Chapter 2: Light Falling from the Sky

Empty.

Farushir stood atop the small hill, her pale blue hair whipping in the wind.

Her gaze was like frost as she swept over the stone pedestal below, which had once served as a supply point.

The Gray Rock Outpost, which should have been an important supply point on the way back to the Royal Capital, was now utterly empty.

Behind her, the massive corpse of a monster burned in the flames.

Some larger chunks of flesh still oozed slime, mixing the scent of blood and charred meat into a scene of hell.

Just moments ago, she had gathered all her magic and condensed a sword of annihilation, slaying the high-level monster—the Moth King—that had trailed her Magic Girl Unit.

Her magic was already exhausted.

The leather armor at her chest was charred and torn, faintly revealing a pale patch beneath.

Behind her, the Magic Girl Unit that once numbered thirty-seven now had less than twenty with fighting capability.

The rest lay in the mud, unmoving, or had fallen silent forever.

No one cried.

Crying was for those who still had strength left.

She walked over, crouched down, and gently touched a girl’s cheek.

The face was so young it was almost childlike, with a half-spoken spell lingering at the corner of her lips.

“Sonia.”

She called softly, then closed her eyes.

“There should have been enough for three days here…”

Deputy Aileen swallowed, her face pale.

“Every supply point along our retreat route was pre-stocked by the Logistics Bureau from the Royal Capital.”

“Logistics Bureau?”

Farushir repeated, her tone almost devoid of emotion.

She didn’t turn her head, but placed her hand lightly on the hilt of Frostsnow Edge.

The slender, pale fingers trembled with tension.

This was the fourth empty supply point.

Farushir gazed westward at the setting sun, orange-red light reflecting in her ice-blue pupils.

“Count the wounded. Collect the bodies.”

Her voice was hoarse but still as calm as a frozen lake.

“We… rest for ten minutes. Then we must leave this place.”

“But we have no supplies, Your Highness!”

Aileen’s voice suddenly rose.

“If we encounter another battle…”

Farushir finally turned.

Her gaze was emotionless, but impossible to avoid.

She knew.

She knew how unreliable those officials, who had climbed to high positions in the Royal Capital through family merit, truly were.

She knew how many rations the greedy, battle-fearing rats in the Logistics Bureau could swallow.

She also knew that, no matter how angry she became or how much she demanded answers, the Royal Capital would only reply with excuses about “an empty treasury” or “unavoidable accidents in chaotic lands.”

But she couldn’t be angry now.

She had to survive and bring back news of the monsters’ awakening and the Demon King’s movements to the Royal City.

“Aileen, you must stay calm.

The God of Liy will protect us.”

She tried to keep her tone stern, but in the end, her voice softened.

“The sounds of battle just now were too loud. We… withdraw.”

However, trouble arrived even faster than she expected.

As soon as she spoke, a sudden silence fell over the swamp.

The insects, which had been buzzing quietly, and the distant croaking of frogs, all vanished at once.

Then, a slow, elegant applause echoed from the shadows nearby.

“Clap, clap, clap.”

The sound was clear and pleasant, yet it made every surviving Magic Girl’s hair stand on end.

They all seized their weapons, eyes fixed warily on the source.

A tall figure stepped out from the shadow of a giant tree.

It was a man.

He wore a perfectly tailored black tailcoat, his skin unnaturally pale, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“What a spectacular performance, Divine Chosen Farushir.”

The man spoke, his voice as smooth as jade, yet carrying a chilling undertone.

“Supplies exhausted, leading remnants, and yet still able to slay the Moth King I worked so hard to lure here… such resolve is truly moving.”

Farushir’s pupils contracted sharply.

“The Demon King’s Seventh Apostle… Zeheriel.”

She pronounced the name, each word like a blade.

She had seen this man’s portrait in the academy archives—a Demon King’s Apostle renowned for his summoning arts and trickery.

“Oh my? I didn’t expect the famous Divine Chosen to know my name. What an honor.”

Zeheriel bowed slightly, his playful smile deepening.

“Let’s go through the formalities first, Your Highness Divine Chosen. The Demon King is also interested in your abilities. If you would join us as the Eighth Apostle… perhaps we could enjoy some delightful things together.”

His gaze lingered greedily on Farushir’s mud-streaked face.

“You…!”

Aileen trembled with rage, nearly charging forward, but was stopped by Farushir.

“Go back and tell your master it’s impossible.”

Farushir drew Frostsnow Edge to shield Aileen, her voice cold.

“I will forever defend the honor of Arslan.”

“Oh dear, I know, it’s impossible.”

Zeheriel stretched lazily, his eyes narrowing with a smile.

“But the Demon King insisted I ask, so how could I refuse… now that formalities are done, let’s begin.”

Even as he spoke, Farushir became a blur, her blade flashing like lightning at Zeheriel.

The Apostle’s body slowly dissipated—it was only a phantom.

