Elder Millie Peninsula, Southern Region, coordinates (13, 206, 59).
That was the location where Bruno Amos, Deputy Commander of the Southern Branch, had summoned all Council commanders—and also where Kenis had reported to Leonardo that a platoon-sized or larger group was gathering to the northeast.
Around those coordinates, structures taller, more elaborate, and more complex than those seen in any ruins so far stood here and there.
A hazy fog blanketed the vast forest surrounding the ruins, and the huge mountain range rising through the mist loomed immovably, forming a spectacular, overwhelming sight.
At the midpoint between the forest’s edge and the structures, several commanders, adjutants, and escort members had already pitched tents and lit fires, finishing their preparations to spend the night. They anticipated a long wait, as only about half the personnel who needed to gather had arrived.
Even using various teleportation tools to come at the fastest possible speed, it would take quite some time for commanders traveling from afar to arrive. The same went for Deputy Commander Bruno Amos, who had ordered the summons.
It was now past noon, and the sky was gradually ripening into scarlet, but the humid steam dimmed the light, making everything feel dark even though it should still have been bright. The occasional unknown sounds drifting from the forest added to the eerie atmosphere along with the gloomy scenery.
Hugo, the 8th Platoon Leader, and some of his platoon who had just arrived in the vicinity were heading toward the base camp at those coordinates, following a curved wall heavily draped in vines.
They had arrived only now—even though the mining team’s hideout wasn’t far—partly because handing over the task took time due to delayed support troops, and partly because they’d searched for traces of the two missing persons while scouring nearby areas along the way.
However, what they encountered in the process were numerous packs of ilaptors.
Crossing the ruins with tired faces and blood-stained swords, they turned a corner around a huge stele and immediately came face-to-face with a similar number of commanders.
And the one at the very front of that group was probably the face Hugo least wanted to see on this peninsula right now.
“You’re quite late.”
Meeting Meterion after a long time, Hugo felt his temples throb for no clear reason.
It was uncomfortable to run into him now—partly because Hugo had brought plenty to nitpick about in front of someone eager to find fault, and partly because it felt as though Meterion had been waiting for his arrival.
He couldn’t openly show his annoyance by pressing his forehead, so he slowly closed his eyes once, opened them to shake off the oncoming headache, and asked,
“Where is Deputy Commander Amos?”
“He hasn’t arrived yet.”
At Meterion’s answer, one of Hugo’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“If he hasn’t arrived yet, I don’t know by whose standard I’m late.”
“There are accumulated reports and announcements, and the Commander—who was out of contact—is only showing up now. As a battalion commander, I have no choice but to call that late.”
The subtle tension in their exchange made even those around them tread carefully. The two gazes that met showed no goodwill.
“Did you find the missing persons?”
The blunt question carried no sympathy or caution. The intent was obvious, but it was a topic that had to be faced since the commanders had gathered here, so Hugo chose not to dodge it.
“Not yet.”
“In the announcement from the 9th Battalion of the Southern Branch, I heard there were clear signs the missing persons took shelter after escaping the collapse site.”
“...”
“The fact that it’s still ‘not yet,’ even though the Commander threw aside his responsibilities and devoted himself to the search, means it’s fair to say the situation I was concerned about has occurred.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions.”
Hugo spoke while fixing Meterion with a cold gaze. Normally, he would have brushed it off, but it irked him that he had been stopped mid-step—and that Meterion deliberately mentioned responsibilities. Today, more than a few things rubbed him the wrong way.
Moreover, whether or not he was misreading it, Meterion sounded as if he’d been waiting for the worst to happen.
“It’s not a hasty conclusion but a reasonable judgment.”
At Meterion’s words, spoken while looking straight at him, veins rose slightly on the back of Hugo’s hand gripping the ice-covered greatsword.
His eyes, clouded with fatigue, were colder than usual. Still, arguing here would yield no benefit, and he had no desire to, so he meant to ignore it and move on.
But just as he was about to turn away, he saw another group approaching close behind the commanders of the 3rd Battalion of the Central Branch.
