Several days had passed since Hax returned to the Black Fortress.
After confirming that the fortress and the surrounding settlements had no serious issues, he turned his attention back to the Taranach Empire.
The eastern region.
The eastern city called Abernaith, which had been attacked by the Demon King's forces.
And the still-incomplete information about what had truly happened there.
This time, Hax decided to go himself.
Though not entirely alone.
Nocelle accompanied him.
Mimic was still in Taranach, gathering information about the nobles, the source of the trolls' curse, and several other matters that had yet to be answered.
So for the time being...
Nocelle would be Hax's companion.
They began their journey from the eastern gate of the capital.
Hax had personally hired a horse-drawn carriage.
It wasn't particularly luxurious.
But it was spacious enough for two people, with storage space in the back and comfortable seating for long journeys.
Hax sat inside.
Nocelle sat across from him.
An elderly coachman guided the two horses pulling the carriage.
"The journey to the eastern region is still quite far, Master Hax," said the coachman.
Hax nodded.
"How long?"
"If there are no problems on the road..."
The old man thought for a moment.
"Perhaps about three days."
"Three days."
"Yes."
Hax gazed out the window.
The capital slowly disappeared behind them.
Stone buildings gave way to wooden houses.
Then...
the houses grew sparser.
The main road began to stretch through rural territory.
Wheat fields could be seen on both sides.
A few farmers were working.
The carriage kept moving.
Wooden wheels repeatedly struck the road surface.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Hax simply watched the scenery in silence.
Nocelle didn't speak much either.
She knew Hax was thinking about something.
Several hours passed.
Then...
the scenery outside the window changed.
Hax slowly raised his head.
Along the road...
tall trees stood in rows.
Their branches were covered in pink blossoms.
So many of them.
As if the entire road had been framed by an ocean of flowers.
A gentle breeze blew.
A few petals detached from the branches and drifted through the air.
Hax stared at them.
"..."
The sight made him fall silent longer than usual.
Nocelle also looked outside.
"Beautiful."
Hax didn't respond.
A moment later, the elderly coachman spoke from the front.
"Oh."
"They've started blooming this much already."
He let out a small chuckle.
"That means it'll soon be time for them to bear fruit."
Hax immediately turned his head.
"Bear fruit?"
"Yes."
Hax pulled the window curtain open slightly.
He studied the trees more carefully.
"What kind of trees are those?"
The coachman glanced back briefly, then returned his gaze to the road.
"Hmm?"
"The ones along the road."
"Oh."
The old man laughed softly.
"If I'm not mistaken..."
"They're called peach trees."
Hax fell silent.
Peach.
The name immediately felt familiar.
Not just familiar.
Too familiar.
He looked at the trees again.
Pink blossoms.
The shape of the branches.
The way the trees grew.
Everything reminded him of something he had seen countless times before.
In his original world.
Peaches.
One of the most common fruits he knew.
A fruit very common across the Asian continent.
But...
why could trees like this grow here?
Hax leaned back in his seat.
During his time in this world...
he had almost never seen fruit.
Most of the food he encountered was just wheat, fish, meat, and some unfamiliar vegetables.
Fruit did exist.
But not as much as he knew from his original world, and even then, they were fruits completely foreign to him.
And now...
a road full of peach trees had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the Taranach Empire.
Hax stared at them in silence.
Nocelle noticed the small change in Hax's expression.
"Your Highness?"
"Hm?"
"Is something wrong?"
Hax shook his head.
"No."
He looked out the window again.
But this time...
his gaze was far more attentive.
He observed the road's position.
The direction of the mountains in the distance.
The small river flowing on the left.
Then the rows of peach trees that stretched quite far.
Hax committed everything to memory.
Not because the trees were important now.
But because...
he wanted to come back.
"How long until these trees bear fruit?"
he asked.
The coachman answered without turning around.
"If the weather's good?"
"About a month."
"Maybe a little sooner."
Hax nodded.
A month.
He noted the timing.
"And are the fruits sold?"
"For the most part."
"Where?"
"In the villages around here."
The old man chuckled softly.
"Why? Does the master want to buy peaches?"
Hax was silent for a moment.
