"Tsk. And this has to happen when most of the magic knights aren’t here to report back to the castle. What timing..." Asada-san muttered, clicking her tongue in irritation.
Her voice was tight, strained. It was not panicked, but it was far from calm as well. The kind of tone that ca from soone who understood exactly how bad the situation was, even if they refused to say it out loud.
She wasn’t wrong.
Miss Shredica, along with a number of the magic knights, had returned to the castle earlier to formally report on our progress. It was routine, necessary even. She was expected to return by morning, and because of that, none of us had felt the need to worry. The village had guards. It had defenses. It wasn’t completely helpless.
Or at least, that was what we believed.
What none of us anticipated—what no one had prepared for—was that soone would exploit that brief window of vulnerability. That they would strike precisely when the village’s strongest line of defense was temporarily absent.
It wasn’t just unfortunate.
It was calculated.
Was this planned?
The more I thought about it, the harder it was to believe otherwise. The timing was too perfect. Too clean. Too deliberate to be coincidence. Whoever did this wasn’t acting on impulse—they were waiting. Watching. asuring their mont.
"Sensei," Asada-san said, snapping out of my thoughts, "do you think you can use your healing ability on so of the injured villagers?"
She gestured vaguely toward the edge of the square, where several figures were being helped along by others. So were limping. So were barely conscious. A few were covered in soot and blood, their expressions vacant, like their minds hadn’t caught up with what their bodies had already endured.
"I managed to save so of them," she continued, her tone steady but firm, "but they’re badly injured."
"R-Right," I said quickly, nodding. Then, before I could stop myself, the words slipped out. "But... what about you?"
She paused, only for a mont.
"I’m going back," she said simply. "There are more people out there."
My breath caught. "W-What?"
The tremor in my voice betrayed . I didn’t even try to hide it. The image of her disappearing into the chaos, alone, ard with nothing but determination and a sword, made my chest tighten.
"You don’t have to worry, sensei," she said, turning back to . Her expression was calm—too calm, almost. "I think I can handle myself pretty well now."
There was no arrogance in her voice. No reckless bravado. Just quiet confidence.
And strangely enough, when she said that, sothing inside eased.
I didn’t know why. I should have still been worried. Anyone with a shred of common sense would have been. But for so reason, I wasn’t. Not like before.
Maybe it was because of everything that had happened over the past few months.
Asada-san had changed. She had grown—more than I realized until now.
She was the one I had worried about the most when we were first transported to this world. Back then, she was still fragile in ways she tried to hide. Carrying wounds that hadn’t healed, even if she smiled like they had.
Ichinose-kun.
He had been close to her. Closer than most people realized. When he died in that car accident, it shattered sothing. It shattered all of us, in different ways.
I had been hurt too. I rembered crying when I heard the news. I rembered the hollow feeling in my chest, the disbelief, the anger, the sadness all mixing together until it was hard to breathe.
But even then, I knew—what she felt must have been far worse.
Losing soone like that didn’t just hurt. It left scars.
That was why, seeing her now—standing straight, eyes sharp, sword steady in her grip—I felt sothing close to relief.
She had survived that pain.
She had moved forward.
And so, all I could do was watch as she turned away from and ran back toward the flas, her figure shrinking as she disappeared into the chaos, steel flashing briefly in the firelight.
***
Jas’s POV
The village burned beautifully.
Flas climbed hungrily up wooden walls, licking rooftops and devouring everything in their path. Smoke rose into the sky in thick, choking columns, painting the night in shades of red and black.
From where I stood, far enough to remain untouched, I watched it all with a satisfied smile.
"Fufufu... what a sight," Claire said beside , her voice almost dreamy. "I never thought I’d see a village burning right before my eyes. It’s truly sothing special."
Her eyes reflected the firelight as she watched, utterly captivated by the destruction unfolding below. There was no hesitation in her expression. No trace of sympathy. Only glee.
Then she turned her head and looked at .
"So," she said, tilting her head slightly, "what’s the end ga here? This is your plan?"
She didn’t sound disappointed. If anything, she sounded curious. But I could tell—she had expected more. Sothing bigger. Sothing bloodier.
I understood that expectation.
But I had no intention of pushing things that far.
I didn’t want to cause unnecessary casualties on the heroes’ side. That was precisely why I orchestrated things this way. The damage would be enough to force them to act, to struggle, to grow—but not enough to break them.
I doubted any of the heroes would actually die from this. Still, caution had its place. Better safe than sorry.
"This is a test," I said calmly. "A test for the heroes—to see how much they’ve improved."
I kept my eyes on the burning village as I spoke.
"It would be a waste if they couldn’t deal with sothing like this. That’s why we allowed the Kingdom of Milham to summon them in the first place."
Everything was proceeding exactly as planned.
This attack wasn’t ant to destroy—it was ant to asure.
To see whether they were developing the way I intended.
Because if they weren’t, then everything up to this point would have been aningless.
A literal waste.
They needed to beco stronger. All of them. One hero alone probably wouldn’t be enough to defeat the unstoppable being I intended for them to face in the future.
That was why I would allow them to struggle.
That was why I would let them grow.
"Now then," I said, turning away, "let’s go."
Claire blinked. "Huh? You’re not going to stay and watch?"
"I don’t know why," I replied honestly, "but I have a feeling sothing unpredictable will show up here."
I frowned slightly. "I’d rather not face him this early."
He would co.
I didn’t know how. I didn’t know why. But the certainty settled deep in my gut.
And because of that, retreating now was the smartest move.
A tactical retreat.
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