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72.63% Reborn As Papa Silva / Chapter 69: Their Story (19): The Integration

Chapitre 69: Their Story (19): The Integration

Town Hall, Main Entrance:

Sebastian's group didn't enter the Town Hall immediately upon their arrival. When they reached the staircase leading into one of Kiten's few still-standing and unscathed structures, they found a small gathering already waiting by the doorstep.

A group of Magic Knights and Kiten civilians flanked the man standing at the center, drawing all attention to him. He wore a Purple Orca's uniform—worn and torn—but still carried himself with dignity and power, albeit in a manner distinct from Nathaniel's.

If Acier's father was reserved, imposing, and chilly, this man seemed flamboyant, with combed purple hair and glistening dark blue eyes. Seemed was the keyword, because that impression was no longer true—or perhaps never had been. His ostentatious appearance no longer reflected his personality.

Perhaps he still styled himself brightly and sharply out of habit, a reflex of decades of lavish aristocratic grooming. But that polish now extended only to his appearance. Whatever narcissism or entitled pride he might once have had seemed to have been eroded by months spent fighting on the front lines. The battle-hardened reality of war had cracked his once pampered shell, leaving behind a seasoned veteran.

If, a year ago, he had been a typical outspoken, sociable, and pandering aristocrat, now he was blunt, no-nonsense, and focused—though not to Nathaniel's extreme. Still, he had little patience for humor or frivolity.

The grotesque scar wrapping diagonally across his face reinforced this transformation, presenting him as someone who discouraged unnecessary conversation. Perhaps the battle that gave him the scar had also stripped away his hubris and served as a wake-up call. If he wanted to survive and secure victory for his kingdom, he had to change—and so he had.

This man was Mikael Vortigarn, the current captain of the Purple Orcas, one of two Captains overseeing Clover's side of the war effort. He was also one of the few reasons Kiten, and much more, had not yet fallen to Diamond.

Vortigarn wasted no time. The moment Sebastian's group arrived, he folded his arms behind his back and spoke plainly, his tone almost bored and routine.

"Are there any medical mages amongst this cell?" His words suggested urgency, but his tone betrayed none.

Processing the question, the group immediately parted to reveal Sebastian standing at the back.

Sebastian exchanged a brief, wordless glance with Acier before stepping forward to the head of the group and saluting respectfully.

"I'm here, sir!"

Vortigarn's gaze lingered on Sebastian's hair for the briefest, almost imperceptible moment before he nodded indifferently. Without turning, he gestured toward one of the civilians at his side and gave a soft order.

"Follow him to your station."

"Yes, sir!"

Sebastian didn't ask any questions. He broke into a jog, veering right to follow the civilian, who was nearly sprinting and picking up pace.

Sebastian's back ached slightly; he wasn't built for this kind of endurance, especially while carrying the heavy load of his backpack. Still, he didn't complain. This was no time to risk making a poor first impression.

Without sparing another glance at the pair disappearing into the distance, Vortigarn turned his attention back to the remaining group of about thirty and parted his lips to speak.

"I will not be voicing any empty, perfunctory words of gratitude for your arrival. We have none—I have none. The only reinforcements we wished to see are those arriving in Silver Eagle or Crimson Lion uniforms, and you are not them."

Vortigarn didn't give them even a second to let his words sink in before continuing.

"Though we've long given up holding that prayer."

He couldn't quite suppress the sneer in his voice. Acier noted the looks of frustration—and, dare she say, betrayal—on the faces of the Magic Knights and civilians flanking him. Her fist clenched involuntarily at the sight.

A moment later, Vortigarn scratched his chin and continued, his tone heavy with grim resolve.

"I'm also not in the mood to make some grandiose speech of hope or encouragement. This place is hell on earth. Hope? There is none. And even if it does exist, it's not something someone like me can give you. If you want to increase your chances of surviving, don't wander out alone at night, stay away from the walls, and don't become a problem we'll have to dispose of or discard because you're more trouble than you're worth."

The atmosphere grew heavier with each word, but Vortigarn seemed oblivious, or perhaps indifferent, as he carried on. His voice now carried a faint note of exhaustion.

"If you want to eat a meal every day, earn it by stacking up merit in your stations and becoming someone indispensable. Prove your worth to the point where losing you would be a loss to us. There are too many mouths to feed and too little food. I'm telling you this now for your own good: survival here is a competition, not a unified effort. Everyone around you is not a friend but a fellow competitor. Outshine them if you don't want to starve. Understood?"

The group collectively swallowed, their unease palpable, and stiffly nodded. If Vortigarn's goal had been to inspire morale and unity, he had done a splendid job indeed.

The Purple Orca captain showed no outward reaction to the creeping unease and dark, guarded looks on their faces. Instead, he impassively began pointing to the civilians beside him.

"All blacksmiths and armorers, go with him."

"Carpenters and master builders, with her."

"Anyone who knows their way around a kitchen, with her."

"Anyone who knows how to work a farm or garden, with him."

Soon, the group of thirty had dwindled to four people: Acier and three men ranging in age from their twenties to their thirties.

Vortigarn pointed at the men, then at a Magic Knight in a Blue Rose robe standing beside him.

"You three, follow her to report for guard duty."

In the past, those three might have argued, insisting they were here to fight—that was what they had signed up for, after all. Soldiers on the front lines earned the highest rewards, and surely they received special privileges, like guaranteed meals. After all, you couldn't fight on an empty stomach, right?

But after witnessing the mass carnage the moment they arrived, they immediately understood the reality: the risks far outweighed the rewards. It didn't matter if soldiers were promised food if they were blasted to bits before dinnertime.

The three men, all peasants, harbored no excessive arrogance or pride. If anything, they lacked it entirely, doubting their magic would suffice to survive on the front lines. To them, this reassignment felt like a merciful reprieve from a fate they hadn't fully understood when they enlisted.

Bowing in gratitude to Vortigarn, they hurried after the Blue Rose Knight, chasing after her like she was their lifeline.

Now, it was just Acier left. She looked up at Vortigarn, who was now surrounded by only a handful of Magic Knights. They, along with the captain, regarded her with complex expressions.

Their gazes lingered on her silver hair and other clear signs of her lineage.

A moment passed before Vortigarn ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated.

"Look, Princess, I've spoken to your father, and I understand why you're here. But this has nothing to do with you. You bear no blame or responsibility for the politics chaining our fellow knights to the capital. You don't need to be here."

Acier stayed silent, her expression unreadable, as Vortigarn continued.

"Just as there are rules to everything, there are also exceptions. We can make an exception for you. Now that you've seen the reality of the situation, do you wish to return home?"

Acier didn't answer directly but instead asked her own question.

"Does Sebastian get to leave?"

Vortigarn shook his head.

"We need healers."

Healers were the lifeblood of the war effort. In fact, a motion had already been proposed in the capital to forcefully conscript anyone discovered with recovery magic. It hadn't yet passed, mired in the chaos of civil strife engulfing the royal courts.

As soon as Vortigarn gave his answer, Acier nodded.

"Then I'm staying. I brought Sebby here; I don't get to leave without him."

Vortigarn narrowed his eyes but didn't relent.

"And you wish to fight? On the front lines..." He trailed off, gesturing to the grotesque scar marring his face. "You understand that it's a place where even someone like me can die at any moment?"

Acier nodded firmly, then saluted with three fingers.

"Yes, sir! Please treat me like any other subordinate!"

The eyes of the Magic Knights surrounding Vortigarn glimmered briefly with a hint of approval, but that was all. They had seen too much, endured too much, and lost too much to let something like this stir any real emotion.

They were faintly impressed that a princess was willing to set aside her safety to do her part in the war, but it didn't go beyond that.

Acier was known as a magical prodigy, but genius alone wasn't enough in a war like this. A prodigy could only become more than a prodigy only if they lived long enough to grow. This war had claimed the lives of many such geniuses, and Acier could easily become just another statistic.

What they truly needed were established powerhouses like Ignatius and Nathaniel. Even their presence wouldn't guarantee victory—only a brief reprieve and a lighter burden.

Unbeknownst to most of the Clover Kingdom, the captain of the Blue Rose had fallen in battle months ago, swiftly replaced by her vice-captain. This news was tightly controlled, not even reported to the royal courts, to prevent mass panic. Only Nathaniel and Ignatius were privy to the truth. Even Augustus, the current Lord Kira, was kept in the dark.

Given the grim reality, no one showered Acier with perfunctory praise or attempted to curry favor. Most of the knights didn't care for noble networking anymore. Many no longer even thought of themselves as nobles—just soldiers waiting for death, silently counting their remaining days.

No one dared to hope that Acier's presence signaled a shift in the capital or that reinforcements like the Silver Eagles or Nathaniel would arrive soon.

They didn't try to cozy up to her, viewing it as pointless. Few believed they would ever return home to resume their lives as nobility. Why waste precious energy on exhausting noble habits when all they truly wanted was to eat and sleep?

