As expected, the moment the Gaulish emissaries delivered Corsica I’s handwritten letter to the Witch King, the fuse of war was lit.
The Witch King crumpled the emissaries into a ball and threw them back to Gaul to be redeployed.
At the beginning of the war, the Gaulish Army was like an unstoppable spear, tearing through Leithanien’s border defenses with ease.
City after city and stronghold after stronghold fell, meeting almost no resistance.
The Leithanien Army steadily retreated under the Gaulish offensive.
Meanwhile, ever since declaring war, the Witch King had locked himself inside his high tower and had not appeared even once.
…
As the flames of war spread, all the strongholds and shelters that had been prepared in advance were put into operation.
A huge, ferocious Wendigo emblem was painted across the heights and gates of the shelters, clearly declaring whom this territory belonged to.
“Those who violate the territory of the Great Wendigo shall be crushed by Mo.”
Awesome!!!
On a small hill at the edge of the battlefield, a shelter had been established.
As the front lines shifted, it had become the shelter closest to the battlefield.
And Mo was currently guarding it.
The shelter itself was not particularly large, but it was already overcrowded.
People occupied every available corner.
Some sat exhausted on the ground, while others paced nervously, clearly worried about something.
Despite the preparations made in advance, the arrival of war still placed enormous pressure on everyone inside the shelter.
The ever-increasing number of refugees and rapidly dwindling supplies were especially concerning.
A tall, dark figure stood atop the shelter’s watchtower, gazing toward the distant fires and the constant battles breaking out across the battlefield.
No one knew what he was thinking.
“The current situation is not optimistic.
At this rate, all the shelters and strongholds, including ours, will soon reach capacity, and our resources will quickly become stretched thin.
“Continuing like this is not a long-term solution.”
Behind Mo, the Intelligence Officer responsible for managing the shelter reported the situation with a troubled expression.
Mo nodded.
He glanced at the Intelligence Officer before turning his gaze back toward the distant city, where thick smoke continued to rise into the sky.
After a brief silence, Mo spoke.
“I remember telling you the rules.
“Ignore anything beyond our capacity.”
The Intelligence Officer raised his head in surprise.
That did not sound like something the leader of an organization dedicated to rescuing civilians would say.
“Are… are you serious?
“So many people… we’re just supposed to ignore them?”
Mo did not turn around.
He continued watching the fires erupting across the battlefield from time to time.
“After taking in all the supporters who have helped us, accept refugees according to your judgment.
“Once the shelter reaches capacity, close the gates and refuse further entry.
“And if anyone causes trouble, kill them on the spot without mercy.”
The Intelligence Officer fell silent.
After a brief stalemate, he ultimately said nothing and turned away to carry out Mo’s order.
Afterward, the Intelligence Officer leaned against the window and lit a cigarette.
He looked in the direction Mo had been watching and took a deep drag.
War had broken out. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Chaos was everywhere.
Even with a Wendigo guarding the shelter, it was impossible to guarantee that some clueless idiots wouldn’t cause trouble.
Accepting refugees without considering the consequences would eventually result in a backlash from those very refugees.
And maintaining an ambiguous attitude would only intensify conflicts.
At times like this, only an iron-fisted approach could preserve the shelter and allow them to achieve their goals.
Making such a decision was bold—far beyond what an ordinary person could accomplish.
It was just ironic that such a cold-blooded order had come from the leader of a rescue organization.
Then again, what kind of Wendigo refused to fight on the front lines and instead stayed behind to rescue people?
The Intelligence Officer smiled self-deprecatingly, exhaled a smoke ring, and watched the distant battlefield’s flames become reflected within it.
Quite interesting.
Mo, standing on the watchtower, was actually nowhere near as calm and rational as his orders suggested.
On the contrary, a fierce desire for battle was constantly stirring within him.
The closer he was to the battlefield, the harder it became to suppress that crazy impulse.
The flames of war were violently burning Mo’s soul, constantly assaulting his already precarious sanity.
His eyes simply could not leave the battlefield.
The flames.
The explosions.
The roars.
Everything about the battlefield deeply attracted him.
He had never craved battle so intensely.
But this was wrong.
Mo suppressed the desire within his heart, closed his eyes, and desperately tried to divert his attention away from the battlefield.
He struggled to maintain his sanity.
The part of him that yearned for battle and the part that demanded calm alternated within his mind, colliding violently with one another.
The extreme emotional fluctuations nearly drove him to collapse.
Under this constant torment, Mo leaned weakly against the wall, panting heavily before slowly sliding down it.
“I didn’t expect that merely suppressing this crazy impulse would nearly destroy me.
“That really is embarrassing.”
Mo smiled bitterly and opened his eyes, staring blankly at the sky dyed crimson by the flames of war.
“How ugly.
“Is your will really that fragile?”
A familiar voice suddenly rang beside Mo’s ear.
Mo looked up.
A pitch-black portal slowly appeared before him, and the arrogant figure of the Witch King emerged from it.
He had simply appeared there without even touching the ground.
Looking at the Witch King standing before him, Mo couldn’t help laughing.
“I knew you must have done something to me.
“Tell me. What did you do?”
The Witch King glanced at Mo, seemingly unconcerned by his rudeness.
“I’m not bored enough to watch you all the time.”
Seeing the Witch King deny it, Mo’s interest was piqued.
“Then what did you do?”
The Witch King expressionlessly pointed toward Mo’s battered armor.
“Why would I need to do anything to you?
“Wouldn’t it be much more convenient to leave a mark on your armor?”
Mo lowered his head and looked at his armor before smiling helplessly.
This really was impossible to guard against.
He only had this one set of armor.
In most places, privately possessing armor was practically a capital offense.
If it weren’t for his special status, he wouldn’t even have been able to keep this beggar-version armor, much less repair or replace it.
“Tell me.
“How much do you know about my situation?”
“I left a mark on your armor that can sense life force.
“Whenever my research into the Wastelands makes new progress, that mark fluctuates violently.
“Based on this, I speculate that the part of you resembling a demon is resonating with the Wastelands, constantly stimulating your sanity.
“If you fail to suppress this impulse, you will most likely lose your sanity and become a monster capable of nothing but destruction.”
The Witch King calmly stated his speculation.
Mo looked at him.
“Looking at you, I should still be savable, right?”
He chuckled.
If the Witch King hadn’t found a way to help him, he wouldn’t have appeared here personally.
“Of course.
“On this land, no one can help you except me.”
As the pinnacle of Originium Arts on Terra, the Witch King was indeed qualified to say such a thing.
Looking at the arrogant Witch King, Mo sighed helplessly and raised his hands.
“I hope the great Witch King will save my life.
“I am deeply grateful.”
“I can certainly help you.
“In exchange, until the problem within you is resolved, you will cooperate with my research as an experimental subject.”
Mo thought about it.
Most of the things that needed to be done here had already been arranged.
If he still had to personally handle everything, what difference would there be between him and a giant baby?
He had no interest in being a nanny for a group of giant babies.
As for the research…
The Witch King probably wouldn’t push him to the point of death, right?
With that thought, Mo happily agreed to the Witch King’s request.
He casually gave the people below a few instructions before leaving with the Witch King.
(Just asking, will your Sister Banana fall apart?
The one I pulled keeps wailing.
(〜￣▽￣)〜 It completely broke my defenses…)
(Also, I’ve been using someone else’s computer to play Assassin’s Creed these past few days. Combat! Awesome!!! My bad, my bad.)