Chapter 102: After the Rain, Whose Figure Stands in the Dawn?

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The rain gradually ceased, and the faint light of dawn began to break over the horizon.

On the road outside the forest, the rainwater had slowly seeped into the soil.

But the bright red stains of blood on the ground weighed heavily on Rudeus and Sylphie's hearts.

Allen had been gone all night—an entire night.

Inside the shattered remains of the carriage that Allen had cut apart, Sylphie crouched in a corner near the broken opening, staring at Allen's luggage beside the carriage. Her white hair clung to her face, and her eyes were unfocused.

This night had been filled with too many firsts for her.

The first time she had killed someone.

The first time she had faced a life-and-death crisis.

The first time…

She had watched as Allen's neck was slashed open.

She had spent the entire night wondering if Allen's injuries were really okay.

Was he pushing himself too hard?

Would it have been better if he hadn't chased after the assassins in his condition?

Her thoughts were a tangled mess.

There were no answers.

The person who usually helped her make sense of things was far away, unable to respond to her questions.

The other had gone after the assassins and hadn't returned yet.

Allen…

Hadn't returned.

Why was she curled up in the corner of the carriage?

Because she was afraid of the blood.

At her core, no matter how much she tried to imitate Allen's calm demeanor or mimic Roxy's expressions…

She was still just a seven-year-old child. The length of her life had only just begun. In the original story, she had only cried loudly when she was separated from Rudeus a few months later. How could she possibly handle the current situation?

And when she saw the bloodied organs, severed limbs, and shattered bones on the ground, her stomach churned even more.

Was it because of the corpses?

But she had already tried not to think about the bodies, not to think about death. She had sat quietly in the carriage, trying not to think about anything.

Just thinking about Allen's face.

Yet it only made her feel worse.

Her stomach churned even more.

Why was that?

No one answered her.

So she could only hug her knees and sit there in a daze.

In stark contrast to her reaction was Rudeus, who sat on a nearby wheel, staring intently at the corpses of the kidnappers he had killed with his own hands.

His reaction last night had been quick. When he felt the carriage being attacked and realized he needed to fight back, he had hesitated at first.

After all, at this point in time, Rudeus hadn't fully adapted to this "other world" as much as Allen had.

He couldn't accept how suddenly and brutally the imagery of death had been thrust into his life, especially when it was his own hands that had caused it.

In the original story, he had always been reluctant to kill, always trying to avoid it. This behavior was especially evident before the Shirone War.

Then, as he hesitated, he saw Allen slice through one of the kidnappers like Roxy peeling a potato, cutting from the hand all the way up to the arm.

And finally, cutting off the head.

It was clean and decisive.

In that moment, through the curtain of rain, the NEET remembered the scene in the snowy valley when Allen had thrown him toward Paul.

The falling rain seemed to transform into the snow of that day, and through the snow and wind…

He saw Allen and Sylphie falling into the valley.

In that instant.

Rudeus's body moved.

His actions were faster than his thoughts. His mana surged through him without needing much conscious effort, and his hand didn't need to be deliberately raised—it was already in front of his face.

Ice blades shot from his palm, piercing through the heavy rain and accurately striking the "kidnappers" around the carriage.

It was just like the countless times he had "sparred" with Allen.

Because only by improving his precision could he even graze Allen's clothes.

By the time he realized what he was doing, the men were already lying dead in the rain.

It was then that he understood how simple it was to kill someone, how little psychological burden it carried.

In fact, after he had killed them and ran toward Allen…

He felt like he had "succeeded."

This time, he hadn't been left behind.

Just like in the snowy valley, when Allen had saved him simply because he "wanted to." At that moment, high in the air, his body had moved faster than his thoughts. While he was still panicking, Allen had already made his choice.

This time, he had chosen to kill to save them. In the rain, his body had moved faster than his thoughts, and ice blades had shot from his palm.

He understood how Allen had felt back then.

And then, his hand grasped at empty air once more.

So now, he could only force himself to look at the corpses on the ground, forcing himself to accept the "aftermath" of killing.

As for worrying about Allen…

He wasn't worried.

He had already worried enough back in the snowy valley.

Back then, after his worry, his shock, his despair, after imitating Allen's interrogation style and preparing to force Lilia to "judge" him, what had he seen?

It was the overwhelming imagery of death that filled the entire snowy valley.

It was a lake of blood.

The corpses of monsters floated on the sea of blood.

Allen stood among them, holding his broken, chipped sword.

And he had said just one thing.

"There won't be a monster wave next year."

So Rudeus believed in him.

Whether they waited ten hours, ten days, half a month, or even longer…

Allen would return, carrying the heads of the assassins, looking at them.

And he would say those words.

"There won't be any more assassinations."

He was the kind of person who would say something like that.

How could he die in a place like this?

How could he die in a place like this?!

Rudeus slammed his fist against the wheel, jumped down, and kicked aside a nearby corpse. He turned to Sylphie and said,

"I'm going to find Allen!"

Sylphie blinked, her dazed expression slowly clearing. She looked up at Rudeus.

"Okay."

The two stood up from beside the carriage and walked toward the edge of the forest.

There, a figure was already standing.

Her fiery red hair was wet and tangled from the rain. Her clothes were soaked, but she still stood with her head held high, arms crossed, staring intently into the forest. Her lips were pressed into a firm, downward line.

Beside her, a tired-looking catgirl kept trying to comb her hair, but she impatiently swatted the attempts away.

"Miss Eris, there's no need to worry. They'll come back. Lady Ghislaine is strong—nothing will happen to her."

Eris didn't respond. She only glared even harder at the shadows in the forest.

Philip stood nearby, leaning against the carriage. Like Eris, he was silent, his eyes fixed on the forest. His face appeared calm, but his wide-open eyes and the occasional flicker of unease in his gaze betrayed his true feelings. Like Eris, he had stood in the rain all night without seeking shelter, showing that the mayor of Roa was far less composed than he appeared.

Rudeus walked past the three of them, glancing at Philip. The mayor noticed his gaze and returned it.

Rudeus opened his mouth, wanting to say something.

But at that moment, the sound of running footsteps reached his ears.

It was Sylphie and Eris, their footsteps almost simultaneous!

Rudeus was stunned for a moment, then realized what was happening. He whipped his head around to look into the forest.

The dawn light after the rain began to burn across the sky.

Two figures, one tall and one short, emerged from the edge of the forest. The fiery light of dawn outlined their silhouettes, making their faces indistinct.

Rudeus froze. He wanted to run, but his legs felt weak, and he ended up collapsing to the ground.

But the figure carrying two heads was so familiar, so anticipated.

Once again, it was accompanied by the imagery of death.

Once again, it was impossible to ignore.

He heard his own voice, hoarse and trembling.

"Thank goodness…"

"Thank goodness…"

—

Sylphie stumbled over to Allen and, before he could say anything, leaped up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Allen blinked, caught off guard.

Before he could speak…

A pair of cold little hands touched the side of his neck.

In the next moment, he felt the body in his arms go limp, as if she had finally confirmed something. The tension that had been building all night finally released.

Then came the sound of crying, soft but unmistakable.

It reached Allen's ears, clear and fragile.

He was stunned for a moment, then looked down at Sylphie's disheveled white hair, glowing in the light of dawn.

It reminded him of the moonlight in the snowy valley.

Allen was silent for a moment, then wrapped his arms around Sylphie and buried his face in her hair.

"I'm sorry for making you worry."

The morning light after the rain bathed the two of them.

Reflected in fiery red eyes.

Whose gaze was that?

Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 170 on my patreon, go check it out and remember that if we reach the goal of 80 power stones I will publish the next chapter.