Chapter 238
A suffocating shroud of chaos had fallen over Orario.
The city, once the vibrant heart of the world, was now a cage, its towering walls captured and held by the malevolent forces of the evilus.
As Loki, had succinctly put it, Orario was under a brutal siege.
Approaching any perimeter, any border that had once marked the threshold between the city and the free world, and you were met not with familiar guard patrols or merchant caravans, but with an indiscriminate and incessant barrage of bombs, creating craters and kicking up dust.
In a desperate bid to preserve civilian lives from this assault, the adventurers had moved swiftly, establishing and cordoning off designated safe zones.
These areas, situated away from the vulnerable outer districts and closer to the presumed relative safety of the city center, were intended as sanctuaries.
Yet, the transition was fraught with difficulty.
While fear drove many into the arms of their protectors, a significant number of Orario's citizens, fiercely independent and unwilling to sacrifice their freedom, balked at the dramatic curtailment of their movement.
Reason and explanation often failed; in the end, the grim necessity of the situation forced adventurers and guild staff to physically escort, sometimes even drag, these unwilling individuals towards the designated assembly points, often amidst shouts and desperate struggles.
It was a deeply unpopular measure, but the alternative was unthinkable – exposing thousands to certain death or injury.
Despite the undeniably noble motive, the widespread panic and discomfort meant that gratitude was often overshadowed by resentment.
Many civilians remained unconvinced that these drastic measures were genuinely for their safety, viewing the adventurers and guild employees not as guardians but as enforcers of an oppressive lockdown.
Insults were hurled, spittle flew, and a palpable friction built in various corners of the city, particularly at the entry points of the safe zones.
The atmosphere was thick with tension, like a balloon inflated far beyond its capacity, threatening to burst into open pandemonium at any moment.
From the restless crowds, voices rose in a chorus of fear and desperation.
"Do something! We're trapped here, dying out here!" someone screamed, their voice hoarse with despair.
Another group, huddled miserably together, added their grievances.
"We have no food, barely any shelter or blankets, and look – some of us are still injured from the initial attacks! What are you people doing?!"
A confrontational voice challenged the adventurers directly, "What do you expect us to do? Turn on each other?!"
Angry, fearful civilians pressed closer to the strained lines of adventurers and Guild personnel tasked with managing the safe areas.
They were cold, hungry, exhausted, and haunted by the constant dread of an attack that could strike at any moment.
Each desperate voice, each tearful plea, each furious accusation, added another layer to the mounting pandemonium, slowly but surely eroding calm and laying the groundwork for mass hysteria.
"Please, everyone, try to remain calm," the strained yet authoritative voice of Falgar, cut through the din, though it seemed barely a whisper against the tide of noise.
"Be patient," he pleaded, his hands raised slightly in a placating gesture, "rations are already being distributed. We are doing everything we can." He and the other high-level adventurers assigned to crowd control were fighting a battle of wills and endurance, desperately trying to keep the volatile situation from exploding.
Off to the side, near a makeshift guild station, Asfi observed the scene, her face etched with fatigue and worry, as she delivered her final report to a weary-looking guild employee.
"We have completed the rescue efforts at all the gates," Asfi stated, her voice low but clear despite her exhaustion.
"All accessible civilians have been evacuated and guided towards the designated zones." She paused, glancing back at the restless crowds.
"We will leave the distribution and management of these areas to the Guild now."
It had been well over half a day since Asfi, alongside Shakti and Draco, had first braved the chaos at the west gate, navigating falling debris and the distant sounds of explosions to shepherd terrified citizens to safety.
Since then, she had spent the entire gruelling time moving between various gates and compromised areas, working tirelessly to guide people away from the immediate danger near the walls.
It had been an extremely challenging endeavour, its difficulty compounded by the sheer number of citizens who had stubbornly resisted leaving their homes or familiar surroundings until the very last, dangerous moment.
The physical toll of the constant movement and stress was immense, but the mental exhaustion from dealing with fear, panic, and resistance was perhaps even greater.
"Thank you, Asfi-san... thank you for all your efforts," the guild employee responded, their gratitude evident in their voice, though their eyes remained wide and anxious.
These personnel, dealing directly with the logistical crisis, were among the few civilians who truly grasped the immense pressure and sacrifice the adventurers were facing.
