Charles and his group made their way down the mountain. Although they’d come and gone several times before, this was honestly the first time he’d traveled this road on foot—every prior visit, he’d always come by carriage.
Though they had left later than anyone else, the walking speed of their small group far surpassed that of the townsfolk burdened with children and luggage. Very soon, they caught up with the larger flow of refugees and began the descent surrounded by the crowd.
The refugee caravan consisted of the natives from Rockseeker’s Outpost—including a fair number of Mountain People—as well as opportunistic adventurers, Liberl Port merchants, and employees of the various conglomerates. It was a massive, chaotic column. Among them, Charles even spotted the group sponsored by the blue dragon conglomerate, the same party that had advertised the Ion Beam Emitters.
Only now, compared to their former pride, they looked utterly crestfallen, heads bowed, faces half covered, supporting the wounded as they walked in silence with the main company, clearly hoping no one would recognize them. If not for Charles’s extraordinary memory, he might not have recognized them himself.
It was plain their reputation was in ruins, and the blue dragons would almost certainly be deeply disappointed in them, even though it wasn’t really their fault that the emitters had overheated and exploded.
Charles found himself touching his chin, musing that at least his own company had made a profit—there was no question the venture had been in the black.
Even if the profit margin wasn’t particularly stellar—since he’d skimmed a considerable amount for himself—by the standards of the blue dragon bank’s investments, his project was the very best among them all.
After all, it’s rare in any age to invest with a prince of the dragons and actually turn a profit.
Maybe, he considered, this could be his bargaining chip to ask the blue dragons for another round of funding... or rather, to entice them into a second investment.
He felt the odds of success would be high, and his spirits lifted. But then, recalling the last time he’d met the young blue dragon prince, he remembered the not-so-veiled hint that he should go "serve" a certain lonely blue dragon noblewoman...
The image of a massive matron blue dragon gazing at him with suggestive eyes sent a cold shudder down Charles’s spine.
Forget it. He’d rather earn money slowly and quietly from now on—best to avoid unnecessary dealings with that blue dragon in the future.
Crushing his stray thoughts, Charles turned his attention away from that group and focused on keeping pace with his girls as they pressed onward together.
He remained unaware just how fickle destiny could be—how it delighted in toying with those who thought they could elude it.
Regardless of what the future would bring, in this moment he was simply trudging, exhausted, along the mountain road. It was the second half of the night, and with winter approaching, the icy wind in the mountains was enough to freeze anyone straight through their armor. Yet compared with the specter of death that lay behind them, that discomfort was trivial to endure.
They pressed on until midday, when the sun shone high overhead—and it was only then that they truly left the mountains behind and reached the open lands of the Rubble District.
Here, with the mountains behind them, the exhausted refugees found windbreaks where they could make camp and rest. Charles and his party did the same, setting up tents, lighting a fire, cooking a meal, and slowly regaining their strength.
Still, even with the comfort of hot food, the group’s mood was distinctly somber. Anno, in particular, seemed downcast—where she’d once always eaten heartily, today she merely picked at her meal before quietly retiring to her tent.
Charles felt her sorrow acutely. After bolting down a few bites, he hurried after her into her tent. There he found the girl with her armor set aside, curled up in her blanket like a wounded animal, licking her wounds in lonely silence.
Hearing him enter, Anno turned to glance at him, pouting a little, looking quite wronged. "Don’t worry, I’m fine." It was written all over her face—she wanted comfort, even if she didn’t say it aloud.
Charles’s heart went out to her. He moved to her side at once, sitting down and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, holding her gently in his embrace. "What’s wrong, darling? Is there something on your mind? You can tell me."
As he spoke, he gently stroked her hair, and sensing her sadness, a cloud of gloom passed over his own heart as well.
In the game, Rockseeker Camp could be attacked from outside, but those incidents only happened in the mid-game. Players were usually well prepared, ensuring the town never actually fell.
Even in those cases where the town was destroyed, it was usually the work of rebellious players seeking special rewards.
But regardless, if the town was to be lost, it shouldn’t have been to outsiders.
It was clear he had failed to protect it this time. His strength simply hadn’t been enough to withstand such a large-scale assault—even purifying the Earth Dragon hadn’t been enough to stop a determined army.
Picturing the aftermath that would follow the destruction of Rockseeker Camp, bitter frustration welled up inside him.
Anno replied softly, but then continued more candidly, "I just feel... sort of hollow inside."
Charles gently stroked her hair. "Is it because we lost, because we couldn’t defend the town?"
Anno shifted closer, nestling against his chest, and shook her head slightly. "No, not really... I know my own strength is limited. Whether you win a battle or lose one, it’s a normal part of life."
"I just... I’m starting to doubt whether what I always believed in was actually right..."
Charles held her close, sitting on the bed beside her, intertwining their fingers. As she leaned against him, her emotions crested, and suddenly, in a low, wistful tone, she said, "Charles, I have a dream, you know..."
But the words caught in her throat, and she blushed self-consciously. Biting her lip, she tried a different tack. "Have you ever read... strange stories, famous biographies, or tales of great men and women and their adventures?"
Charles thought back. In his previous life, with nothing better to do, he’d often scrolled social sites and forums, and in-game, he’d read countless backstories of various heroic figures. He nodded earnestly. "I do, though I haven’t read much, I know most of those tales."
"So, haven’t you noticed that... well, a lot of people, like..." Anno’s voice became hopeful, and she waved her hand, gesturing as if sketching in the air. "Those amazing athletes, or great artists, or bards—they often come from very humble origins."
Charles nodded. Naturally, one’s strength might be inherited in blood, but a gift for the arts is innate and never truly passed on; no one can simply hand down artistic genius to the next generation.
Seeing him agree, her hope rose even higher. "So, I always wonder—if the spark of talent for every field can fall upon anyone, regardless of their background or class, then..."
"In those vast, poor little countries, aren’t there surely countless geniuses waiting to be discovered?" ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵~𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖~𝙣𝙚𝙩
"Only, maybe their gifts are stifled—by their era, education, or the societies they’re born into. Their whole lives are wasted, their talents buried, and the world loses so much of its brilliance because of it."
Charles reflected back on the first gangsters he’d met—bald-headed brutes with giant eye tattoos, the one-eyed leader, that commander from Xanathar’s Guild, Kendrz...
They all came from poverty, the lowest rungs of society, starved of nutrition and formal training, relying on nothing but their own instincts—yet somehow becoming formidable warriors.
That proved their talent, and yet, because of their environment in the South Harbor District, those gifts went to waste; no matter how they struggled, they would never be more than foot soldiers.
He nodded, now more certain than ever. "I’ve seen many people like that, especially in the South Harbor District. Without an avenue for advancement, their talents are buried for life."
Anno’s eyes sparkled—finding someone who understood gave her courage, and she grew bolder as she spoke her wish at last.
"That’s why I’ve always had this unrealistic fantasy."
She drew a deep breath, mustering her courage. "I wish the world could remain at peace forever, so that everyone could find their place, use their gifts, and bring endless stories and wonders to the world."
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