Chapter 25: One person and everyone, choose?
The old woman, seeing Flo actually kill Elsa, froze as if struck by lightning.
She stared at the murderer’s face, her pupils shrinking—this face, it was…
As a child, Flo was always at the orphanage.
Headmistress Jenny had watched him grow from a timid kid to a sensible teen.
She knew his hardships, slipping him pastries, and knew he secretly donated sixty percent of his adventuring earnings to support the children.
Smart and kind—how could he kill a little girl?
“You… you, you!”
Jenny trembled, unable to form a full sentence.
“Grandma Jenny, take the kids and go!”
Flo’s blade pointed at the “corpse” on the ground.
“She’s a fake. The real Elsa was long…”
Before he finished, the small body began to melt, dissolving into a pool of black water.
Jenny, skeptical, waved the children back.
Some hid behind her, others stood frozen, and a few who recognized Flo—recalling his gifts of sweets—quietly chose to trust him.
The youngest, clueless, pointed at Flo, crying “bad guy.”
Flo ignored them, staring at the black water with a sigh.
In that pool, “Elsa’s” vanished smile was laced with venomous resentment.
She hadn’t expected these fools to mostly believe the killer!
Fury surged, and the black water rapidly seeped into the ground.
Flo’s heart tightened.
He stabbed the remains, blades infused with plant magic to prevent a sneak attack.
The children, seeing his ferocity, fell silent and backed away.
As he crouched, the last quarter of the body melted completely into the earth.
Flo’s pupils contracted, his golden eyes glowing in the dark, catching movements invisible to others.
He spun around—not because of Jenny, but because a figure emerged from the ground behind her, grinning wickedly, staring straight at him.
“Hahaha, how’s that, kid? Now I’ve got leverage, but you? You don’t!”
The figure summoned a dark purple dagger with his staff, hovering at the headmistress’s throat.
Jenny knew trusting Flo was the right choice—the only choice now…
Outside, the sky blazed with fire, painting the ruins in hues of orange and red.
Flo knew Ifrora was getting serious…
And he was certain, knowing her as he did, she was facing a dangerous foe and couldn’t break free soon.
Inside, he was locked in a standoff with the Confessor, unable to aid her.
As Flo’s hand twitched, the Confessor spotted it and immediately threatened, “Don’t move, kid! You might save this old hag, but can you save them all? Hahaha!”
Flo’s eyes widened.
The battle outside lit up the night, making it far clearer than before.
Before every child floated a mana-formed dagger.
The Confessor smirked, nudging the blades closer to the hostages.
Jenny swallowed the words stuck in her throat: “Don’t worry about me! Don’t let him hurt the kids!”
“One life or all of them—how do you choose, huh?”
The Confessor grinned smugly.
“Truly despicable, you pervert!”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
The scene was a deadlock.
Flo could only save one at a time, but any move risked dooming the rest.
It was like the trolley problem from his past life: a train heads toward a crowd, but you can switch it to kill just one.
No perfect solution—every choice was wrong, an inescapable trap.
Flo’s mind raced.
Right! If both paths were doomed, why not create a third—a track with no one on it?
But the problem was, the train was almost here.
How could Flo build a new track in time…
“Save Grandma! Don’t mind us, Brother Flo!” a slightly older boy shouted.
Some children glared at him, their eyes screaming, “Who are you to decide? We don’t want to die!”
That was reality.
Some could sacrifice everything for their beliefs, but people—humans—were selfish creatures at heart.
Even children.
As Flo hesitated, a sharp pain exploded in his back.
The Confessor’s goal was never to negotiate but to distract Flo, striking when he was off-guard.
And he’d succeeded.
Flo spat blood, clutching his chest, trembling.
The dagger before the boy who spoke suddenly moved, plunging into his chest.
A nearby girl clenched her teeth, glaring at the Confessor as if her stare could kill.