"...Perhaps."
The coachman chuckled.
"Then come back when it's harvest season."
Hax gazed once more at the rows of pink outside.
"Yes."
"I'll return."
Nocelle looked at Hax.
She seemed a little surprised.
Throughout her time knowing Hax...
it was rare to see her master show interest in something so simple.
Not weapons.
Not monsters.
Not magic.
Not politics.
Just...
a fruit.
But Hax didn't explain anything.
He just kept watching the blossoms drifting along the road.
In his mind...
a new location had been recorded.
Peach trees.
Something that reminded him of the world he had left behind long ago.
Something that shouldn't have meant much.
Yet for some reason...
he wanted to taste them again.
Not because he was hungry.
But because for the first time in so long...
something from his old world had grown right before his eyes.
Hax fell silent.
A few seconds.
Then...
he suddenly realized something.
...
He had forgotten.
Forgotten that he was no longer human.
Hax lowered his head slightly.
The body he now used was merely an empty suit of armor.
A Living Armor.
No human organs inside.
No stomach.
No tongue.
No sense of taste.
He didn't even have the need to eat or drink.
All this time...
he hadn't been able to taste food at all.
Hax grew increasingly silent.
"..."
Come to think of it...
during his time in this world, he had never truly tasted any food.
He could hold it.
See it.
He could still detect aromas through his armor's sensory systems.
But tasting it?
Impossible.
Hax stared blankly out the window.
Peaches.
The fruit he wanted to experience again...
yet now he didn't even have a tongue.
"..."
For a while, the atmosphere inside the carriage felt silent.
Nocelle watched Hax from across.
She saw her usually composed master...
now with his head slightly lowered.
Saying nothing.
Not moving.
Just silent.
Nocelle began to feel uneasy.
Was... His Highness disappointed?
She recalled their conversation earlier.
About the peach trees.
About the harvest season.
Nocelle didn't fully understand why that fruit was so important.
Even when Hax spoke with the coachman earlier...
she could only follow part of the conversation.
While the elderly coachman seemed to understand much more.
They even discussed when the fruit would ripen, how the harvest would be, and where the fruit was usually sold.
While she...
could only sit and listen.
Even an old coachman connected better with His Highness than I do...
Nocelle lowered her head.
She began to feel guilty.
"Your Highness..."
Hax didn't respond.
Nocelle clasped her hands together on her lap.
"I'm sorry."
Hax slowly raised his head.
"...?"
Nocelle looked at him with a serious expression.
"I apologize."
Hax was silent.
"For what?"
Nocelle looked even more confused.
"Because..."
She paused.
Then answered honestly.
"I don't understand Your Highness's conversation about peaches."
Hax was silent.
"..."
Nocelle continued in a slightly smaller voice.
"I also don't really know what they taste like."
"And I don't know why that fruit means so much to Your Highness."
Hax remained silent.
Nocelle lowered her head again.
"..."
Hax looked at Nocelle.
Then...
he looked at the old coachman in front.
Then back at Nocelle.
"...You misunderstand."
Nocelle raised her head.
"Misunderstand?"
"Yes."
Hax paused for a moment.
Then spoke in a flat tone.
Nocelle froze.
"..."
They were both silent for several seconds.
Then Nocelle slowly covered her face with both hands.
"Ah..."
Hax still didn't understand.
Nocelle lowered her hands.
Her face looked slightly flushed.
Then she looked back out the window.
The rows of peach trees were already farther away.
The pink blossoms were still visible in the distance.
Hax fell silent again.
He was still thinking about one simple thing.
What a pity.
He truly couldn't taste food anymore.
But...
at least he could still remember the flavor.
Or perhaps...
one day he would find a way to experience again something that even his own human body could no longer possess.
The carriage continued moving eastward.
Leaving the road filled with pink blossoms behind, little by little.
Hax kept watching until the trees finally disappeared from view.
"..."
Then he closed the curtain.
The journey continued toward Abernaith.
----
Abernaith — Eastern Taranach Empire
The sounds of war never ceased at Abernaith.
The thunder of magic.
The shouts of soldiers.
The clashing of metal.
The roars of monsters.