All that happened was a slight warming to Acier's presence. They would treat her like a comrade, and that was all she could ask for—acceptance.

Frustration with royalty wasn't limited to peasants and commoners. Many nobles, especially those fighting on the front lines or with loved ones in Kiten, shared the sentiment. Most of the blame fell on the Kira family, but royalty as a whole bore the brunt of their anger.

For Acier, even a modicum of acceptance was more than she expected.

Vortigarn scrutinized her for a moment, then nodded. Turning to his side, he pointed at a man in a Purple Orca uniform standing beside him—a nondescript figure with brown hair and hazel eyes.

"Vice-Captain, place her in your unit."

"Yes, sir!"

The vice-captain saluted sharply, and Vortigarn gave Acier one last glance before turning on his heels and stomping back into the Town Hall.

Sebastian was led to a towering, spiraling building. He could see countless wounded individuals soaked in blood, wearing makeshift casts fashioned from rags, gathered in a long queue. Some were being led or hauled in and out of the structure, their priority seemingly determined by the extent of their injuries.

Narrowing his eyes, Sebastian wondered, Is this the hospital?

Without hesitation, he bypassed the line entirely, ignoring the gazes trailing him, and stepped swiftly into the building.

Panting as he climbed several flights of stairs without pausing for breath, he finally stopped on the fifth floor. His silent guide, who hadn't spoken a single word during the journey, gestured toward a wooden door with a nod of his head. Without sparing Sebastian another glance, the man turned and hurried back down the stairs.

Sebastian didn't argue. He took a deep breath to steady himself before stepping forward.

The moment he approached the door, he gagged as an unbearable stench hit him. The nauseating mix of blood, vomit, and gore assaulted his senses, and the screams and moans of pain from the other side only heightened his dread.

Nothing in his near year of experience as a street doctor had prepared him for this. The foul smell and the sheer weight of trepidation made his stomach churn.

He didn't want to imagine what horrors lay beyond the door. Suppressing the overwhelming urge to retreat, he gritted his teeth and shot his hand forward, gripping the handle tightly. Refusing to let his imagination take over and scare him away, he yanked the door open.

Instantly, he regretted it.

The stench that had seeped through the door earlier was nothing compared to the overwhelming wave of rot and decay that now crashed into him. He fought the urge to vomit, to recoil, and instead forced himself to step inside and shut the door behind him, trapping himself within this hellscape.

The floor was stained—not just with blood but with urine, vomit, feces, saliva, and other unidentifiable substances.

Pinching his nose, Sebastian reached into his satchel, pulling out a shabby surgical mask he had thankfully packed for the trip. He was grateful he was smart enough to seek advice from the House Silva doctor who had assessed his condition months ago when he collasped, guiding him on what to prepare.

Hurriedly securing the mask over his face, he felt a momentary relief as his nostrils were spared the full onslaught of the stench. He wiped his stinging, watering eyes and surveyed the grim scene before him.

Nurses and assistants dragged bloodied objects in carts and on stretchers. At first, Sebastian thought they were tools or equipment, but a closer look revealed the truth—they were bodies.

Corpses, to be precise, still clad in the robes of various Magic Knight squads. Some were missing arms or legs, others parts of their faces. Some were decapitated entirely. Others were little more than torsos, their organs spilling out of gaping wounds. Blood still trickled from some of the corpses, but they were carted away all the same, stacked like discarded refuse in a corner.

The pile of flesh and bone was horrifying—a grotesque mountain of death, cleared away to make space for the frantic doctors and nurses desperately trying to save those who still had a chance.

But not everyone was granted that chance.

The living who were deemed beyond saving were abandoned where they lay, left to face their fate alone.

The air was filled with shouting and chaos as healers, apothecaries, doctors, and nurses barked orders and pleaded for assistance. They screamed at one another to fetch supplies, begged the wounded to stay conscious, and urged them to hold on.

Many of those pleas fell on deaf ears.

Sebastian snapped out of his frozen state, clenching his fists as he pushed through his apprehension. Without hesitation, he tossed his bag against the wall, the sound catching the attention of one of the scrambling nurses.

She was a young woman with curly lavender hair and pink eyes. Perhaps, under different circumstances, her features might have been considered beautiful. But the pallor of her blood-smeared skin and the heavy bags under her eyes made her look more like a ghost—or a cursed spirit.

She wasted no time getting in Sebastian's face, her voice hoarse but tinged with hope.

"Please tell me you can use recovery magic!" she begged.

Her desperation was palpable. She didn't need another nurse or assistant; she needed a healer.

Sebastian nodded swiftly, and the flicker of hope in her eyes grew brighter. She pointed across the room at two stretchers, each holding a wounded figure.

"I-I've patched their wounds as best as I could with bandages and cloth, but all the other healers are occupied. They can't wait much longer. Please, save them!"

Even before she finished, Sebastian was already moving. He darted to the stretchers, positioning himself between them. His grimoire flew out of his satchel, pages flipping until it stopped at the first spell.

Water Recovery Magic: Hands of Salvation.

His hands were slowly encased in aqua blue squirming bubbles of water.

As he prepared to cast, both hands poised over the wounded, his right hand froze. He hesitated, turning his back on the woman lying on the stretcher to his right. She wore the robes of the Blue Rose squad, her empty eyes staring at him. A gaping hole in her abdomen made it clear her time was short. Instead, Sebastian focused on the man lying beside her, bringing both hands down over him.

"W-what are you doing?!" the nurse cried, her voice sharp with alarm. "She doesn't have much longer—"

"She's too far gone," Sebastian cut her off, his tone detached as he kept his back to the dying woman. "There's nothing I can do. I'm sorry."

In truth, Sebastian was astounded she was still alive in her condition.

The nurse froze, the flicker of hope in her eyes dimming rapidly. She bit her lip, refusing to give up as she pleaded, "Please... please... I-I can't lose another one... you have to try—"

"He's... r-right..."

The nurse spun toward the dying woman, who sputtered a mouthful of blood as she spoke weakly.

"Don't... waste... time... on... me... please... save... my..."

Her words trailed off as her breath failed. Her grimoire disintegrated into motes of light, vanishing into nothingness. She was gone.

The nurse stared at the lifeless body for a moment, her own expression hollow. Without a word, she pulled the stretcher away, dragging the corpse toward the growing pile of the dead.

The man Sebastian was tending to stirred awake, his gaze locking onto the departing body. His anguished cries shattered the silence.

"Dammit... dammit! Why me? Why am I still alive? Why not her?! Alicia... Alicia... Come back to me... please, I'm begging you!"

In the Blue Rose squad, most men served as assistants or performed menial tasks for the women. This man was no exception—a disowned noble who endured the humiliation to provide for himself.

He never imagined he would fall in love, let alone have his feelings reciprocated. Yet, against all odds, Alicia had returned his love. But none of that mattered now.

Their hopes, dreams, and future had ended on the battlefield when Alicia took the fatal blow meant for him.

He had abandoned his unit in the chaos, ignoring the cries of his leader and squadmates. Hoisting her bleeding body, he had pushed through his own injuries, carrying her back to safety in a desperate bid to save her.

Collapsing unconscious from blood loss at the hospital's doorstep, he had been rushed inside.

But all his efforts had been in vain.

Perhaps, he thought bitterly, this was his retribution.

Bloody, snot-streaked tears ran down the man's face as he cried and trembled.

"If… only I was stronger…!!! Why am I so useless?!"

He looked up at Sebastian, his eyes dull and lifeless, matching the vacant stare of the nurse. Sebastian felt like he was looking into a mirror—broken, hollow, and consumed by a void.

"Doctor... please stop... let me die..." the man whispered.

He had given up. Alicia was gone, and with her, the last reason he had to keep going. He was done—with life, with everything.

Sebastian paused, meeting the man's gaze. He didn't utter any hollow platitudes or self-righteous words like "You need to live for her" or "Treasure the life she gave her own for." He knew nothing of their story, their struggles, or their pain. Saying such things would be hypocritical.

Because if their roles were reversed—if that woman were Acier—Sebastian knew he'd feel the same way.

So he said nothing. Instead, he silently returned to treating the man, focusing on saving his life. That was his job.

The man's trembling hand hovered, ready to push Sebastian's arm away, but he froze as Sebastian's indifferent voice reached him.

"If you want to die, that's fine. But make sure it at least means something. Is the one who killed her still alive?"

The man stiffened. His mind was suddenly flooded with the memory of that cackling bastard who had punched a crystalline fist straight through Alicia's abdomen. He remembered the sadist's maniacal laughter, the smug glee of a monster reveling in carnage.

The man didn't know if that bastard was still alive, but he was willing to bet everything he was. Still cackling. Still slaughtering.

He clenched his fists. That's right… if I'm going to die… I need to take him down with me first!

