Chapter 77 – Extinction, The Coming (7)

The end came suddenly, only a few hours after revealing the truth about Liv’s father’s death.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang!

The alarm echoed across the entire mountain range. Barely having slept, we immediately rose from the tent.

“…”

“…”

Liv’s face, usually so composed, was now steeped in fatigue. She must have spent hours mulling over everything.

“Boss…”

“Louis! Baroness Rev! Please come quickly!”

Just as she was about to speak, Paris rushed in, a letter in his hand. Seeing it, I steeled myself.

“The enemy is advancing. The alliance has called an emergency meeting.”

“I’ll be right there. Baroness, let’s talk later.”

“Yes…”

There was no time to wash. We climbed up the mountain toward the command center. Even before sunrise, the small tent was already packed with people.

Despite the crowd, there was no noise.

That was because Adalbert’s face, seated at the head of the meeting, was twisted with a terrifying scowl. When he saw Paris and me enter, he spoke gravely.

“Looks like almost everyone’s here. Let’s begin. As of now, we are evacuating the mountain range. All personnel are to retreat from the defensive line with only essential supplies.”

“What—!?”

The shocking statement caused an uproar. One knight, unable to understand, raised his voice.

“What is the meaning of this? The Lavierre defensive line has never once been ordered to retreat!”

“Exactly because it never has.”

Thud!

Adalbert slammed his sword scabbard into the ground, silencing the room.

“We’ve never retreated, it’s true. But we have been breached.”

“Are you saying…?!”

“Yes. The scouts have confirmed the Demon King’s forces advancing. And… one of the Four Worst Evils is with them.”

The mention of the Four Worst Evils drained the blood from several faces.

“Could it be a mistake…?”

“It’s not. They’re too big to mistake.”

At Kundra’s remark, I immediately thought of one of them. Carbius the Annihilator.

His title? The last remaining World-Devouring Dragon on the continent.

The Lavierre Mountain range had been breached only once before—when Izareth the Dread, one of the Four Worst Evils, led an army of the dead.

With another one of the Demon King’s generals now appearing, Adalbert had wisely decided to retreat early.

I looked at his trembling hands. He must have felt humiliated, but it was the only option.

How could the soldiers here defeat one of the Four Worst Evils, beings even the Grand Duke struggled to face alone? Not to mention, the scales of a dragon rendered magic completely ineffective.

“That’s unacceptable.”

A single dissenting voice rose. All eyes turned to Paris.

“Why?” Adalbert asked.

“Because the reason they’re advancing is here.”

Paris handed the letter he carried to Adalbert. After scrutinizing its contents for a long moment, Adalbert burned the paper with magic and addressed the assembly.

“Prepare to retreat. Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!”

The people left in a rush, as if they had been waiting for this. With the door shut, only seven of us remained.

Valery, the most relaxed of the group, twisted his red beard as he asked, “What did it say?”

“It was news from Wiblet.”

“What? Truly?!”

“Yes. He’s traveling by canal.”

The sharp gazes directed at Paris made even me feel the sting.

Wiblet’s teacher… Could that person help us slay Carbius?

That’s impossible.

I shook my head. Liv, tense, watched the high-ranking leaders of the alliance.

Despite receiving our past messages, they were preparing to withdraw their troops.

“Paris,” one of them addressed him.

“Yes?”

“Even if the enemy is targeting the canal, we cannot sacrifice all the soldiers in the mountains for just that reason.”

“…”

“And there’s no guarantee that the people who sent that message have even arrived yet. Nor do we know if they’re still alive.”

“But they might not have arrived either.”

That was the dilemma: would defending the canal actually aid the strike team? Perhaps they’d already reached the Demon King’s castle. Or maybe they desperately needed help.

With no way to confirm, those left in the mountains could only make a choice.

And any leader, including Adalbert, would choose the same course.

Retreat.

“If the strike team fails, what happens to the war?”

Paris’s question left everyone silent. Because the answer was already known.

“Even without retreating now, holding this line is already near impossible. We lack both food and weapons. Sooner or later, the defensive line could fall even to demons less formidable than the Four Worst Evils. If that happens, does humanity stand any chance of winning?”

“…”

Paris’s resolve was sound. That was why the Demon King’s army had sent one of the Four Worst Evils to destroy the <Grand Canal> magic, even with the Hero’s party nearing their doorstep.

If we failed, there would be no second chances—the kingdom understood this. The Demon King’s army also knew that unless they stopped the Hero now, their advance would devastate the demonic realm.

As history had shown time and again, the results were bound to be catastrophic.

“Do you think your men will follow you? Will they march into death on your command?”

“I won’t deceive them. If they leave, then… I’ll take up the sword alone.”