And occasionally...
explosions that shook the entire city.
Abernaith had been a battlefield for some time now.
Outside the city walls, the Taranach Imperial forces continued to hold the line against waves of monsters coming from the eastern region.
Goblins.
Orcs.
Ogres.
Various types of beasts.
And other creatures that even the soldiers didn't recognize.
All of them moved like a single army.
As if they had no will of their own.
As if there was only one command they understood.
Advance.
And kill.
But if the front lines looked like hell...
the rear wasn't much better.
"The wounded are here!"
"Don't push!"
"The healers are almost out of mana!"
"Take them to the next tent!"
"Medical supplies are running low!"
The medical tents set up behind the defensive lines were already filled with injured soldiers.
Priests and priestesses ran back and forth.
Their hands continuously emitted white light.
One wound closed.
The next wound waited.
One soldier saved.
Three more brought in.
"Skill: High Heal!"
Holy light enveloped the body of a soldier with a severe abdominal wound.
A young priestess panted after completing the healing.
Her face was pale.
Her hands trembled.
"Mana..."
She looked at the mana crystal hanging at her waist.
Almost empty.
"My mana is almost gone..."
Another priestess immediately grabbed her shoulder.
"Rest for a while."
"I can't."
She pointed toward the tent entrance.
"There are still many waiting."
Outside...
several supply crates were opened.
But their contents were growing scarce.
Medicine.
Bandages.
Mana restoration potions.
Food.
Everything was running low.
The soldiers still standing at the front lines were even starting to receive smaller rations.
A war that was supposed to last only a few days...
had turned into something far worse.
---
Not far from the main defensive line...
a large tent stood amidst the chaos of the battlefield.
Inside...
the atmosphere was no less frantic.
A large table filled the center of the tent.
Spread across it was a map of Abernaith and the surrounding region.
Several wooden markers in red and black covered the map.
Red for the Imperial forces.
Black for the Demon King's forces.
And the number of black markers...
kept increasing.
Several war commanders stood around the table.
Their faces looked exhausted.
Some hadn't slept properly in days.
At the end of the table stood a young man.
His hair was dark brown.
His face looked stern, though fatigue was clearly visible beneath his eyes.
His military uniform was no longer as neat as when he first arrived at Abernaith.
But he still stood straight.
His name...
Ardhal Rion Taranach.
The crown prince and first prince of the Taranach Empire.
"How long can our food supplies last?"
Ardhal asked.
A commander opened a report.
"If the soldiers' rations remain as they are now..."
He paused briefly.
"...about six days."
Ardhal frowned.
"Six days?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"And for the civilians?"
The commander fell silent.
"Less."
The atmosphere inside the tent grew heavier.
Ardhal stared at the map.
"What about medicine?"
"Medical supplies are nearly exhausted."
"Mana restoration potions?"
"Less than a quarter."
Ardhal closed his eyes for a moment.
Then took a long breath.
"How is this possible..."
His hands clenched at his sides.
"Reinforcements keep coming."
"Every few days, we receive new troops."
"But food, medicine, and weapons..."
He looked at the commanders.
"...are getting scarcer."
One of the commanders sighed.
"At least our number of soldiers is still increasing, Your Highness."
"That's not enough."
Ardhal's answer was firm.
"Soldiers without weapons are not an army."
"Soldiers without food cannot survive."
"And wounded soldiers without medicine..."
He paused.
"...will not return to the battlefield."
No one argued.
A commander pointed to the northern part of the map.
"If we pull some troops from the northern sector..."
"No."
Ardhal immediately cut him off.
"If we weaken the northern sector, they'll break through from there."
"Then we could reinforce the eastern gate."
"And leave the southern side open?"
The commander fell silent.
Ardhal stared at the map for a long time.
His eyes moved from one point to another.
He was calculating.
Not just troop numbers.
But also time.
Supplies.
Distance.
And potential casualties.
Finally...
he pointed to a spot.
"Move the reserve troops from the western sector here."
"Your Highness?"
"We don't need them there for now."
"But if the monsters attack—"
"They won't attack."
Ardhal shook his head.
"The enemy is concentrating their forces in the east."
He pointed to several black markers.