A spark reignited in his eyes—not one fueled by hope or life, but by vengeance.

Sebastian and the man both watched in silence as his grimoire flew out, flipping to a blank page. Lines of glowing script rapidly filled it as the grimoire reacted to his intent.

The man read the spell to himself, a twisted grin spreading across his face. His laughter rang out, wild and unhinged. If he could see himself now, he'd recognize that he had become a reflection of the very monster who killed Alicia. He knew it, too.

This would've scared her, he thought. This would've made her heart ache.

But he didn't care.

Vengeance wasn't for others; it was to soothe oneself.

He no longer lived for Alicia. He lived to kill. And that was fine by him.

Sebastian didn't judge. Before Acier, he had lived solely to kill Nicklaus and avenge Aurora. He wasn't in a position to pass judgment.

So he remained silent as the man's laughter echoed around the room. Sebastian simply observed, expression unreadable, as he retracted his hands. The man's injuries were sufficiently mended. Sebastian wiped his hands clean with a cloth handed to him by the nurse.

The man turned to Sebastian, his grin eerie and devilish. "Thank you, Doctor. I know what I must do."

Sebastian said nothing.

The man didn't wait for a response. He tucked his grimoire into his satchel and left, his dark visage unchanging as he disappeared from view.

The nurse, who had been watching the entire exchange, remained silent. She turned her head to meet Sebastian's gaze for a brief moment before spinning on her heel and walking toward the mountain of corpses. Her task was to catalog and identify the dead.

Sebastian stood still. He had saved a life. He had done his job. He had given that life the will to linger a little longer.

And because he had done nothing wrong, she said nothing.

Sebastian sighed inwardly as he moved from the stretchers, his steps mechanical. He followed the scent of blood and the frantic shouts of nurses and doctors, seeking out others who still clung to life, doing what he could for them.

It didn't matter what others thought of him or what they wanted. His job was to save lives. Whether they thanked him or hated him was irrelevant. He would save as many as he could, even if it meant manipulating, deceiving, or stooping low to achieve it.

This was war, and in war, anything went.

He hadn't been brought here to win anyone's affection or to put smiles on their faces. He was here to heal, to save. Who said salvation had to be beautiful or uplifting?

In war, the rainbow comes after the rain, not during it. Light is found at the end of the tunnel, not midway through. The smiles could wait until the storm passed and the tunnel was crossed.

All Sebastian could do was guide as many as possible through the rain, through the storm, and help them cross the tunnel of war. If they made it out alive, that was all that mattered to him. If they emerged smiling, so much the better—but that wasn't his concern. His job was simply to ensure they lived.

Perhaps that man would one day be fortunate, like Sebastian, and encounter something that allowed him to see beyond his thirst for vengeance. Perhaps he'd find a reason to live again, to move forward.

But most likely, he wouldn't. And Sebastian didn't care.

There was only one person Sebastian truly cherished, one person whose happiness he would ensure above all else. And that man wasn't her.

Sebastian hadn't come to this place with any grand sense of responsibility or honor. He was here for the one who mattered most to him.

For as long as he stayed, he'd perform his role, fulfill his duties as expected—but nothing more. As long as it didn't involve Acier, nothing else concerned him.

Meanwhile…

"Kaiser?" Acier blinked as she was introduced to her squad.

To combat and ward off the Diamond invaders, Clover's forces had avoided forming a single, unified battalion. If they all marched as one large army, Diamond could easily cast devastating wide-range compound spells and wipe them out in a single strike.

Instead, Clover employed a more fragmented tactic, dividing their forces into countless small groups of three to six members. These scattered squads darted across the battlefield in various directions, pulling Diamond's forces apart and forcing them into disarray. The squads engaged in hit-and-run skirmishes, constantly harassing Diamond's troops before retreating, only to repeat the cycle.

This strategy made it nearly impossible for Diamond to deploy large-scale magic without risking their own troops. The only exception was the long-range bombardment targeting Kiten's barrier. Even then, Diamond had to divert attention and resources to protect their long-range casters from Clover's stealthy Magic Knights.

Though effective, the tactic was seen as shameful by Clover's Magic Knights, a far cry from the noble dignity they once prided themselves on. Yet, after nearly 11 months of grueling warfare, any notions of honor or grandeur had long been abandoned. Survival and delaying the enemy were all that mattered now.

This approach had allowed many to survive, even as their numbers dwindled and they faced odds of roughly 20 to 1. They clung to this strategy, hoping to buy enough time for change—praying that Augustus' recently proven innocence would allow him to secure the throne, quell the kingdom's civil strife, and free the Crimson Lions and Silver Eagles to reinforce the frontlines.

Until then, all they could do was hold out.

The squad Acier had been assigned to was one such group—a small team of five, now six with her addition. It was led by Marcel Claymore, the Vice-Captain of the Purple Orca and a mug magic user. Two of his squad members were fellow Purple Orca knights.

One of them was a tall, middle-aged man with snow-white hair who introduced himself simply as Glacius—no last name. His noble bearing was unmistakable, which piqued Acier's curiosity. Why would a nobleman omit his surname? She didn't press the issue, though. When the frost magic user—an attribute she'd never encountered before—smiled broadly, she decided it was likely a sensitive topic. None of my business, she thought wryly.

But her attention soon shifted to the third member of the group: Kaiser Granvorka, a boy about her age—perhaps a year older—wearing the Purple Orca robe.

"Kaiser?" she repeated, her surprise tinged with genuine relief.

Though the two of them weren't particularly close, thanks largely to Nicklaus' obsessive efforts to keep all non-family males at arm's length, Acier had met Kaiser on multiple occasions at noble gatherings and events.

Unlike many noble heirs who regarded her as little more than a prize to be claimed, Kaiser had always treated her with respect and courtesy. His quiet, reserved demeanor had left a far better impression on her than the arrogant, predatory gazes of others.

She remembered him well. While their interactions had often been silent and awkward, she much preferred his company to the discomfort of entertaining men with far less honorable intentions.

The Granvorka family was one of the few noble households that still upheld integrity within the aristocracy. The thought of their heir dying in this war was disheartening. Though she hadn't seen Kaiser's name among the casualty reports her father received, she wasn't sure how accurate or up-to-date those lists were.

Now, seeing Kaiser alive and well brought her relief.

Kaiser, the Vortex Magic user, gave Acier a polite, curt nod. "Always a pleasure, Princess."

Acier smiled and extended her hand for a handshake. "I'm not a Princess here, just Acier."

Kaiser didn't take her hand, offering only another nod. Acier awkwardly retracted her hand, though she didn't take it personally. Kaiser's reputation as a socially awkward individual preceded him, and there were rumors he was smitten with a commoner. Perhaps he feared that being seen as "cozy" with her might reach the girl's ears and tarnish her impression of him.

Keeping to himself was simply Kaiser's way, and Acier respected that. She turned her attention to the other two members of their unit.

Both women wore Blue Rose robes and were clearly twins, with identical lean, curvaceous figures, light blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. They gave Acier polite nods and introduced themselves, and it didn't take long for Acier to notice that their similarities ended with their appearances.

"I'm Chloe Wallflower! I use ice magic. You can call me Chlo!" One of them grinned brightly and flashed a peace sign.

The other fidgeted nervously and spoke in a soft, timid voice. "I'm Lily Wallflower… I use fire magic… If you have anything to say to me… please pass it through Chloe."

She promptly ducked behind her sister, peeking out with wide eyes.

Acier blinked, momentarily taken aback. Chloe's brow twitched as she patted Lily's shoulder.

"Sorry about that… Lily, here's a bit of a shut-in. It already took everything she had to say those words to you."

Without waiting for Acier's response, Chloe turned and hugged her sister tightly. "Good job, Lily. I'm proud of you!"

Lily's eyes filled with tears, and she hugged her sister back with equal fervor. "Mmm-hmm."

Acier blinked again, a wry thought crossing her mind. Shouldn't your magic attributes be switched? She chuckled and shook her head. "Well, big sisters should look after their younger siblings—"

"I'm the younger sibling," Chloe interrupted, causing Acier to blink in surprise. "By half an hour, in fact."

Acier froze, her mouth parting slightly. "Oh…"

A sudden clap! clap! snapped their attention to Marcel, who stood clapping to gather the group's focus. The Vice-Captain of the Purple Orca cleared his throat.

"Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, we'll run some squad drills to get familiar with each other's magic and presence. Adding a new member into the mix can be disastrous if we don't give Acier the chance to integrate into our rhythm and routine. Understood?"

Kaiser and Lily nodded lightly, while Acier, Chloe, and Glacius saluted sharply. "Yes, sir!"

Marcel nodded in approval. "Good. We're not stopping until we're on the same wavelength, because we're back on the battlefield tomorrow. If we're not in sync, it might very well be our last battlefield."

They grimaced but stayed silent as Marcel continued. "We'll start with some simulations..."

