Free Web Novel— Will you tell me about him? I’m curious.
When describing someone unfamiliar, people usually start with personality, defining traits, or the story of their first meeting. But Blanc, after a long silence, suddenly began from the very “end.”
— The previous commander... he died at the hands of the Sacred Flame.
...It seemed she believed that described him best.
Gunther watched Blanc in silence. She fidgeted with the edge of a doll, then hugged her knees tightly, as if she had grown cold.
— Gunther, do you know what kind of people they are—
— The Sacred Flame?
He knew. An independent armed group made up of inquisitors of the Luthien Theocracy. In times of peace, they roamed the continent hunting heretics under the pretext of “judgment,” and by order of the Pope, they acted as a full-fledged army. If Albino’s “coup” had succeeded, they would have been the ones erecting execution pyres in the Border City.
...And Gunther himself had a strange connection to them.
Flare!
An afterimage of flames flickered before his eyes. Gunther recalled the burned old man rotting away in a Lower City gutter. The Second King of Flame, Zakhar Mordecai. ...After all, he had once been the commander of the Sacred Flame.
Which meant the fire used by the inquisitors and the power of the Flame of Eternal Torment hidden within Gunther shared the same origin. Of course, compared to the technique perfected by the King of Flame through vengeance—refined and stripped of all flaws—the inquisitors’ fire was nothing more than a pathetic degeneration.
— It was an impossible operation, — Blanc’s voice trembled.
She took a breath, her gaze unconsciously lingering on the “evidence,” and continued:
— The mission was to save a village that the Sacred Flame had declared heretical... The problem was that a major rebel the Theocracy had been searching for was hiding there.
Blanc clenched her teeth, digging through her memories.
— We thought only the local branch would move. We expected the usual ones—the kind we could handle...
She slowly shook her head.
— But that day was different. The main headquarters mobilized. They came together with elite execution squads.
Her voice grew quieter and quieter. It felt as though the screams and the roar of that fire still echoed in her ears. Blanc went pale, as if she had returned to that hell. Gunther listened without interrupting.
— Command... of course... ordered a retreat. Yes, that was what we should have done.
Blanc tried to keep her voice steady:
— But we refused. We were saving people. We wanted to do everything we could—and only then retreat.
— Everything you could...
— Yes. But it never works that way. Just one more. One more. One more...
Blanc shut her eyes. Before her, the scene of flames unfolded again—everything turning into black ash.
— H-honestly, I... — her voice shook harder. — Honestly, I didn’t think that operation was all that important.
The emotions she had held back for so long burst out.
— It sounds horrible, but I couldn’t help it! You understand, right, Gunther?! If s-someone like him survived, if he grew even stronger... he would have saved far more lives than just that one village! Far more!
— Blanc.
— Y-you would have liked him if you met. You’re both smart, outstanding... If the two of you had been together, forget Albino—you would’ve killed the Pope! I’m sure of it!
Blanc’s breathing grew ragged, her shoulders trembling. She lowered her head deeply. The doll in her hands twisted, as if crying in her place.
— Why did someone so smart act so stupid at that moment?.. Why, why didn’t he look at the future?
The sound of her breathing gradually faded. All that remained was the ash of burnt emotions and the sorrow flickering within it.
— ...Do you know what’s worse?
— ......
— That stupidity is contagious. Tarsha, Parco, even Levi... all of them act just like him. And...
Blanc finally raised her eyes to Gunther. Her tear-filled golden gaze pierced straight through him.
— And you. You’re the same.
Gunther let out a short breath and said only one sentence: fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
— Yeah. And so are you, Blanc.
He remembered the first time he saw Blanc’s body in the Labyrinth. Her small frame had been horribly mutilated. It was the result of their reckless breakthrough with Tarsha to save the adventurers. They too had utterly failed to “look at the future.”
...Silence filled the room. Only quiet sobs and the rustle of fabric broke it. Gunther listened and thought.
This girl hated the death of her former commander, yet she couldn’t deny his ideals. In the end, they were all cut from the same cloth. People who, out of nothing more than attachment to the idea of saving someone, would still step into the fire.
