Where Are the People?! Where Did They Go!?

Garen finally took action.

Indeed, guerrilla warfare was an exceptionally advanced concept, but the enemy was not a simple AI that couldn’t adapt in the slightest.

Since the night was the domain of the Evernight demons, all they needed to do was turn the night into “day.”

Burn away the forests that could conceal their movements, and use all their mana for illumination.

Although setting fire to a mountain would land you in jail for life, they couldn’t care less about such things.

“A good strategy.

Though crude, it’s certainly simple and effective.”

Without the protection of darkness, it would indeed be very difficult for the warriors of Evernight to launch attacks as freely as they had in the previous two days.

But she had also bought enough time.

With the expeditionary army delayed like this, the first batch of mushrooms planted in the Demon Lord’s Castle should be ready for a successful harvest, and the other wounded soldiers would have ample time to recover.

According to the little succubus Luna, in a week, about five hundred wounded soldiers would be able to regain their combat effectiveness and rejoin the battle.

Although five hundred people was still like throwing an egg against a rock in the face of a twenty-thousand-strong expeditionary army, having more hands was better than having none.

“…Well then, we still have several more days to play.

Let’s see what else you’ve got.”

“Hero Garen.”

…

The trees crackled and popped in the high heat, like the death wails of the dying.

The fire blazed into the sky, illuminating the sweat-and-soot-covered faces of the human soldiers, making them look as ferocious as ghosts.

Garen stood at the edge of the sea of fire, the light of the flames dancing wildly in his cold pupils.

He saw it.

In the deeper darkness where the tongues of flame could not reach, several vague shadows seemed to flicker frantically for a moment before being completely swallowed by the churning thick smoke.

A hint of almost cruel satisfaction brushed past his taut lips.

Now, he would use this all-consuming fire to burn a charred, bloody path for his grand army to the final destination of their revenge!

He didn’t care how many lives this fire would claim, no longer cared what this forest had once nurtured.

His eyes were fixed only on the final goal—the Demon Lord’s Castle, and the cold head of the Demon Lord Vivian.

The rest of the journey unfolded upon the embers of the fire and the charred remains of corpses.

The expeditionary army trod over the remains of the forest, which had been burned to white earth and was still smoldering with green smoke.

The air was thick with the cloying smell of char and a nauseatingly sweet, fishy odor of cooked flesh.

With every step, the soles of their boots would pick up black dust mixed with ash and unidentifiable remains.

Occasionally, they would see twisted, curled-up corpses, burned beyond recognition, with white bones showing beneath the carbonized husks.

It was impossible to tell if they were demon ambushes, unfortunate forest beasts, or… comrades who had gone missing in previous battles?

No one dared to look closely, and no one wanted to think about it.

The soldiers marched in silence, the initial fire of fanatical revenge in their eyes gradually settling into a numb fatigue and a bottomless gloom after witnessing this endless scorched earth.

The harassment from the demons continued unabated.

Even at night, when the mages and clerics used all their mana to fire illumination flares, some demon warriors still managed to blend into the shadows and launch surprise attacks.

But facing an expeditionary army that was already prepared, they could no longer retreat unscathed as they had at the beginning.

With every harassment, the attacking demons would always leave behind a few corpses, but they would always manage to disturb the expeditionary army’s rest.

But the expeditionary army was still advancing.

They firmly believed that everything they were facing now was just the despicable demons trying every means to delay them.

As long as they reached that place… as long as they reached the Demon Lord’s Castle!

Then everything would end!

Garen rode on his warhorse, his armor covered in a thick layer of black ash, his face expressionless.

Only his eyes remained fixed on the front.

And when the vague outline of the city finally appeared on the horizon, an irrepressible agitation, a mixture of ecstasy and a thirst for blood, instantly swept through the entire weary expeditionary army.

“The Demon Lord’s Castle! It’s the Demon Lord’s Castle!”

“We’re here! We’re here!”

Hoarse shouts broke the dead silence.

“We’re finally here! You damn mongrels, your doom has come!”

“Charge! Crush them! Avenge our fallen brothers!”

A wave of fanatical roars surged.

The soldiers, as if injected with a powerful stimulant, converted all the fear, fatigue, and humiliation of being toyed with from the past few days into a desire for destruction.

They spontaneously quickened their pace, even starting to run.

Spears were raised like a forest, and swords and blades were frantically banged against shields, creating a deafening clang of metal as they surged toward the dark city that symbolized the source of all their suffering!

Garen spurred his horse, which neighed and charged to the very front of the column.

He raised his holy sword high, its tip pointing straight at the approaching black shadow.

“Expeditionary army! Target, the Demon Lord’s Castle! Crush all resistance! Leave no blade of grass standing! Kill—!”

The earth-shattering war cry, like a tsunami, drowned out the entire world.

However, when the torrent of revenge finally broke through the last sparse patch of charred forest and roared to the front of the Demon Lord’s Castle, all sound—the war cries, the clash of armor, the heavy panting—as if seized by an invisible giant hand, abruptly ceased.

A dead silence.

A silence more complete, colder, and more suffocating than any before.

Before them, there was no expected forest of demon soldiers, no shimmering light of a defensive magic formation, no ferocious city-guarding beasts.

There was only a vast ruin.

The once-towering dark castle, a symbol of the Demon Lord’s supreme authority, was now just a few broken, twisted remnants, pointing bleakly toward the lead-gray sky.

Large sections of the thick city walls had collapsed, huge stone blocks scattered everywhere.

On the ground, unidentifiable metal fragments, broken weapons, and the remains of some twisted, heat-melted器具 were scattered.

No banners, no living creatures, no sign of any life.

Only the wind, wailing as it passed through the huge empty spaces of the ruins, echoing with a hollow and long sound.

The fanaticism and killing intent on the soldiers’ faces froze, hanging on their faces like crude masks, then slowly cracked and peeled away, revealing a vast, empty void of bewilderment and disbelief.

The weapons they held high fell limply, hitting the ground with a few dull thuds.

They stood there dumbfounded, looking at this ruin that was even more thorough, more desperate than the forest they had burned behind them, as if a basin of ice water had been poured over their heads, freezing even their souls completely.

The fire of anger suddenly extinguished, leaving only a cold, endless void.

Garen still maintained his posture of charging with his holy sword raised high, but his body was as stiff as a corpse.

His pupils contracted violently, staring fixedly at the lifeless ruin.

The muscles on his face twitched uncontrollably, his lips opened and closed silently a few times, as if he wanted to let out that earth-shattering “Kill!” again, but no words would come out.

‘How could this be?’

‘How could this be!’

‘How could there be nothing!’

‘Where are the people?!

Where did they go!?’