With that, they got to work.

Hours Later

Sebastian, now drained of all his mana, watched wearily as a young man, perhaps a year or two older than him, with light blue hair and glasses, finished tending to the last of the wounded.

Observing the man—who seemed to have just as little mana as he did, and the same attribute—yet so efficiently tending to several patients at once, stirred something in Sebastian. Perhaps it was interest or curiosity, as he took in the water constructs resembling jellyfish conjured by the man. The constructs patched and closed wounds rapidly with their tentacles before seemingly stinging the injuries and extracting them entirely.

As the last of the wounds were treated, the constructs swiftly dematerialized, vanishing from existence as the man's grimoire shut closed, ceasing his spell and returning to his side.

The wounded, now perfectly and miraculously healed, shot the young man grateful looks, which he responded to with a weak—and, in Sebastian's eyes, noticeably forced—smile. He wiped his sweaty forehead with his palm as the treated patients walked away.

Sebastian approached the man and wordlessly handed him a clean towel. The man accepted it with a warm and more genuine smile.

"Thank you. You must be the new recruit."

Sebastian nodded curtly. The man wiped his hands clean before extending his right hand toward Sebastian.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Owen, by the way."

Sebastian shook Owen's hand politely. "Likewise. I'm Sebastian."

Owen beamed before standing up with a slight groan, the ache in his legs evident. "Ha ha, I'm only 17, but at this rate, I might be gray-haired by 30."

Sebastian stared at him blankly, saying nothing, causing Owen to cough awkwardly.

Owen glanced around the room, his gaze sweeping over the scattered remains of limbs and organs being cleared away, until it rested on the pile of corpses squished against the ceiling. He bit his lip and quickly forced his eyes away, turning back to Sebastian with another forced smile.

Sebastian was reminded of Acier's fake smiles—her ugliest ones.

He couldn't understand why Owen was pretending with him. They weren't close or acquainted enough for it to matter how Owen felt, nor should Owen care how Sebastian perceived him.

If you're depressed, just look depressed. If you're angry, act angry. Who exactly are you pretending for?

Sebastian didn't voice the thought, only slightly tensing when Owen suddenly reached out and patted him on the shoulder. Despite the unexpected contact, Sebastian didn't shrug his shoulder free as the young man spoke.

"You're not going to be able to save everyone… in fact, there may come days where you're barely able to save anyone… and even a day may come where you can't save a single person."

Sebastian watched the man tremble slightly, as if remembering something, as he trailed off before continuing.

"Don't let that beat you up too much. This is war—people die, people have died, and people will continue to die. Our job as healers is just to save as many as possible.

"If you let one slip through your hands, save the next one. If you let a bunch slip through, save the next bunch. But don't panic, don't cry, and don't collapse. We healers are the most protected and guarded on the warfront. We have guaranteed meals every day, and as long as Kiten isn't breached, we don't have to worry about death or not seeing tomorrow. That's a privilege few in this town share."

He paused, then continued, his voice firm despite the tremor beneath it.

"But that all comes at the price of the great expectations and responsibilities imposed on us—on our shoulders, our backs, our bodies, our spirits, and our souls!

"To save, to provide relief, recovery, and salvation—that is our job, that is our duty. We don't get to cry. We don't get to collapse. Not until this is over… maybe not even after. So, Sebastian, just endure and persevere, and keep healing."

His voice softened.

"And try not to get attached… to anyone. Trust me, it's better that way. Much better."

Sebastian didn't interrupt Owen once as he spoke, silently observing the tremor in his frame, the red-rimmed, puffy eyes, the pale complexion, and the hunched back.

He didn't speak because he felt those words weren't just meant for him—Owen seemed to be talking more to himself, convincing and placating himself.

Perhaps this was his way of venting without succumbing to self-destructive tendencies. Perhaps it was Owen's way of calming himself down.

So Sebastian stayed silent, offering no response to Owen's words other than a curt nod.

A moment later, Owen seemed to snap back into focus and smiled at Sebastian. "Come now, it's getting late. Let's pick up our meals, eat, and turn in. Roll call for healers is at dawn."

This time, Sebastian spoke softly. "You still have the appetite to eat?"

Owen froze, his smile immediately faltering as he shook his head. "No… no, I don't," he admitted truthfully. Before Sebastian could say more, Owen quickly added,

"But, as I said, we're healers. We need to watch out for our health. Magic requires mana, and we can't cast spells on empty reserves. We need to eat, sleep, recover our stamina, and be ready to save lives the next day."

His voice took on a harder edge.

"So even if you feel like throwing up, even if you feel like puking, grab a bottle of water or whatever you need, and force that meal down."

Sebastian nodded lightly.

Owen smiled again, this time more genuinely. "Besides, even if you can only take a bite or two, you can always give the rest to a passing child or family. That might get them through the night. Never turn away from a free meal!"

Sebastian nodded once more.

Midnight

Sebastian blinked, looking at Acier as he finished setting up his large tent. In the town square, the camp was dotted with many tents of varying sizes, housing not just Magic Knights and other volunteers but also many of Kiten's residents who had lost their homes in the destruction.

His gaze remained fixed on Acier, who crossed her arms and shot him a teasing smile.

Sebastian couldn't keep silent any longer. He parted his lips softly. "Where's your tent?"

Acier beamed. "I gave it away. I saw a couple of kids without shelter, and my magnanimous heart melted immediately."

Sebastian's brow twitched. Taking a moment to calm himself, he responded with a strained smile. "Your 'magnanimous heart' has left you homeless."

"No, it hasn't!" Acier smiled and pointed behind Sebastian, to his tent. "There's my home."

Sebastian froze, then shook his head firmly. "Absolutely not."

Acier scratched her chin, her tone teasing. "Why's that, Sebby?"

Sebastian didn't answer. Instead, he pointed to the town hall. "You're a princess. I'm sure they can spare you a room."

Acier shook her head. "No, I'm just Acier here. And even if they did, I wouldn't take them up on it."

Sebastian blanked as she smiled, walked past him with her bag in hand, unzipped his tent, and stepped inside.

"I want to sleep here, I want to live here, so I will, my dear Sebby."

Without waiting for his response, Acier disappeared inside.

Sebastian blinked again, ignoring the Magic Knights and other spectators giving him funny looks. Gritting his teeth, he followed her into the tent.

Zipping it closed behind him, he turned around—only to immediately freeze. He caught a glimpse of something and quickly covered his face with his hands.

"W-what are you doing?!" he demanded in shock, his face flushed red.

Acier raised a brow and continued to strip nonchalantly. "I can't sleep in this. I'm changing into my pajamas."

H-have some shame! Sebastian inwardly screamed, thankful the tent was heavily insulated and non-see-through. He spun around, his back to her.

He didn't dare shout anymore, worried it would attract attention from outside. Instead, he whispered, "Tell me when you're done."

A moment later, Acier's voice came. "I'm done."

Sebastian didn't turn right away. He waited a full five minutes, just to be safe, before cautiously turning around—only to find Acier in a nearly see-through nightgown that didn't even reach her knees.

Sebastian gulped, his throat dry, but otherwise managed to feel relieved. He steadfastly ignored Acier's pout.

Yes, Sebastian was certain she hadn't been clothed when she said she was.

Sebastian's gaze wandered behind her, and he froze.

His sleeping bag was gone, tossed aside. In its place, taking up the whole space, was a two-person one.

Sebastian was beginning to wonder if Acier had even brought another tent.

He looked at her. Acier smiled innocently. "That's the only one I brought, so unless you want me to sleep without one, you'll have no choice but to cooperate."

Her tone was teasing and playful. Sebastian's throat hitched further as Acier blew him a kiss and sauntered to the back of the tent. She slipped into the sleeping bag and patted the spot next to her.

"Come to bed, Sebby."

Sebastian's mind blanked.

Acier's smile widened as she envisioned the hilarity to come. She could see him flushing red, stammering excuses about sleeping on the other side of the tent—or even outside. She expected him to stutter like a schoolgirl, flustered and embarrassed.

What she didn't expect was for Sebastian to blankly put out his lamp, walk up to her, and slip into the sleeping bag without a word.

Acier blinked, stunned, then completely froze as Sebastian zipped up the bag, enclosing them together. He reached out, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly.

Acier flushed and gulped. "S-Sebby—"

"Acier." Sebastian cut her off before she could continue, his tone somber as he fixed her with a serious look.

Acier paused, her blush receding slightly. "Yes?"

Sebastian gently ran slow circles over her back and whispered softly, "You better not die tomorrow. Or the day after, or the day after that. For as long as we're here—and even beyond that—never die. Come back to me, alive and in one piece, so I can fix you up."

Sebastian trembled slightly, hugging her tighter. "I'm also begging you… please don't do anything stupid or reckless. Don't draw unnecessary attention. Just follow your orders, alright?"