That was why Gunther felt it was a good thing—that he had become the commander of this platoon. That he stood in the position of the one who had to protect them all.
Tap.
His wavering hand slowly came to rest on Blanc’s trembling shoulder. She flinched, but gradually her shaking subsided. Gunther thought about what to say... and finally spoke:
— I won’t die.
Blanc blinked, then suddenly laughed, as if she had heard something absurd.
— W-what is that... You’re terrible at comforting people. Idiot.
Gunther smiled awkwardly, then finished in a quiet, confident voice:
— And I won’t let any of you die either. So don’t worry.
...It was strange. Blanc knew better than anyone how cruel this world was. She knew how easily death claimed those who chose to stand at the center of this madness.
And yet, despite how absurd his words were... they sounded like a promise that would truly be kept. Blanc sniffed and asked again:
— R-really?
Gunther answered just as firmly as always:
— Really.
.
.
.
Ding!
[You understood Blanc’s deep inner anxiety and warmed her heart]
[Blanc’s affinity has slightly increased]
***
— Hey, Gunther.
— ......
— Nice night, isn’t it?
Tarsha stood in the corridor. Wearing only a shirt, she had opened the window at the end of the hall and was looking outside, letting the cold wind brush against her face. She didn’t seem to care about the soot of the Lower City or the damp chill at the edge of winter and spring.
— ...You drinking too?
— When my mind’s unsettled, I don’t deny myself.
— Unsettled?
Tarsha let out a short laugh.
— Our little one has quite the loud voice.
— ......
— What is it today, a “take care of the platoon members” day?
— Something like that.
— Then will you take care of me too?
There was already a bottle of wine and another glass on the windowsill. Tarsha elegantly tilted the bottle, and crimson liquid slowly filled the empty glass. When it was full, she handed it to him naturally. Gunther didn’t refuse.
— She treated him like an older brother. They were especially close.
— ...I see.
— Yeah. So much so that the day you brought that greatsword, she came home and cried all evening. I... not as much as Blanc, but I liked him too. He was a good man.
That was right. It seemed he had been the previous owner of Straight Line of Despair.
After that, they fell silent for a long time. The cool wind drifted through the corridor as they stood quietly. The wine was quite strong.
— I... in any case, don’t want to judge the previous commander’s choice.
— ...Why?
Instead of answering, Tarsha snapped her fingers. A flash of lightning split the corridor’s darkness.
— Because it was a life like lightning.
— ......
— Yeah, just a brief moment. But in that moment, he lit up the darkness of the world—and those who had sinned bowed their heads in fear before that light.
With a smile, Tarsha clinked her glass against his.
— How could I blame someone who lived the exact life I’ve always dreamed of?
It may not have been long. But it was so brilliant that everyone would remember it. Like a flash of lightning that shook and awakened the world at least once. That was what Tarsha was talking about.
— Though... to be honest, it pissed me off to the core that he called us comrades, yet in the end still decided we needed protecting. It was obvious.
— ......
— Gunther.
— Yeah.
— I know you’re strong. You’re not like the others. You’re exceptional. And you’ll grow at an unbelievable pace. And I... no, all of us will do everything we can not to fall behind you.
He knew that. Recently, the platoon members had thrown themselves into training with unusual intensity. Especially Tarsha—right after battles, without rest, she would barely leave the training hall. She spent every spare moment practicing, as if trying to dominate all the mana around her, turning it into an energy vein.
— So don’t you dare try to do everything alone. Otherwise, I’ll seriously roast you until you’re crispy.
At that very Tarsha-like warning, Gunther only snorted. She spun lightly in place and tilted the wine bottle.
— So, another round?
Gunther shot back:
— Drinking in the middle of the night with a woman who’s not my type...
Pssshhh—
.
.
.
