Chapter 5: I… I’ll Give You a Chance!

Fine flour dust danced in the light streaming through the kitchen window, filling the air with the sweet fragrance of butter and honey.

Aurelia carefully slid a tray of little cookies into the oven. Though her face was glistening with sweat from the waves of heat, her lips couldn’t help but curl into a smile.

The atmosphere at the base was more relaxing than ever before.

The warriors’ boisterous jokes, the mages’ heated arguments over magic, and Vera’s teasing reminders drifting over from time to time, all mingled together.

All these things made “Sword of Saint Radiance,” once just a strange Order’s base, slowly become synonymous in her heart with the true meaning of “home” in this world.

She no longer felt the need to be constantly on guard, playing the part of the “perfect support girl” as she had when she first arrived. Instead, she began to respond with sincerity.

Sincerity, in exchange for sincerity.

She would scold Iris with a laugh whenever she snuck a bite of half-finished food. She’d remember the exact saltiness the warriors preferred in their roast meat. When a Ranger complained about an old wound, she’d silently hand over her latest attempt at improved medicine.

Sometimes, when only the familiar team members were around, she’d even let slip a few modern-sounding, playful quips, making everyone burst out laughing.

Her smile grew more genuine, the alienation in her eyes gradually replaced by a growing sense of belonging.

The worry in her heart about being exposed hadn’t lessened, but… that feeling of acting deliberately, by today, had grown very faint.

Even that voice in her mind seemed to grow docile in the peacefulness of daily life—or perhaps it had simply gone dormant, biding its time.

All of this, Laurence saw clearly.

He tried to persuade himself with logic that the terrifying fragments of memory were just illusions.

But deep within, an instinctive wariness of Disaster pierced his heart like tiny shards of ice, never truly melting away.

He could only forcibly suppress this unease, because the peace and warmth before his eyes stood in such sharp contrast to the carnage of his memories that he felt a greedy sliver of wishful hope.

He watched as Aurelia blended more and more into the Order, watched the sincerity light up her eyes, watched all the little things she did for this “home”…

He began to allow himself to enjoy the tranquility she brought—meals always hot when returning from training or missions, the base perpetually tidy, and that silent, thoughtful care.

This brought him a secret comfort, but also a deeper fear: fear that this peace was an illusion, fear that he would repeat the past.

Sometimes, when he was alone late at night, he’d remember those red eyes brimming with concern, and a faint ripple would stir in his heart.

But beneath that ripple was an icy undercurrent.

Every softening of his heart was instantly chastised by memories of catastrophe; his soul was engaged in an endless tug of war.

And it’s always in the calmest moments that fate makes its move.

***

A few days later, a massive mid- to low-tier Beast Tide erupted in the mountains around Shadowlight City, threatening several villages and trade routes.

The City Lord issued an emergency summons, and “Sword of Saint Radiance,” as one of the city’s renowned Silver Rank Orders, was naturally among those called.

After a brief discussion, Laurence made his arrangements.

The main team, led by vice-captain Vera, would head to the eastern mountain pass where the threat was greatest to set up defenses.

Laurence himself, with two new members, would guard the gentler western hills near the base, ensuring its safety and acting as the reserve force.

As for Aurelia, with no combat ability to speak of, she was—as always—assigned to cleaning the base and preparing medicines in advance for tending the wounded.

“Captain.”

Just before departure, Vera sought out Laurence, who was inspecting his weapons.

“That Box we brought back from the Ancient Relic, I just don’t feel good about it. While there’s time, I want to take it to the Guild and have them look at it—or destroy it outright.”

Laurence’s hand paused as he wiped his sword.

The Box… the root of those “hallucinations”?

He nodded, voice calm. “That’s fine. Better to get rid of it. Be careful on the road, and if you can, pick up some fresh ingredients on the way back. Lya said yesterday… she wants to try out some new dishes.”

“Leave it to me.” Vera smiled, then turned to her room to fetch the Box.

Soon, she came down from the second floor, holding the ominous Box wrapped in magicked cloth, ready to set out.

But as she passed Laurence—who stood by the door, seemingly seeing off the main team—

Suddenly, as if an invisible bell had been struck deep within Laurence’s soul, it thundered through him.

This time, it wasn’t just scattered fragments.