Acier stared at him for a long moment, her gaze softening, before leaning in and pecking him on the lips. "Alright."

Sebastian let out a quiet sigh of relief, releasing her so she could lay down beside him. "Goodnight, Acier," he whispered softly.

Acier smiled. "Goodnight, Sebby."

Alden Arcana stood on the mayoral office balcony, his temporary command center since arriving in Kiten, overlooking the town under the high moon's glow.

His gaze roamed the scene below, finally settling on the town square. He sighed inwardly as fragments of a conversation from several months ago echoed in his mind.

What is it, Lord Alden?

Nathaniel, I've had a vision.

…Does it concern me?

Your daughter was in it, and her lover.

...

I saw them in Kiten—

Alden, absolutely not.

Nathaniel, listen to me. They won't die, I promise. I won't let them… but please, if they want to come here, don't forbid them, and don't turn them away. They have a part to play in ending this madness.

…I will consider it.

That's all I ask for, Nathaniel. That's all I ask.

Alden's attention was drawn back to the present as a small card began materializing before him, shifting from translucent to solid form. It floated gently down into his hand.

At the top of the card was the Roman numeral VI. Its illustration depicted two silhouettes: a man on the right, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Sebastian, and a woman on the left, strikingly similar to Acier.

The man extended his right hand, and the woman her left. Their arms met at a perfect angle, linking in union. Above their joined hands floated a pink heart.

Above them, rising from a cloud, was the figure of a divine angel with outstretched wings and arms, radiant under a golden sun.

Alden ran his thumb over the card, his voice low as he read the capitalized word at the bottom.

"LOVERS."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, but it faded as quickly as it came. The angel and the sun began to dim, fading entirely from the card.

His gaze hardened, and he clutched the card tightly, a strange heat and intensity flickering in his eyes.

"No more divine protection…?" he whispered softly. Then his tone grew resolute. "Then I'll be their guardian angel. I won't let them die."

It didn't seem as though Alden was speaking to himself. His head tilted upward, his mana-charged gaze piercing through the skies as though searching for something—or someone.

A moment later, he lowered his head, tucked the card into his sleeve, and turned away. With steady steps, he walked back into the office.

Author's Notes:

[1] Let me clarify something from the last chapter: The Tower card, when reversed, can symbolize averting disaster—that's how Kiten was saved. The King of Cups represents emotional compassion and diplomacy, which aligns with how Alden successfully negotiated with the enemy.

[2] In the original Black Clover series, Rades created a Soul Corpse Puppet named No. 0 Mickael Caesar from the bodies of two former Magic Knight captains. It possessed air and spike magic, which I think is perfect. Air magic aligns well with vortex matter, making it fitting for Mickael as the former Purple Orca captain. Spike magic, on the other hand, complements the Caesar name and works perfectly for the Blue Rose captain for… obvious reasons. (Yes, this means the Blue Rose captain will be male, but don't worry—it'll make sense and won't feel forced.)

[3] Feel free to join the Discord! https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar


next chapter

Chapitre 70: Their Story (20): The Challenge

June 16, 1601

Kiten, Hospital

"Something up, Sebastian?"

"Hmm?" At the call of his name, Sebastian jerked his head up from the sink where he was helping sanitize the medical tools for the day of work ahead.

He continued absentmindedly soaping the ligatures, knives, tweezers, scissors, and other instruments, passing them on to Owen beside him to rinse and dry.

"What do you mean?" Sebastian asked, not missing a beat.

Owen gave him a long, assessing look before returning his gaze to the sink. As he rinsed the tools, his brows furrowed slightly. He spoke softly.

"I haven't known you for long, mere moments in fact, but I'd like to think you're not usually this... out of it." He paused, mulling over his words before continuing. "You seem like you've got a lot on your mind. Something bugging you?"

Sebastian went silent, unsure how to respond. He didn't know Owen very well. He had a decent impression of him, sure, but he wasn't the type to have a heart-to-heart with someone who was effectively a stranger.

Come to think of it, have I ever really had a heart-to-heart with anyone? Besides Acier and Count Vardy, no one came to mind.

When his parents had still acted like his parents, they'd always been the ones unloading their feelings, never giving him space to reciprocate or share his own. Maybe that was why he wasn't good at communicating his emotions—unless it was with someone who knew him well or had a knack for reading people.

Owen was definitely not the former, and even if he was the latter, he was still just a work colleague, not someone Sebastian was inclined to confide in.

So Sebastian stayed silent, and Owen didn't push for an answer.

Minutes passed in silence as they finished cleansing the tools and dried their hands. But as the quiet stretched on, Sebastian found he couldn't hold back any longer. There was something he needed to know.

"Hey, Owen?"

Owen, his "senior," looked up and nodded. "Yeah?"

Sebastian met his gaze, chewing his lip before asking, "What's the casualty rate on the battlefield?"

Owen paused, clearly taken aback by the question, and raised a brow. "For us, Diamond, or just in general?"

Sebastian crossed his arms. "For us—specifically for our Magic Knights, fighting outside the walls, on the battlefield."

Owen scratched his chin, thinking. "It's actually pretty low. If it weren't, this war would've ended months ago. I'd say about 12 to 13% on average over the course of the war… but recently, I'd have to say it's closer to 20 to 21%, since we keep losing more troops."

Without reinforcements, the more Magic Knights that died, the fewer there were to divide Diamond's attention. Because of that, the Diamond invaders could dedicate more troops to deal with each individual Knight.

At the beginning of the war, Diamond had outnumbered the Magic Knights roughly 13:1. Now, it could be said the gap was closer to 20:1. Naturally, that widening disparity meant the probability of Clover's troops dying had risen accordingly.

And as the war dragged on, that gap would only continue to grow, pushing the death rate higher still.

Sebastian clenched his fists tightly, biting his lip hard enough to draw Owen's attention.

"Why do you ask? Worried about someone in particular?" Though Owen wore glasses, they did nothing to impair his ability to see through people's fears.

Before Sebastian could answer, Owen continued softly, "Didn't I tell you to avoid getting attached to anyone?"

Sebastian clenched his jaw and shook his head. "It's not that… I already came here to Kiten with someone I cherish." This wasn't a matter of getting attached—he already was.

"Oh..." Owen's lips parted slightly before he asked, his voice low, "Mind me asking what your relationship is?"

Sebastian hesitated for a moment, then shook his head again. "She's my girlfriend."

A faint blush rose along Sebastian's neck, and his heart raced as he spoke. It was the first time he'd ever addressed Acier as such.

I've finally crossed that wall, he thought, suppressing a smile. Now I just have to give her that and make it official.

"Oh…" Owen repeated, giving Sebastian a complex look before reaching over to pat his shoulder.

"Don't worry too much. From what I've seen, with our dwindling numbers and all, the soldiers are more reserved now. The higher-ups have made it clear that every one of their lives is a strategic asset. They shouldn't be doing anything too reckless. She'll be fine."

Owen's forced smile didn't bring Sebastian much comfort. Recklessness and Acier seemed to go hand in hand.

All he could do was pray. Pray that when she went off the rails again, she'd bulldoze through it like she always did.

And pray that she'd take their talk from last night to heart, or at the very least keep it in mind.

Meanwhile, On the Battlefield

"Hah hah hah hah hah hah hah, die! Die! All of you Diamond fuckers, die!!!"

A crazed, feminine laugh rang across the battlefield as a slender blonde mage incinerated another Mage Warrior to ash, utterly ignoring their screams for mercy.

"You tell them, Lily!" Acier cheered, her adrenaline surging as she relished the blood-soaked chaos. Her moment of triumph was cut short when her mana sense alerted her to a presence barreling toward her.

A hulking figure of a man, carrying a magical axe composed of earthy minerals, charged at Acier and swung the weapon down with terrifying force toward her petite frame. Despite their stark difference in size, the giant was sweating profusely, his chest heaving as his wide, dilated pupils betrayed his absolute terror.

It was easy to see why.

Acier casually backflipped out of harm's way, allowing the axe to crash into the ground, creating a massive crater. The force caused the giant to lurch forward, momentarily off balance as his momentum shifted.

That brief opening was all Acier needed.

In the blink of an eye, she became a blur, reappearing midair directly in front of the man. Her right arm drew back, winding up as her hand was swiftly encased in a gleaming silver steel gauntlet.

Without hesitation, she threw a powerful right hook. The man attempted to conjure a gaudy earthen mask or helmet to shield himself, but it was pointless.

Before the armor could fully form, it shattered instantly on impact.

Acier's fist smashed into the side of his face, the force cracking and caving in his skull. Her blow pressed on, unimpeded, stretching his face grotesquely like mashed potatoes before his head burst in a sickening explosion of blood and brain matter.

A crimson rain drenched that corner of the battlefield, painting Acier's already bloodied clothes and hair an even deeper red.

None of it was her blood.

