With a sword in one hand and a bundle tucked under my arm, I slowly opened the door in front of me.

I wasn’t going to kick it down or slash it apart. Making a ruckus could easily provoke any potential undead lurking nearby. It was best to avoid drawing attention.

Unless it was a bunch of ordinary imperial soldiers turned undead, I’d definitely prefer to avoid a confrontation with skilled undead, especially while carrying my unwieldy load.

“——–”

I let out a snort, grimacing at the iron-smelling stench wafting from the room.

It’s the smell of blood. Once you get used to it, you can tell its freshness to some degree. This was clearly the scent of blood that had just spilled, and it was more than just one person’s worth.

As expected, upon checking the inner room, I found two corpses piled on top of one another.

A house facing the main street, where the remains left behind consisted of an old woman and a man.

The culprit was likely the undead I had just decapitated in front of the house. The bloodied sword in its hands confirmed that it had just created this body.

The victims were probably mother and son. Unfortunately, their last expressions were anything but peaceful enough to be compared. The old woman lay on the bed, while beside her was the man, who had fallen over, a broken sword lying nearby.

“They were too late to escape… no, that’s not it.”

It wasn’t a case of two who had failed to flee; rather, it was a scene where the son stayed behind to protect his mother who couldn’t escape.

What should have been naturally perceived turned decidedly ironic in the Volakia Empire, a place where the weak being trampled was taken for granted, especially in the capital.

Still, I couldn’t laugh at this irony. If only I had arrived a few minutes earlier.

“——–”

I sheathed my drawn sword, silently gazing at the corpse of the man who had decided how to use his life in the face of unavoidable tragedy.

If I had been in that situation, could I have fought bravely until my life was extinguished, shielding my beloved family behind me, just like this man did?

“What a joke. The answer is obvious.”

I spat out a bitter morsel of frustration, filled with distaste.

Yes, it was a self-questioning inquiry with an obvious answer. Of course, I would tuck my tail and run away. Just as I thought this cynically, I suddenly heard a loud voice from outside.

“Hey! Redhead! Where are you!? I’ve finished my business!”

Startled, I turned my gaze to the window.

The image of the drunken red-faced guy emerged in my mind, and I felt the buzz of drunkenness fade in this undead-ridden city at the sheer recklessness of shouting so loud.

No amount of alcohol would suffice to dull the reality knocking at my head, and I stepped closer to peer out the window with a click of my tongue.

There below, in the street, stood a blue-haired man of Wasso, waving his hand as he searched for someone—no, beside him was a similar-looking small shadow.

“Where are you, father’s companion? It’s not easy to talk around here, so how about we find a more comfortable place to chat? If what my father said about having company isn’t just a drunken illusion!”

“Whoa, you’re quite the talker! To address your father like that, what a disgraceful upbringing you must have! What did I do wrong in raising you…!?”

“No, no, it’s not your fault, Dad! After all, you almost never raised me!”

The two noisy figures stood side by side, multiplying their racket beyond measure.

Though one was intoxicated by alcohol and the other by their own foolishness, it was clear they were both drunks. Hearing their voices, the one they sought—Heinkel—clutched his head with his free hand.

With a pounding headache, different from a hangover, he adjusted the food supply bundled under his arm, letting out a deep, alcohol-laden sigh.

△▼△▼△▼△

The two fools continued to make a ruckus in the main street without regard for anyone’s gaze.

While leaving them alone would mean they were fools swallowed by the approaching horde of undead, Heinkel didn’t want to get dragged into that mess too soon, so he quickly called for the two.

To his surprise, the two who came up were accompanied by an unexpected bonus.

“Who would’ve thought you’d still be in the capital, Heinkel? I figured you’d run off ages ago, or else…”

“You think I’m dead? I could toss that same line right back to you, Aldebaran.”

“It’s just Al, please.”

The iron-helmeted man, Al, replied while fiddling with the straps of his helmet.

Heinkel had been assigned to a different battlefield than Priscilla and Ald, having fought alongside the rebels, and was unaware of how that battle had concluded or the whereabouts of Priscilla and the others.

Though it was questionable how one could know such things when they hadn’t ventured near it.

And then—

“So, Priscilla has been captured, huh? That’s hard to believe.”

“Yeah, those unexpected turns are the troublesome charm of her character. I didn’t think I could just let her go this time, so I stayed back in the capital…”

“And you ran into her?”

At Heinkel’s words, Al nodded in affirmation.

Though Al was covered in an iron helmet, his exhausted tone and demeanor hinted at the struggles he had faced.

