"There will be no reinforcements, Kael. We will face this alone."
The Commander's words slam into my head, heavy and unrelenting, a sudden, cold weight.
My breath hitches, a sharp, ragged sound. My voice cracks before I can steady it.
"What…?"
No reinforcements?
It's impossible. Father would never allow this fortress to fall. If this stampede isn't stopped here, everyone inside these colossal walls will die. After that, countless innocents in the cities beyond will surely follow.
But they are sending no one.
My hands start to tremble, not with fear, but with frantic, cold disbelief. My voice comes out tight, strained, almost a whimper.
"Why… why aren't they sending reinforcements? Where is Father?"
"That's the problem, Kael."
The Commander's tone is flat, unnervingly calm—too steady. My panic, the sheer terror gripping me, can't even seem to touch him. He stands there, a granite pillar in a storm.
"Lord Eldric has gone into an S-rank dungeon," he says, and each word is a hammer blow against my ribs. "He isn't here. And with him went the bulk of our forces. What's left behind is barely enough to protect the territory's core holdings."
I stare at him, my mouth dry as ash, my thoughts spiraling into a chaotic, dizzying void.
He isn't finished.
"And forget about the Association helping us," he adds, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, where the dust cloud of the approaching horde must be visible. "They will never move to assist another ruling family's territory; it's a political minefield they won't step into."
Father is in an S-rank dungeon. It wasn't supposed to happen now.
Yes, he was scheduled to go—but that was supposed to be a year from now, after my academy training was complete. Now he has gone earlier than planned.
Why do it now?
Is it because of me? Did some foolish thing I did cause a butterfly effect, forcing them into the dungeon early?
I shake my head, the motion brief and sharp. This is not the time to entertain those paranoid fears.
The massive problem is right in front of us. Two S-rank monsters are charging toward us, backed by tens of thousands of lesser beasts. On our side, we have only one S-rank—the man standing before me—a few A-ranks, and maybe three thousand knights who are all below A-rank strength.
We are catastrophically mismatched in strength and numbers.
"So how do we fight those monsters?" I demand, cutting to the core issue.
He meets my stare steadily, his eyes holding the weight of the fortress itself.
"You don't have to worry about the S-rank monsters. I will deal with them. Your job is to fight the lesser monsters and stop them from breaching the fortress walls until I kill the S-ranks."
"How do you plan to fight two S-rank monsters?" I press, skepticism tightening my jaw.
"I will fight them simply," he replies.
One of them is not a physical-type monster, he explains, his voice patient despite my challenge. "It uses mind control. From what I've observed, it can only control the monsters, so it won't join the direct melee fight. I can isolate and face the physical one. After I defeat the physical beast, I will handle the controller."
His conclusion makes a frightening, fragile sense, yet it's still almost impossible to believe.
"Kael, trust your commander," Noctharion's voice suddenly slides into my mind, calm and steady, like cool water over my racing heart. "And trust your companions. We will not fall."
"No. I will not let this fortress fall," the Commander confirms, his voice resonating with an unshakeable conviction. "This was my oath under the previous lord, and I will do anything to keep it. Don't worry, Kael."
"Your task is simple," his voice continues, a crisp, unavoidable command. "You just have to fight those monsters using the techniques I taught you."
His certainty has a weird, powerful calming effect on me.
The time I've spent here has forged a deep belief in, and respect for, the Commander. He truly is one of the most righteous people I have ever seen. My heart and mind compel me to believe him—and I will.
"Yes, Commander," I say, my spine straightening, all traces of panic burned away by a sudden, resolute focus.
He gives a brief, approving nod and dismisses me.
---
I stride toward the mess hall, searching for Mia.
She had asked me to gather information. She must have already heard most of the details—the Commander explained the situation to everyone on the training grounds just hours ago—but a promise is a promise. Besides, my stomach is raging for food.
The fortress halls are a living wire of tension. Knights run past me, their armor rattling as they carry massive crates of equipment. Instructors bark orders in clipped, sharp voices, the sounds echoing off the stone. A-rank officers are inspecting the towering walls, pointing out weak spots, marking the places that desperately need reinforcement.
Three days. That's the knife-edge timeline we have before the monster stampede crashes into us.
No one is resting. No one can afford to. Every single person is moving, working, sharpening their blades or, perhaps more importantly, sharpening their resolve.
By the time I reach the mess hall, the sudden contrast feels unsettling.
Empty tables. A strange, quiet air.
No knights sit here—of course not. They have no time for food or idle chatter. The only person inside is Mia, standing at the counter. Her mother and the other kitchen workers must be busy elsewhere, leaving her completely alone.
She is waiting for me.
I step up to her, planting myself directly in front of the counter.
But she doesn't even lift her gaze.
It's not that she didn't sense my D-rank presence; her mind is simply miles away. Her hands are utterly idle, her eyes fixed on some point in the far distance.
The deep, troubled frown creasing her face tells me everything. She is thinking about the stampede too. About the fear, the crushing weight, the very real possibility of death hanging over all of us like a physical shroud.
For a moment, I just watch her in silence, the air between us heavy with the same chilling unease that gnaws at my own chest.
I lift my hand and sharply flick her forehead.
"Ouch."
Her voice snaps immediately in my head as she presses her palm to her brow. Tears of shock and sting well instantly in her eyes; the look she gives me is a potent mix of anger and profound betrayal.
"Why did you do that?" she shouts, her voice sharp and ringing in the quiet hall.
"You were so lost in your fantasy that you didn't even see me standing in front of you," I retort, a playful smirk touching my lips. "I had to give you some sense."
"Why would you hit me?" she demands, rubbing the spot furiously.
"Hit you?" I scoff, my own hands gesturing dismissively. "I hardly touched you—it was just a finger." I demonstrate with a lazy, flicking motion of my hand in the air.
"'Just a finger'?" she repeats, her voice incredulous. "It hurts—look at this." She points to the spot where I struck; the skin is already visibly red. It must sting her. After all, she is a normal human, and I am an Awakened D-rank.
"So… do you have something to eat? I'm hungry," I say, smoothly shifting the topic back to the pressing need of my stomach.
She keeps her eyes narrowed, suspicious and still angry, but she starts to move to fetch the food. She waves a hand at me, a quick, impatient gesture, and motions for me to sit at a table while she prepares and carries the tray.
I pull out a stool and sit right at the counter table since no one else is here. I don't bother going to one of the empty, somber side tables.
Watching Mia bring the food, my mind instantly drifts back to the monster stampede—and to her.
She is a normal human, just like the other workers here. What will happen to them? Will they be sent away during the stampede, or will they be forced to stay and risk everything?