It was clear this wasn't her first kill of the day—nor her first gruesome one.

Stepping over the giant's lifeless body, she turned her gaze to the remaining survivors of the Diamond battalion. Her lips curled into a feral, devilish grin, making the soldiers gulp in terror and instinctively backpedal.

Despite their fear, they didn't flee. Swirls of magic gathered around them—gusts of wind, bolts of lightning, flickering flames, and orbs of water—all prepared to unleash a devastating counterattack against the two demons in human form who had mercilessly slaughtered their comrades.

But they were too slow.

Now that the majority of their forces were dead, long-range attacks were back on the table. Not that it mattered.

Before the mages could finish casting their spells, dozens of nearly invisible silver needles materialized out of nowhere, surrounding them in an instant and riddling their bodies with holes.

No part of them was spared. Needles pierced foreheads, hearts, chests, legs, stomachs, throats, necks, and even their "little brothers."

They were dead before they could react.

And just to be thorough, a searing wave of flames engulfed their corpses, burning them to ash and leaving nothing behind.

"Hah hah hah! More! More! Give me more!" Lily howled with laughter, her voice echoing across the battlefield. "Come on, you Diamond fuckers! Where're the rest of you at?! Come out for Big Momma Lily!"

Acier beamed at the supposedly meek girl who was now cackling madly. It was only after seeing Lily step onto the battlefield, unleashing her "true self," that Acier finally understood how the shy girl had managed to survive this war for so long.

Initially, Acier had been concerned when Marcel proposed a plan to use her and Lily as bait to draw Diamond's attention. The rationale was simple: two young, beautiful women would undoubtedly be seen as easy pickings, enticing the enemy to capture them alive to have some "fun."

Acier wasn't worried about her own safety. Her silver hair alone would eventually give away her identity, and Diamond might see her as a valuable hostage—someone they could use to blackmail Clover into surrendering Kiten or making other concessions.

She bore no grudge against Marcel for suggesting such a morally questionable plan. This was war, and in war, anything goes. Using their looks—and Acier's identity—to attract Mage Warriors and Diamond forces was simply a good strategy.

Clover's generals, Vortigarn, and even the newly crowned Captain of the Blue Rose had acted as bait on the battlefield many times, deliberately drawing enemy attention as high-profile targets. The former Captain of the Blue Rose, in fact, had sacrificed herself in this way only months ago.

When Kiten was nearly breached, the captain had tempted Diamond's Mage Warriors with the promise of glory—either from taking her head or capturing her for other reasons. Her beauty could clue one in on what that reason was. Her sacrifice had successfully diverted attention away from the town, but it cost her life.

Rather than say she died fighting Diamond, it would be more accurate to say she gave her life to Diamond. She blew herself up along with the enemy before she could be captured and face a fate worse than death. She went down fighting.

If people like her were willing to go to such lengths, Acier was determined to do the same. And with her sensitive identity, her chances of surviving unscathed were far higher.

Once Diamond figured out her identity they wouldn't dare to kill her, lest they yearned to provoke the wrath of House Silva and the Silver Eagles. They would settle on capturing her, and likely treat her with high care and dignity. 

Acier wasn't particularly worried about her own safety, her concerns weren't for herself.

What worried her was Lily. The girl had seemed so meek—trembling in fear when Marcel first proposed the plan. Acier couldn't fathom why even Lily's sister, Chloe, paid no attention to her distress and insisted she go along with it.

Nor could she process why Glacius and Kaiser, two individuals she's come to know were practical embodiments of chivalry, showed no negative reaction to the proposition.

In fact it was her-the one onboard with the plan, and not Lily who received looks of pity and concern from the group.

It was only when one of the Diamond Mage Warriors made an offhand comment about "showing Lily a good time" if she came along quietly that Acier understood.

The moment the words left his mouth, Lily's demeanor shifted entirely. The quivering frown was gone, replaced by a sadistic grin. Before the Mage Warrior or his comrades could react, he was already reduced to ash, sent to meet his ancestors in an instant.

Acier had stood there blankly, just like the rest of the Diamond troops, watching the transformation.

Right then and there, Acier understood why Lily was the elder sister—and why she wielded flame magic.

The girl was completely unhinged. Quite frankly batshit crazy. 

Lily threw Marcel's carefully crafted ambush plan out the window and charged directly into the enemy ranks, fists blazing, incinerating anyone in her path with sadistic glee.

She was like an arsonist, finally given free rein to burn everything in sight without consequence. And she did exactly that, roasting the Diamond soldiers alive as if they were nothing more than meat over an open fire, screaming in delight, as she reveled in the carnage.

Acier wasn't sure why she followed. Before she could even process her actions, her lips had curled into a similar grin, and her hands and legs, encased in steel, were already charging into the fray alongside Lily.

The two of them fought with uncanny synergy, moving acrobatically through the battlefield, weaving around enemy attacks. The Diamond soldiers, wary of hitting their own comrades, kept their strikes close-range. Acier and Lily, unburdened by such concerns, took full advantage.

Lily unleashed spiraling tornadoes of flames, engulfing everything around her, while Acier either dodged the fiery blasts or deflected them with her shield. With her sharp mana control and acute mana sense, Acier never lost track of Lily's position, ensuring none of her squadmate's wide-range attacks touched her, nor any of her's were unleashed in Lily's direction.

Together, they decimated an entire battalion of fifty soldiers.

By the end, Acier felt light—free, even. She realized she had lost count of how many enemies she had killed. Twenty? More?

It didn't matter. For the first time, Acier felt nothing but release.

Perhaps influenced by her teammate's wild personality, Acier felt no lingering trauma nor discomfort from her first kill—only a strange sense of exhilaration.

As her sharp mana senses picked up on a fleeing Mage Warrior, she wasted no time. Her grimoire flipped open, and in her right hand, a steel javelin materialized. Aligning her body, she hurled it across the battlefield with rocket-like precision.

The javelin zinged through the air at near-unbelievable speed, skewering the fleeing soldier like a kebab and pinning his lifeless body to a nearby boulder.

Lily froze, her manic grin fading into a pout. "Is that it…? It can't be. Where's the rest?!"

She pointed accusingly at Acier, a frown deepening her expression. "Rookie, you should've let him go! He could've brought reinforcements!"

Acier blinked, realizing her error. Lowering her head like a chastened child, she muttered, "Sorry… I'll do better next time, I promise."

Lily crossed her arms, snorting in irritation, but didn't press further.

From a cliff far away, Marcel, Glacius, Kaiser, and Chloe watched the battlefield in stunned silence.

That… went a bit too well.

They had braced themselves for a chaotic, even disastrous day when they added Acier to the mix. While the squad's training drills had gone smoothly enough, actual battlefields were unpredictable, chemistry in simulations didn't necessarily translate into the real thing. They were certain that Lily's unrestrained chaos would overwhelm the young princess.

Instead, they saw the opposite.

Acier hadn't just held her own—she had integrated seamlessly into their unit, even amplifying Lily's destructive tendencies. Somehow, impossibly, the "rookie" had worked in perfect tandem with their resident pyromaniac.

They had expected Acier to freeze the moment Lily went ballistic. Yet, after a brief pause, she had jumped in without hesitation, as though it were second nature. Acier even seemed to push Lily further, matching her manic energy blow for blow.

Royalty really are built different, the quartet thought wryly.

Watching the devastation unfold, they could barely comprehend it. Decimating entire units in one fell swoop was a feat only seen from the Wizard King or the Captains months ago—and that was before Diamond's 8 Shining Generals had tied them up in conflict.

This, however, was a landslide victory, the likes of which Clover hadn't achieved in months.

Even more baffling, the victory had come from throwing their carefully crafted "master plan" out the window.

Silence stretched among the group as they exchanged wordless glances. Finally, Marcel coughed awkwardly. "Well… the method's not important. The result is all that matters… right?"

The trio blinked at him, unimpressed. Why are you asking us? You're the leader.

The Purple Orca Vice Captain coughed again, his cheeks slightly reddening. He opened his mouth to call Lily and Acier back when something in the distance made him freeze.

Far to the north, beyond where Lily and Acier stood, two Diamond battalions were spotted advancing together. Their movements were coordinated, their grimoires already alight with swirling magic. The troops were preparing to fire long-range attacks aimed directly at the two girls.

Marcel's eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. From their current position, Lily and Acier couldn't close the distance fast enough to disrupt the enemy's spells and casting, nor could they outrun the targeting range. Fleeing wasn't an option.

They would have to stand their ground.

The quartet watched as Acier conjured a circular steel shield, positioning herself at the front while Lily shifted behind her. Placing her hands on Acier's back for balance, Lily braced herself as the two dug their feet into the ground.

From the advancing battalions, a massive wave of intertwining flames and lightning surged forward, hurtling toward the duo like a devastating beam.

Marcel's expression grew somber, but his voice remained steady as he shouted, "Kaiser!"

