Second Chapter of the Day Ronanto's Perspective Just Before the War "Long time no see."
"It's been a while, Master."
I was meeting with my first disciple, the Hero
We hadn't been able to see each other properly, all because of the Church of Divine Words butting in.
Honestly, what an annoyance.
"I'm glad to see you looking well."
"Likewise, Master. You're advanced in years, yet you're still active and in good spirits, aren't you?"
"Who do you think I am? I'll be going strong right up until the moment I die."
"That's so like you."
My first disciple smiled elegantly.
Back when I was looking after him, he still had a bit of childishness to him, but he'd long since grown into a proper adult.
"Oh — Julius. I mean, Lord Ronanto. When did you get here?"
The one who threw open the door without so much as a knock was — Hyalins, was it?
One of the first disciple's friends and companions.
"Just a moment ago."
"He teleported here suddenly. I keep telling him it's startling and he should stop, but he never listens."
"If you can't even sense the signs of teleportation, you still have a ways to go."
I let the first disciple's complaints pass right through me.
We had to meet in secret like this, or the Church of Divine Words would raise a fuss.
"You really haven't changed at all," Hyalins sighed.
But I do observe the basics of common decency, you know.
"So? Master, Hyalins — you must both be here for something, right?"
"Mm. But let's hear Hyalins's business first."
My errand was nothing important.
Just meddling, really.
It could wait.
"Kid. Well, I suppose from Lord Ronanto's perspective, you'd be a kid."
"What's wrong with calling a kid a kid? If you want to object, try beating me first."
"I'll pass on that."
The kid gave a wry smile, then his expression quickly turned serious.
"Lord Ronanto, what I'm about to discuss here is classified military information."
"Understood. I promise not to breathe a word of anything I see or hear here."
The kid had probably wanted me to step out, if possible, but he'd already resigned himself to the fact that I wouldn't budge.
We didn't know each other all that well, but he understood me well enough for that.
Sure enough, he wore the look of someone who'd given up and began his report.
"A scout unit failed to return on schedule. It's safe to assume they've been eliminated."
At the kid's report, the first disciple's expression turned grim.
The unit stationed here — at what could be called the human race's front line — was no ordinary force.
The best of the best.
And that scout unit had returned with nothing, carrying no intelligence whatsoever.
What that meant was that the enemy was dangerous enough to make it happen.
"Hmm. How many units failed to return?"
"All of them."
Well, now.
That was worse than expected.
Before a large-scale battle like this, scout units would be split into several squads to gather intelligence.
That way, even if one squad was found and wiped out, the others could still bring information back.
But this time, every single squad had failed to return.
Which meant the enemy possessed detection capabilities that surpassed the scouts' Stealth, and on top of that, enough combat power to eliminate them swiftly.
Moreover, it meant the enemy had enough numbers to ambush all the scattered scout squads simultaneously.
Scouts would have been in communication with each other, of course.
The moment anything happened to one squad, they'd have been trained to withdraw immediately.
The fact that they couldn't even do that meant they were all attacked at once.
Detection capabilities that could find stealth scouts.
Combat capabilities that could annihilate them entirely.
The enemy had to have at least as many troops as the scout units — troops equipped with both.
"This is going to be a tough fight," the first disciple said in a subdued voice.
He was probably thinking about the members of the scout units who'd been lost.
"First disciple."
I called out to that idiot disciple in a low voice, ready to give him a lecture.
"I know you're thinking about the scout unit's casualties, but if you have time to worry about that, worry about yourself instead."
"Master! What do you mean by that?!"
The first disciple rarely raised his voice, but when it came to matters of life and death, he was sensitive.
"I'm saying the sacrifice of the scout unit is not what you should be thinking about right now."
"Master. There are things it's appropriate for you to say, and things that aren't. If you say anything further, I won't forgive you."
"Oh? And how exactly won't you forgive me?"
At my intimidation, the kid flinched.
The first disciple showed no outward composure — but it was only surface-level, of course.
"You, won't forgive, me? You're not seriously thinking you could beat me, are you?"
I emphasized each word deliberately, pressing the question in a low voice.
The one who swallowed was — the first disciple or the kid, I wonder.
"Don't get ahead of yourself. There's always someone stronger. Whether you're the Hero or whatever else."
I released the pressure and tapped the first disciple lightly on the forehead with my staff.
"The same goes for the scout unit. Those people fulfilled their duty and fell in battle, outmatched. Mourning their deaths is not wrong. But shouldering responsibility for those deaths — that's where you've gone astray. The Hero can't save everyone and everything, so get that notion out of your head. Or were you thinking that you should have been the one out on reconnaissance instead? That would be the greatest insult of all — stealing the dead's work and calling them incompetent to boot. Surely even the Hero wouldn't be such a worthless, despicable person."
At my words, the first disciple had nothing to reply with.
He hung his head in silence.
He'd always been like this, ever since he was young.
He takes on burdens he has no business carrying.
When people fight and die, that's always his fault in his mind.
No one else's — only the fighter's own.
Yet somehow, he'd gotten it into his head that nothing would be enough unless he saved everyone.
Something only a god could do.
"Julius."
Not "first disciple" — I called him by name.
Julius slowly raised his lowered head.
"In the midst of battle, think of yourself."
If his attention was elsewhere, even those who could survive wouldn't.
"There are always those stronger than you — you know that well, don't you? Only the strong can protect others. You are weak. So weak you can't even beat old me."
"Easy for you to say, Master, because you're strong."
At Julius's feeble retort, I let out a short laugh.
"There are those above me too. You know that well enough, don't you?"
If it was Julius — who shared knowledge of that person with me — he'd understand.
That there existed a power against which we of the human race could never hope to compete.
"Listen. When you're in danger, don't hesitate — run. You are the Hero, whatever else may be true. A Hero who fled is far less of a problem than a Hero who died. Burn that into your head."
"Don't worry. I, Julius, will protect you," the kid declared.
What was this brat going on about.
"Coming from someone weaker than my first disciple, that doesn't carry much weight."
"Ouch! That's harsh!"
His joking manner was meant to lighten the mood.
He was trying to keep the first disciple from heading into battle with a heavy heart.
His combat ability left something to be desired, but he'd made a fine friend.
"Heh. Then I suppose I'll entrust myself to your protection."
"You bet. Rest easy."
Just as the kid intended, the first disciple seemed to lift his spirits a little.
"Still, Lord Ronanto — it's kind of adorable, showing up to scold your disciple because you're worried about him."
"I-I wasn't thinking anything of the sort!"
What was this guy talking about?!
I thought he was a decent friend of the first disciple, but I'd been mistaken!
"See? He's blushing, he's blushing."
"I'm not blushing! Honestly! I'm leaving!"
"Thank you very much for today, Master."
"Hmph."
I activated my teleportation and departed the scene.
That was the last farewell between Julius and me in this life.
Reference Material W-Wait a moment! Ronanto at the time of the great war: magic-type Status 1500, physical-type Status 300 Ronanto at the time of the elf village battle: magic-type Status 4000, physical-type Status 400 Not just past his growth period — this old man only goes downhill from here, yet he more than doubled his magic-type Status. What a PERVERT.
Julius: average Status 2600 Just a touch stronger than