Asfi offered a brief, tired nod, preparing to turn and seek a moment's respite, when the employee halted her.
"Please, wait just a moment," the employee called out, their voice hesitant.
Asfi paused, turning back.
"What is it?" she asked, her tone weary but patient.
The employee's face was pallid, drawn tight with fear.
They wrung their hands nervously.
"Erm... it might be silly to ask now, but..." Their gaze fixed on Asfi, a desperate plea in their eyes.
"We are going to win this... aren't we?"
Asfi felt an involuntary jolt, her body freezing for a split second at the raw question.
She knew, with absolute certainty, what the employee desperately needed to hear – a simple, resounding 'yes'.
But the words caught in her throat.
The reality of the situation, the strength of the enemy, the precariousness of Orario's position... she couldn't bring herself to utter a lie, no matter how comforting it might be.
After a moment of agonizing contemplation, she chose her words with painful care, crafting a fragile bridge between honesty and hope.
"We... we will do everything within our power," Asfi replied, her voice soft but firm.
"Every adventurer, every familia is fighting with everything they have. But... to have a chance... we need everyone's cooperation. We need your help by staying safe."
Her carefully constructed words, devoid of false promises yet emphasizing collective effort, seemed to land heavily on the employee.
"Ah... R-right. Yes! Of course! Silly me..." The employee stammered, a flicker of forced understanding crossing their face, quickly followed by a desperate attempt at normalcy.
"Anyway! Good hunting, adventurers! Stay safe out there!" Flustered and visibly trying to regain some composure, they offered a quick, jerky wave before turning and practically running back towards their station, burying themselves in tasks.
A look of bitter pain crossed Asfi's face as she watched them go.
"Even the Guild... they're starting to panic," Asfi muttered under her breath, the words heavy with worry.
Her sombre musings and growing internal trepidation were abruptly shattered by a sudden, sharp call that cut through the background noise.
"Asfi!" a familiar voice called out from directly behind her.
Startled, Asfi yelped, jolting forward before spinning around, her hand instinctively going to her weapon.
Her posture relaxed slightly, though irritation quickly replaced alarm, upon seeing the source of the interruption.
"Hermes-sama! Please stop showing up like that!" she exclaimed, rubbing her chest.
"And more importantly, where have you been?! You know there's a war going on, right?! Who is even escorting you through the city?! You shouldn't be wandering alone……"
Asfi was about to launch into a full scolding, a verbal outpouring of the stress she was under mixed with genuine concern for his safety, when Hermes abruptly interjected, his tone cutting through her rising volume.
"Asfi."
The single word was stripped bare, utterly devoid of his usual playful lilt.
Hermes paused, his expression unreadable.
"From this moment on," Hermes declared, his voice flat, "you will lead the Familia."
"W... what?" Asfi stammered, her prepared complaints dissolving instantly.
"What do you... what do you mean?!" Her words caught in her throat, lodging there like stones.
Hermes' expression remained grimly serious, a chilling rarity that unsettled her to her core.
There wasn't a shred of his typical levity, no hint of a smile played on his lips, and the usual cheerful bounce in his voice was entirely absent.
His gaze was distant, fixed on something unseen, devoid of the usual light and warmth she had always associated with him.
It was this stark absence, this deep emptiness in his eyes, that truly arrested her breath and sent a jolt of ice through her veins.
There was only one possible reason, her mind screamed, only one catastrophic event that could wipe that expression from her god's face and prompt such an unthinkable declaration.
A terrible premonition, cold and sharp, erupted from the pit of her stomach, her heart churning violently within her chest, filled with a sudden, overwhelming dread.
"Lydis is dead." Hermes spoke the name, confirmation slamming into her like a physical blow. He paused, taking a deep, ragged breath.
"You are captain now."
"What...?" Asfi whispered, the world suddenly spinning, a deafening roar filling her ears.
The sound was so overwhelming, the shock so much, that she barely registered the cold, definitive command of her god.
It felt as though the very fabric of the world around her had ripped, everything stopping, tilting violently.
Strength drained from her limbs in an instant, the ground rushing up to meet her as the crushing weight of the news pulled her down into darkness.