"This isn't a coincidence."
"They're looking for the weakest point."
One of the commanders nodded slowly.
"Then we strengthen this part."
"Correct."
Ardhal then picked up several red markers and moved them.
"And don't send all the troops at once."
"Send them in small groups."
"Why?"
"Because we don't know how long this battle will last."
Ardhal looked at everyone in the tent.
"If this war continues for another week..."
He paused.
"...we must still have soldiers left to fight."
A commander fell silent.
Then spoke in a quiet voice.
"Your Highness..."
"What?"
"Do you think..."
He hesitated for a moment.
"...the capital will truly send additional supplies?"
Ardhal didn't answer immediately.
His gaze fell upon a report lying on the table.
The amount of supplies sent.
The amount received.
The difference...
was too great.
Ardhal picked up the report.
"It should."
"But?"
Ardhal crumpled the edge of the paper.
"...the amount arriving doesn't make sense."
One of the commanders sighed.
"Additional troops keep being sent."
"But the food crates that arrive are few."
"The same with weapons."
"Some units even have to use old weapons from the city's armory."
Ardhal looked at him.
"How many?"
"More than half their spears are already broken."
"And swords?"
"Some can still be used."
"Some?"
"Yes."
Ardhal fell silent.
His face showed something rarely seen from a prince.
Anger.
Not at the soldiers.
Not at the commanders.
But at something he couldn't see directly.
"How is this possible..."
His voice was low.
"...for a city at war to receive aid like this?"
There was no answer.
Ardhal stared at the map again.
Outside the tent...
an explosion sounded.
BOOM!
The entire tent trembled slightly.
Several people reflexively turned their heads.
Ardhal didn't.
He just took a long breath.
Then returned to work.
"Alright."
He picked up one red marker.
"Then we'll use what we have."
One of the commanders looked at him.
"Your Highness..."
"We have no choice."
Ardhal placed the marker on the map.
"As long as there are soldiers still standing..."
"...Abernaith has not fallen."
He looked at the commanders one by one.
"We hold."
"Whatever the cost."
The commanders nodded.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Ardhal looked at the map again.
But this time...
his eyes stopped at a point far from their position.
There...
a marker showed the position of five S-Rank adventurers.
They had been fighting one of the Demon King's generals for days.
Ardhal knew...
as long as those five still held on...
the front lines still had a chance.
But if they lost...
the situation would change drastically.
Ardhal clenched his hands.
"The empire's S-Rank adventurers..."
He sighed.
"Don't lose."
For a moment...
he just stood there.
A prince.
A commander.
And an exhausted human.
But a few seconds later...
he raised his head again.
"Next."
The commanders gathered back around the table.
The war wasn't over.
And as long as Abernaith still stood...
Ardhal Rion Taranach had no intention of leaving the battlefield.
In the midst of that chaos...
a battle was still raging.
----
Far beyond the main defensive line.
Five people stood facing a single being.
Five S-Rank adventurers from Taranach.
But...
even they looked exhausted.
Mac stood at the front.
A ranger whose body was covered in small wounds.
His bow was still in his hands, but several arrows had broken.
His breathing was heavy.
Sweat ran down his forehead.
Behind him stood two spell users.
Riain and Aodhan.
Both had used magic many times over the past few days.
Their robes were covered in dust.
Their faces were pale.
The mana crystals they used as supplementary energy sources were even cracked.
On the other side...
Maelisa, a priest, stood holding her holy staff.
She was trying to maintain a barrier around their group.
But the light on her staff was already much dimmer than before.
And finally...
Colman.
Their front-line fighter.
His body was covered in bruises.
Several parts of his clothing had been torn.
Both his hands were clenched.
He was still standing straight.
But even he was starting to lose strength.
Those five people...
had been fighting the same being for days.
And they still hadn't managed to bring it down.
Before them...
stood a woman.
Her body was small.
No taller than an ordinary human.
At first glance, she looked like a young woman.
But that impression immediately vanished when one saw her aura.
Darkness flowed from her body.
Not just a killer's aura.
Not just dark mana.
Something far denser.
Like black mist that continuously emanated from her body without end.
Her hair moved in the wind.
