An Insight Before the Battle

Dawn broke, and Hearthwood's sergeants were summoned to a pre-battle meeting. Alab awoke with intense fatigue, his body momentarily paralyzed. He worried that the Dream Summon fatigue might worsen, forcing him to use the Morphing Key of Sora despite his desire to conserve Information Points.

The tent buzzed with a silent sternness. Alab, attending his first war meeting, was surprised to find no war figurines, only the expectation of receiving orders. He was nervous but knew his role was simply to listen.

Lieutenant Marshal entered with several men, including two women with short black hair, one light-skinned, the other brown-skinned. Alab wondered if they were… relievers for the Marshal. New faces, he thought. This war was no planned campaign; it was a chaotic escalation of reinforcements following the alleged poisoning of Green Rose soldiers. It was a war born of chaos and fueled by greed.

Seeing women in the otherwise all-male army was refreshing. Alab, curious, asked a nearby sergeant about them.

"You don't know them? Where'd you come from?" the sergeant scoffed.

Alab's heart raced. His curiosity and ignorance of local customs could be dangerous. He remembered the man who'd held a knife to his throat. He didn't know anything about these women, not even from Lucas' fragmented memories.

"Anyone from Hearthwood knows they're Valkyrie candidates from the Temple of Odin," the sergeant explained. "They participate in the gate hunts. The brown-skinned one is Hina, and the other is Valerie. I think I'm in love with Valerie."

The Temple of Odin sent Valkyrie candidates throughout Gaia to prove their strength and wisdom. Hina and Valerie had led assault teams in the gate hunts for five years. It was said that Valkyrie candidates who died in battle might be reincarnated as Valkyries if they met certain requirements.

Marshal took his seat, and silence fell. "After several defeats, we still don't know why the enemy hasn't conceded," he began. "We suspect more reinforcements are coming. But the plan remains: we crush them!"

Valerie elaborated, "We'll attack their left flank again. The Pegasus Platoon, reinforced by Dragoon Platoon members, will pincer them." Horo, Lancer, and Caesar, recognized for their cavalry skills, were assigned to this unit.

"Our scouts estimate around 2,000 enemies on their left flank," Hina added. "Their general is a foreigner, not from Green Rose, named Kato. He has long hair and a dragon-designed helmet. If weakening their forces doesn't work, find him and kill him."

"A huge reward awaits whoever does," Marshal declared.

Definitely not me, Alab thought. Call me a coward, but I'm not rushing in. Yet, a strange excitement welled up in him. I don't understand this… It's as if it's not my own, he pondered. Could these feelings… be from that man?

Alab remembered his unanswered questions for Merlin and Sasha about the Memories of the Fallen. He hadn't fully processed the memories of Soda Damarcus, the warrior who'd become an alcoholic after losing his family.

Soda, a foreigner, had risen through the ranks of Hearthwood's army, refusing promotions that would take him from the front lines. He could have been a general, but after losing his wife and daughter to illness, he lost his ambition. Battles and alcohol kept him sane. He craved death on the battlefield.

Alab glimpsed fragments of Soda's final moments. He saw him smiling, saying, "Finally, Anna and Lila, we'll be together. Valkyries, take me to Valhalla."

Do these memories affect me? I'm no war freak, Alab wondered. He was curious about the selection of memories. Were they random, or did they have a special trait? Memories contained emotions. Alab unconsciously empathized with the fallen. These are important, but I'm more interested in the Information Points…

Suddenly, a dagger whizzed past Alab's face, embedding itself in the wood beside him.

"No time for daydreaming," Hina said. "Daydream now, and you may not see tomorrow."

In the Green Rose tent, three hooded figures listened to a man in front of them.

"Are you all ready?"

"Yes, General," they replied.

A breathless man rushed in. "General Kato, I must warn you. Records show that using 'that' will incur the wrath of the gods."

"Gods are gone," Kato scoffed. "Besides, do you think we can win with our forces alone?"

"The sea battle of Riverdale, the battle of Longbottom, the skirmish here five years ago… all struck by—"

"Silence! Know your place!" one hooded figure, an elf with elongated ears, interrupted.

"We should retreat," the man, Grand, tried to say, but no sound came out.

"You'll regain your voice in an hour," the elf said.

Grand walked out, muttering, "What's wrong with them? He's jeopardizing lives. What kind of general disregards his men? Gods, tell me how to stop this!"

"Oh really? I'll tell him if I make it home."

"Hahaha. Good one. Thanks for being here."

"Good secret. Wish I'd known you sooner."

"So that's how you died. I'll watch out for that cavalry boy."

Near Green Rose's headquarters, a soldier in his early thirties, known as Delusional Gaston, talked to himself—or so it seemed. He claimed to see ghosts. After surviving a near-death experience in a previous war, he'd started acting this way. No one believed his claims, but he didn't care. He planned to contact the families of the dead soldiers he spoke with and charge a fee for relaying their messages.

The final day of the war arrived. The scorching sun seemed to urge a swift end. The air reeked of blood, and the land awaited the decaying bodies.

Alab gazed at the towering structure being fought over, amazed by its grandeur. Nearby was the Gate, which would belong to the victor, along with the tower. Alab still planned his escape from the army.

He knew where to position Tim and use the Morphing Key. He knew where to strike and where to avoid. He was excited, yet afraid.