Resolution

With a moment of breathing room, I cast a detection spell and surveyed the surroundings. Assassins were packed around us as tightly as a spider's web. I couldn't help but wonder what on earth this single girl had done to make so many people go to such lengths to kill her.

I managed to find a spot where fewer people passed, threw up a barrier around the space, and finally let myself rest.

I'm glad I can still manage magic of this level.

Even though crossing into another worldline had imposed restrictions on my mana and magic, the foundation itself was that of an Archmage. I could still handle most things. Take the analogy of money: even if you can only spend one percent of your assets, a capital of ten billion still leaves you with a hundred million. My situation was roughly the same.

The real problem would come when I met a true powerhouse. Right now every top-tier spell was locked away, and warp was completely dead. Without weapons or any proper force, if I got surrounded I would be a corpse in moments. For all I knew, someone as strong as me might be among them.

Even if I could kill a hundred men, dying to the hundred-and-first made the whole exercise meaningless. I needed clear information: the size of the enemy force, how well-trained they were, their approximate combat strength, and exactly why they were attacking.

So I forced the mana and created a secure pocket where no sound would leak and even presence was muffled.

I won't be able to keep this up for long either.

In a fight that could drag on, wasting mana on unnecessary things had to be kept to the absolute minimum. This, however, was necessary.

I took out one of the Elixirs I had brought and held it out to her.

"Drink it quickly. It's an Elixir. In case you're wondering whether to trust me—it's basically a panacea. Drink it and every wound heals. You can tell when someone's lying just by looking at them, so you won't doubt me, right?"

killer studied my lips carefully, then nodded, took the vial, and gulped it down. Moments later her wounds vanished like snow under a spring sun, and color began returning to her deathly pale face.

"No way..."

Like a primitive human discovering fire for the first time, she stared wide-eyed and prodded every part of her body. Watching her tattered arms and legs knit back together and her clouded vision clear completely, I asked,

"I know Elixirs exist in this novel too. You've never used one?"

"They exist, but... the price is insane, and more than that they're basically symbols of the powerful. People like me can't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even get a look at one even if we somehow had the money."

"Why the sudden formal speech? It's giving me the creeps."

When I said it felt awkward, killer answered,

"Because I owe you my life. If you hadn't shown up, I'd be dead."

The conveniences of civilization really were something. One little bottle of potion could rewrite a person's entire demeanor. After a brief flicker of amazement I looked at her and said,

"I'm going to ask a few questions. Mind if I drop the formalities?"

By this point I could have gone full casual without complaint, but a civilized person doesn't act that rudely.

"As you like."

killer gave permission, and our dynamic flipped in an instant. I corrected my awkward speech, lowered my tone, and spoke seriously. From here on, both our lives hung on the answers.

"Why are they trying to kill you?"

killer hesitated.

"It's not that I'm particularly curious about your personal history, but this is dozens of times more important than enemy numbers. If I know the reason they're attacking, I might find a way to make them stop."

If I could send them packing without a fight, nothing would be better. But the girl's next words were pure despair.

"Those bastards will never give up and leave... I killed the only son of a famous raider group's leader. They're hunting me for revenge."

A sigh slipped out of me. I didn't ask the stupid question of why she had killed him. Knowing that wouldn't help us survive. If these people could be talked down with excuses, they never would have formed a raider band in the first place. The cause was irrelevant.

Damn... this is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bad.

This was the novel The Cruel City Where the Blood of Death Falls. Raider group sizes varied, but the baseline was usually dozens. Plenty of them kept competent mages on the payroll, and the larger the group the more of those mages there were. In a world this rotten, the scavengers who lived by stealing other people's things were terrifyingly strong.

The upper-tier groups fielded highly trained fighters in numbers, and above all the terrain was brutally unfavorable for me.

If the high-level magic lock weren't there... hell, if I could just use ten percent of my mana, I could wipe them all out with sword energy and Aura.

I shoved the regret aside and pressed for concrete details.

"Exact numbers?"

"I don't know for sure. At least thirty... no more than a hundred at the absolute most."

If raider bands were ranked small, medium, and large, anything under a hundred fell into the medium category. We had dodged the worst-case scenario, but they still wouldn't be easy. The critical question was whether they had mages.

"How are they armed? Any mages?"

"Mostly guys who use hidden weapons like me. No mages... probably..."

"Definitely none, or maybe none?"

"Honestly, I can't be sure."

I fell silent, turning her words over.

No matter how I look at it, the risk-reward is garbage.

