Forced Event
A forced event.
An event that players cannot intervene in because it must inevitably occur for the scenario to progress.
Though Last Savior boasted an enormous degree of freedom, that didn't mean players could manipulate and control everything.
There were always stories that had to be followed in a game like this.
Carpe had experienced two forced events so far.
The first was the death of the graveyard keeper Geas.
It was the event that kicked off the Magic King scenario in earnest, and as a result, he had obtained Tina.
The second forced event he'd encountered was when he'd come face-to-face with the Serving Lord's 'true body.'
It had only been a fleeting moment, but since even control of his body had been impossible, it remained a vivid memory.
And the third forced event he was experiencing now was a combination of those two previous ones.
Scenario event 'Ambush' begins. During the event, the player cannot intervene in the scenario.
All familiars unrelated to the scenario are reverse-summoned.
"Ugh?!"
The moment the alerts appeared, Carpe realized he could no longer control his body.
And at the same time, Tina, Mirage, and Mukhyang, who had been mixed in with the revolutionaries, were sent back to the Room.
'Whoa, what kind of scenario is this that it even forces a reverse summon...?'
-You'll find out soon enough.
'Sigh. Can I at least turn my head? This is the second time, but it's still frustrating as hell.'
-As long as it's not an attack or scenario intervention, you can move a bit. Talk too. Anyway, don't waste energy on useless stuff—just watch the story...
'Unlock! Unlock! Release! Ah, no dice, huh?'
-...You think that'll work? You gonna wreck the scenario?
'Just testing. Testing... Huh?'
And at that moment.
"Wh-what the hell?!"
"Gah! P-people jumped out from the shadows!"
Commotion began to stir among the revolutionaries.
When he turned his head toward the source of the noise, there was a group of assassins in masks and dark garb holding knives to the throats of the revolutionary leaders.
"You bastards dare! Who are you? Reveal yourselves!"
"It would be wise not to speak further, First Prince. We'll leave once our objective is met."
"Objective? What the...?"
"You'll see soon enough."
About twenty assassins had grabbed hostages scattered among the revolutionaries.
But that wasn't the end of it.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Thud!
Another group of assassins hidden in the revolutionaries' shadows now headed toward the border guards. More than the first group—around thirty strong.
The one who seemed to be their leader stepped forward to Gillian.
"Do-pa Gillian. Do you require an explanation of the situation?"
"...You lot. Black Wing."
"You have keen eyes."
Black Wing.
An assassination organization that made its name about a hundred years ago by killing a candidate for sainthood in the Holy Nation.
In the century since, they'd carried out countless commissions without a single failure—the undisputed strongest assassin group.
"Doesn't look like you're here for the First Prince... So, your target is me?"
"Indeed."
"Some moneybags idiot must've done something stupid."
Gillian slammed his greatsword into the ground with a thunk! and continued.
"Fine. Who's the client? Huinan? Or maybe Sergail?"
"Client information is not disclosed. That's our rule."
"Hmph. Figures. So, with hostages in hand, what do you want from me? Should I just off myself right here?"
"I'd love to proceed that way... but unfortunately, that's not my call. The leader ordered us to handle you ourselves."
"...Leader? You mean the Dark King?"
The Dark King's Throne, one of the Five Seats.
Black Wing's leader was, like Gillian, one of the Continent's Eleven Strong.
Gillian had fought the Dark King about fifty years ago, purely out of mutual fighting spirit rather than duty. It had ended in a draw.
They'd acknowledged each other and parted, promising to settle it one day.
"The leader sends word that he won't tarnish a Do-pa's honor with coerced suicide."
"Ha. Still as ridiculous as ever. You hostage-taking scum talking about honor?"
"Worry not. If you comply with our demands, the hostages will be unharmed. Black Wing doesn't kill needlessly."
The leader raised his hand, and the thirty silent assassins drew their weapons.
"Face all of us alone. The outcome doesn't matter. Whether we succeed or you survive, the hostages' lives are guaranteed."
"...And those guys in the back?"
"They're uninvolved in this fight. Unless you refuse the offer."
He explained that the revolutionary hostages were only to force the 1-vs-30 matchup.
Refuse, and poison would be released, causing massive casualties.
"Your answer?"
"Hmph!"
Gillian answered by raising his greatsword.
"General! No!"
"We'll fight with you!"
"Didn't you teach us never to compromise with assassins, General?!"
The border guards shouted, but Gillian shook his head.
"I did teach you that... but only when their demands are outrageous."
This case was different.
After taking hostages, all they asked was...
"They want me to kill every last one of you. Why refuse? Let me confirm: even if I slaughter you all, you'll release the hostages?"
"...We swear it on the name of the Black Wings. But keep this in mind."
The thirty assassins charged at Gillian simultaneously.
"No target has ever survived Black Wing!"
"What an honor! I'll be the first to write that history!"
The battle began.
Splatter!
As Gillian's sword cleaved through the raindrops, an assassin's arm flew into the air.
No scream followed.
Every Black Wing member had endured extreme training.
No one who screamed over a lost arm could survive their regimen.
Splat!
The armless assassin managed a shallow cut on Gillian's body. But he paid with his head.