[After drinking until a mountain of empty bottles piled up, you heard Tarsha’s sincere thoughts]
[Tarsha’s affinity has slightly increased]
***
The late-night gathering gradually stretched on, and more people joined, turning it into a full-blown party. Levain came, Parco too, and even Blanc with her tear-swollen eyes. And when Ryan stumbled in at the end, the atmosphere completely shifted into celebration. The scene of Ryan pouring a “boilermaker” into Tarsha’s expensive conical hat and drinking from it would be remembered every time someone saw the lightning-shaped bald spot on his head—just like Harry Potter...
...But it wasn’t all laughter. It was clear that each of them felt a certain “emptiness.”
Gunther understood instinctively: they were pretending everything was fine, but the wounds hadn’t fully healed yet. And that was natural. Bonds don’t form or break so easily.
“This will be the key to raising affinity in the future.”
The Sacred Flame. Destroying the very group that had killed their commander. Only by going through that would the platoon be able to move forward. And it was necessary. Because their battlefield was the entire continent—they would inevitably face them in Act 2.
But it wasn’t just necessity. Though Gunther had never met the previous commander, something like admiration was forming within him.
“A man who could give his only life for someone else.”
...Could he do the same? The platoon seemed to see in Gunther a reflection of their former leader, but honestly, he wasn’t sure. He was a completely different kind of person than that great hero. The only thing he could do for his subordinates was ensure that man’s death had not been in vain. He had to become strong enough so that such a tragedy would never happen again.
— Hey, why’d you call me if you’re just going to stay quiet?
— For now, let’s go.
Even with a terrible hangover, things had to be done. Gunther quietly left Eterno Cheongdam while the others were still asleep.
— ...But where the hell are we going this early? You’re such a workaholic...
— I need to meet someone.
— Huh? Together? Who?
He had brought along one grumbling companion. It seemed Ryan had inherited not only the blood of giants, but their stomach as well—after that kind of drinking, he was perfectly fine. His only concern was missing morning training.
But today, it couldn’t be helped. The person they were going to meet... was closely connected to Ryan. And his time was running out—they had to make contact as soon as possible.
“To clear this guy’s affinity scenario to 100%, I need that person’s help.”
Rustle.
Gunther checked the map Brody had given him once more. After the first lead, he had asked her to keep constant surveillance on “him.” The man was like tumbleweed—look away for a moment, and he vanished. Gunther had no doubt the target had noticed the surveillance.
But he wouldn’t harm an ordinary person.
...Never.
“Because he swore he never would again.”
Fortunately, the destination was close. Gunther quickened his pace, cutting through the freezing dawn air. Suddenly, Ryan spoke up:
— ...First time I’ve seen you this tense.
— Me?
— Yeah. You can’t fool me. I might not get a lot of things, but I can read you from a mile away.
Ryan tilted his head, puzzled.
— Just who is it that’s got you this worked up?
Gunther didn’t answer. They entered an alley that, even by Lower City standards, was considered a slum—abandoned and dangerous. Even those who had long since given up on life wouldn’t sleep outside in this cold.
But there—
A man lay on the snow-covered ground. Ryan muttered in shock:
— I-is he... dead?
No. His breathing was weak, but he was definitely alive. And /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ he wasn’t sleeping. He was lying there as if punishing himself. Gunther stepped forward, bracing himself. And in that instant—
Fwoooosh—!
The world was instantly dyed red. A flash burst before his eyes, and a fireball exploded toward him. Before the scorching wave could hit his face, Gunther raised his hand.
Whoosh!
Before, he would have simply melted and died. Just like that time when he had deliberately chosen death after receiving ◆’s blessing.
But now, things were different. The mana in Gunther’s hand surged violently. Instinctively, he shaped it into a shield and swung his arm.
Flare—Boom!
The flames were neutralized. Only a thick column of steam remained, and—
Rustle.
A figure staggered out of the haze. His steps were unsteady, but his eyes burned with fury. Hatred and confusion swirled within them like a blazing fire.
— You... that flame! You’re from the Sacred Flame?!
Gunther looked at him calmly. The Second King of Flame, Zakhar Mordecai.
He had been “retired” about ten years ago after uncovering the Theocracy’s dark dealings. When the Sacred Flame burned Ryan’s home village, he had still been the acting commander.
...Gunther took a short breath and opened his mouth.
