An emission type gate ranked SS by the world hunter association had opened in the stretches of South America. Not just monsters but plants and entire terrain steamed out of the gate and wrecked havoc all over the continent.
The vast stretch of land had turned into a scene from apocalypse movies. Networks were jammed, connections blocked, all kinds of people were left stranded in the lands.
It had also become a hot mess of crime and a place for many criminals and murderers alike to expand their business. At the same time, mercenaries and vagabonds all flocked to the land.
Since the second catastrophe where the world's greatest hunter and villain first met and duked it out and eventually fell in love, this was by far the worst even Earth had ever seen.
And of course, being a villain myself.
It was only natural that I dived in too.
But. I was still weak.
Monsters stomped on me.
People spat on me.
It was only natural, I didn't mind it one bit, it was what I had gone there for while making an excuse back home.
A test of strength.
Except, I was naive.
A few enslaved people were being taken to an underground bunker. I tried to intervene, I did intervene.
I knew well what nerve the sight had struck, but ignoring said nerve was a different matter altogether.
Back then, just barely, I had managed to free the people and fought with the members of the Black Steel Mercenary group.
For all of their blood, I had taken grave injuries that made even walking impossible. I thought I was a goner back then, but gritting my teeth and summoning god knows what strength from within, I walked.
That night in the Cordillera Blanca ranges was just like this one.
The scent of food carried me along, and I found a person wrapped in bandages cooking all alone.
As soon as he saw me, he rushed over.
"Are you alright?"
Seeing one's face was one thing, I couldn't even tell anyone's intentions back then.
Like a wounded dog I hissed at the person, but all he said was.
"You look tired, would you like a meal? It's better than eating alone anyway."
That man with blue hair the shade of the ocean treated all the wounds on me and fed me a single meal.
"Why?"
"What why?"
"Why are you helping me?"
"Since when did people need a reason to help someone? Kids these days, I can only hope my daughter doesn't turn out like you... Here, have some more stew."
Hah... there was no reason needed to help.
But I bothered him for one anyway.
The next day, we trailed through the hills of Cordillera Blanca together. I said trailed, but it was more of him taking care of my injuries and me stubbornly trying to leave.
"Why do you share your food with me?"
He had little of it too. Far too little.
"It's because I can't stand seeing children hungry. And a meal tastes better eaten together, right? Haven't you eaten alone all these days? This is better."
"There's too much salt."
"HAHAH!"
Jack Clayton took my words and my wounds with open arms and healed me.
When I was healed up, I abandoned him in the night.
The weak stuck with the weak, while the strong moved on. How foolish were my thoughts back then?
Just a few days later, a militia of the Black Steel gathered at the passes of the mountain ranges, trapping and kidnapping more refugees like before.
But this time I had learned my lesson.
The weak stuck with the weak, and the strong moved on. I had no business putting myself in death's jaws again.
I had to train, use the chance to grow stronger and not be reckless. Not after barely surviving.
Just as I was about to leave, the same old ocean haired man entered my sight. The stupid, weak, foolish healer with his backpack of resources started attacking the members of the Black Steel and tried his best to save the people.
He was punched and stabbed, unable to fight back, but still dived in the way of the attacks heading toward the captives.
That day was the first time I ever used the Honeycomb Defense. A spell that had been conceived and realized by myself alone.
A long and draining battle had ensued where I barely let the captives escape, killed the Black Steel, and even kept Jack alive.
"Why? Why would you do that?"
"Again...? Didn't I say... you don't need—"
"—Don't give me that bullshit."
Bullshit. That what it was.
"Haha... you're thinking... the strong live and the weak die, aren't you?"
Bleeding from every orifice on his body and then a dozen more, the healer was paying attention to me instead of himself.
"They're all strong. They have potential. Worth. Their lives are worth more than mine. Strength is not just how many walls you can break, but exists in every form."
"And they're stronger than you? Worth more than you?"
"They are... Because... I... caused this disaster..."
"So... it's only natural... that I whose life is worth nothing, die before all of them. They have more worth... only the worthless should die..."
The culprit behind the worst catastrophe since the second cataclysm didn't die that day. I didn't let him.
***
The sun had long set in the Isle of Skye that was lit up the night stars. Though even their lights seemed fading. Wispy.
Miss Clayton had become a mess, saying all of them blamed the catastrophe on him starting last year.
The wind blew. Luka and Albert were sitting far up on the hill. Near Jack's grave, I was the only one.
Voices constantly rang in my head.
[Trash]
[Fake]
[Worthless]
[Trash should stick together]
[You're nothing but trash. A fake]
[Apate]
[Fake. Fake. Fake. Fake. Fake.]
[Trash. Trash. Trash. Trash. Trash.]
Through the night, the voices kept blaring in my head.
That was right.
I was just a fake.
Just trash.
My life. Was the one with the least worth in the entire universe. There was nothing more fake, more trash, and more worthless than I was.
So.
For the war that stood in our way.
I didn't want anything worth more than I to die.
I took in a sharp breath and stood up. Miss Clayton looked my way, and so did the other two.
Though she must be confused, and though he was dead. I still wanted to speak to these two as much as I wanted to speak to my friends.
"A war without casualties. Where no one dies."
Albert and Luka stared straight at me while Miss Clayton tilted their head.
"I will fight a war like that. A war where I won't give up on anyone."
"It's foolish."
Albert said right away, and Luka nodded.
"You're chasing a dream that might as well cost us all of our lives."
A smirk left me.
To win a war like that.
I need to be strong. Stronger yet.
Until I was the strongest.
The strongest.
.
.
.
.
.
.
***
As the sun started rising in the Isle of Skye once more, the four of us set off in Miss Clayton's car. The time to say goodbye to her was close.
Miss Clayton on the wheel, we drove away from the rugged hills near the fairy glen.
With a soft hand, Miss Clayton turned the radio on and—
[W-w-what is happening... we're in front of the Hunter Association and a gate—]
["My name is Charlotte..."]
["Bring me your god."]
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