Dozens of drones illuminated the Black Badgers standing on the front line.

Most of the people in Center Core were probably watching the footage being relayed by those drones. The video quality was poor. The images kept cutting out under the attacks of the rampaging humanoid Creature. Even when the signal didn’t drop, the whipping winds and unidentifiable attacks made it hard to watch.

So much so that some viewers gave up because of eye strain.

On top of that, most of the drones lost signal at crucial moments.

Yehyeon must be pulling strings.

Watching the footage transmitted by his own drones, Erich Erhart thought as much. Reclining lazily in an armchair, he took in the countless images spread across the screens.

The past of the Titans known as Hildebert and Cecil was not being broadcast to the public.

Instead, only the repeated scenes of Badgers desperately trying to reach Cecil were shown.

They’ve improved in the meantime.

Erhart let a faint smile form.

Yehyeon had finally learned how to spin a story that resonated with the masses.

Back then, he used to hold the naïve belief that honesty itself was persuasive.

It seemed that years spent among the upper leadership had taught him something.

With production quality like this, it would be more than enough to respond to Colton Wiseman’s counterattack.

[Hilde!]

The youngest daughter of the Choi family crossed the monitor holding a small Badger.

Her words were hard to make out clearly, drowned beneath the overwhelming torrent of Titan attacks.

[-Go! ...Right now... push...!]

Still, her eyes were vivid.

The desperation of those on the front line, bearing the brunt of the attacks, was captured clearly.

Hildebert’s repeated attempts.

Whatever emotion his desperation sprang from, Hildebert’s refusal to bend shook the hearts of Center Core’s citizens.

And that would become his shield.

Erich Erhart would make it so.

“So you became a hero in the end.”

As he murmured leisurely, Shashinsky let out a sigh.

“Falcon won’t stay idle. He knows this is a fight where lives are on the line, so he’ll try to crush him by any means necessary.”

“True. The blood purge will start again soon. They must have realized long ago that I joined hands with Prometheus—so perhaps this time, I’ll actually die.”

He laughed calmly, drawing sharp looks from his followers.

As always, Erhart brushed off their wordless reproach.

Instead, he savored the opera unfolding in real time.

After indulging for a while in a story that fit his tastes all too perfectly, he spoke again.

“Whether it’s the end or not, a fight fought hand in hand with Prometheus will be unbearably enjoyable.”

Stories were only ever interesting when death constantly circled above the characters’ heads.

That rule didn’t change even if he himself became one of those characters.

“It would be nice to win, but if we lose, so be it. I’ll be counting on you until the festival’s end.”

“Please at least resolve yourself to win.”

“Is that really necessary? Even without resolve, I fully intend to do my very best.”

First, he would begin by turning Hildebert into a hero.

The Elder observed the battle, already thinking through the stories he would weave next.

***

It didn’t hurt as much as expected.

No—there was almost no pain at all.

Only after realizing that, instead of pain, he felt the warmth of another person did he sense that something was wrong.

Carl quickly lifted his head.

Then he noticed the blood soaking his body.

The warmth of the liquid spread across his skin.

“Senior...”

Carl spoke in a hoarse voice.

Jin’s eyes rolled.

Focus slowly returned to his fading gaze. Carl saw Jin’s lips curve into an arc—a gentle smile, soft yet powerless.

A chill spread through his gut as Carl lowered his eyes.

He saw the holes in Jin’s heart [N O V E L I G H T] and side.

Ah.

Amid the ruin riddled with holes, Carl Dow knew instinctively.

This couldn’t be undone.

Even a Black Badger’s enhanced body couldn’t heal wounds like these. Carl had served long enough to know exactly when a Black Badger faced an irreversible death.

That realization came as instinct.

This time too, Carl felt it. Jin was dying.

Because he had shielded Carl and the office worker.

The Ice Dragon had been right. Jin was fated to lose his life in the middle of summer.

Yet, just as the Ice Dragon said, Jin’s intervention had shifted fate off its original course.

Carl didn’t know when Jin had run over.

“Relax your face....”

Leaning against Carl’s arm, Jin murmured.

“I’ve... lived long enough....”

Carl was left speechless.

Rebuttals flared up in his mind. That they weren’t that far apart in age. That he himself had lived long too. And what did living long even have to do with anything?

None of it left his mouth.

“Thank you for your hard work.”

Instead, he offered a heavy bow.

“I learned so much from you, Senior.”

“For what....”

“Hey!”

A sharp shout rang out from behind Jin.

When Carl looked up, he saw two seniors sprinting toward them at full speed.

Chen Koenig and Jason Trevain.

They were drenched in blood, yet untouched by death’s shadow. Carl saw Chen frantically pull a blood injection from his pocket. Jason Trevain, who arrived first, grabbed Jin’s shoulder and checked his wounds.

The blond senior’s face twisted mercilessly.

“What the hell were you doing?”

The sharp question burst from his mouth.

“Did you run off and come back just to die?”

Jin gave a short laugh.

“Got it right.”

The Badger who had once deserted spoke with effort.

“That was the plan.... I came back to die as a Badger. Not to die alone out there as a deserter....”

Carl clenched his teeth.

He knew well that Jin Silver had been a model Badger before his desertion. Saying he learned a lot from him was no exaggeration. There was a reason Jin had been called the Badger’s druid.

