Episode 24

The regional city of Osten had collapsed. People had died, buildings had fallen, and the city itself had crumbled away. It had completely lost its function as a regional city.

Zeke walked alone through Osten, which looked like the aftermath of a war.

What met his eyes were monster corpses and human deaths. The crimson of massive bloodshed and the stench of death. An ordinary person might have gone mad before such a horrific sight. Even so, Zeke’s feet never stopped.

“Hey, were there any survivors?”

“…Nope. Almost everyone’s dead.”

The conversation of two men, seemingly soldiers, reached his ears.

“Then I guess they’ve mostly been carried to the relief station.”

“…You mean the morgue. No way they’ll live.”

The man sank down to the ground. The bandages wrapped as first aid were dyed red.

“There’s a regimental commander from the capital’s knight order. Some people will surely make it.”

“…He ain’t a real priest. No way it’ll work. Look at how many there are.”

One man tried to encourage the other, but the other showed utter despair. The two stood in stark contrast.

“…Hey, what did we even do? Why did this happen to us?”

No one could answer the exhausted man’s question. Before they were soldiers, they were residents of this city. One day, suddenly, everything in their daily lives had been taken away.

“We never asked for luxury. We were just living peacefully. That should’ve been enough…”

“Yeah. We lived without thinking about anything… maybe that’s why we failed.”

The man looked toward the lost lives. His eyes were clouded with regret, sorrow, and anger mixed together. He masked his helpless feelings by playing the role of a soldier.

The soldiers moved elsewhere. Their backs looked terribly fragile, like tiny flames that could vanish at any moment.

“……”

The relief station where the injured had been gathered. Many people wounded by the monster attack were brought here for treatment. Yet only a small portion could actually receive care. There were not enough priests to treat them. Many of them had also lost their lives in this incident.

“Commander… my apologies…”

“That’s enough. Rest quietly.”

The surviving priest of the Maria Church collapsed as if falling asleep, having exhausted the last of his mana. They were victims before they were saviors. Witnessing this tragedy had likely exhausted them mentally as well.

“…How ironic that a knight like me is the last one left.”

Strohk looked at the injured.

He had continued treatment by prioritizing residents with a chance of survival. Because he understood both the number of priests and mana were finite, this was the best he could do. Yet the number of lives lost far exceeded those saved.

“…Please forgive my powerlessness.”

“Making one-sided excuses to people who can’t talk back? Pathetic.”

An insolent voice he recognized. There were only a few people Strohk knew who carried such a condescending attitude. From the situation alone, he immediately knew the speaker was Zeke.

“Lagias, huh. I heard rumors… so the story about Westen wasn’t nonsense after all.”

“Of course. Like hell I’d screw up the way you people did.”

Despite the strong words, Zeke looked terrible. His clothes were dyed red and dirty with dust. His expression hid it, but his face was pale. Symptoms of mana depletion had appeared.

“…As you can see, we couldn’t save Osten.”

“Hah, don’t flatter yourself. There’s only so much a small human like you could ever do.”

The insults spilled out as naturally as breathing. Whether in peace or crisis, his attitude never changed — and strangely, Strohk found comfort in it now.

“So what are you doing? Enjoying yourself gathering these wounded?”

“I have no such hobby… I prioritized treatment, but we reached the limit. The priests and my mana are exhausted.”

Though a knight by trade, Strohk had mastered healing magic. A knight’s duty was not to fight but to protect — that belief had guided him. Yet reality had been cruel.

“I see. So it couldn’t be helped these pieces of trash would die. At least you understand your own powerlessness.”

“I won’t make excuses. This is my sin.”

Many people had been carried to the relief station. Considering the sudden monster attack, perhaps it was fortunate so many survived. Yet from another perspective, leaving only suffering behind before death — was that misfortune? Strohk no longer knew.

“…Don’t make me repeat myself. The arrogance of a mediocre like you feeling guilt is laughable.”

Zeke stood before the wounded.

He exhaled softly, focused, and began refining his mana.

“What are you planning to do, Lagias?”

If mana ran out, magic could not be used — a fact even children knew.

To recover lost mana, one needed rest, mana supply magic, or potions.

But what Zeke chose was none of those. He attempted to supplement insufficient mana with life force — with life itself as the price.

“Annoying. I don’t want trash dying in front of me.”

Blood burst from Zeke’s body as if something had torn him apart. Blood leaked from his mouth, and a red puddle formed beneath his feet.

“—Angel Veil.”

The moment Zeke whispered, the relief station received a silver blessing.