Her eyes looked at the five adventurers before her without the slightest trace of fatigue.
In her right hand...
a long spear.
In her left hand...
a large shield.
The armor covering her body was dark-colored.
It didn't look too heavy.
But every part of that armor seemed made with extraordinary quality.
And beneath it all...
she remained calm.
Too calm.
The woman raised her spear.
"Still standing?"
Her voice was soft.
Almost like the voice of an ordinary woman.
But that was precisely what made it feel even more terrifying.
Mac wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Unfortunately..."
He nocked an arrow.
"...we're not dead yet."
Riain raised his staff.
"Mac."
"I know."
Mac drew his bowstring.
"Three..."
Aodhan began gathering mana.
"Two..."
Maelisa raised her holy staff.
Colman lowered his stance.
"One!"
TWANG!
The arrow shot forward.
At the same moment—
"Enchancted Skill: Quadruple Fire Lance !"
A lance of fire was launched from behind.
"Enchanted Skill: Lightning Hammer Arc!"
Lightning struck from the other side.
Maelisa raised her hand.
"Holy Skill: Divine Blessing!"
White light enveloped her four companions.
Colman surged forward.
BOOM!
The ground cracked beneath his feet.
He was already right in front of the woman.
His right fist shot forward.
But—
CLANG!
The woman's shield moved.
Colman's fist struck the shield's surface.
A shockwave spread.
Colman gritted his teeth.
"So heavy!"
The woman didn't move an inch.
She didn't even seem disturbed.
Then...
her spear moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Colman immediately retreated.
But the spear's tip still managed to graze his shoulder.
SHING!
Blood sprayed.
"Colman!"
Maelisa immediately raised her staff.
"Hold!"
Holy light wrapped around Colman's wound.
But the woman was already moving.
She kicked the ground.
In an instant...
her small body shot forward.
Mac was startled.
"She's coming!"
The woman raised her shield.
BAM!
The shield struck Mac.
The ranger's body was thrown several meters.
He rolled on the ground.
"Argh!"
Riain and Aodhan immediately aimed their magic.
"Fire—"
The woman was already in front of them.
"...!"
Both froze.
The shield rose.
But before the next strike came—
BOOM!
Colman slammed into the woman's body from the side.
The woman was pushed back several meters.
But...
she stopped on one foot.
Without falling.
Without losing balance.
Colman panted.
"...Monster."
The woman looked at him.
Then smiled slightly.
"I told you."
She raised her spear.
"My name is Randgris."
The dark aura around her body grew denser.
"I am one of the Demon King's war generals."
The five adventurers fell silent.
Even though they already knew this being was no ordinary monster...
hearing the confession directly still made the atmosphere feel different.
Mac stood up slowly.
"So you really are one of the generals..."
Randgris nodded.
"Correct."
Riain gripped his staff tighter.
"Then..."
He looked at Aodhan.
"We have to bring her down here."
Aodhan nodded.
"If she gets past us..."
He glanced toward the walls of Abernaith.
"...this city will be destroyed."
Randgris followed their gaze.
In the distance...
the city walls were visible, filled with soldiers.
The Taranach banner still flew.
But several sections of the wall had been damaged.
Smoke rose from several buildings.
Randgris looked back at the five adventurers.
"You've been fighting me for days."
She tilted her head slightly.
"And you still think you can stop me?"
There was no answer.
Because...
they themselves knew the answer.
They were exhausted.
Their supplies were running low.
Maelisa was almost out of mana.
Riain and Aodhan could no longer use high-level magic as often as before.
Mac had lost most of his arrows.
Colman was even struggling to lift both his hands.
Yet...
they still stood.
Randgris let out a small sigh.
"You humans really are stubborn."
Colman grinned.
"And you talk too much."
Randgris smiled.
"Then..."
She raised her spear.
"Come."
Black aura exploded from her body.
The five adventurers immediately took their positions.
Mac drew his bow.
Riain and Aodhan began gathering what little mana remained.
Maelisa gripped her holy staff with both hands.
Colman lowered his stance.
And for the umpteenth time...
the battle began.
But this time...
none of them knew...
who would still be standing when the next sun rose.