………………………………………………………………
The northern evacuation camp, situated just beyond the perimeter of the central park, had become a haven turned hunting ground.
The air, thick moments before with the anxious murmurs of displaced families, was abruptly rent by a cacophony of terror.
Screams of startled bystanders tangled with the savage, triumphant yells of their attackers.
"Move in! Attack! Bathe these ignorant sinners in blood!" a voice, laced with fanatical malice, boomed from the ranks of the invading evilus soldiers, a chilling decree that galvanized their brutal assault.
This northern sector was one of several areas designated to absorb the overwhelming influx of refugees.
While security wasn't paramount here compared to more fortified locations, numerous adventurers had still positioned themselves to offer protection.
However, the evilus strategy was clear and cruel: bypass the armed defenders where possible and target the defenceless, the civilians huddled in desperate hope of safety.
Panic erupted like a wildfire.
People sprinted blindly from the sudden battlefield, their hands clamped around the arms of crying children, dragging them forward.
In the desperate scramble for survival, the weak, the elderly, and the infirm were often left behind.
This stark reality made the task of the adventurers assisting with evacuation exponentially harder.
The sheer, paralyzing fear rendered many civilians incapable of coherent thought or mutual aid, scattering like startled prey instead of moving towards guided safety.
"This way, everyone! Run as fast as you can!" a surprisingly young voice, clear and commanding, cut through the chaotic din.
At the very heart of the confusion stood a single young boy: Nikolaos of the Bahamut Familia. While many of his peers and superiors would naturally be on the frontlines, engaging the enemy head-on, Nikolaos had made a different choice.
He elected to stay behind, assisting with the crucial, messy work of evacuation, tending to the stragglers, and trying to impose some semblance of order on the panicked flow.
‘Why now, of all times?’ Nikolaos grumbled inwardly, his frustration a cold counterpoint to the searing heat of the battle unfolding around him.
He was supposed to be with his familia members at the northwestern evacuation camp.
But an unexpected surge of civilians had overwhelmed that location, necessitating a swift redistribution to other areas.
He had volunteered, stepping up to serve as an escort for a group directed towards this northern sector.
Who could have possibly foreseen that after navigating the tense journey, guiding fearful families all this way, the evilus would choose this moment, this place, to strike?
Now, not only were the strained defensive lines forced to fend off a direct assault, but the carefully managed flow of evacuees was thrown into utter disarray once more.
Nikolaos wasn't alone in his efforts, though.
Lower-class adventurers from various familia’s were also present, their initial duties centered on acting as messengers and assisting with the logistical nightmare of evacuation.
Now, thrust into unexpected combat, they were forced to aid the frontlines or defend the fleeing civilians as necessity dictated.
Among these adventurers was Raul, a young and relatively green member of the Loki familia. His face pale, eyes wide with unconcealed fear, Raul was attempting to shepherd a group of slow-moving civilians towards what he hoped was a safer path.
"This way, hurry!" Raul yelled, his voice tight with anxiety, waving his arms frantically at a cluster of elderly individuals struggling to keep pace.
"O-oh, thank you, kind adventurer," an old man, his face a mask of terror and exhaustion, gasped gratefully as Raul reached them.
Deathly pale with fright, legs trembling so violently he felt he might collapse, Raul inwardly battled a wave of nausea.
Being this close to the raw, brutal reality of combat, the chilling sounds of death echoing within such terrifying proximity, tested every fiber of his being.
Yet, despite the paralyzing fear, he did not freeze.
He continued to act, pushing through the instinct to flee.
After entrusting the vulnerable group to the uncertain care of other allies nearby, Raul steeled himself and ventured back into the fringes of the battlefield, searching for anyone else who needed guidance or protection.
As he cautiously navigated the chaotic scene, his eyes scanning the fleeing figures and the littered ground, Raul spotted a man slumped against a damaged structure.
He appeared injured, his clothing that of a civilian.
Without a second thought, instinct overriding his fear, Raul approached, ready to offer aid.
"H-hey, adventurer," the figure called out, his voice weak and shaky.
"What is it?" Raul asked, kneeling beside the man, reaching out a hand to help him rise.
"Dieeee!" The shaky weakness vanished in an instant, replaced by a sudden, vicious lunge.