“Ah, loyalty. Commander, you’ve arrived.”
Hugo looked at the speaker with a less-than-welcoming expression. Judging by the armband and the embroidery on his combat uniform, he belonged to the 7th Battalion of the Southern Branch; his epaulets marked him as battalion commander, but the face was unfamiliar.
He seemed newly appointed, though not entirely new; Hugo had likely seen him among the nobility faction at social gatherings. When he naturally approached to stand beside Meterion, Hugo’s speculation hardened into certainty.
“Commander, I have an urgent report to deliver.”
“...What is it?”
In the Council, meeting a superior for the first time usually meant stating one’s official rank and name, responding to the superior’s initiated handshake, and then giving the business at hand, but given the circumstances, Hugo listened to the urgent report from the 7th Battalion Commander without comment.
The 8th Platoon Leader beside him knew how exhausted the Commander was and tried hard to hide her displeasure at battalion commanders keeping him standing for talk.
“...That’s why. The 7th Battalion of our Southern Branch is scattered by companies, so it’s difficult to immediately apply various tactics. Especially since four companies are deployed to defend the border zone gates, wouldn’t internal personnel be urgently needed for subjugation?”
“...”
“So how about withdrawing two companies from gate defense and summoning them to the interior...? I’d like your opinion. And regarding ammunition supplies for some rifle units...”
While listening to the report, the 7th Battalion’s strategy, and deployment issues, Hugo stared intently at the battalion commander. Perhaps because that gaze seemed particularly cold and fierce, the man grew a bit nervous. In truth, Hugo’s thoughts were drifting slightly away from the report’s details.
What are the chances there’s a collaborator among them?
His gaze swept from the 7th Battalion Commander to his officers, then to the commanders of the 3rd Battalion of the Central Branch beside them. His final look landed on Meterion, but as the 7th Battalion Commander finished, Hugo turned to him and asked,
“Is there no solution to reinforce internal personnel other than pulling gate defense? Wouldn’t calling the support troops on standby be faster?”
“Ah, yes. That’s true, but I thought reinforcing with the battalion members I originally command would be more effective for applying tactics—”
“The gate defense personnel can’t be reduced any further. We’re already at the minimum, and cutting more would increase each person’s surveillance area, raising the possibility of gaps in security.”
Hugo cut off the 7th Battalion Commander and continued instead,
“To pull previously stationed defense into the peninsula and newly deploy the standby support troops there would mean too many unnecessary movements—handoffs for each position and situation, and redistributing areas of responsibility. We’ll discuss reinforcement when Deputy Commander Amos arrives. For now, wait on standby.”
At the Commander’s crisp dismissal, the 7th Battalion Commander seemed to have more to say, but the mood warned him off. He bowed and stepped back.
“...Yes, understood.”
“Ah, and one more thing.”
The Commander had more to add.
“The ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) 1st Battalion of the Central Branch, including myself, just arrested a large illegal mining team and handed them over to the support troops. The fact that so many could enter the peninsula’s interior means the current level of border-zone defense and security is seriously lax.”
The 7th Battalion Commander’s face went instantly pale.
“In the future, along with reinforcing personnel, I will hold you—the battalion commander—responsible for the security personnel who failed to carry out their duties. Keep that in mind.”
At that, his gaze flicked briefly to the side, but Meterion’s expression showed no change.
Hugo, who had deliberately mentioned the mining team’s arrest to see both men’s reactions, quietly studied their contrasting faces, then finally moved to step into the base camp.
He hadn’t taken a step before another voice called from afar.
“Commander!”
Looking up, he saw commanders of the 6th Battalion of the Central Branch, newly arrived, in the airspace above the ruins. Delua spotted the crowd in front of the huge stele and Hugo standing in the middle, then descended at once and landed nearby.
Pushing through the gathered commanders, she approached and said,
“The base camp is right ahead—what are you all doing here? Having a meeting? Ah, before that, Commander. The report I have to give...”
Scanning the commanders one by one, Delua turned toward Hugo—the purpose of her descent—and flinched.
