The Things That Haven't Changed
The party rose before dawn and moved with urgent haste, but Gardan informed them that preparations for the operation were not yet complete. He suggested noon as the time to set out. Given that the Kingdom Army’s assistance was essential, the commander’s opinion carried weight, so the party nodded in agreement.
“If it’s not too much trouble, would you consider touring the encampment? The sight of the Hero and the Saintess would surely lift the soldiers’ spirits.”
“Sounds good.”
The one who answered so readily was, surprisingly, Zarco. He gripped Ceres by the shoulder, pulled her close, and added, “If it helps even a little, we should do it. Right?”
She felt he had changed. This wasn’t quite the heroic bearing she remembered. Her heart ached—whether from Zarco’s attitude or from the strangely familiar look on Ceres’s face even as she stood flustered in his arms, she couldn’t tell.
“I—I’ll…” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “I’m going to see Mister Grahn. I want him to check the equipment one more time.”
The warrior didn’t wait for a reply. She turned on her heel and left the tent. A hand brushed across her backside. What had once been light, teasing touches now cupped the Saintess’s rear with open intent. The deliberate motion made Ceres shove Zarco away with her shoulder as she whispered, “Hey… stop that.”
“Hmm. Then what about my hand?”
Ceres was beginning to understand the sort of man Zarco truly was. If she refused him this, he would find endless excuses—accidents, coincidences—to grope her wherever he pleased. She let out a small sigh and raised one hand just enough.
“Only hands.”
“Then.”
The Hero’s fingers slid between the Saintess’s, lacing them together. She had held his hand many times before, yet walking side by side like this felt like something lovers might do. Her face flushed hot.
When the tense faces of soldiers inside the tents—men steeling themselves for the decisive battle—came into view, Zarco tugged her inside one of them.
“Everyone.”
“Ah, it’s the Hero!”
“Hey! The Hero’s here! On your feet!”
The soldiers sprang up in an instant and snapped crisp salutes. Their movements were quick, disciplined.
“There’s no need for that. I only came to greet you.”
“Understood! Saintess! At ease!”
Ceres waved awkwardly, but the men remained rigidly upright. “No, really—I just wanted to say let’s all do our best together when the operation begins. Please, be at ease!”
“It is an honor, Saintess!”
“Ugh, honestly!”
At Ceres’s exasperated expression, one soldier failed to stifle a laugh. When she answered with an embarrassed smile, soft laughter gradually filled the tent. The heavy atmosphere eased.
“We’re counting on you,” Zarco said. “If you lure the monsters for us, the Saintess and I will surely defeat Marus.”
“Yes, sir! Hero!”
“Waaaaah!”
The soldiers cheered. Ceres felt goosebumps rise along her arms at how such simple words could raise morale so easily. She glanced at Zarco, wondering if this was truly the same uncertain boy from the village. Their eyes met; she quickly looked away.
“By the way, Hero.”
“Yes?”
“You and the Saintess seem very close. Holding hands so tightly…”
“Are the two of you perhaps… involved?”
Ceres jerked in surprise and yanked her hand free. Laughter erupted inside the tent once more. With her face burning scarlet, she watched Zarco simply shrug at the soldiers, that smile of his somehow infuriating. She was about to smack his shoulder when—
“Ah.”
There was Dain. He had been watching them from behind. The moment she saw the expression on his face—an expression beyond words—her body froze. Their eyes met. Dain turned and walked away.
Her arm dropped. Her feet moved on their own, chasing after him.
“Uh, where are you going?”
“She must be embarrassed. Haha.”
The soldier who had laughed froze when he saw the ice-cold look on Zarco’s face and swallowed hard.
“Dain!”
She hurried down the alley after him and called his name. Dain cleared his throat before turning around; his face had returned to its usual calm.
“Hm? What is it?”
“Dain.”
No words came. She couldn’t even explain to herself why she had stopped him. The only certainty was that the calm mask he wore was an act of endurance—endurance for her sake and no one else.
Ceres quietly took his hand. That solid, calloused hand. The hand that had gripped a shield and held the line. As she slowly lowered her head, Dain asked, voice flustered, “Why… what’s wrong, Ceres?”
“…Hey.”
“Y-yeah?”
When she lifted her gaze, the corners of her eyes glistened. That expression—it was the same one from that night. The face that had sparkled under moonlight the evening before the Hero was announced.
“I haven’t forgotten what you said.”
“What…”
Her hand trembled faintly.
“I’ll wait. So you wait too.”