The Granvorka heir was already moving. His grimoire flipped rapidly, pages fluttering in the wind as he raised both arms toward Acier and Lily.

"Vortex Magic: Area Helix," he intoned curtly.

Around the two girls, the air began to shift and swirl, forming a spiraling wind that quickly intensified into a spherical motion. Within the span of a heartbeat, they were engulfed in a spinning dome of air, its size growing monstrous with each passing moment.

By the time the vortex reached a five-meter diameter, the Diamond Battalion's beam attack had already struck its target. But instead of an explosion or destruction, something unexpected happened.

The beam didn't shatter the dome. It didn't even penetrate it. Instead, it was caught in the swirling winds, twisted and spun around, picking up speed and momentum as it spiraled within the vortex. Then, as if by design, the attack was hurled back toward its origin—straight into the ranks of the Diamond Battalion.

"Acck!"

"Quick, dodge—BOOM!"

Their panicked cries were short-lived. The redirected beam carved through the battalion like a scythe through grass, tearing down the center of their formation. Those caught directly in its path were incinerated on the spot, while those on the edges were sent flying sideways, colliding into their comrades in a cascade of chaos.

But this was just the beginning.

As the redirected beam wrought havoc, Glacius' and Chloe's grimoires flipped open, their pages glowing with mana. Together, they pointed toward Kaiser's spinning dome.

The swirling winds shifted and rose, transforming into a towering tornado that shot skyward, its base bypassing Acier and Lily as if they were untouched by its wrath. The wind, once a pale white, began to take on a frosted hue, shifting to a light blue as the air turned frigid. Within the cyclone, countless jagged icicles and razor-sharp shards of ice materialized, spinning like blades in the tempest.

The monstrous tornado roared forward, growing larger and faster as it barreled toward the disoriented Diamond troops. Glacius, Chloe, and Kaiser chanted their combined spell in perfect unison:

"Vortex X Frost X Ice Magic: Breath of Ymir!"

The Diamond soldiers, scrambling to their feet, were struck with sheer terror. Their grimoires flipped desperately as they tried to retaliate, but their assailants wouldn't give them the chance.

Marcel's grimoire flipped open next, his voice calm yet chilling as he pointed at the ground beneath the enemy's feet.

"Mud Magic: Sunken Earth."

The grassy plains beneath the Diamond soldiers shimmered orange before morphing into thick, slushy mud. Their footing disappeared as they slipped, tripped, and began to sink, struggling like flies caught in honey.

The mud disrupted their concentration, shattering their spellforms and leaving them vulnerable. Panic overtook their ranks, but before they could even attempt to regroup, the cyclone was upon them.

The frosty tornado tore through their formation mercilessly. Soldiers were skewered by jagged icicles, their bodies diced like meat. Others were frozen solid, only to shatter into glittering shards of ice moments later. A rare few were flung from the storm, their injuries seemingly minor—until the harsh impact of their fall worsened them into life-threatening wounds.

The tornado roared on for several minutes, the icy winds gradually taking on a reddish hue as blood and gore mixed into its swirling mass. It was a blender of death, shredding everything in its path without mercy.

Finally, the storm dissipated, leaving behind a deathly silence. The battlefield, once teeming with life and aggression, was now a scene of devastation.

In the aftermath, the ground was littered with the broken remnants of the Diamond Battalion. Nearly all had been wiped out, save for a few survivors who lay scattered across the field, their injuries grievous enough to threaten their lives at any moment.

The chilly wind subsided, revealing the brutal efficiency of the combined magic—an overwhelming display of Clover's might.

The remaining soldiers watched in terror as the blonde-haired Lily hurtled toward them, flames bursting beneath her feet like miniature rockets, propelling her forward with alarming speed. The sadistic glee that had briefly faded from her face now returned, sharper and more menacing than before.

Desperation consumed them. They cried out, surrendering wholeheartedly, pleading for mercy. But mercy would not come.

Clover had tried mercy before. They had taken prisoners in the hopes of brokering deals, using hostages to negotiate treaties or secure even a fleeting ceasefire. Yet Diamond had responded with cold indifference. They neither valued the lives of their captured soldiers nor entertained any diplomacy. The bombardment of Kiten had continued without pause, each attack risking the deaths of their own men—and they didn't care.

Clover's efforts to extract useful intelligence had fared no better. Torture yielded nothing of substance. Even memory magic, performed by a promising commoner family, uncovered no secrets. The prisoners knew nothing of strategic value—no plans, no motives, no hidden truths. They were simply pawns, expendable and meaningless.

Instead of assets, the prisoners became liabilities—mouths to feed, protect, and manage in a war-torn kingdom that could barely sustain its own. They were executed, one by one. Others were handed over to the people of Kiten as outlets for their rage and despair. What the people did to those captives remained unspoken, but the implications were dark and grotesque. Very NC-17. 

No, Lily wouldn't take these soldiers in. She wouldn't ignore them, either, leaving them to flee and regroup. Mercy? They dared to beg for mercy? What mercy had they shown the Magic Knights they slaughtered, those who had pleaded for their lives? What about the people of Kiten, still begging Diamond to end their relentless attacks?

This feud between Clover and Diamond had long passed the point of reconciliation. It was a war destined to end only with the annihilation of one side.

Lily's mercy was a swift death.

Her smirk twisted into something perversely delighted as she sent the remaining soldiers to join their comrades in death. Her flames danced as she delivered their fate, her actions as resolute as they were merciless.

For Clover, for Kiten, and for herself, Lily's message was clear: there would be no forgiveness, no reprieve, and no survivors.

1 Hour Later, Town Hall

"You... wiped out three battalions all by yourself?"

The incredulous voice rang out as Team Marcel turned toward its source—a handsome, slightly effeminate young man clad in the Blue Rose robe.

Standing there was Dax Caesar, a 26-year-old captain of the Blue Rose, promoted three months ago following his predecessor's sacrifice. He had long, straight teal hair tied back into a sleek ponytail, Adriatic-blue eyes framed by sharp lashes and brows, and a lean, athletic figure that matched his poised demeanor.

Dax's journey to this position was anything but ordinary. A late bloomer by all accounts, he had barely scraped through the Magic Knights entrance exam, securing a lowly spot within the Blue Rose—a mere errand boy to his squadmates.

His fate, however, took a sharp turn during what was supposed to be a routine mission. Pulled out of the base by two superiors to serve as their luggage boy, Dax found himself deep within a treacherous desert grand magic region, tracking suspected spies and rival kingdom scouts. What began as an ordinary mission devolved into chaos when a colossal, scorpion-like magic beast skewered his companions alive.

Alone in the unforgiving wilds, Dax was forced to adapt—or die. The constant brink of death forged a transformation in both his personality and his magic. When he finally emerged from the hellish desert, he was no longer the timid boy who carried bags. He demanded the right to take on proper missions, and to his surprise, his supposedly "misandrist" captain approved without hesitation.

Over the years, Dax climbed the ranks through sheer determination and an unrelenting work ethic. Mission by mission, he earned his place, rising to Senior Magic Knight 1st Class. Two years ago, his captain had considered naming him her successor, but she had held back, knowing the resistance she'd face from the more misandrist members of the Blue Rose.

Tragically, her death during this war forced the matter. Dax assumed the role of captain—not through recognition or ceremony, but through necessity. It wasn't how he wanted to earn the position.

To his surprise, the women in his squad didn't oppose him. Whether it was begrudging respect for his skill, or their collective grief over losing their former captain, they accepted him. The war, too, had worn down much of the squad's misandrist tendencies as they watched the men of the Purple Orcas and even the errand boys of the Blue Rose fight just as valiantly as anyone else.

Thus, Dax Caesar became not only the captain of the Blue Rose but also one of the two Clover generals in this war.

Today, while Vortigarn fought on the front lines, Dax stood at the command center within the town hall, barking orders and managing the broader strategy.

He hadn't expected Team Marcel to return with a report just two hours after being deployed—let alone news so absurd it bordered on nonsensical.

And yet, as unbelievable as their words sounded, Dax could tell they weren't lying. Who would concoct such a ridiculous story? One that could be disproven in minutes? The evidence had already been confirmed: three entire battalions of Diamond invaders—nearly 160 men—were gone. Completely wiped out. All that remained were piles of bodies, scattered limbs, and shredded clothes.

What made the situation even more baffling was the location of these battalions—all within the area designated to Team Marcel. The undeniable proof stared them in the face, yet Dax and his subordinates, flanking him in the town hall, could only gape at the team before them, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

Reports from scouts trickled in, further confirming the chaos. Diamond's forces had pulled back, regrouping and likely retreating for the day. The unexpected loss of nearly 15% of their troops had thrown them into disarray.

