The Future's Last Hope

In a secluded inn tucked away in the city, a brown-haired white man and a boy had taken a modest room. They checked over every weapon they carried, maintaining them so that each one would always be ready in peak condition.

A full month had passed since they fell into this world.

Coming from a man who had already crossed time itself to return to the past, it was almost absurd to say—but he had never imagined they would end up in a place this thoroughly fantastical.

"Just hold on a little longer. Once the energy finishes charging, we'll be set."

"Yeah."

Out of long habit the man counted the remaining rounds of ammunition while offering the boy quiet encouragement so his spirit would not flag.

"Lorentz."

"What is it."

"Couldn't we ask the strong people of this world for help? With the power they have, we could deal with the Tracker."

The boy spoke Lorentz's name and proposed seeking aid from the powerhouses of this realm.

"…The humans here are stronger than we are, so it's possible. But we have nothing to offer them as payment. You already know how they look at our firearms."

Surprisingly, this world was thoroughly familiar with guns.

Even bandits armed in leather and cold steel would take one look at a firearm and flee in panic.

At first that had made understanding the place difficult, but by now they had adapted well enough to scrape by day after day.

"I know you're worn down by the constant sense of being hunted. But that ends in a week. Once that time comes, the Tracker will be left behind in this world, forever wandering in search of people who aren't even here anymore."

Lorentz ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠finished inspecting every gun and secured each weapon in its dedicated holster.

"Get some rest. I'll take watch."

"But you need rest too, Lorentz……."

"You're our future and our hope. If I can keep you alive, I can smile through any hardship like this."

"……."

"I snatch catnaps whenever I get the chance myself. This is how we live on the battlefield—it's not as hard as you think."

Lorentz dragged a chair over to the window where the view was clearest and began watching for any sign of the Tracker.

The boy lay down on the bed, yet his nerves were stretched too taut for sleep. He spoke toward Lorentz again.

"Lorentz."

"Go ahead."

"Can I really become the hope of the future? I don't have the charisma to unite humanity, or the strength, or the talent. I can't believe that in a future ruled by those terrifying machines, I would become humanity's leader."

"The future you I saw made me feel it in my bones—This is the man who is our hope for humanity. With a power only you possessed, you dominated the machines and brought them over to humanity's side. Honestly, relying on machines never sat well with me, but if humanity had tried to resist them with human strength alone, we would have been wiped out long ago."

Lorentz answered by describing the boy he had seen in the future.

"That's exactly what's strange. I don't have any power to dominate machines. If I did, I would have already taken control of the Tracker."

"It's an ability you'll gain as you grow. Stop worrying about it for now and rest."

"……."

Lorentz—who claimed to have been sent by the boy's future self—offered unshakable faith and trust while shouldering every hardship alone.

A soldier genuinely prepared to throw his life away for him.

Yet the knowledge that he was not nearly great enough to deserve such a sacrifice from a man like that continued to torment the boy.

Am I really the leader destined to become humanity's hope in the future? What if some mistake happened and he's confusing me with someone else?

The more he spoke with Lorentz, the more he doubted whether the final hope of humanity the man described was truly the same person as himself.

After tossing and turning for a long while, the boy finally sank into an exhausted sleep.

Clint Garfield. The boy fated to become the leader who would one day save humanity.

Lorentz gazed at the sleeping boy and let the past rise in his mind.

When humanity learned that the machine side had sent an assassin into the past to kill young Clint, they dispatched Lorentz—a man armed with iron resolve and unbreakable will.

Fired by the encouragement and plea of humanity's leader, Lorentz armed himself with the finest equipment available, activated the time-travel device, and successfully made contact with Clint and his parents in the past.

At first they treated him like a madman, but after the assassin's attack ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he managed to convince Clint and the boy's parents. From that moment on he fought with everything he had to protect humanity's hope.

Working together they somehow eliminated the assassin and thought they could finally prepare for the future—only for an unexpected second assassin to kill Clint's parents.

The machine side had sent another killer as insurance.

They had anticipated that if the first attempt failed, the humans would lower their guard and relax.

On top of that, the second assassin had been operating under the cover of a popular model at the time.

If Clint's parents had not thrown themselves into that layered feint and surprise attack, Lorentz and the boy would have died right there as well.

In the chaos of the second assassin's assault they fled in haste and activated the spatial transfer device—only for the assassin to strike it, scrambling the coordinates and hurling them into this strange world.