The man, eyes burning with fanaticism, surged forward, a glint of steel flashing in his hand – a concealed knife aimed directly at Raul's unprotected chest.
"Eeep!" The sound was a choked gasp, a pathetic squeak of pure terror that escaped Raul's lips. Time seemed to slow as his mind registered the attack, but his body was too slow, his guard too low.
He couldn't react, couldn't raise his weapon, couldn't even recoil in time.
He braced for the impact, convinced his short life was about to end.
However, just as the blade was mere inches away...
Swish! Boom!! Splat!
A blur of colossal force whistled past Raul's ear.
The sound wasn't a clean slice or a sharp impact, but a sickening, explosive splat.
The head of his attacker, moments ago contorted in a hateful sneer, simply ceased to exist, replaced by a gruesome mist of bone fragments, blood, and grey matter.
Clang!
With a dull, metallic ring, the knife clattered to the ground, followed instantly by the sudden, heavy thud of the headless body collapsing at Raul's feet.
"Phew, that was close," a familiar young voice remarked calmly from directly behind him.
Shaken to his absolute core, Raul stumbled back, barely keeping himself upright.
His hand instinctively went to his face, wiping away the warm, grisly splatter that coated his cheek and temple.
It was brain matter.
"Hey, Raul, you alright?" the voice asked again, devoid of the panic that gripped Raul.
"Can you pass me my maul?"
Turning slowly, his movements stiff with shock, Raul beheld the source of the voice.
It was a young boy, standing with a surprising air of composure amidst the carnage.
Raul immediately recognized him – Nikolaos.
They had crossed paths several times the previous day since the war had begun, coordinating efforts between their respective tasks.
Wordlessly, Raul's eyes found the enormous, blood-slicked maul lying near where the attacker's body had fallen, the heavy head of the weapon stained crimson and dotted with gruesome residue.
He stumbled forward, picked up the massive weapon with trembling hands, and held it out to Nikolaos.
"Thank you..." Raul started, but the words caught in his throat.
The combination of shock, the horrific sight, the smell of death, and the lingering taste of terror proved too much.
His stomach lurched violently, and a torrent of vomit exploded onto the ground beside him.
"It's alright, take your time," Nikolaos said, his expression unchanging, his gaze steady.
He accepted the maul, adjusting his grip on the heavy weapon.
He then reached out a hand and gently, almost clinically, patted Raul on the back as the younger boy wretched again.
Once the spasms subsided, weak and trembling, Raul pushed himself upright, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
His eyes, still wide with horror and confusion, fixed on Nikolaos.
"How do you... how do you do it?" he choked out, his voice raw.
"How do you get used to all this?"
Nikolaos paused, hefting the maul thoughtfully.
His young face held a wisdom far beyond his years, etched perhaps by experiences Raul couldn't yet comprehend.
He considered the question for a moment, searching for the right words.
"You don't," Nikolaos finally replied, his voice quiet but firm.
"And you shouldn't get used to it." He met Raul's gaze directly.
"You just... deal with it."
With that seemingly simple, yet complex, answer, Nikolaos turned.
He didn't linger, didn't offer further comfort.
He simply turned and began walking with purposeful strides, moving towards the sounds of the most intense fighting, towards the frontlines where his strength and maul were needed.
‘To think, someone only two years younger than me... can endure this. Can just 'deal with it'... while I...’ Raul's internal thoughts trailed off, shame warring with the lingering fear.
He looked down at the gruesome remains of the attacker, then at his own shaking hands, still sticky with the civilian's death.
He could give in to the fear, collapse here, let others handle it. Or...
With a sudden, sharp intake of breath, Raul slapped his own cheeks, hard, left side then right side, until the sting brought a flush of red to his pale skin.
The physical shock helped clear the fog of terror from his mind.
He straightened his shoulders, took a shaky breath, and looked out at the chaotic scene once more.
Nikolaos’s words echoed in his head.
Deal with it.
There were still people who needed help.
Leaving the grisly scene behind, Raul turned and, despite the persistent trembling in his limbs, re-entered the maelstrom of panic and violence, resuming his desperate search for those who needed saving.
A/N: Hope you all don’t hate the crazy long chapters……Feel free to read ahead on pat3on and donate.