Tsukasa stood in place for a moment and stretched his back, his bones letting out a faint clicking sound, then he patted the hem of his loose kimono to smooth out the wrinkles.
"I wonder if that kid has arrived yet." He muttered to himself.
About forty-five minutes had passed since the battle began. The ink-like darkness had completely faded from the eastern sky, replaced by the cool, pale white of dawn.
He then turned toward the forest around Arlam Village, his blue eyes looking out.
His pupils suddenly constricted. Against the backdrop of the early morning sky, dense clusters of black dots appeared on the distant road.
No, they weren't dots.
They were people.
Groups of human figures were moving along the road, the procession stretching long like an exhausted black river, flickering in and out of sight through the morning mist.
This sudden sight made Tsukasa freeze for a moment.
"From Arlam Village?"
Looking closely, among those moving figures, there were several familiar silhouettes—faces he had seen smiling and greeting Subaru in the village.
But now, they were stumbling, their ranks in disarray, with none of their former peace remaining.
There was no time to overthink.
Tsukasa crossed his hands in front of his chest and gave a light clap, his figure vanishing instantly. All that remained was the blood-soaked soil beneath his feet and the massive carcass of the giant beast in the distance.
—
Several miles away.
The exhausted crowd finally came to a halt.
Some collapsed onto the ground, while others leaned on their knees, panting, their faces etched with exhaustion and the dazed look of survivors.
The group was a mix of the elderly and children.
Some were sobbing quietly, while others stared blankly at the road they had come from.
Though they hadn't moved fast, fleeing for half the night had drained the stamina of these ordinary villagers.
It wasn't that they didn't want to flee elsewhere but every road leading in other directions was haunted by things even more terrifying than the "puppets" that had attacked the village earlier: figures clad in black robes with cold, sinister auras.
Fortunately, there were many hunters in this group of refugees. They had barely managed to lead everyone this far.
"We can't go any further."
In the center of the crowd, a young hunter clutched his hair and growled hoarsely at an old man, "Village Chief, if we keep going, the elders' bodies won't be able to take it."
The old man he called the Village Chief showed none of his usual gentle composure.
His face was flushed, his chest heaving violently, and the hand holding his cane trembled from exertion, yet he still straightened his back and shouted back in a raspy voice, "Cough... cough! Don't worry about us!"
"But—"
The youth wanted to argue further.
Just then—
"What happened?"
A calm male voice sounded.
Everyone jumped in fright, turning their heads in unison.
In the clearing where the morning mist was thinning, a figure stood quietly as if he had just condensed out of thin air. His white hair fluttered slightly in the morning breeze, his blue eyes currently fixed on them.
This abrupt appearance, combined with a hair color so similar to that witch, made the already traumatized crowd instantly tense up. Some even let out short screams, instinctively shrinking back.
Tsukasa looked at their terrified eyes and suddenly twitched the corner of his lips.
He raised a hand and waved it, his tone as casual as if he were greeting a neighbor. "I and the Emilia you are familiar with..."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over several faces he vaguely remembered, a reassuring look appearing in his blue eyes.
"...are friends."
—
"So that's how it is..."
After listening to the villagers' fragmented accounts filled with fear, Tsukasa murmured to himself.
After confirming that he was indeed associated with the Roswaal Mansion, the villagers clung to him like a life-saving straw, competing to recount their experiences since last night.
The puppet attacks, the raid on the village, and the cultists emitting ominous auras along the streets.
Fragments of information quickly pieced themselves together in Tsukasa's mind.
He hadn't expected such a person to appear in the Witch Cult. It made him wonder if there was some secret deal behind the scenes with that clown-faced Margrave.
After all, not just him, but probably no one had heard of a Sin Archbishop who would let people go, right?
However, that wasn't important for now.
He looked up at the terrified faces. At least the people from the village were still alive and had escaped to a relatively safe area.
"Honestly..." He clicked his tongue softly, his voice so low only he could hear, "This was a loss."
The original plan was to have Crusch's army take over the relocation and subsequent protection of these villagers while clearing out the Witch Cult's small fry along the way.
But now...
He looked at this group of exhausted villagers whose eyes were full of dependency and panic, fell silent for a moment, and smiled.
"Go a bit further."
He raised his hand and pointed toward the Flugel Tree, "Over there... there's a corpse, a very large corpse."
He paused and added, "Someone will come to meet you soon. Follow them, it's safe."
He briefly explained the general direction and precautions to the young hunter, who, despite his exhaustion, still retained a hunter's sharpness and sense of responsibility.
The youth nodded vigorously, engraving every word Tsukasa said into his heart.
With the instructions given, Tsukasa did not linger. He turned, facing the direction of the Roswaal Estate.
Delay brings trouble. The Witch Cult's movements were faster than he had anticipated, he needed to return immediately to confirm the safety of the mansion.