With a simple bow, Paris exited the room. Liv immediately followed him. Adalbert, staring at the door for a long moment, sighed and turned to the man with a black eyepatch beside him.

“Matheus. Can you bring back a response from the royal capital?”

“Thessalon? The magic towers are barely functioning. I’d have to go in person. The enemy’s only half a day away—there’s no guarantee I’ll return in time.”

“Go anyway. We need whatever help we can get.”

Whether the capital even had the resources left to assist was a different matter entirely. At that moment, an idea came to me—a person who might be able to change the course of events.

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

“Take this.”

I dug through my pocket and handed a small, cloth-wrapped piece of iron to the leader of the Goliaths.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Matheus, hold on a moment. Who is this for?”

“Someone in Thessalon. Please deliver it.”

“To whom?”

History wouldn’t change easily. But perhaps, just this once, a different future might be possible.

“To the Reincarnation Duke.”

***

By the afternoon, the entire mountain range buzzed with activity. Word had spread to the militia below the alliance’s defensive line about the retreat.

Amid the commotion, Paris climbed onto a platform. Facing all those gathered from Greenwood Forest, he pointed toward the mountain.

His voice was calm, but it carried an undeniable weight that held everyone’s attention.

“By now, you’ve all heard. The alliance has chosen to retreat. By tonight, the kingdom will likely face its second calamity.”

The breach of the defensive line would mean that the entire northern region would fall into the hands of the Demon King’s forces. Men with rusted swords and helmets looked up at Paris, anger simmering in their gazes.

“Their target is the canal. The enemy’s numbers are immeasurable, and among them is a high-ranking officer of the Demon King’s army.”

It was a fight without hope—a reckless battle akin to a mantis raising its arms against an elephant.

“Beyond this canal lies the final hope of ending the war. If we can delay them even a little, perhaps they might succeed in defeating the Demon King.”

All he said was hypothetical. If victory were certain, or even slightly probable, the alliance’s soldiers wouldn’t have scrambled to leave the mountains.

“Only those who want to die should remain! If you’re willing to vanish into ash, leaving behind no name in history, then pick up your weapons!”

There were no cheers. Staying behind meant certain death. Paris, quietly drawing his bow, added:

“I’ll be waiting at the canal.”

***

The northern sun was short-lived. Under the glow of the setting sun, the sight of countless people and supplies being moved was breathtaking.

From a low hill overlooking the canal, Liv watched Paris adjust his bowstring. She hesitated to speak, but his back spoke first.

“You should leave, Baroness Rev.”

“…”

“You’re a mage, unlike the rest of us. Your life has value beyond dying here.”

“Don’t you think this is reckless?”

Twang!

The bowstring snapped as Paris turned, his expression utterly devoid of regret. After sharpening the arrowhead against a rock, he stood and gazed at the darkening sky.

“It’s reckless. And even if I die, I’ll gain no recognition. Disobeying orders—or even if this were ordered—no commander who leads his men to their deaths can reclaim their honor.”

Liv already knew this. She came from the future Paris predicted. Every soldier who stayed behind would die, their numbers staggering. The royal family could never disguise such loss as a “noble sacrifice.”

That’s why she wanted to stop her father.

But—

“We have nothing left to lose. When the first defensive line fell, we lost everything.”

As small flames began to multiply along the water’s edge, tears welled in Liv’s eyes.

“Those who’ve lost family, friends, homes, and even their heritage to the demons have gathered here in this forest. They are united by one resolve: to never let those left behind suffer the same pain again.”

“Ah…”

The countless flames filled the riverbank, illuminating those who had chosen to defend the canal to the bitter end, even for just a few extra minutes or hours.

“Baroness, if I may ask one last favor.”

“What… favor?”

Paris handed Liv a short, broken staff, made of the same metallurgical wood she carried.

“I gave the other half to my daughter, in case we met again. But it seems that won’t happen. Please deliver this to her.”

“…”

“My daughter’s name is—”

“I know.”

“Pardon?”

Swallowing her sobs, Liv managed a trembling smile.

“I’ll—hic!—make sure to deliver it.”

“Thank you. Then please…”

As Paris looked at her in confusion, on the verge of tears, a sudden figure appeared beside them.

<White Magic: Warp Gate ⌜Teleportation Gate⌟>

“Hah… damn it…”

Startled, Paris aimed his bow, but the white-haired mage who appeared glared at him.

“Hey, you!”

“Who are you…?”

“Headmistress? That appearance…”

“Headmistress? Who the hell are you calling headmistress? I’m the master of Phecda Tower!”

She pulled two identical medals from her robes and held them out to Liv and Paris.

With a sigh of exasperation and visible irritation, she asked:

“Who’s the idiot who sent this to me? Where are they?”