Undeterred by their comrade's death, another assassin lunged.
Already, more than ten corpses littered the ground around Gillian.
Gillian himself was covered in wounds large and small, turned into a blood-soaked figure.
The purple discoloration around his injuries confirmed fatal poisoning.
Yes.
Gillian was slowly dying.
"..."
And Carpe understood why the system had seized control of his character.
If he could move now, he'd have rushed in without hesitation.
And the revolutionaries would have suffered poison as a result. Carpe himself would have ruined what Gillian was sacrificing for.
-...
Even Cheonma, who always preached not to over-immerse in NPCs, fell silent.
The death struggle unfolding before them was that brutal.
Splatter!
"Grraaah!"
Gillian's greatsword cleaved another assassin.
In exchange, a deep gash opened in his side.
Slash after slash.
Each swing of Gillian's blade added to the assassin corpses, but his own wounds multiplied too.
Thus passed a time that wasn't long, yet felt endless.
The rain had nearly stopped.
Splatter-!
Gillian's greatsword grazed the last assassin's leader, spraying blood across his chest.
The leader glanced at his gaping wound and spoke.
"...Impressive. Never thought we'd be wiped out."
"Huff. Haaah."
"Be proud. In our long history, you're the first to annihilate an entire Black Wing squad."
"Haa. Haaaah."
"But we've completed our mission... Ack!"
Thud!
He collapsed mid-sentence.
As the apparent leader fell, all the assassins holding revolutionary hostages vanished.
They'd kept their word.
"Cough... Damn... Persistent bastards to the end... Urk!"
Gillian dropped to one knee, vomiting blood.
Black blood scattered on the ground, smoking faintly—proof of extreme poison.
"Generaaal!"
"Healers! Where are the healers? Get the potions!"
But they all knew.
Gillian couldn't be saved. His wounds were far beyond treatment.
Border guards and revolutionaries alike owed him their lives, their hearts heavy with despair.
"Ge-General...! Grandfather!"
As the grief-stricken First Prince moved toward him.
"Cough! That's far enough, First Prince. Don't come closer."
Gillian forced his crumbling body upright.
"My duty isn't over yet."
He raised his trembling arm, pointing his sword at the First Prince.
"No one who threatens my king passes this fortress."
"General! Is now the time for that?! You'll die! We need to treat you now!"
"Impossible. My king's order was to defend this place."
"I command you—the rightful heir and First Prince of this nation! Withdraw and get treated!"
"You are not my king, First Prince."
"Grandfather! This isn't the time to be stubborn...!"
"Border guards, hear me!"
Gillian bellowed with a resounding voice.
Return of the light.
A candle burns brightest before extinguishing.
With clear tone, he commanded the guards.
"This is my final order. Join the revolutionaries from now on!"
"Pardon?! General, what do you...?"
"An army's sword protects the people. It must never turn on them."
"Then come with us, General...!"
"I cannot."
Soldiers serve the king to protect the people.
But when king and people conflict, what should a soldier do?
Gillian believed they should side with the people.
For without people, there is no nation or king.
By that logic, he too should side with the people.
"As a soldier, perhaps. But as a man, I can't."
He couldn't betray his child-like king again.
Human Gillian, not soldier Gillian, chose the king to the end.
"..."
And Carpe stepped forward before him.
"Old man. You're one stubborn bastard."
"Heh-heh! You, eh? Knew you'd come."
"...Not much time left, huh?"
"Aye. But I can hold out another ten minutes or so. Heh-heh-heh!"
"..."
Carpe said no more.
Instead, he took his stance before him.
To resume the countless spars they'd shared.
"..."
"..."
Neither border guards nor revolutionaries could stop him.
Gillian's smile toward Carpe looked too happy.
"Thanks to you, I can die as a warrior to the last."
"..."
"So cheer up that face. Look at me. You always smile!"
"...What's wrong with my face?"
"You're crying."
"Optical illusion. Rainwater."
"Hah-ha! Is that so? My mistake then. Talked too long anyway. Time's short. Get ready."
Gillian raised his sword. Carpe raised his fists.
Bam!
Gillian's strike was far lighter than Carpe remembered.
Yet impossibly heavy.
"Heh-heh-heh. Quite the luxury in my old age. Best moment of my life."
One worry lingered, but he'd prepared thoroughly there—no big issue.
"Good times always end too fast. Truly regrettable."
Bam! Bam!
Each clash of sword and fist drained something away.
His time had truly reached its limit.
Finally.
Clang.
Gillian dropped his greatsword. No strength left to hold it.
"Carpe."
"Yes."
"Thank you. My last moments with you—truly fortunate."
"The honor's mine."
"Time to rest now. What a long life it's been."
The rain had stopped; the sky cleared brightly.
He gazed at the rising warm sun, then closed his eyes standing tall.
Gillian Hillskain.
Born the eldest of House Hillskain, devoted to Ramark for nigh 160 years.
Ramark's legend, undefeated on countless battlefields.
He passed at 167.
And.
Ding.
The 'Soul Stone' in your inventory reacts to a mighty soul.
The 10-Star Player's Lucky Draw