3rd Person POV — Yoshiya
The smoke still clung to the sky like a dying beast refusing its last breath. Ash fell over Korvath's shattered streets, coating the ruins in a pale, ghostly layer. The city was quiet—too quiet—except for the distant groans of the wounded and the muted clatter of salvagers moving through the rubble.
Yoshiya dragged his feet through the broken main square, every step heavy with exhaustion. His robes were scorched and torn, his hands blistered from overusing barriers far past his limit. His mana was nearly dry, but he kept casting minor healing spells on anyone he found—civilians trapped under collapsed beams, adventurers half-conscious on the ground, soldiers bleeding through makeshift bandages. He had no strength left, but stopping wasn't an option.
The battlefield that only hours ago burned with chaos now lay in ruin.
The church was nothing more than a broken tower and rubble.
The hospital's roof had caved in.
The guild outpost stood half-toppled, one wall completely gone.
The market square was a blackened scar, its stalls and goods reduced to ash.
Korvath had survived—but barely.
---
Yoshiya rounded a corner, and his chest tightened at the sight that awaited him.
Omina knelt silently before the two massive bodies laid side by side—Baboar and Laboar. Their hides were scorched, their sides crushed by debris from the Kobold King's last area-of-effect strike. Even in death, their bodies had shielded fleeing civilians.
Omina's face was streaked with soot, blood, and tears. She wasn't crying loudly. She didn't have the strength for it. She simply rested a trembling hand on each of their snouts, her entire frame quivering with silent grief.
Yoshiya approached quietly, kneeling beside her. He didn't speak. There were no words for this. He simply placed a hand on her shoulder and stayed there. The silence between them spoke louder than anything he could say.
A few meters away, Kaito lay on a stretcher surrounded by healers. His breathing was shallow but steady. Lia had stationed some of her best people to keep him alive. He hadn't woken since the fight.
---
As the day bled into dusk, survivors began to gather in the eastern district, one of the few areas spared by the King's devastating shockwave. Adventurers and city guards erected tents, carved emergency runes into the ground, and built temporary barriers with salvaged stone. Fires were lit to fight off the chill. Medical stations rose under the hands of exhausted healers.
The temporary camp took shape like a wounded creature curling in on itself. Survivors were counted. The dead were laid in rows beneath white cloth. Healers worked without rest. Lia Shinsei was everywhere—barking orders, casting healing spells, coordinating mana recovery, ferrying potions. She never stopped moving. Yoshiya caught glimpses of her weaving through the chaos like blue lightning.
Finally, a summons came for Yoshiya, Omina, Seikaku, and other key figures. A strategy meeting.
They entered a large command tent built on stable ground, where lanternlight flickered across a rough wooden table. Around it stood several familiar faces—and four new ones.
---
At the head of the table stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with short blond hair and cold blue eyes, wearing ornate silver armor bearing the crest of Dargath. He exuded a natural authority, posture straight as a spear. When Yoshiya entered, the man turned sharply and gave a short, formal nod.
"I am Rick Kaiser," he declared, his voice deep and commanding. "Alliance Leader, Holy Paladin of the Dargath Order. I was dispatched to Ostoria to investigate Valerian movements along the northern trade routes."
He stepped forward and rested a gauntleted hand firmly on Yoshiya's shoulder. "It's an honor meeting you," he said. The pressure of his hand carried weight—not just physically, but as a gesture of respect. He did the same to Seikaku, his expression never softening but his tone sincere. "You both stood at the heart of this defense. Dargath acknowledges strength where it's due."
Rick's gaze shifted. "Where is the swordsman? Kaito."
Lia, standing near the table, answered softly, "He hasn't regained consciousness yet. He's stable, but… it'll take time."
Rick gave a single grave nod. "Understood. I'd like to speak with him when he wakes."
---
Next to Rick stood a woman wrapped in a flowing red cloak, her long auburn hair cascading over her shoulders. She radiated a fierce presence that burned almost as much as the lingering fires outside. Her eyes were sharp, predatory, and faintly amused.
"I suppose introductions are in order," she said, her lips curving into a smirk. "Hilaria Lachen, Clan Leader of the Crimson Flare. Also of Dargath."
She tilted her head slightly toward Yoshiya and the others. "You fought well. It's been a long time since I've seen a fight worth laughing over."
A few male adventurers standing nearby straightened unconsciously. Her followers—mostly men—watched her with unwavering loyalty, like wolves awaiting their alpha's signal.
---
Lia set something on the table with a heavy clank. A piece of kobold armor, scorched but intact. Etched clearly into the metal was the sigil of Valeria.
Rick's eyes narrowed. "Valeria."
Seikaku examined the plate with clinical precision. "This is Valerian military steel. Their craftsmanship is unmistakable. I've seen similar pieces along the border."
Lia folded her arms. "These kobolds didn't make this. Someone equipped them. Trained them."
Rick's voice hardened. "And directed them. This wasn't a beast raid—it was a covert military operation. Dargath has suspected Valeria's movements for months. This attack confirms it."
Hilaria's grin sharpened. "So Valeria's decided to hide behind monsters. Cowards."
Seikaku tapped the table lightly, eyes calculating. "This was more than a simple assault. The kobolds' coordination, the armor distribution, the retreat order… it all points to military backing."
Rick crossed his arms. "If Valeria's involved, this is only the beginning. Korvath was a test. Next time, they won't rely on kobolds alone."
---
Silence hung heavy over the tent as the implications set in. Finally, Lia broke it. "We have the proof. The Guild needs to see this immediately. We can't sit on this."
Rick nodded. "I'll relay word to Dargath. But the Guild Council must hear this from you directly. Witness accounts carry weight. You three…" he looked at Yoshiya, Omina, and Seikaku, "…are living proof of what happened here."
Yoshiya felt Omina's tired gaze meet his. Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. The resolve was there—quiet, hardened by loss.
---
Later that night, Yoshiya stood outside the tent beside Omina. The camp bustled behind them with weary energy, but ahead stretched the northern horizon, dark and ominous.
The ashes still fell. The ruins still smoldered. Their boars were gone. Kaito was unconscious. Korvath was wounded. But in the midst of that wreckage, something shifted in Yoshiya's chest.
The battle for Korvath had ended.
But the real war was just beginning.
He clenched his fist slowly, eyes fixed north. "Valeria…" he muttered under his breath.
Beside him, Omina said nothing. She didn't have to. The look in her eyes said everything: They would find the truth. And they would not forgive.