Interlude 2

City of Faltra, west gate—

Soldiers lined the ramparts of the city walls. The governor, Galford, was present as well. Eyes narrowed, he was looking toward the western horizon.

Despite the setting sun, the plains that were normally dyed a crimson red from it were instead blanketed in dark shadows.

“...Those are all Fallen?” Galford muttered. Though he was a hero who had fought his way through the Human-Fallen War thirty years ago, there was unrest in his voice.

Standing atop the city walls, he could see the Bridge of Ulug and the river running underneath close to the horizon. He had received reports that a near infinite number of Fallen were advancing toward Faltra from just beyond the fortress located there. Against such overwhelming numbers, the guards stationed at the fortress wouldn’t even be able to buy the city any time, which is why Galford had already given the order for them to retreat.

The reports he had received said there were two, possibly three, hundred Fallen marching toward them; but he’d doubted the accuracy of the information coming from panicking soldiers. The quantity of Fallen wasn’t the problem, though—it was their mettle.

Against stronger Fallen, only unique weapons would be able to deal any kind of damage to them. Even if the soldiers were to strike at the Fallen with normal weapons, they would only be able to scratch the surface; nothing would make it through to the core.

Just how many elite Fallen were there... Galford’s strategy would have to change based on his opponent’s strength.

The soldiers’ faces were pale; there were no cowards among the troops who would dare moan or complain in front of their commander. On the inside, however, they likely wanted to run away more than anything else. If they were to encounter any other unexpected situations on top of all this, Galford’s forces were liable to fall apart before they even began fighting.

Galford called out to his soldiers:

“Men, we are here to die. No matter how formidable the enemy, we will hold firm. Until we can evacuate Faltra’s citizens and combine forces with the armies from the capital, we must fight against time, even if one of you becomes the last soldier standing. Take pride in knowing that our sacrifices will not be in vain; in the grand scheme, we are the foundation upon which the victory of the races shall be built.”

The soldiers’ expressions started changing. They wore the faces of men who had stifled their fears, ready to die protecting the city. Yet even Galford knew not how long he could preserve the morale of his troops.

A thunderous noise tore through the air.

“Was that a Fallen spell?!” one of the soldiers shouted as a commotion began to stir among them.

But that was wrong, for it had come from within the town itself.

Turning around, Galford spotted an explosion in the North District, originating somewhere around the cemetery. Roaring flames rose in the air.

No matter how experienced a commander he was, Galford never would have imagined the Demon Lord resurrecting and mowing down an entire church; not in his wildest dreams.

“Are those...wings of light?”

A gigantic magic circle spread across the sky, the likes of which he had never seen before—

No, Galford had seen the very same thing thirty years ago.

—A Fallen magic circle?!

The soldiers were in a state of turmoil, unaware of what was going on. On the other hand, knowing what this actually was, Galford’s own unrest was even greater still.

But he did not let it show; he stayed silent, grimacing as he looked toward the Northern district.

Another loud explosion rocked the town. It was a great distance from the West gate to the graveyard in the North District; far enough that an aristocrat would use a carriage to get there. That was why Galford hadn’t seen the Demon Lord Krebskulm erase a Paladin and his subordinates from existence. Whatever the case, he couldn’t afford to leave this matter alone.

He thought of the commanding officers he’d put in charge of the North and East gates: They weren’t the sort of people who could make decisions by themselves in a situation like this.

—I should be heading out there.

He would leave the West gate to one of the commanding officers, then leave one—no, two thousand troops there. He himself would take five thousand soldiers up the main road, toward the Northern district.

A tiny figure ascended the staircase of the rampart walls: a Grasswalker. Redheaded, her rabbit-ears bounced to and fro as she ran toward Galford. Her chest and waist were covered in a thin, revealing cloth.

It was the Guildmaster of the Adventurer’s Guild: Sylvie.

“Hey, Galford! So this is where you were.”

“We are at war.” Galford placed a hand on his sword. “Adventurers have no business here.”

“W-Wait! Hold on a second! Just hear me out.” She frantically waved both hands. “There’s nothing bad in it for you, I promise!”

“I must send troops to the North District as quickly as possible. I have no time to listen to you.”

“Hmm?” Galford removed his hand from his sword, indicating with a quick jerk of his chin for Sylvie to continue.

Sylvie pointed toward the wings of light. “I kinda want you to leave the cemetery in the North District to us. We currently have our own way of dealing with that.”

“...The encroaching Fallen army is still outside the barrier. I deem whatever has appeared in the North District to be more of a threat at the moment.”

“Yup, that’s right.”

“Not to mention this magic circle—”

“Is probably what we saw thirty years ago as well, yeah.”

“Even though you know as such, you’re saying I should leave this matter to you?”

Sylvie gave a forceful nod. “Diablo has already headed over there, so it should be all right. That’s why I want you to leave it to us, OK?”

“...I see.”

—That Demon has gotten involved yet again.

“I will acknowledge his strength, but I will not say I trust him.”

“He’s not a bad person, you know?”

“He destroyed part of the main road and buildings on a whim fighting a Fallen, put slave collars around girls and parades them around town, refused the Kingdom of Greenwood’s demands to return their princess, and fought against the very governor of this town; and here you are telling me he is not a bad person?”

“Haha... Wasn’t part of that your fault, too, Galford?”

“As I thought, he cannot be trusted.”

“That so? Then I guess that’s that... But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Though Sylvie had said so with a smile, there was a cold gleam in her eyes.

Galford had experienced Diablo’s power as a Sorcerer first-hand. He had even seen Diablo do battle with the massive Summon Force Hydra, the Elves’ secret weapon. Diablo’s power was enough to rival a thousand elite soldiers stationed in Faltra, with his strength perhaps surpassing even that.

“There are a hundred thousand people living in this town. The barrier created by the eight towers along these walls protects them; but if the barrier were to be destroyed from the inside, the Fallen to the west would advance on Faltra. The chance that the troops stationed here will not be able to hold out is high. Do you understand what this means?” Galford asked Sylvie.

“Yes—if Diablo fails, the entire town will be annihilated.”

“Further behind us lay numerous towns that possess no barriers whatsoever.”

“I understand. But it’s all right; I don’t want to see masses of people dying either. That’s why I want to keep the number of denizens around Diablo as low as possible since he’ll be able to fight more easily that way.”

“...I will send a thousand troops there.”

“Oh, you will?”

“I am sure you will need assistance dealing with any vigilantes or curious onlookers. The army should be protecting the people, not Adventurers.”

A smile spreading across her face, Sylvie nodded. “Just what I’d expect from you, Galford! Let’s do our best to help each other out.”

“Then I leave the North District to you. No matter the occurrence, guard the barrier towers and the Mage’s Association with your life. Do you understand?”

“We’ll protect Celes. I’m leaving this to some kids who really know what they’re doing, so don’t worry about it, OK?”

Waving goodbye like a child who had just come over to play, she descended the stairs of the ramparts.