Bluntly put, the enemy had come for the girl called killer sitting next to me, and she herself had given them the reason. In a state where the penalty of crossing worldlines kept me from using even a fraction of my real strength, risking my life felt grotesquely unfair. What would I gain even if I slaughtered every last one of them? All risk, zero return. A completely one-sided deal.

While I stayed quiet she seemed to sense the shift and spoke with a note of anxiety.

"I've recovered now. If you help, we have a real chance of winning."

The dead-fish eyes from earlier were starting to regain light. No matter how hard she played the tough assassin, she was still human. Just look at the flood of posts she had dumped on the board under the name killer. A person who kept singing "I want to live, I want to live" while assassins hunted her.

Maybe flooding the board with hundreds of posts and comments every day had been her own way of writing a will online. Anything posted on the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠DoomNovel Gallery stayed in the database forever.

"There's a chance. I'm a lot stronger than you think."

Covered in wounds, half-starved, and surrounded—anyone would have given up. But now she had an ally and a fully healed body. The will to live would flare up again.

"We might win—if the enemy is only swordsmen."

Choi Yebin closed her mouth, understanding exactly what I meant.

"If they have multiple mages, they won't close in. They'll just bombard us from range. The more of them there are, the worse it gets for us. Eventually I'd have to stake my life too. And they'll target me first."

Anyone with half a brain knows you kill the mage first. On top of that, this enclosed space limited fire magic and forced extreme caution with any area spell. One mistake and I could cook myself with my own magic.

Restrictions stacked on my side, while the enemy would clearly focus everything on me. Finding a reason to risk my neck for zero personal gain was hard. It might sound mercenary, but people are like that. I wanted the safe option.

So I floated the idea lightly.

"If I play it carefully, I might be able to hold out alone here for about twenty-four hours."

One escape had already succeeded. That meant I had another choice besides fighting: simply wait them out. With stealth magic I could probably last a full day on my own. I genuinely believed it.

If it comes down to it, I can always fight later.

Two options. I wanted the safer one.

"I can't go with you."

The words left my mouth and I immediately began gathering mana, ready to kill the girl in front of me the instant she pulled a blade or tried to threaten me. It looked cold-blooded, but this was reality. Unlike the movies, absurd things like saving a pretty face for free never happened. In the novel I had possessed, cornered people often tried to take you with them, and I had killed every single one. Woman or not, beautiful or not—my hand would not hesitate.

"I understand."

But contrary to my readiness, she simply began walking out of the magic field I had spread.

"..."

"I already knew. Your appearing at all was a miracle. In a filthy world like this, nothing is dumber than hoping for fated encounters or lucky breaks. I've gotten soft, I guess. One little taste of hope and I started leaning on someone else. I wasn't always like this.... I've talked too long. I'll handle it alone. Even if they catch me and kill me, I won't tell them you exist or where you are."

Even watching her leave, I kept my guard up. Feigning vulnerability to lower my defenses then striking was still an option.

She stepped cleanly out of the stealth field I had woven. In that moment I felt ridiculous for having been so wary.

"Hah..."

An empty feeling I couldn't name settled over me. But this was still the best choice.

Battle would start soon. Either she would die or those assassins would. Either way, I would stay safe. If she had intended something stupid, the perfect moment had been when we were pressed tight together just now.

Reassured, I called up the DoomNovel Gallery. The interface ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bloomed in front of my eyes. A ridiculously convenient function—accessible anytime, anywhere.

While scanning the posts, one newly written entry caught my eye.

Nickname: killer. Posted moments ago.

killer had written something close to a will, yet the replies were the same as always.

They say life is a comedy when viewed from a distance and a tragedy up close.

Just before the curtain fell on one girl's life, she had posted her will. All she received in return were a handful of cold comments. Yeah. Countless people had probably died like this. Maybe many never even got the chance to leave a final message, trapped and snuffed out inside some garbage novel. Compared to them, at least she had been able to say goodbye. That was something.

I told myself it had nothing to do with me. I tried to think positively.

But watching someone who couldn't even find comfort among fellow victims of the DoomNovel Gallery, someone who still tried to entrust her final rest to those same people—it left a foul taste in my mouth.

And if she died right now, she would never be able to post the proof that she had actually received the item. Then next event people would brand me a fraud all over again. The great admin, accused of faking giveaways. Even if I looked shabby, that was a little too shabby.

I'm not very honest with myself, am I.

I had piled on excuse after excuse, but the conclusion was simple. I didn't want that girl to die.

Decision made. Time to act.

No matter how many enemies there were—now that it had come to this, I would kill every last one of them.