If he could deal with Priscilla, who was as reckless and unrestrained as they come, then it was clear the opponent he faced was of considerable danger.

Moreover, it was strange that the one who had exhausted Al was none other than Priscilla.

“I never expected to reunite with you here, Dad. I thought you’d gone off somewhere for a while—did you, by any chance, toss me onto Gladiator Island for some legendary adventure?”

Bouncing up and down, gnawing on some jerky he pilfered from the household pantry, was a boy from Wasso named Cecilus, who surprisingly turned out to be Rauan’s son, accompanying Heinkel.

Out of nowhere, it struck that Cecilus’s full name was—

“Cecilus Segmunt. The ‘Blue Lightning’ of Volakia.”

He was known as the most formidable swordsman in the Volakia Empire and the unwavering ‘One’ of the Empire’s Nine Divine Generals.

Heinkel was, after all, the deputy of the Knights of the Lugnica Kingdom’s royal guard. At the very least, he knew the name of this formidable neighboring country’s renowned figures, especially someone as famous as the ‘Blue Lightning’.

An individual who had claimed more lives than anyone else in this blood-soaked history, equating his strength alongside that of the legendary “Sword Saint” of the kingdom.

“——–”

Narrowing his eyes at Cecilus, who looked about eleven or twelve years old, Heinkel chided himself for considering his youth as a reason to underestimate his strength.

Talking about appearance or age seemed ridiculous and miserable when it came to true strength.

Heinkel had lost against his son, Reinhardt, in their first match before Reinhardt even turned six. Yes, such exceptional beings indeed existed in the world.

Rather, the one Heinkel should recognize as an extraordinary opponent was Rauan.

If he too was a father of someone claiming to be the strongest, he surely had his own views about Cecilus’s swordsmanship and reputation—yet…

“Hahaha, that’s a laugh. The fights on Gladiator Island are nothing but a spectacle; it won’t teach you anything about swordsmanship or technique, no matter how many people you kill there. Tossing you in there would only divert you from reaching ‘Heavenly Sword’.”

As these musings bubbled up within Heinkel, Rauan shrugged with a red face, chatting merrily with his son over a gourd of ale.

To Rauan’s answer, Cecilus casually replied without feeling too pressured, tilting his head while chewing on jerky.

“Well, I figured it was a little unorthodox for you to do something so directionless. But then I’ve been increasingly confused about why I was on that island at all. It’s quite the peculiar mystery.”

“That’s indeed a weird and bizarre way of putting things. Nevertheless, none of this was arranged by me… Hmm?”

As he paused mid-sentence, Rauan suddenly stared intensely at Cecilus, taking note of the boy’s form.

Noticing his father’s scrutinizing gaze, Cecilus twirled around, letting his untamed long blue hair dance.

“What’s up? Even after so long, you surely can’t forget my charming presence as a star performer!”

“More importantly—hold your horses! Where are Murakuzame and Masayume? Those fine blades should never be casually removed from your waist!”

“By ‘fine blades’, do you mean swords? Please, it’s inappropriate to carry swords unless I find the right one. Sadly, I still haven’t met the blade that truly feels like mine. Just swinging my empty waist around here.”

“Huh? What the…?”

Cecilus swayed his empty waist back and forth, and Rauan’s eyes glinted with suspicion. But then, as if he had reached an understanding, he exclaimed, “Ah!”

And then—

“Wait a minute. When I look closely, Cecilus, you’re not as tall as before!”

“You just noticed now?!”

Al’s voice rose in surprise, equal to the shock of everyone surrounding Cecilus. Meanwhile, Cecilus looked puzzled, asking, “Not as tall?”

Of course, Heinkel didn’t comprehend what was happening at all.

Instead, Al quickly confronted Rauan.

“I need to clarify something: you are Cecilus’s father, and the Cecilus you knew was definitely an adult. That part’s clear, right?”

“Hold on there, Al! What even constitutes as becoming an adult? For instance, if you don’t consider someone an ‘adult’ until they’ve killed someone, then what the hell is that supposed to mean for the one who got killed? It sounds terribly unreasonable…”

“Shut it! So what’s going on, Dad?”

“You don’t have to be so aggressive, helmeted gentleman. First off, from a parent’s perspective, children remain children no matter how much they grow. And as for Cecilus… his behavior hasn’t changed a bit; he’s still just a child at heart.”

“I get it now! You both are obviously related,” Al concluded dramatically, stomping his foot in frustration.

Feeling a hint of pity for Al, Heinkel ruffled his red hair roughly.

“So what you’re saying, Aldebaran, is that Cecilus Segmunt has somehow shrunk and taken on a child’s form?”