It was a complete, overwhelming flood of memory, brimming with despair and destruction, utterly shattering the wishful hope he’d built.

He was no longer “suspecting,” but “certain.”

He saw—it was more than that—he remembered!

He remembered the battlefields piled with corpses, remembered the screams of comrades and civilians torn apart in the Disaster’s storm, remembered the skies stained dark red and the earth split open by the apocalypse.

He remembered himself, holding a broken artifact, launching the final, futile charge at the source of all Disaster.

And then, he saw clearly.

He saw the figure at the heart of destruction, laughing madly, eyes unfocused.

Raven-black hair whipped in the winds of Disaster, dragon’s horns and claws black as ink on her head, and in those blood-red eyes… nothing but endless madness and the desire to destroy.

But what made his heart stop was that face—the very face he’d once loved, become obsessed with and admired—though twisted by power and signs of dragonification, the outline was unmistakably Aurelia.

***

“Ugh—!”

Laurence let out a muffled groan, his face turning as pale as paper, barely managing to stay upright by bracing against the wall.

A chill shot up his spine, sending him staggering half a step back.

That wasn’t a hallucination! Never had been!

Those flashes, those nightmares, that deep bloodline wariness and hostility… all real!

It was the mark burned into his soul from his past life, screaming a warning.

The killing intent was pure and cold, instantly flooding his mind. He had to… kill her!

Vera, startled by his reaction, immediately stopped. “Captain?! What’s wrong? Is it your old injury…?”

“I’m fine…” Laurence cut her off.

He forced himself to stand straight, taking his hand off the wall, though it still trembled.

He had to keep it together. He couldn’t let Vera notice anything wrong, and absolutely couldn’t startle the target.

“It’s just… my heart skipped a beat, that’s all. I’ll be fine after a short rest.”

He worked hard to keep his voice steady, even frowning on purpose to show a little annoyance at his own condition.

“More importantly, your task is urgent. That Box… make sure it’s dealt with completely. Don’t bring it near the base again.”

He spoke more forcefully, the storm in his golden eyes barely suppressed.

To Vera, this looked like his stubborn refusal to show weakness.

“Be careful, Vera. The team’s in your hands.”

Vera glanced at his still-pale face, worry in her eyes, but the captain’s orders and the east’s urgency left her no time to press further.

She hugged the cloth-wrapped Box tight, nodding solemnly. “Yes, Captain. Take care of yourself. I’ll leave the base to you and Lya.”

“Don’t worry.” Laurence waved her on.

He desperately needed to be alone, to make a plan, to… deal with the greatest threat in the world.

Vera bit her lip, then turned and left quickly with the waiting members. The clatter of hooves faded away, disappearing at the end of the street.

The main door swung shut, shutting out the last hint of noise.

The hall fell abruptly silent, broken only by the occasional crackle from the fireplace.

And… the faint, regular clink of porcelain from the kitchen, the busy figure of a young girl, and her soft breathing.

Laurence leaned against the wall, his mind feeling as if a squad of goblin demolitionists had plowed it over with Strategic Magitech Explosives, the pain nearly making him scream.

Gentle, capable little chef? She was actually the future ender of worlds, a Disaster Source who could wipe out his Brave Order like slaughtering chickens!

[Laurence, no, Laurence Soderon! Future Brave! Wake up! You were tricked into annihilation by that very face in your past life! One lesson is enough!]

He kept repeating his name in his mind, trying to snap himself out of it.

From the kitchen came Aurelia’s humming and the clear ring of dishes. The little tune that used to comfort him now sounded as chilling as a funeral dirge.

Cold and pure killing intent flooded his chest like a dam breaking.

His hand clenched the sword hilt, the icy grip making him shiver.

Yes, that’s right.

With the most cunning, merciless sword technique, at her most defenseless moment…

He drifted like a ghost to the kitchen doorway, where Aurelia stood on tiptoe, struggling with a bag of herbs on the top shelf. “Damn it… who put this so high up… bullying me for being only one sixty tall?”

Just as his sword tip was about to touch her clothes, his eyes fell on the little basket at her feet.

Inside were neatly packed hemostatic bandages, antidotes, and a packet of slightly charred jerky—the kind he knew was the favorite of the male team members.

