Flamme bit her lip, fighting back tears.
Wataru faced so much criticism after we cleared Ciola Tower. He gave our members the option to leave the front lines if they wished to, and only those who were really determined remained here with us. If it wasn’t for them, the invasion would have led to even more casualties…
She didn’t try persuading Wataru to stay, knowing how many difficult choices he’d had to make alone, enduring their consequences. His departure from the guild would certainly cause some unrest, but she’d rather relieve Wataru of the burden that came with being the leader.
Wataru looked at Alba. “I’m leaving Crest in your hands.”
“…”
Alba nodded in silence, no doubt thinking the same as Flamme.
Misaki was patrolling the fort when she spotted a dozen or so blue dots on her minimap. She hurried over to the spot and found a small gathering of Crest players about to leave from the northern town gate. As far as she knew, there was no expedition scheduled for that night. One thought came to her mind—these players were planning a group suicide.
“Excuse me, but what are you doing here?!” she asked them sharply.
Some players only mumbled indistinct replies, but one of them, a man in a tattered cape, stepped forward and removed his hood.
“W-Wataru…?”
He gave Misaki a feeble smile.
“Has there been some trouble? I’ll gladly help!” she offered eagerly.
Wataru shook his head and smiled at her again. “I would be more reassured if you stayed here. If you’d like to join the Calloah investigation, you’re welcome, of course, but I’m no longer in a position to give orders to Crest members.”
It was then that she noticed there was no guild emblem displayed over his head.
“You don’t mean…,” she started, disoriented.
She immediately grasped what that meant, but she couldn’t accept it.
“Until now, I never doubted that I’d been on the right path,” Wataru confessed. “While my decisions did indirectly result in some fatalities, I believed that I chose the best of the possible options, and some sacrifices were, unfortunately, unavoidable.”
Wataru hung his head.
Misaki looked around at the other players. They all averted their gazes uneasily.
“The second wave of deaths in Calloah might have been prevented, had I acted differently,” Wataru added. “If we’d stopped trying to clear Ciola Tower when I was notified of the Liberator incident, we might have saved those thirty players. This had led me to question myself on whether I really should be leading the guild.”
A gust of wind made his worn-out cape flutter. Misaki saw that under it, Wataru wasn’t wearing his usual armor. She understood that Wataru was dead set on penitence. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Nobody thinks that was your fault! Without you, Crest will lose its way!” she shouted emotionally.
Their guild was a rickety structure that was bound to collapse without the unifying force that was Wataru. This should have been obvious, yet the guild members didn’t seem to be trying to stop Wataru, and that greatly irritated Misaki.
“I have doubts now,” Wataru said quietly. “And I don’t think that someone who doubts themselves should be in a role where their decisions have such a profound effect on others. It took so many people losing their lives for me to realize how ruefully unqualified I was for this position.”
Wataru put the hood over his head again and turned to leave. The Crest members accompanying him followed, shooting Misaki furtive glances as they passed her by.
“I…I will fight on!”
Back then, she could say that to Wataru with confidence, but as she watched him disappear into the distance, she wasn’t sure what to think.
After Wataru and the members who’d decided to go back left the meeting room, a suffocatingly heavy atmosphere spread around. It was a huge blow to lose Wataru, who was a pillar of moral support, but thanks to Alba’s appointment as the new guild master, Crest didn’t descend into chaos.
“Let’s talk about what we do from now on,” Alba said to the gathered players, thinking hard as he tried to quickly put together a plan. “We have two tasks at hand—restoring Fort Sandras and exploring the area.”
The fort’s walls had been damaged by monster attacks and explosions, which left the stronghold compromised. As Wataru had pointed out earlier, in order to ensure steady progress, they needed to strengthen their bases first.
“Flamme, I’d like to oversee the restoration effort. Do you think you can get crafters in from other towns?” Alba asked.
“Huh? Oh. Yes, I think so.”
She wasn’t quite present, still clearly reeling from shock over Wataru leaving.
Alba soldiered on. “We’ll train people up and recruit more members to prepare for continuing progression… Before we start that, though, I’d like to appoint a new sub-master.”
Alba looked around the room.
When Wataru was the leader, he used to make decisions together with Alba and Flamme, who offered him a different perspective. If they couldn’t agree on something, they went with the majority rule, avoiding a situation where a single person’s judgment would trump the others’.
“How about Amakusa?” someone suggested.
Several people voiced their agreement.
A bored-looking man leaning back in his chair opened his eyes wide. “What? Me?”
Flamme measured him with a look.
It might be a good idea to include someone from Amakusa’s faction to restore stability and to prevent a mass exodus…, Flamme mused.
There were two main factions in Crest—ardent supporters of Wataru who agreed with his ideals, and a slightly extreme group represented by Amakusa, who excelled at clearing new areas.
Amakusa looked back at Flamme.
“Hmm. Do you mind that I’m not going to change my personal policies?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes, which were sly and narrow. They gave Flamme the creeps.
“You’re not going to be representing the whole guild,” Alba pointed out. “I want you to contribute your own perspective as the second-in-command.”
“Okay, sounds good. I don’t mind being the sub.”
Amakusa laughed dryly, making it sound like he really didn’t care.
He’s a threat to Crest in its current state, thought Alba. Like Flamme, Alba had conflicted feelings toward Amakusa.