The man who grew remarkably lush vegetables in the ruins beyond the Core.

Chen snapped.

“Hey! Then why the hell did you get a prosthetic arm?!”

Carl heard Chen’s voice tremble faintly. The unused blood injection hung limply in the senior’s hand.

Jin smiled again.

“I’m not a deserter anymore.... I’ll be treated as a Badger who fell in action, right?”

A dangerous bubbling crept into his voice.

Carl strained his ears, unwilling to miss a single word.

“Running away halfway through.... I can be forgiven now, can’t I?”

That was his last line.

Carl wanted to say there was no need to ask for forgiveness—that he had always thought of Jin as a great Badger.

But before he could, Jin Silver’s breathing stopped.

May you rest peacefully.

Sitting amid guilt, gratitude, and grief tangled together, Carl offered a silent farewell.

Was your life a happy one?

Even if he asked, there would be no answer.

Jin Silver’s peers unleashed a stream of curses.

Listening to their rage, Carl carefully laid the stiffening body down on the ground.

After closing Jin’s eyes, he turned his gaze to the civilian he had protected.

The office worker was crying silently.

“I’m sorry.”

“Live on.”

Carl replied shortly.

“That’s enough.”

Without another word, he resumed the rescue work.

He picked up debris without sparing a glance at the sky growing bright once more.

***

Cecil’s elbow had turned pitch black.

The discoloration that started at her fingers had crept all the way up to her elbow.

Fragments even fell away from her hand. Yet even as her body burned, her magical ability did not falter—once again, Cecil fired light spells into the sky.

PABABABABANG!

I cut through the deluge with a stomach-churning feeling.

Bounced off the tendrils, I found myself back on the ground, looking up at her.

In the meantime, I’d learned her attack patterns, increasing my hit rate. Even so, I was still busy just blocking the endless barrage.

This can’t keep going.

Watching the grand mage’s mana circuits spin faster instead of slowing, I steeled myself.

If the next attempt showed no change, I’d start absorbing too.

I’d been told that Jin had fallen.

At first, Gilbert hadn’t wanted to say it. But the moment he saw my fear—assuming Carl’s death as a given—he told me the truth.

Carl lived thanks to Jin.

Jin was killed in action.

The civilian Jin had protected was safe.

For now.

They were still conducting rescue operations with support from Trevain and Koenig.

“Support on that side?”

[I’m watching it. Focus only on Cecil.]

“Yes. Igor. Yoow. I’ll try climbing the tendrils one more time. If that fails, I’ll start absorbing too.”

“Captain.”

[Wait.]

Igor turned to me with a serious expression, and Yoow responded just as quickly.

I brushed off my subordinates’ reactions and moved to sprint toward the tendrils.

But Yoow spoke faster.

[You haven’t tried that yet!]

“I told you I can’t use aura. I can’t even be sure what I saw was aura....”

[Not aura—Captain, you imitate Lord Kysis’s swordsmanship flawlessly!]

The strategist shouted.

[You practiced Kysis’s swordsmanship over and over in the Empire—don’t think I didn’t know! Drag Cecil down and use that swordsmanship to drive the blade in!]

Ah.

[That irregular sword style—it’s more than distinctive enough!]

I recalled Kysis’s swordsmanship.

And, reluctantly, I had to agree with the strategist.

It was worth a try.

Just once more.

***

[Jin Silver has fallen.]

Yehyeon received the report from his subordinate.

[He was killed by a 10th-class Creature. There are no additional fatalities yet.]

He closed his eyes.

And didn’t move for a moment.

He thought about the catastrophe that had unfolded overnight.

About his own mistakes, and how to prevent the missteps he might yet make.

He knew Cecil bore no malice.

This was like a natural disaster. But too many people had died. If Cecil wasn’t stopped, there would be more victims. He had to stop it, no matter what.

They couldn’t repeat the First War.

The final battle of the First War was still a scar upon all humanity. It left an entire generation traumatized. That was why daily life had halted not only in Center Core, but in other Cores as well.

If things escalated that far—and if Hildebert failed to stop it—society would surely turn cruel toward them.

It has to be stopped.

Knowing he could no longer fully protect his subordinates, Yehyeon was desperate.

Even though so much had already happened.

The front line hadn’t collapsed yet. There was still hope.

“Sordi.”

“Yes.”

“Hilde said we’d only get in the way, but....”

Fortunately, most civilians in the surrounding area had already evacuated.

Thanks to field operatives nearby—Ricardo Sordi, Jonathan Kudo, Tom Husson, and others—enemy 대응 had been handled.

They’d cut down Creatures one after another amid the chaos, so casualties from Creatures were relatively low.

Among the Badgers who contributed to stabilizing the situation, the one with the best command was Ricardo Sordi.

Yehyeon gave the order.

“Still, gather the nearby Badgers and move to the front.”

“Understood.”

“Prioritize searching for the missing, but if Hilde requests anything, support him.”

Yehyeon knew this decision could become a blunder, but he sent the Badgers anyway.

He couldn’t entrust everything solely to those already at the vanguard.

“Don’t step too far forward—”

At that moment, the communicator chimed.

He thought it would be Ska or Gilbert, but instead, another familiar voice leapt into his ear.

[Commander.]

It was Hildebert.

[Requesting support.]

The golden-eyed swordsman said that as many Badgers as possible were needed.