Not only had his usually, almost frighteningly neat face deteriorated noticeably in the past few days, but that particularly unpleasant expression was one she’d only seen when he’d worked nearly a week without sleep. If she delivered the report now, she’d hear nothing good.
As Delua instinctively fell silent, Hugo said,
“Let’s hear it a bit later. For now, let’s go to the base camp and wait—”
“Commander!”
Hugo’s eyes, cut off mid-sentence, closed tightly until veins stood out on his forehead.
The 8th Platoon Leader, watching his reaction, turned toward the voice and saw two liaison officers approaching. Hugo didn’t even look; he raised his right hand to press and rub his brow. It crossed her mind that this was the result of the Commander throwing aside his responsibilities and devoting himself to the search—just as Meterion had said.
Having not slept for almost three days, the headache he’d tried to chase away returned more intensely. Now it even felt like he was hearing things.
Commander—
Commander.
Commander!
Voices calling him filled the air, making it impossible to focus.
The liaison officer who had descended from above gave a quick salute and tried to speak, but Delua caught his collar and quickly shook her head. Not now.
Emboldened by Delua’s cue, the 8th Platoon Leader stepped forward to tidy the situation.
“I apologize for interrupting, but since everyone must be tired from the long journey, it would be best to move to the base camp first and give the reports during the formal meeting.”
The commanders, likewise unsettled by the Commander’s state, all nodded in agreement. As they parted to make way, Hugo lowered the hand from his brow and gave the 8th Platoon Leader a slight nod of thanks.
Thus the 1st Battalion finally moved toward the base camp—but even that movement didn’t last. The sound of a tongue clicking—tsk—reached Hugo’s ears before he could take a second step.
The low voice that followed seemed small, almost a mutter, but the surroundings were too quiet to muffle it.
“Must have more than enough energy to run away.”
Hugo stopped. His expression cooled as he stood there, and his Adam’s apple moved slowly once.
Delua, in the same moment, covered her forehead with a hand and squeezed her eyes shut. Knowing Meterion’s personality, there was a high chance it was a deliberately loud aside meant to be heard.
As Hugo slowly turned, he saw Meterion leaning against the stele, arms crossed, staring at him.
Once, people had praised his dogged nature—ignoring public opinion when others tried to gloss things over—but now his behavior seemed nothing more than a bid to provoke.
As their eyes met, a suffocating silence fell.
An eerie cry echoed from the forest, and the air turned chilly for no reason.
No one spoke. Only the commanders’ eyes darted. Then Hugo pivoted and took two long strides toward Meterion.
In an instant, Hugo’s greatsword punched into the stele behind Meterion.
Kwang—!
As the gust brushed his face, Meterion’s eyes widened. His hair shivered in the shockwave and settled.
Before him stood Hugo, cold-faced, gripping the greatsword’s hilt.
It had happened so fast that the commanders were frozen, mouths shut. Meterion turned his head and saw a huge wedge of ice embedded right beside his temple.
A fraction to the side, and it could have pierced his head.
Monster blood clung and froze along the greatsword’s surface in mid-flow, adding to its brutality.
Meterion stared at his own stunned reflection in the blood-streaked blade, then slowly frowned and faced forward. He met Hugo’s gaze with equal brutality and said, incredulous,
“What the hell are you doing right now?”
Hugo released the hilt and stepped closer. He whispered at his face,
“Just be quiet. Read the mood.”
His shadowed blue eyes warned fiercely. Hugo’s large hand clamped Meterion’s shoulder as if pinning it, thumped it heavily a couple of times, then dropped.
He held Meterion’s gaze to the end, then left the greatsword where it was and walked away from the commanders. The 8th Platoon Leader and the 1st Battalion, who had been silently watching, hurried after him.
He felt the atmosphere among those left behind freezing over, but he didn’t care to think about that now.
Rubbing near his eyebrows, he strode off and suddenly raised his head to the sky.
As the thick fog gradually cleared, high mountain ridges emerged along with a faint light.
“He’s here on time.”
Bruno Amos’s mana was approaching.
