Riku's gaze, sharp and assessing, moved from Fucho to Levi, then back to the grim faces of the scouts. "Given this new information, Igris cannot leave the village now," he stated, his voice flat. "What happens if they attack when Igris is not here? A single warbeast... a single one can decimate a human squad. Our villagers, our scouts, cannot defeat them in open combat." The stark truth hung in the air, cold and undeniable.
A tremor of fear rippled through the gathered scouts. "Relocation again?" a young scout, barely more than a boy, whispered, his voice laced with despair. The thought of uprooting their fragile new home, of enduring another agonizing journey, was clearly unbearable.
"No," Riku stated, his voice firm, quashing the burgeoning panic. "We will not have to do that."
Just as the faint ripple of relief began to spread, new voices cut through the quiet. "Relocation?"
Riku's head snapped up. Standing near the tent entrance, their faces showing concern and a touch of indignation at being left out, were Ichinose and Erina.
Riku's eyes narrowed. "Which scout called these two here?" he demanded, his voice low, betraying a flicker of annoyance. His attempt to shield them from the grim realities was already failing.
A scout, looking sheepish, shuffled his feet. "General, you... you yourself said that these three," he gestured vaguely at Levi, Ichinose, and Erina, "are capable individuals. That they're part of the inner circle."
Riku suppressed a sigh. His own words, used against him. He turned to Ichinose and Erina, his expression hardening slightly. "Go back to sleep," he commanded, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "This does not concern you."
"But Riku, we're here to help!" Ichinose insisted, stepping forward, her usual strategic mind already trying to grasp the situation.
"We heard about the deaths," Erina added, her gaze grave. "We want to know what's happening."
"You both need your rest," Riku countered, his voice unwavering. "This is a tactical discussion that concerns combat readiness. You two won't be of much help in this stuff." He met their eyes, an unspoken demand for obedience. There was no room for emotional pleas now.
Reluctantly, after a moment of frustrated hesitation, Ichinose and Erina nodded. They exchanged a brief glance, a hint of concern and perhaps even a touch of understanding in their eyes, before turning and walking back towards the sleeping quarters.
Once they were gone, Riku turned back to the remaining scouts, his expression grim. "They're gone now," he stated, reinforcing their absence.
"So general, What should we do about the warbeasts? And this scent trail?" One of the scouts asked what others wanted to ask too.
"I'll think about it," Riku stated, his voice flat, his gaze sweeping over the concerned faces of the scouts. The answer offered no comfort, no immediate solution, but it was all he could give right now. His mind, even with its layers of emotional suppression, was reeling. "For now," he continued, his voice regaining a touch of its usual command, "Levi, Hiro, and Shirline are in command. Maintain vigilance. Patrols are to be doubled, regardless of the scent trail. Report any anomalies directly to them."
He turned and walked away, leaving the scouts to their grim duties. He needed solitude, a place where the pretense could finally drop, where the carefully constructed walls could crumble, if only for a moment. He found it – a small, makeshift storage tent, somewhat distant from its neighbors, its thick canvas flap providing a semblance of privacy. He pushed inside.
Riku exhaled deeply, the stale air of the tent doing little to soothe the turmoil within him. He looked around. No one was there. The rough wooden walls, the piled crates, offered no judgment, no expectation. After finishing his usual meticulous check, confirming absolute solitude, Riku took in a deep, shuddering breath, touched his chest—
and crnk—opened his lock.
The sound was internal, a metaphorical click, but the sensation that followed was physical, visceral. The carefully constructed walls around his heart, the frigid layers of pragmatism and stoicism, shattered. The dam broke.
"…Ha—ha, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"
The sound that escaped him was a ragged, broken laugh, edged with hysteria, tearing itself from deep within his chest. It started low, a broken wheeze, then erupted into a uncontrollable, manic crescendo that echoed in the tiny space. It was the sound of a man teetering on the precipice, sanity fraying at the edges.
So, Riku, how far are you going to take this? His own tormented voice screamed in his head, mocking him. Are you going to wait for eternity for Schwi to come? Or to get your hands on some special skills?
He stumbled, falling to his knees beside a small puddle of leaked water, a reflection of his distorted face staring back at him. Riku. The man who was once revered, the strategist of humanity, the fearless leader who dared to defy gods. The man who once fought with an unyielding conviction, who embraced calculated risks with a cold, clear mind. The one who taught humanity to believe, to fight, to win.
Now... now he was this. This pathetic, broken thing, consumed by failure he couldn't prevent. His mind replayed the dead faces of the two newcomers, the pain a fresh, agonizing wound.
People dying was a normal thing before, but after getting the system, he didn't thought he'd have to face it once again. Which is why, he was in much more grief now.
How could you be so useless? So incompetent? he railed at his reflection, his voice a guttural whisper. You, who prides yourself on foresight, on control. You gambled several times, risked your own life and faced other races head on, one after another. But what's the profit if you have to see it... again?
He clenched his fists, knuckles white. The thought of his own potential demise flashed through his mind, not with fear, but with a horrifying clarity. If I died, the villagers wouldn't be able to benefit from any more rewards. This was the true terror – not his own death, but the meaningless death of their future. His purpose was to lead them, to win for them, not to become a liability.
You his the truth from the villagers, the scouts, even people who you admire.
You kept lying, one after another.
And yet you have the gall to tell people to believe you blindly, with that mouth! The memory of his impassioned speeches, his demands for unwavering faith, twisted into a grotesque parody in his mind. You, who can't even keep two novices safe. You, who can't even manage your own damn charm!
The bitter self-recrimination intensified. And Serabil... A fresh wave of remorse, cold and sickening, washed over him.
You've taken everything easy, haven't you? The voice in his head was relentless, cruel. Complacent. Distracted by your own misery, your own useless 'charm'.
You were so busy pitying yourself, wallowing in the past, that you let two lives slip through your fingers.
He looked at his hands, trembling, then at the crude, makeshift wooden table next to him. A surge of primal rage, raw and untamed, finally broke through the layers of despair. He lunged, his fists slamming down, not once, but repeatedly, onto the brittle wood. Splinters flew, sharp and jagged, digging into his flesh. He didn't feel it. He didn't care. He smashed and smashed, the sound of tearing wood a dull thud against the roar in his ears.
When he finally stopped, panting, the table was a broken ruin, its sharp splinters embedded deep in his palms. Blood, thick and dark, welled up, dripping steadily onto the earthen floor, a stark, crimson counterpoint to the tears now streaming down his face. His breath hitched, ragged and uncontrolled, as the last vestiges of his composure dissolved.
For now, he had lost it. The strategist, the leader, the unshakeable Riku, was utterly, miserably broken. He slumped onto the ground, sobbing, the pain in his hands a welcome anchor against the far deeper agony in his soul.