A faint translucent silver veil gently wrapped around each wounded person. Lost arms and legs returned to their original form, debris embedded in flesh melted away, and fading heartbeats began ticking again.

“This is… Lagias, you—”

What Strohk saw was unlike Zeke’s usual self. Gritting his teeth and breathing heavily, Zeke sacrificed his own life force to maintain the power.

“That power, and that—”

“Shut your mouth.”

Zeke cut him off.

“Forget everything you saw here. That’s an order. If you disobey… I will kill your Eris (daughter).”

“…I have no intention of repaying kindness with betrayal. Besides, I’m off duty and only here by chance. —But allow me to say thank you. Thank you, Zeke.”

Whether he had no intention to converse, or lacked the strength, Zeke said nothing.

“The most hated hero in the country… judging you just because you’re Lagias — we were the real villains.”

A dim ceiling. Night had fully fallen over Osten. Luke woke in an unfamiliar room.

“You’re awake, Luke…”

Still lying down, he looked toward Skinny, who had removed his armor. The fatal wound from Rovinz seemed healed, yet the hole in his clothing around the abdomen forced him to remember — Osten’s tragedy had not been a nightmare.

“How long… since then?”

“About half a day. It’s pitch black outside.”

With no building lights or streetlamps left, Osten must have been darker than usual.

“This is a lodging at the edge of town. One of the few buildings still standing.”

“…Then I shouldn’t monopolize it.”

“It’s fine. You’re injured too. And you did more than enough — hell, more than anyone. Nobody’s gonna complain.”

Skinny spoke bluntly as always, leaning back in his chair lazily staring at the ceiling.

“While you were asleep, reinforcements from Westen arrived. They’re handling relief work while the commander and others rest.”

The reports from the city’s soldiers had been true.

Westen, attacked on the same scale, repelled everything and suffered no damage. Its outcome differed from Osten like heaven and earth.

“Don’t really get it, but apparently the wounded they found pulled through. Some insanely skilled priest showed up.”

“…But from the perspective of the dead, only a tiny fraction were saved.”

“…Don’t ruin it. Having survivors is better than none.”

Luke sat up.

When he spread his hands, they seemed stained red. A crimson sin that could never be washed away dug into his heart.

“Wanna guess what you’re thinking? That if Zeke had come here, things would’ve changed — right?”

“……”

“Tch. What-ifs are pointless. Yeah, Osten might’ve been safe if he came. But then Westen would’ve suffered instead. You saying saving the east is all that matters?”

“—! I didn’t say that! I just—”

“Yeah, I know you didn’t. …We just couldn’t save them.”

Luke wasn’t the only one lamenting his weakness. Skinny felt the same. Nahal, Brink, Strohk — and surely Zeke too.

“I saw that guy two years ago and this time. Even talked a bit. What I felt was… he looked like he was hurting. And he’s a monster.”

“…What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. He saved a city alone without casualties. Wiping out a monster army solo — that’s a monster.”

Luke had seen many people badmouth Zeke, judging him with nothing but speculation. Yet strangely, he sensed no malice in Skinny’s words.

“You’re a genius. If a mediocre guy like me says it, it’s true.”

He had started hearing that word — genius — after joining the knight order. Before that, a real one had always been beside him.

“But… even if you’re a genius, you can’t become a monster.”

He began hearing “monster” after Zeke started acting alone.

“A genius is born because they’re with ordinary people. Stay alone long enough, and you become a monster.”

Apion, the capital, the entrance exam, Westen — Zeke had fought alone every time. He hid honesty behind harsh words and never showed weakness. No one truly stood beside him.

“Whether he stays a monster or becomes a genius — that depends on you.”

Skinny grabbed nuts from the desk and complained they were salty.

“I don’t know why you became a knight. But is that something you can just give up? If not… then do it.”

The feeling dropped straight into Luke’s chest. His chaotic emotions settled. A ray of light pierced the darkness.

“…Are you comforting me?”

“Huh? You’ve been sulking forever. …Tch, I’m leaving. Gotta stop Nahal already.”

According to Skinny, Nahal was working with the relief squad — because of what Zeke told him.

“—Thanks. Always.”

Skinny slammed the door behind him.

“Skinny’s right. I… can’t give up. And I still haven’t repaid my debt.”

Stronger than anyone, harsher than anyone, foul-mouthed yet kinder than anyone — his awkward best friend. To help him, repay him, and someday stand proudly beside him, Luke wished to grow stronger.

He knew Zeke hid something. But it didn’t matter. He would wait until the day Zeke spoke.

Even if their positions had changed, he would keep moving until they crossed paths again.

Luke’s knight’s path was still only halfway.