The Weight of Survival

Someone among the retinue began, “Sir, actually, little Anto—” They paused, however, seeing the captain’s face and expression, and didn’t continue. An old veteran from the other side spoke up instead:

“Boss… he’s probably thinking of Ran, isn’t he?”

At the mention of that name, the surrounding veterans fell silent. The captain said nothing else, merely gazing into the dark depths of the forest.

“Everyone, advance. Begin the search for the nun. We don’t have much time before nightfall.”

****

“Anto,” Ilivy began, facing the silent Anto as they rode their horses.

“Are you angry?”

“No,” Anto quickly replied, though the meaning behind his tone was clear to anyone listening.

“I can do this… I’m confident I can protect myself. That fellow… he really underestimated me.”

Anto bit his lip softly. He couldn’t reveal this side of himself in front of others. Just moments ago, he had nearly confronted Captain Vincent directly, but he’d managed to hold back, partly because Ilivy had kept a watchful eye on him.

Still, his anger simmered.

“That’s Lu Wei… Sister Lu Wei is always so enthusiastic, but sometimes she doesn’t think things through. I don’t think she considered what she’d do after luring the enemy away… she can’t survive under these conditions, not without me.”

Anto lifted his head as he spoke.

“I possess the power.”

“But it must not be easily revealed,” Ilivy stated. “Do you remember Bishop Rhys’s words?”

“…This isn’t a normal situation. Sister Lu Wei is different. She…”

Anto’s words trailed off, his heart growing more agitated with each syllable. He turned his head away.

“I… didn’t you say you’d always support me? Why now…”

“I hadn’t expected,” Ilivy said, looking at Anto in her arms, “that Lord Anto would have such a childish side.”

“What did you say?” Anto glared at her, his eyes blazing with clear anger. Ilivy’s face, however, remained impassive, maintaining her previous demeanor.

“Lord Anto, sometimes we are not as powerful as we imagine ourselves to be. Your body is already exhausted from the intense use of Holy Light. If you were sent on an emergency mission now, I would consider it a dereliction of duty on the part of the commander.”

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but Captain Vincent has been observing you throughout our journey. He understands precisely how to deploy Holy Light wielders. Furthermore, his tactical arrangements and troop deployments in previous battles prove him to be a seasoned non-commissioned officer.”

“His experience in this field is an invaluable asset, and his judgment is undoubtedly the most rational given the circumstances. He would never send an over-expended support person into further danger. This is a mission where casualties are certain.”

“Rescuing a support nun whose fate is unknown, at the cost of a group of soldiers, might be acceptable. However, adding another support nun to that equation is not. He… has a very clear understanding of his role.”

“But this is… this is wrong,” Anto countered. “Choosing the safest strategy out of concern for losses will only lead to unpredictable outcomes. To achieve the best results in such moments, one should strive to maintain their optimal state.”

“Purely from a rational standpoint, their approach might indeed be flawed. However, Lord Anto, perhaps before we criticize others, we should also consider *why* they act this way. They are not fools; they naturally know that having a Holy Light user nearby increases safety. Yet, they made this choice, and there is a reason for it.”

Ilivy spoke, and Anto fell silent. He wasn’t ignorant of this; once his anger subsided, a moment’s reflection would reveal the logic behind their actions. This was no ordinary battlefield, but the most perilous frontier of humanity. The warriors on this border faced legions of the undead and demons.

They didn’t wish to die; they had simply adapted to this place far more than when they first arrived.

In this place, both good fortune and ill luck struck with sudden brutality. A mission might conclude without incident, or a patrol could be ambushed and wiped out on the way back to the outpost. Facing the nightly onslaught of the undead was a terrifying, heart-rending ordeal for many, yet for the people here, it was a countless repetition.

This prolonged existence had forced them to adapt. Humans, no matter the circumstances, always find a way to survive.

In this brutal environment, they had learned, above all else, to preserve the collective. If someone was attacked and realized they couldn’t escape, they would never allow others to linger for them; they would decisively choose to cover the retreat. When someone fell into danger, those around them wouldn’t rush headlong into a full-scale rescue without assessing the situation.

Instead, they would make limited attempts, then cut their losses promptly. They didn’t know what future threats awaited them, and every single warrior was vital. Thus, each life carried a clear value. Sacrificing ten soldiers for one was an unthinkable act here. This, too, was why the captain had stopped him.

“Even though I understand these things, but…”

Anto wanted to say more, yet he found no justification for himself. Maintaining the current wounded had already made it impossible for him to move freely. To follow and rescue someone was simply unrealistic.

“After we transport the injured back to the outpost, and once the captain returns and clarifies the situation, then we can depart,” Ilivy suggested.

“That is the most prudent course of action.”

“Mm,” Anto replied. The convoy slowly advanced, until finally, the top of a watchtower became visible. Meanwhile, deep within the forest, the search and rescue team faced an unknown terror.

****

*Hiss!*

With the sound of a sharp sword piercing a skull, the undead creature’s body collapsed to the ground. As the team advanced stealthily, they also eliminated any wandering corpses to prevent their noises from attracting other monsters.

The soldiers executed their attacks with utmost secrecy. They were not foolish recruits, but seasoned veterans who had survived in this harsh environment. Anyone who had lasted three months on the border was considered an old hand.

“There are signs here… that thing must be large, very large and powerful, constantly chasing her.”

The Northlanders, born hunters, possessed keen tracking abilities in forest environments. Serving as scouts, they led the vanguard, followed by heavily armored warriors at the front to handle direct confrontations, while archers and spearmen formed the main body of the force.

“Situation ahead!”

After a moment, a bird call signaled that all was clear ahead. The team then pressed onward, deeper into the forest.