“Just Al. Well… I do know how and why, but yes.”

“You know how to revert it too…?”

Hearing that a person had shrunk was ridiculous enough, but recalling the horrific sights witnessed during the capital’s decisive battle made most phenomena seem acceptable.

If they had a way to return to their original state, there was no reason to drag things out too long.

“Then, shouldn’t you revert him before discussing it further?”

“I’d love to, but there’s an old shinobi who is needed to reverse it. So as it stands, we’re stuck with this size for now. Why didn’t you notice he had shrunk right away?”

Al shook his head slowly, directing that question towards Rauan.

However, Rauan traced his finger along his stubbly chin, deliberating.

“It wasn’t something I paid much mind to; a son’s size is trivial in my view.”

“Are you kidding me!? Is this going to turn into a competition to see who has the worst parenting? Is this how the strongest parents of each nation behave?”

“—How about you? Do you even notice that you’ve shrunk?”

Rauan tossed the question back, with Al replying nonchalantly.

Hastily, he pivoted to Heinkel.

“Since it’s clear you two are father and son, I trust that you know how to handle this, right? You’re both aware of the situation?”

“Right, though that’s debatable given our current impressions of you two—pretty abysmal!” Al remarked with an exasperated shrug.

“Look, we didn’t fare well in that full-scale battle, but helping rescue the princess here could turn things around. What you want requires her to win the Royal Selection, right, Heinkel?”

“I…,” Heinkel ground his teeth and looked down.

Al was right; Heinkel was on Priscilla’s side because he wanted something she could achieve through winning—the reward that would come from that victory.

Essentially, Heinkel’s contributions and capabilities were never expected. His role was merely to keep Reinhardt, who had attached himself to other candidates, in check.

Thinking this way, no matter how much Heinkel helped Priscilla here, he would only be attaching himself to a result that did not belong to him.

And yet—

“——–”

At one point, Heinkel bowed his head and resigned himself to defeat on the battlefield.

When faced with a scene so unreal it felt as if the heavens and the earth had flipped upside down, his heart gave way. He had considered surrendering.

So he distanced himself from the battlefield, drowning in alcohol alongside Rauan, sealing away everything.

And yet, a thought nagged at him.

“…Ruanna.”

Like a shameful reflection, a desire for the chance at redemption crept back.

If Priscilla hadn’t witnessed those moments of defeat and escape, maybe he could disguise it. Maybe if he turned a blind eye to the fear that had passed, he could still reach out.

“—But what can I do? We’re simply five people gathered together. Are we supposed to save an empire on the brink of collapse with just these five?”

“That’s a rather unfair perspective. Sure, it may look like we’re just five individuals on the surface, but my latent power alone surpasses one hundred men’s combined strength, meaning we’re more like a million and four!”

“You’ve got to be silent.”

While battling with his inner turmoil, Heinkel listened for clues on the situation and what course to take.

Al’s ludicrous quips were silenced by the sharp reprimand from the rather fiery Gruuby. “But that said,” he turned towards Al.

“The red middle-aged guy is spot on. No matter how many of us are here, it won’t be easy to wipe out the enemies up front.”

“By the way, I think it’d be better if we don’t entertain that,” Cecilus chimed in. “I’m sensing danger as the star performer!”

“Shut your mouth!”

As the two began to bicker, Heinkel’s questions remained unanswered, floating in the air.

To be honest, Heinkel had already decided. If he could avoid surrendering, then he wouldn’t give in so easily. All he wanted now was a reason.

As Heinkel craved that reason, Al snapped his finger against the helmet’s buckle.

“Right, Heinkel, you’re spot on. Being five of us trying to turn things around is ambitious. So what we actually need to do isn’t about saving the Empire… It’s about setting the path.”

“The path?”

Rauan asked, licking the gourd’s rim and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Al nodded in response.

He looked around and took in the closed window—the undead-turned city awaiting outside.

“And so—”

“Saving the Empire is the hero’s responsibility. What we need to do is lay the groundwork for that. We must prepare as much as we can because we have no idea what will be useful.”

Hearing Al’s words, dripping with conviction, Heinkel blinked in surprise.

It felt as if that coordinator had someone in mind who would accomplish such a feat, yet Heinkel had no notion of who that might be, nor did Rauan or Gruuby seem to.

However, the outsider sparkled with excitement at Al’s suggestion.

“—So, in other words, this is foreshadowing!!”

With an excited cheer, the youthful “Blue Lightning” welcomed Al’s approach.

Based on the power dynamics present, it didn’t take long for that declaration to become the unified consensus of the five gathered there.