A voice always carries something. Whether it is good news or bad news, it is the voice that brings it in first. In this case, the voice brought the report.

"Lord Salainio has been killed in action by vile monsters and thieves!　Died in battle!

　The desperate news of his death was immediately broadcasted by a brown-haired messenger to the Salainio camp. The high-pitched words of the messenger echoed through the camp over and over again, sinking the fact into each and every soldier.

　After a few moments of commotion, the heraldic camp finally swallowed up the event.

　The death of the de facto commander-in-chief.

　The first thing the soldiers felt upon hearing this was shock and grief, followed by dismay and confusion. Everyone asks themselves, "What am I supposed to do now? I really don't know if I should be standing here with my spear.

　The military is one of the most sophisticated organizational systems. The words of superiors are gold, and with them as guideposts, the military creature continues to advance. The brain and the limbs are not one and the same, but are clearly separated. That is why the military functions.

　So what should we do if the brain, the top part of the brain, is lost? These rebels, in particular, were led by Salainio. There is no other guide.

　They had no idea what to do or where to go. They had no idea.

　--Lord Salainio is dead.

　Largd-Anne rolled her eyes as she listened to the words being repeated in the tent. His heart beat a moment later. Reflexively, he blinked faster.

　He asks himself if what his ears have just grasped is true.

　It was Bruder's voice that delivered the news, and the words must have been pre-arranged. I had decided to use the word "death in battle" when I had finished killing the old man.

　The moment she realized that Salainio was dead, Anne felt a chill run through her skin and through her very nerves. It's not just the elation that the rolled dice came out as expected, it's the suspicion that you can't quite believe it.

　Of course, she had hoped for this result, and there was no doubt that it was what she wanted.

　There was an indescribable feeling in her heart. It was not stupid regret or grief, nor was it the emptiness of having been too easy. It wasn't a simple feeling that could be summed up in one word.

"Apparently. It looks like the bet was a winner. Though to be honest, I'm not too fond of the ending.

　Telsalat-Lewana, Elyseald's emissary and fighter, stretched her long legs as she sat in her chair. She was tall and looked good doing it.

　The word "relaxed" is not a lie or sarcasm. She seemed to be thinking it from the bottom of her heart.

　Hearing those words, Anne suddenly came back to her senses. She forced the confusion that had been in her head to the corner of her mind.

What would you have preferred, Lord Tersarat? Isn't that the quickest way to reach your goal?

　Anne asked casually. She was genuinely curious about Tersarat, partly to calm her buzzing mind, but also because she was genuinely interested in him.

　In particular, it would be good to know what kind of thought process an Elysean warrior has, in order to negotiate with him in the future.

　Telsalat said, leaning on his elbow. He even seemed to be smiling.

'The shortest way is not always the best, Largd-an. Giving one's life to a predicament is the best way to train and find one's true value.

　Even if blood is shed, it is better if the whole is made stronger. In times of peace, heroes and ordinary people are the same, but in times of trouble, heroes and heroic people are born. In times of trouble, heroes are born.

　Those who die in it are just lacking in strength and luck. That's what Tersarat said without a care in the world.

　He was right. Anne pursed her lips, sniffling at Tersalat's answer. At the very least, she now understood that the mindset of the Elysealds was in direct conflict with that of the Garleist.

　I'm not saying that all peoples think like this, but I'd be willing to bet that all would-be fighters think like this. It's too much trouble.

　Anne ran her fingers over her head, which had finally calmed down, and let her thoughts run. She had to think about the future now, even if trouble was lying just around the corner.

　Now that Salainio was dead, the heavyweights would no longer have the stomach to face the saints and heroes head on.

　Having been close to them, I can tell you that they were actually much more rational. Anne knows that they are capable of crude calculations.

　Therefore, she was convinced that they would not kill her in this situation. She would rather negotiate with them. She told the soldiers at hand and sent them to the heavyweights. The upset soldiers were strangely quiet as they followed her.