Diamond's generals, Dax surmised, would be desperately trying to piece together what had gone wrong. Yet even if they had witnesses—none of whom survived—they would never believe that six individuals had annihilated three battalions. No, they'd convince themselves that reinforcements from the Silver Eagles or Crimson Lions had secretly arrived and launched a devastating ambush.

And because of that they wouldn't dare besiege Kiten again in the short term.

For the first time in months, Kiten wouldn't face prolonged bombardment. Its barriers would remain intact. And for the first time in months, the people would have a chance to breathe, rest, and recuperate.

At the front of his team, Marcel rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and spoke in an awkward tone. "Well, one thing led to another... and it just kind of happened, you know?"

Dax blinked. No, I don't know, he thought, suppressing the urge to retort. His gaze shifted past Marcel to two of his teammates—two girls dyed head to toe in blood.

Acier stood confidently, arms crossed and grinning smugly. Lily, in stark contrast, fidgeted nervously behind her sister, as though she were the one being judged.

That threw Dax off. By all rights, they should be afraid of her—the girl literally drenched in the blood of her enemies. Yet Lily avoided eye contact, looking at him like he was the intimidating one.

Dax resisted the urge to sigh. He'd never understand the convoluted workings of Lily's mind. Chloe hadn't been lying when she said her sister was a shut-in. Around her own people—those she had to treat politely—Lily was painfully awkward, consumed by the fear of making a bad impression. But when it came to enemies, she was entirely different.

Diamond soldiers? They didn't faze her in the slightest. Why should she care what they thought of her? She was going to kill them, after all. Dead men didn't think. Dead men didn't talk. Even if they did insult her, that would only be until she killed them.

But with people she couldn't kill—people who'd remember her—Lily panicked. She didn't want to make a bad impression or fool of herself. So she hid behind Chloe, letting her sister handle any interaction that required communication.

Yes, Lily was a strange one. Then again, everyone had their quirks. Insecurity, Dax reminded himself, was part of being human.

Still, the results spoke for themselves. Whatever Dax wanted to say—to Lily, to Acier, or even Marcel—he kept it to himself. Results were all that mattered. And Team Marcel had delivered, and then some.

With a blank expression, Dax gave them a hesitant thumbs-up. "...Good job? I guess." His tone was as unsure as his words.

He ran a hand through his hair before barking his next order. "Report to the walls and see if the barrier mages need relief. If not, go take a shower or something—you're free for the rest of the day."

Team Marcel's expressions varied, but they all saluted in unison.

"Yes, sir!"

Dax nodded blankly. "Dismissed."

The team left as orderly as they had arrived, leaving Dax staring after them, still grappling with the ridiculous yet undeniable reality of their report.

Kiten, Hospital:

"Please don't scare me like that again…" Sebastian pleaded as he finished closing the last of Acier's very few cuts and wounds.

When she had entered the medical ward, he had nearly fainted at the sight of her bathed in blood. It took him a moment to realize it was dried blood—nearly none of it hers.

Still, the image made his heart constrict. As he looked down at Acier, who was wiping herself with a wet towel, he sighed in resignation.

"Couldn't you have at least washed your face before coming here?" Sebastian asked weakly. He was absolutely certain she had done this on purpose, just to get a reaction out of him.

Acier gave him a sly look and hooked her mouth into a smirk. "But Sebby, didn't you say I should prioritize my health first and foremost? That's exactly what I did—visiting my beloved doctor as soon as I was able to."

Sebastian parted his mouth speechlessly, but she wasn't finished yet. Wiping a fake tear from her cheek, she adopted a dramatically pitiful expression.

"How could you say something so terrible, Sebby? What if I got an infection from leaving those wounds open so long? Do you not love me anymore? Do you not care what happens to me?"

Sebastian blinked, doing his best to ignore the wry looks his colleagues were giving him, as well as the barely concealed mirth in their eyes.

The lack of life-threatening injuries or fatalities today had filled the usually somber ward with an unexpectedly lighthearted atmosphere. Perhaps for the first time in months, the doctors, healers, apothecaries, and nurses found themselves smiling.

Sebastian couldn't bring himself to ruin the mood. Instead, he clamped his jaw shut in comical defeat and hunched his shoulders.

Acier beamed victoriously, her eyes narrowing slyly once more.

"Hey, Sebby?"

Sebastian forced a polite smile. "Yes, Acier?"

Acier placed a hand over her chest. "I've made a large contribution to this war. I suppose a reward is in order. Don't you?"

Sebastian closed his eyes, his strained smile never faltering. "Of course!"

Acier's grin widened as she opened her mouth to speak, but Sebastian, already seeing where this was going, struck first with his unamused smile.

"Unfortunately, what a low rank like me thinks isn't significant. Please relay your requests and desires to your immediate superiors, Princess Acier. I'm sure they'd take your achievements into steadfast consideration and reward you accordingly."

Acier blanked, blinking once before her expression darkened. A vein bulged visibly on her forehead as she parted her mouth into a strained smile.

"Sebastian Theodorus Silva, the one I wish to be bestowed a reward by is you."

Sebastian mirrored her smile, his tone calm but unyielding. "Like I said, Princess Acier, that is inappropriate. Moreover, it's not a request I could fulfill, seeing as I possess nothing to give you."

If possible, Acier's smile grew darker. "Maybe you're not thinking hard enough, Doctor. Rewards can be abstract. Don't feel the need to kneel to conformity. Use that brain of yours and be creative."

Sebastian's smile matched hers in its sharpness. "Ah, but I wouldn't dare slight your prestige and honor, Princess, by offering you something beneath your standing. My hands are tied. If you truly seek recompense for your victory, please direct your query to the Town Hall. I'm positive they can compensate you in a manner befitting your rank."

Acier ground her teeth, her smile so strained it was anything but sweet. "Like I said, Doctor Silva, pay my standing no heed. I will be the one to judge whether your gift is worthy of me."

Sebastian paid her expression no mind. "That's another thing that confuses me, Princess. What do your actions have to do with me? I have no ties to the warfront. I didn't put you on that battlefield or in that position. I'm just a humble healer doing my part. It's quite frankly shameless of you to ask anything of me. Any reward you receive should come from your squad leader, the acting generals, or the commander of this camp."

"Sebastian…" Acier trailed off in a low, warning tone.

The medical team watched the exchange like a live soap opera, thoroughly entertained. They hadn't been this amused in months.

Owen ran a hand sheepishly through his hair. Are you sure she's your girlfriend and not your wife? You're acting like newlyweds.

Unknowing—or perhaps indifferent—to their thoughts, Sebastian continued to smile at Acier, though his inward thoughts ran deeper. Should I just put another ring on her finger? This isn't the worst atmosphere… right?

Sebastian much preferred a more private setting, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Without further delay, he reached into the satchel at his side.

Before he could wrap his hand around the small box inside, another voice—a strangely old yet exuberant one—interrupted them.

"He's absolutely correct. If you desire a reward, the one you should be seeking out is me."

Sebastian and Acier stiffened before abruptly jerking their heads to the side. Acier, more spooked than Sebastian, froze—her acute mana sense hadn't even picked up the mysterious intruder.

Both of them stilled as they took in the stranger. The entire medical ward followed suit.

A slightly tall, old man with an aura of youth beyond his years stood before them. He wore a regal cyan fur cape and leaned on a royal red scepter in his right hand. His aqua hair and emerald eyes sparkled as he smiled jovially at the duo.

Sebastian and Acier immediately dropped to one knee, bringing their hands across their chests in a three-finger salute, heads bowed.

"Greetings, Lord Alden!"

A split second later, the rest of the medical ward followed suit.

"Greetings, Lord Wizard King!"

Alden Arcana's smile brightened as he chuckled softly, waving them off. "Please, please. I've come here to show gratitude and appreciation, not to intimidate anyone. Be at ease."

Sebastian and Acier exchanged a quick glance before standing up stiffly. Acier was a princess, and Sebastian had been in the immediate presence of Nathaniel, a Duke, many times. A King appearing out of nowhere didn't bother him... too much.

The rest of the medical ward, however, didn't share their ease. No one dared to rise, their gazes fixed firmly on the ground, their expressions uneasy.

Sebastian and Acier noticed Alden's smile falter, thinning into a grim line. A look of sadness and hurt flashed in his eyes, but neither of them commented.

Alden quickly forced a smile and turned his attention back to them. "Perhaps it's not appropriate to do this here. Let's head to my office, both of you."

Before Sebastian and Acier could voice a response, their vision was overtaken by a large card that materialized behind Alden.

At the top was the letter VII, and in the backdrop, a clear sky stretched over a beautiful river. In the foreground, eight tree-like branches angled inward from the card's left side, each adorned with small leaves.

The trio vanished in a blinding ray of light.

The medical staff, who had averted their eyes from the brilliance, blinked blankly before awkwardly getting to their feet.

Author's Notes:

[1] That Tarot Card was the 8 of wands which has to do with quick movement

[2] Feel free to join the Discord! https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar


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