The sound of their marching footsteps did not sound quite like army boots. One of them walked with a cane, while another dragged an injured leg. Walking among them were a woman holding an empty set of baby clothes, as well as a boy with half his face burned off, and a single man carrying luggage for three people. Makeup and toys were visible amongst the luggage.
Their equipment was dismal. Only a handful of them had proper weapons. At the head of the group was a man astride a horse, wearing a heavy chain mail cloak upon his shoulders. The spear in his hand cast a long shadow, and at his waist was a sheathed sword. This man with rust-colored hair was practically the only one there properly equipped for battle.
“Look, O Tereans,” said the man, pointing toward a spot in the sky. His voice was definitely not loud, but it carried frighteningly well.
The downcast crowd looked up at the sky, where they glimpsed the sun shining through a gap in the clouds.
“That’s a good omen. We Tereans can count the Ex Machina among our allies.”
It was obvious that these words were mere sophistry, intended to motivate the people for the impending bloody battle. This was a mere rabble who knew little about fighting a war.
Some time earlier they had retaliated against the Reincarnators attacking the temple, as the man had cajoled them to—and indeed, they had won. On the other hand, many refugees had been killed in retribution. The crowd barely wanted to fight anymore, war-weary as they were now.
The rusty-haired man, Dill, realized that his words had not been sufficient to stir up their will to fight. He drew himself up and thrust out his chest, making himself look a little more like a hero.
“The sun shining between the clouds could be an omen of our victory sent by the gods—or it could just be the weather. Let’s find out which it is.”
The horse-mounted Dill held his spear high and pulled on the reins so that his horse lifted its forelegs into the air with a whinny. At the same time, Dill leaned forward and hurled his spear. The spear traced a parabola through the air, its tip shining in the sun as it reached the apex of its flight.
Then it started to fall. Beneath it was a band of Reincarnators.
“The will of the gods has just been revealed!” Dill drew his sword and spurred his steed forward. The spear had not been thrown in vain. It had pierced the belly of a Reincarnator, pinning him to the ground.
“My name is Dill Steel-Link!”
Following Dill’s forward offensive, the Sphinxes in the area reacted immediately, spinning their exhaust fans and charging toward him. The rallied Terean refugees ran in after him like an avalanche. Balls of flame conjured by the Reincarnators’ Skills shot into the sky, then began to rain down upon the refugees.
Sid looked up at the battle in front of him with a feeling close to fear. Rising battle cries, the clash of swords and the shouting and cries of combatants... Above all this clamor he could hear that man’s voice more clearly than anything else.
“Remember, Tereans! Your families, your homes! Your livelihoods, your friends, your daily lives! Who took all of that from you? Reincarnators! These unforgivable invaders!”
In between each opponent he fought, Dill repeatedly raised his voice, stirring up his allies’ hatred for their enemies in his characteristic booming voice.
They were, however, a band of amateurs after all. Although the refugees had numbers on their side, before the Reincarnators, whose Skills defied the laws of nature, their formation toppled like so many wooden blocks. Dill charged his horse into the opening in their ranks, cut down the enemies who had broken through, and urged the refugees to stand their ground with unrestrained rhetoric.
“There are maggots infesting this land—these maggots called Reincarnators, who defile graves and possess the dead, scheming to make us their slaves as they squirm around in the bodies of your families, friends, benefactors, and neighbors. The Reincarnators have made a mockery of them all! Can you really watch them do that and then just run away, knowing you’ll be next?!”
One by one the refugees’ eyes ignited with hatred. Hearts that had faltered recovered their resolve. The tale he had woven was not a heartwarming one, though. For all their bravery in battle, people would die—people who should have lived.
With a wave of his hand, a Reincarnator created a pillar of fire, accompanied by a strong wind that sent people flying. Skills—unfathomable powers whose principles were not understood. As people were scattered by these Skills, the refugees rushed toward the Reincarnators as if possessed, dragging them out of their formation and slaughtering them. The Tereans raged and wept.
“What bad timing for a barbarian revolt. Just my luck,” sighed the Reincarnator who had seized Sid, sounding as if he was talking about nothing more than being suddenly caught in the rain. He grabbed Sid by the hair and started to drag him away, the syringe the man in the apron had been holding clutched in his other hand. Sid’s fate was unchanged.
“Somebody—” Help. As Sid started to call for help, reflected in his eyes was Nue Kirisaki, half-buried in the ground by the Skill of a Reincarnator.
He couldn’t call for help. He wasn’t the only one who needed to be saved in these circumstances. Right now, he was the focus of this Reincarnator’s attention. That prevented him from attacking Nue, or any of the countless other men, women, and children currently tied up at this camp. They might have all worked together to flee here, after misfortune descended on their families.
It’s better this way. I accept my fate.
“I am Dill Steel-Link, the avenger.” The thundering of hooves was accompanied by a gust of air that brushed against Sid’s nose.
Even in the midst of the cacophony, the man’s voice could be heard clearly. It wasn’t loud, but it was deep and powerful.
A hurled spear pierced the abdomen of the Reincarnator clutching Sid. This blow, propelled by a galloping horse, instantly sent the enemy flying out of Sid’s view.
Dill leaped from his horse’s back, landing on the ground with a thud. He now stood next to Sid; his steed kept galloping without its rider, fading into the distance. An instant later, the chain mail cloak Dill wore around his shoulders hit the ground with a terrific clang.
“You did well. You’re all right now.” Dill reached out and pulled Sid toward him by the shoulder, wrapping the chain mail cloak around him. His rust-colored eyes, however, looked not at Sid but the remaining danger—the Reincarnator he had just dealt a blow. Dill remained vigilant.
Inside the chain mail cloak, wrapped in arms as hot as fire, Sid was overtaken by an unfamiliar emotion. His pulse was fast. This feeling was similar to what he felt for Nue...similar, but very different. Inside him a great force was raging—an impulse to shout and break into a run—that was probably identical to what the refugees stirred to battle by Dill had felt.