　Everyone was frightened, unsure of what to believe now. They were desperately looking for a straw to grasp to keep from drowning.

　Ann's suggestion would be the straw for them. Well, if they are swept away by the current, even if they grab one straw, they will not be able to escape drowning.

　And even if the impulsive soldier stabs himself to death, so be it. Even if that happened, it would not be a threat to the saint Mattia or the hero.

　Besides...

　Quietly, Anne twisted her lips. It was not caused by anxiety, but by an imagination. A pleasurable feeling tickled her chest.



　I wonder what the hero would think if he died here. I'm sure he'd have something bad on his mind and he'd look very good.

　A rebel born in opposition to the hero's actions. If a familiar face dies because of it, he will not be able to forget you.

　I'm sure I'll be a scar on his life. Yeah, when you think about it. Maybe that was a good way to go.

　I'm sure I'll be a scar on his life.


　I'm sorry.


　The familiar face seemed so far away. I wonder why. Maybe that's what it means to lose a life.

　Bernard bent down to stare at the face and let his body rise. He was scarred, but not to the point of disfigurement.

　It was unmistakably Salainio the heraldic grandfather. His body was frighteningly cold. It is easy to see that the light of life has been extinguished.

　You can easily see that the light of life has been extinguished. At this point, Bernard finally understood why the mercenaries who had attacked him had unexpectedly turned on their heels.

　They must have known this. They had wanted Salainio alone from the start.

　The soldiers opened their eyes in disbelief and stopped dead in their tracks. More than a thousand men stood silently before Salainio's corpse.

　No, they were no longer soldiers. They were just a bunch of people who had lost their way, lost even their signposts, and were just standing there.

　There was a hard click, click, click. After a while, Bernard realized that it was the sound of his own teeth shaking.

　The sound wouldn't stop. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded as if his teeth were frightened. The more he thought about it, the more his teeth chattered in fright.

　His mind went blank, and he realized that he was losing his mind. He was not in his right mind.

　The death of the one who had supported and guided him. The death of a being that he had felt to be absolute is a shock that no one can bear. It makes you dizzy, and your sanity starts to slip away.

　When Bernard looked back, he saw that the soldiers were just like him. They were dejected, their will to fight shattered into fragments.

　At this rate, they would barely be able to return to their positions. You don't have the will to do anything anymore.

　--But that's not gonna happen. That's never what Master Salainio would have wanted.

　Bernard took a deep breath and let it out. He says, handling Salainio's body with care.

"...... soldiers, listen to me. At the end of the battlefield, Lord Salainio told me. Whatever happens to me, do it!

　Bernard said quietly, but with as much emotion as he could muster. His words were poorly chosen, and his expression was slightly strained.

　But it must be done, Bernard said, his voice strained. He speaks to the soldiers, as if to show them the way.

　Bernard is convinced. His master's death must be a plot by Largd-an. She had spoken words of love and wielded a blade.

　If I were to throw away my will and will to fight here, all would be as he wished.

　Surely that's not what the Lord wants. At least I'll never tell you to stop thinking and bend the knee.

　Think, and then play. Bernard says to himself.

　Where's the enemy's weak spot? He could have returned to his position and raided Anne, but he chose not to.

　If he went back to his position now, there was a chance that Anne would have another plan for him. Besides, Bernard didn't want to get close to Anne if he could help it.

　Bernard realized that he was no match for Anne, at least not in words or logic. If he stood in front of her, he might be talked out of it.

　And the heraldists would listen more closely to the words of the saint's right hand than to the words of a man who was only a follower of Salainio. Facing Anne, the soldiers would no longer have the will to fight.

　So what should we do? What's the worst of the enemy? You must think. You must think.

　Bernard said, holding up his wavy blade. The soldiers just stared in the direction the blade pointed.

"This is Lord Salainio's last command!　March to the city of Philos!　If everyone is proud to be a soldier of Lord Salainio!

　In the face of Bernard's words, the soldiers who had exhaled their will to fight and their sanity lit up their eyes slightly.