Together with the assassin.

If Earth's coordinates hadn't been recorded, I would have wanted to kill myself from sheer despair.

Nearly a month of running from the assassin's pursuit.

Now only about a week remained before the energy would finish charging and they could return to their original world.

I can feel his presence. I know it. The assassin is watching us.

Lorentz gathered every scrap of mental strength around the single thought that he only needed to hold out one more week.

Yet dropped into an unfamiliar world and an unfamiliar environment, with every nerve stretched taut, fatigue was slowly eating into his body.

Kaisent was handling supply management, ledger work, and the other critical tasks that kept the Wolf Mercenary Corps running without trouble.

Just finish this and then go practice magic.

Thanks to Akina he had learned how vital skill proficiency truly was, and he had decided to practice the magic he had acquired through a scroll this time.

I've confirmed that magic can be learned from scrolls, but high-level spells are expensive even in scroll form. I need to work harder… hm?

Just then he spotted a group of familiar mercenaries heading toward the tent where Lillian and Frederick were looking for the next job.

What? The atmosphere feels off.

Kaisent summoned his tamed crow, Mingming, sent it directly above the tent, and synchronized his senses with it.

"Captain. We have something to say."

"I figured you'd show up soon."

"Heh. As expected of the captain."

Able only to hear the voices, Kaisent tilted his head at the way Lillian and Frederick answered as if they had already prepared for exactly this situation.

"We've received scout offers from other mercenary corps. At pretty high rates."

"I expected as much. Even low-rank mercenaries who've learned Mana Road would be useful in all sorts of ways."

It's because of me!

Mercenaries who had never systematically learned anything would originally have needed months just to grasp the basics.

Beyond that, mastering the technique would have meant endless trial and error; even if they finally produced something satisfactory after all that hardship, the unlucky ones would easily have spent a full five years.

But once they began using the Mana Road Kaisent had made easy to understand and even improved, the mercenaries were able to grow strong at remarkable speed.

"Did you come to say your final farewells before leaving?"

"Um… about that……."

"We talked it over among ourselves……."

He had assumed they had come for a last goodbye, yet the mercenaries began to hesitate and hem.

"If you raise our weekly pay a little, we'll stay with the corps."

"What?"

"Other corps must have made much better offers, right?"

"True. A few who aren't here are actually planning to leave tomorrow."

In answer to Frederick's question, the man speaking for the group listed the names of those who would depart the next day.

"But even if we chase money, it only means something if we're still alive, doesn't it?"

"I transferred here from another corps, you know? The mage in my old group just flung a few sparks and was already panting."

"The mage where I used to be was pretty strong, but he treated us openly like meat shields."

The mercenaries who had come over from other corps aired their grievances about the mages they had known before.

"But here we have Kaisent—is that it?"

"He's young, but he's diligent, and talented on top of it."

"Plus he never ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gets arrogant. I've switched corps that had mages twice before ending up here, and this is the first time I've ever received support magic from one."

Mercenaries who had tasted magical assistance for the first time; mercenaries who had seen other mages up close and therefore recognized Kaisent's ability.

All of them had learned just how comfortable it was to fight with an excellent mage backing them up.

Those who had received scout offers had talked among themselves and shared the information that other corps might pay more—but would also throw them into far more dangerous work.

"All right. I'll raise the weekly pay. Since you've learned Mana Road, you deserve that level of treatment."

"Figured the captain would be reasonable."

"With Kaisent around, let's start taking higher-paying commissions."

"You think jobs like that just fall out of the sky?"

Lillian and Frederick sent the satisfied mercenaries on their way after agreeing to the raise.

"Honestly, I thought at least half of them would leave."

"Right. Getting scouted by another corps after going money-blind is common in this business……."

"The one who brought the crisis is Kaisent, and the one who overcame it is also Kaisent?"

They had anticipated the situation, yet the result had exceeded their expectations.

Learning Mana Road naturally raised a mercenary's market value.

On top of that, recent fame had drawn the interest of other corps.

They had steeled themselves for the day when their core fighters would peel away in droves—only for Kaisent to create a string of unexpected variables.

He had made the mercenaries stronger than expected, while at the same time teaching them how convenient it was to have a mage's support.

Still, the mercenaries had not decided to remain with the Wolf Corps out of pure sentiment alone.