“Oh my, even drained of magic, Your Highness Divine Chosen’s attacks are as fierce as ever. How could I dare fight head-on… Your opponents are them.”

Zeheriel’s figure reappeared not far away.

He slowly raised his gloved right hand.

The ground began to tremble violently.

“——Come forth, children!”

Zeheriel’s voice was like a demon’s whisper.

At his call, black voids opened in the air, like gateways to the abyss.

From these holes, endless monsters surged out, flooding the swamp like a black tide!

Their numbers were so overwhelming that, in mere seconds, the mudflats were completely surrounded.

There were rotting giant toads covered in pustules, swift shadow hounds, and writhing abominations like lumps of living sludge…

The monsters’ guttural roars scraped at the throat like rusted iron, closing in on every surviving breath.

The faces of the Magic Girls turned pale as they clustered back-to-back around Farushir.

Before them stretched an endless sea of monsters, and even the last flicker of hope was drowned in the tidal wave of despair.

“How does it feel, Your Highness Divine Chosen?”

Zeheriel’s form faded, but his demonic whisper lingered over the dead marsh.

“How long has it been since your last supply? How much longer can you… hold out?”

He was gone, leaving Farushir no chance for a single combat victory—only a living hell of despair behind.

The monsters did not charge.

They simply circled, thousands of eyes glowing like will-o’-wisps in the darkness.

The oppressive tension was far more tormenting than any direct assault.

There was no way out.

This was no longer a tactical problem—it was sheer, overwhelming force.

As Farushir realized this, a strange clarity settled over her.

A thought slithered into her mind, one she didn’t want to consider, but the only viable plan left.

If… it were just her alone…

If she abandoned her subordinates and used her speed as a Divine Chosen and her mastery of magic, perhaps—just perhaps—she could tear open a path through the monsters and escape.

But with the wounded, drained, and poisoned following, the chance was—

Zero.

Zero possibility.

No hope for a miracle.

Farushir remembered an ancient story from the kingdom—a tale she had secretly read as a child in a Night Dragon Kingdom picture book.

“General Zhao Baiyu broke through alone, surviving three days and nights without sleep to bring back the secret of the kingdom’s fate.”

She bit her lip.

She had hated that story as a child.

Hated the general for abandoning his comrades, surviving alone, only to be hailed as a hero.

But now, she understood.

A sharp pain pierced her heart, her lips pressing into a pale line.

Her expression grew colder, as if freezing all the turmoil inside.

At that moment, Aileen approached, her voice trembling.

“Your Highness… how much longer can we hold out?”

Farushir didn’t answer immediately.

This so-called Divine Chosen—these past days she had done nothing but keep calm on the surface.

Suddenly, she asked,

“If I… leave alone…”

Her words caught in her throat, thick with unshed blood and tears.

She couldn’t go on.

Aileen froze.

“Your Highness… do you mean…”

“I mean, someone needs to bring news of the mass monster revival back to the Royal City. I…”

Farushir couldn’t finish.

The crackling of the flames sounded deafening.

She suddenly regretted speaking—uttering such words that sounded like a deserter.

“Your Highness…”

Aileen stepped closer, voice husky, yet her eyes glimmered with a strange light.

“You just said… walk out alone?”

Farushir was silent, her pale blue eyes lifeless.

Aileen understood.

Her eyes widened for a moment, then she lowered her head, lips curving into a weary, yet satisfied, smile.

“Thank goodness…”

She whispered, almost to herself.

“So the Divine Chosen still has a way to survive… You can still live…”

Farushir was stunned.

She hadn’t expected such a reaction.

“…Aren’t you going to ask why I would abandon you?”

She asked quietly.

“You are the Divine Chosen.”

Aileen looked at her, her smile bitter but utterly sincere.

“You cannot die here. If you perish with us, everything is lost. What will happen to the kingdom? The future? As long as you live, there’s hope.”

She seemed to recall something, murmuring,

“When I was little, my sister told me the Divine Chosen were the light that fell from the heavens. No matter how silent or cold, they are our last faith.”

“If even you despair… then we truly have nothing left.”

Farushir did not respond.

Her heart felt as though it had been struck by a hammer.

From the day she awakened as a Magic Girl, she had been taught to sacrifice for the kingdom.

After graduating from Pascal Military Academy and receiving the title of Divine Chosen, everyone had pinned their hopes on her.

She was a totem upholding the faith of all Arslan.

A totem wasn’t allowed to be selfish.

But today, she was given permission.

Even with gratitude and comfort.

“Your Highness! Please go!”

Aileen’s tone was urgent and impassioned.

“You are the last bulwark of the Kingdom of Arslan! Your life is more important than all of ours! Please don’t hesitate any longer!”

“Your Highness, Deputy Aileen is right! Go!”

“We’ll cover your retreat!”

“To have fought by your side until now, I have no regrets!”

At some point, the surviving Magic Girls had gathered around.

Their eyes shone like stars.

At that moment, a streak of light tore across the sky.

A blazing flame.

The players had arrived.