young messenger tried to chat her up on the way, but she ignored him until the end.

When Diera arrived, she was led to the same room as before.

There sat Orland, waiting, with Edward beside him holding some papers.

When Diera entered, Edward stepped back to avoid interrupting.

“Seems we both have business. Who first?”

Diera suggested skipping pleasantries and going straight to the point.

Orland gestured, “After you.”

She nodded.

“Then without hesitation—I’ve decided to return to Seizeria. Our contract ends here.”

They listened calmly, as if it were expected.

“In Seizeria, monsters must be killed on sight. The country’s vast lands have been plagued by them since its founding. The village I was born in was swallowed up by monsters. That’s why there are so many hunters. I understand why you want to fight this new species. But it’s beyond me. And beyond you, too. So I’m pulling out. I’ve got what I came for, so there’s no reason to stay. That thing is calamity-class. It’s Canaan’s problem now. As someone from Seizeria, I won’t meddle.”

After hearing her reasoning, Orland spoke.

“There’s another job. An urgent one. We want you with us.”

“No. I’m going home.”

Her refusal was immediate.

She had recovered her magic sword. She had people waiting. She had no intention of staying.

But Orland stopped her.

“That won’t work. We need every hand.”

“That’s not my problem.”

She replied flatly.

Indeed, she had been hired to fight the new species. With no chance of victory, there was no reason to continue.

As a hunter, it pained her to leave a monster unchecked, but she would not take a hopeless job.

At that moment, Edward stepped forward.

“You’re not uninvolved. We’ve been forced into this subjugation as punishment. That includes you.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Edward’s words made her raise her voice.

“Exactly that. You fought as part of Dawn’s Battlefield. If you try to walk away, you’ll be a deserter. You want to return to Seizeria? Do you really think you’ll be allowed out of Canaan?”

Her brow furrowed—trying to comprehend.

Orland added.

“The knight who led the army pinned the failure on us. Now the lord has forced us into another mission. If we run, it’s a crime. Cross the border, and we’ll still be hunted.”

“That’s absurd.”

Diera muttered. But laws changed with borders.

The resignation in their voices made her realize the guild had no power to protect them.

“And besides—the knights were very… interested in your body.”

Edward hinted darkly that they wouldn’t let her slip away.

She understood. If she ran, they’d chase.

She had no choice but to cooperate.

Reluctantly, she asked.

“…What’s the target?”

“The Giant Viper. Also called the Mage Killer.”

Edward smiled as he said it—just before Diera’s fist smashed toward his face.