There were even two steaming pots of tea, clearly prepared for teammates who might be up late.

Her back was slender, wrapped in a cute, checkered apron that didn’t quite fit her, body trembling slightly from the effort.

The afternoon sunlight traced a fuzzy gold outline around her, making her look… harmless, even a little too homely.

[No! Laurence! You’re a Brave! Don’t be fooled by appearances! Remember your fallen comrades!] Reason screamed, but his hand wavered for a split second on the sword.

As a captain, he couldn’t kill a seemingly innocent teammate based only on possible memories and a flood of sudden recollections.

More importantly, if she was just a “vessel” and not the “source,” would killing her recklessly cause even worse consequences? He couldn’t calculate that risk.

“Tch.” Laurence clicked his tongue in frustration, halting the sword just a centimeter from its target.

Inopportune images flashed through his mind, pulling his killing intent back from the edge, caught between logic and the warmth he’d experienced.

He remembered everything Aurelia had done for the Order, in both past and present.

And… the night before everything ended, that fleeting look of loneliness and sorrow he’d seen on her face under the stars, which he hadn’t understood at the time.

“What if… it’s different this time?” A weak, rebellious thought pierced his boiling intent like a needle.

What if?

What if she could stay like this?

What if his memories were flawed?

What if… he could have a different ending? Or maybe… she’d suffered something too?

Looking at the Aurelia who remembered even the wounded’s taste preferences, he found he just couldn’t swing the world-saving sword.

[Damn it!]

He swore in his heart, sheathing his sword at last, ruthlessly shoving the swirling chaos and killing intent back down.

[If she really is Disaster, she’ll show her true colors eventually. If not…] He forced himself to suppress that dangerous possibility.

[…then I must confirm it with my own eyes. Until then, I can’t act rashly.]

He scrubbed his face, letting his expression shift into the cold mask he wore only when in a foul mood, then strode into the kitchen.

“Need help?” His voice was as frosty as after a failed mission.

“Wah!” Aurelia jolted at the sudden sound, then, seeing it was him, patted her chest.

“Captain! You scared me… are you alright?” Her face still dusted with flour, cheeks flushed, eyes filled with pure confusion and concern.

“Mm.” Laurence replied, easily taking down the bag of herbs and handing it to her.

In the motion, he held his breath, focusing all his senses, searching for any trace of a Disaster-like aura.

But still—nothing.

Only sunlight, flour, and the soft fragrance of the girl.

“Thank you, Captain!” Aurelia took the bag, giving him a bright, cloudless smile. “I’m just getting things ready in case there are wounded. I hope Vera and the others come back safe.”

Seeing her soft, caring manner, Laurence snorted coldly in his heart.

[Alright, Aurelia—or should I say, Disaster Source. I’ll give you, and myself, a chance to ‘confirm’.]

He said this both to himself and the “Disaster Source” before him.

[Keep up your act as the ‘gentle support girl’. I’ll watch you, twenty-four hours a day.]

[The moment you slip up, the second you show even a flicker of the ‘Disaster’ from my past life—]

His gaze swept over Aurelia’s slender neck, seemingly by accident.

[I’ll act at once. No hesitation! Even if…] He paused, suppressing an inexplicable pang.

[Even if I once felt something for you in my past life, it makes no difference! I… won’t hold back! I’ll make it quick and clean… I’ll kill you!]

“Captain?” Aurelia looked at him, noticing the chill in his eyes, shrinking her neck instinctively.

“It’s nothing.” Laurence looked away. “Carry on.”

“Oh…” Aurelia watched him leave, scratching her head.

[What’s with this redhead today? Popping up out of nowhere and then vanishing again, giving off such a scary vibe… Did all that training scramble his brain? I’m totally telling on him to Vera when she gets back!]

She was completely unaware that she’d just stepped one foot into the jaws of death, only the voice in her mind snorting derisively, as if mocking her.

Laurence walked out into the courtyard, feeling the cool air and letting his gaze grow perfectly calm.

[Aurelia… no, Disaster Source! Since the gods gave me a second chance, I will never let the tragedy of my past life repeat—never!]

But just as his determination and resolve reached their peak, the girl’s sudden call interrupted him.

“Captain! Could you help me get something else? I still can’t reach!”

“…Coming.”