Chapter 9: Hidden Story

The fight looked long, but it lasted barely five minutes.

To Walt, it was: Alicia instantly sniped the hornist, then a few slashes felled the leader.

His heart pounded. Every beastman scout was elite; none he’d seen killed them so efficiently.

Then Cosette, blood-soaked, hammer dripping—Walt broke cold sweat.

Days ago, she was a gentle healer. Now…

Danger cleared, but Walt’s gut churned. He caused this—tripped, alerted them.

What if Alicia ditched him as dead weight?

Normally, hired guards wouldn’t care for his mistakes.

But Alicia wasn’t hired—she was above him. She could abandon him and walk.

“I… I didn’t…”

Walt’s silver tongue failed; he trembled, wiped sweat, couldn’t speak.

Alicia, initially annoyed, saw his fear—let it go.

“Watch your weight next time.”

Walt could only nod…

—

Shortly after they left, the one-armed warlord, bandaged, returned with wounded beastmen.

The camp’s carnage and ruined supplies triggered a furious roar.

“Waaaaaaaaaagh!!!”

The howl shook the night.

—

Alicia planned a lakeside break, but beastmen forced a change.

Main force likely near—she grabbed Cosette and Walt, fled.

Rest was vital. From camp attack to now, all three were spent.

No rest, no handling surprises.

She picked a halfway-up-slope south of the lake—dense foliage, complex terrain, easy to hide or bolt.

After dinner, Alicia took watch—huge strain on her body.

Cosette and Walt had near-zero emergency response; she had to endure.

Walt offered help, but his jittery state—Alicia declined.

Rejected, anxious Walt soon slept.

Cosette stayed busy—Alicia’s wounds reopened from exertion.

“Faipl-gardola (Heal)”

Cosette’s clear chant—soft gold light wrapped Alicia’s injuries.

Itching spread; brief respite let Alicia think.

She knew this world’s future.

But from Cosette earlier, current year: Imperial 1435.

Game launch: 1436. Everything now was pre-story—unknown to her.

She was part of this world now. Crisis loomed.

Alicia realized she wasn’t as tough as she thought.

At first, bravado. But adrenaline faded—only fear remained.

Outward calm, inward panic.

“Miss Alicia…”

“Hm?”

Cosette’s voice pulled her back. She looked at the girl.

After personally killing beastmen, Cosette improved.

Occasional sorrow, but far from suicidal gloom.

“Yes…”

Cosette glanced at sleeping Walt, lowered voice, serious.

“The beastman attack… odd. North route, but far from border. Many outposts. No way they penetrate this deep.”

“Your theory?”

Alicia frowned.

“I suspect more than raiding. Something important draws them.”

Alicia sank into thought.

She didn’t know beastmen’s goal—but knew the future.

1436: beastmen hit north trade routes hard.

Ceasefire empire investigated, protested.

Beastmen denied, claimed imperial fabrication.

Spark reignited local war.

Public beta era—Alicia was busy adapting, leveling; skimmed lore.

Now? Hidden truth behind it all.