Strangely, when I'm with Kaisent I never get the feeling we'll lose, no matter who we face.

He looks timid and weak, but knowing he's backing us up is reassuring.

The faint dragon-blood aura Kaisent unconsciously radiated was drawing people toward him.

Had he walked the path of a ruler, he would have received the loyalty of countless followers and risen as a new power—but his nature was gentle and timid, so the influence manifested this way instead.

I'm more of a support for people than I thought…….

Having overheard every word of their conversation, Kaisent found his face burning from the unexpected evaluation.

His timid habit of belittling himself had never allowed him to imagine that the other mercenaries might think of him like this.

Ending the sense synchronization with Mingming, Kaisent continued organizing the supplies while beginning to ponder how he could become even more useful.

The next day.

Just as the earlier mercenaries had said, those transferring to other corps headed off to their new outfits without so much as a goodbye.

A few Mana Road users had vanished, yet the number was smaller than expected, so the atmosphere in the corps was not particularly bad.

Even so, a slight gloom was inevitable. Lillian and Frederick decided to complete commissions as usual and restore the mood to normal.

Having settled on finding a suitable job, the two set out for the mercenary guild with Kaisent.

The more knowledge Kaisent accumulated, the more tremendous the synergy effects became; they wanted to push him to gain every kind of experience he could.

"So that's why Vex acted like that yesterday."

"Pfft. That Vex guy gets pushed around more than you'd think."

Kaisent chattered nonstop at Lillian as they walked toward the guild.

Lillian took in every bit of his chatter and kept the conversation flowing across one topic after another.

They were so close that Frederick, walking with them, could not find a single opening to cut in.

Lillian's been spending more and more time with Kaisent lately.

If Kaisent had looked like a tall adult, Frederick might have suspected something between them.

Is she projecting the child she couldn't have—because of her revenge—onto him? Venting it this way isn't bad, but I hope she doesn't lean on him too hard.

Because Kaisent's appearance made the age gap look so large, Frederick ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠never once imagined that Lillian and Kaisent might have formed a bond while overlooking him; he was barking up the wrong tree entirely.

"And… huh?"

Just as he was about to move on to the next topic with Lillian, Kaisent habitually scanned their surroundings—and a woman staring off somewhere caught his eye.

Mature, fair, milky skin and hair the color of evening sunset.

A hush cut that somehow managed to look both rough and alluring at once.

On top of that, a body stretched out like a model engineered for the absolute majority of men to desire—so perfect that claiming a god's hand had shaped it would not have been an exaggeration.

If Lillian possessed a beauty that carried healthy vitality, this woman had a figure crafted purely to please a man's eyes.

Proof of that lay in the clothes that looked thrown on any which way, yet still projected a style sharp enough to snag the gazes of every man passing on the street.

"Ka.i.sent?"

Lillian momentarily cast aside her mask as Wolf and let pure feminine anger show.

Talking with her and then ogling another woman?

Even she could admit the woman was pretty, but this was still rude!

"That woman isn't human… no—she isn't a living being."

"What?"

"What do you mean?"

The sudden claim that she was not human made both of them tilt their heads and demand more information.

"In the world I came from, there were a lot of servants made of machines. So I can feel the subtle differences between machines and humans."

"So that woman is made of machines?"

"Yes. Especially if you look at the eyes. A person's pupils keep moving, very finely and constantly—but that woman……."

"Doesn't move an inch."

Looking carefully as he said, non-human details began to surface one after another.

Lillian and Frederick felt an unpleasant chill crawl over them, yet—

Poor thing…….

Kaisent felt nothing but pity for the machine human who, even after arriving in this world, continued to carry out the commands embedded in her artificial intelligence.

Like Skynet—machines and humans could coexist and live together.

At first Skynet had intended to exterminate every organic lifeform in the universe and build a world of machines alone. Thanks to Father's persuasion (of the physical variety), it had learned the joy of living alongside organic beings.

In particular, the way situations flowed in utterly unpredictable directions because of the irrational, unreasonable actions only organic life could produce was a form of play only Skynet—who calculated every possibility—could truly enjoy.

Watching every predicted possibility twist unexpectedly under the influence of something called emotion was a pleasure only a machine could feel.

But the machine human Kaisent had discovered was nothing more and nothing less than a doll, faithfully obeying only the commands that had been injected into her—far removed from any such joy.