Once everything was arranged as quickly as possible, the people immediately set out, leading the civilians away to another place.
The journey would be extremely arduous, given the sheer number of people that needed to be moved.
The difficulties came not only from the dangers of the wilderness but also from very practical concerns. For example, drinking water could be managed thanks to the Mages, but finding enough food for so many was still a major problem to solve. Although they had brought along some supplies, such meager stores could never suffice for the long road ahead.
Despite these hardships, most agreed that leaving was the better choice now, rather than attempting a full assault to reclaim the city.
The reason was not simply that much of the city had already been consumed by fire. Even if the houses were destroyed, once the flames were extinguished, they could rebuild from the ashes if they managed to retake the city.
What truly prevented them was the overwhelming strength of their enemies. And the enemy force was not just a handful of individuals.
Beyond a small group of powerful Magical Beasts, there was another force at the enemy's disposal. The entire clergy of the Church of Light, along with most of the soldiers who had remained in the city, had been slaughtered and turned into Undead, forming a formidable army. Worse still, this special force could spread dangerous plagues, corrupting the land and all living creatures upon it.
The forces they currently possessed were simply insufficient to counter all of this.
Even the rescue and evacuation efforts had already cost the lives of many soldiers and several adventurers.
If they attempted a full assault to reclaim the city with their current strength, even if by some miracle they succeeded, the consequences would be more than they could bear.
. . .
The procession moved onward, leaving Aldor behind.
The civilians were gathered in the center, while those capable of fighting spread out along the outer edges, guarding the people within.
From above, they looked like a massive serpent crawling slowly across the land. And that serpent groaned ceaselessly, echoing the mournful cries of despair.
Not everyone could bear the reality of having lost nearly all their possessions and being forced to abandon their familiar homeland. Some fools still refused to accept the truth, shouting demands that the soldiers drive out the enemy and reclaim their city, their homes, and their wealth.
For such foolish voices, John and the other leaders simply ignored them. There were far more pressing matters to worry about.
John: "Are they truly just letting us leave like this?"
Even as he walked, he kept glancing back toward Aldor with deep concern.
Peter: "Indeed. It's hard to believe they're simply watching us go without doing anything."
Both men, along with a large force, had chosen to march at the rear of the column, serving as rearguard. Yet unease lingered heavily in their hearts, refusing to fade.
"Look there, on the city wall!" A voice cried out.
Everyone squinted toward Aldor's battlements. The distance was too great for most to see clearly, but John and Peter could make out everything.
Standing atop the wall was a small group of four, the very enemies they had faced not long ago.
The bald man raised one hand high, muttering something under his breath. Moments later, from the sky, a rain of blazing meteors came hurtling down toward the procession. Each one was massive, nearly two meters across.
Witnessing this, John and the others felt a chill run down their spines. Despair spread across many faces.
Overcome with fear, many people began to scatter in panic, even trampling one another just to run a little faster.
But because of the pushing and trampling, the entire procession slowed down even more. Worse still, before the meteors had even struck, those beneath them were already injuring each other.
In the chaos, John and many others had no time to restore order.
The guildmaster's mind was racing at full capacity, desperately searching for a way to protect as many lives as possible.
Yet the more he thought, the less he found a suitable choice. Against the enemy's current attack, safeguarding himself was easy enough. But he lacked the means to shield so many people at once.
Not far from John, inside the puppet 'Berserker,' Tris also looked up at the descending meteors and reached a conclusion not much different from the guildmaster's.
He had the means to protect himself and a small group, but not the entire crowd.
He could attempt to strike the meteors directly, but unless he destroyed them completely, they would only shatter into smaller fragments and continue raining down upon the people. That would be nothing more than a waste of spiritual energy.
Tris: "In the end, it depends only on how much protection the Mages' barriers can provide."
He sighed softly, already foreseeing that most civilians would perish under the strike.
After all, the number of Mages was far too small compared to the length of the entire procession. And that is without even mentioning the fact that many of them could not erect barriers strong enough to withstand the meteors falling from the sky.
In stark contrast to the grim outlook of John, Tris, and most others, Bishop Peter now wore a faint, serene smile. His face was that of a man who had already found the answer to a difficult question.
Only Clara, the Holy Knight standing close beside him, noticed that expression. Her face suddenly paled as she exclaimed:
"You don't mean to…"
Bishop Peter: "Clara, please take care of the remaining members of the church for me."
Hearing those words, she could only stand silently, tears streaming down her face.
"Divine Blessing." The Bishop spoke gently.
Then his entire body radiated brilliant light. Carried by that light, he rose into the sky.