Dain couldn’t speak. He only tightened his grip on the hand covering his. The stiffness born of shock and fluttering emotion melted away, replaced by a gentle smile.
Neither of them noticed Zarco listening from behind the alley corner.
“Urgent report! Commander!”
While the party and Gardan conducted their final inspection, a soldier drenched in sweat burst into the tent.
“What’s happened!”
“Haa… haa… Marantia has been attacked by demons! The city is in ruins, and refugees heading toward Hargon are being pursued!”
“Th-this… the demons would strike at a time like this…!”
Gardan slammed the table. Maps and markers scattered across the floor. Marantia—the city south of Siko Village that Dolan had mentioned. They had known demons were present, but never expected them to move so suddenly.
“Where are the refugees now!”
“They’re moving toward Darmes Mountain.”
“In that rugged terrain… they mean to hold out until reinforcements arrive.”
“There is only one thing we can do.”
Zarco’s voice silenced the tent in an instant. “The villagers at the abandoned cathedral have already reached their limit. The best course is to set out immediately, defeat Marus, then head for the refugees.”
“The Hero is correct. Hesitating now is exactly what the demons want. Let’s move at once!”
The soldiers efficiently gathered their gear, formed ranks, and marched toward the abandoned cathedral.
Simply advancing with such a large force filled Dain with a thrilling surge of energy. He took slow breaths, trying to temper his excitement with just enough tension to stay sharp. Then he saw Grahn raise a fist. Dain smiled faintly and returned the gesture.
Before long they reached the forest in front of the abandoned cathedral. Gardan looked at the party.
“Then I leave it to you, Hero.”
“Yes. And I to you.”
Gardan nodded, stepped out of the trees, and gazed at the cathedral. In only a day, several more villagers who had been blocking the entrance had collapsed, unable to endure. Yet the name they chanted—Marus—never ceased.
Gardan frowned, body trembling, then raised his sword. As sunlight glinted off the blade and drew every soldier’s eye, the Kingdom Army commander’s voice rang out.
“All units! Surround the cathedral! Beat the drums and raise the battle cry!”
To the thunderous roar that shook the earth, the party—accompanied by the two soldiers who had guided them yesterday—sprinted toward the underground passage.
They remained wary of monsters while moving through the tunnel, but none appeared. They leapt over the mangled corpses Dain had left the night before. From above came the footsteps and howls of monsters; Gardan’s lure had worked.
When they reached the cathedral doors and Dain peered through the gap, he saw that most of the monsters inside had been drawn out. Only Marus remained seated in the same spot, flanked by two black knights who showed no intention of leaving.
Dain nodded to the party. “We’re going in. One… two… now!”
He shoved the heavy stone door. Two soldiers immediately dashed for the opening the monsters had used. The door was stubborn, refusing to close easily. The monsters had noticed and were rushing back, but Dain’s timely intervention allowed them to seal the entrance without letting any through.
“Haa… haa…”
The sound of claws scraping at the door echoed. Ignoring it with effort, they turned. In the center sat a demon in white robes. On either side, black-armored knights stared at them with hollow eyes.
“Hero,” Marus said, rising slowly. The purple skin visible beneath priestly vestments and the horn atop his head stirred both revulsion and terror. His low, solid voice filled the cathedral. “Have you come to save the villagers?”
Without a word, Zarco drew the Hero’s Sword. With one arm he pulled Ceres against him. Her chest pressed visibly against his body. For a split second Dain’s gaze flicked toward Zarco, but he quickly steadied himself and glared at Marus. The memory of Ceres taking his hand in the alley helped bury the warrior’s unease.
“Haha, of course. You are the Hero, I am a demon. What conversation could we possibly need? Now then.”
At Marus’s gesture the two black knights began to move. They dragged their black greatswords along the floor as they descended the stairs. The screech of metal on marble made the soldiers’ hands tremble. The knights towered over the men; every step produced a sickening clash of armor. The empty glow within their helmets grew louder with the soldiers’ ragged breathing.
Between them, Dain walked forward with steady strides and stood before the knights. No fear showed in his eyes. I will wait too. Until that day comes, I will block everything that stands in the way. The Hero’s resolve burned in those eyes.
Marus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hoo.”
Dain lifted his heater shield and readied his sword to strike. Marus leaned back slightly, regarding both the warrior and the Hero.
“Hahaha, how amusing. Very well—let us fight, warrior. I shall watch the Hero.”
Marus snapped his fingers. In answer, the black knights raised their swords.