After the fall of Aidenberg, the first night arrived. Duwey’s squad used an abandoned hut by the river as a sleeping place and was assigned to patrol duty in two shifts.

Walm, who usually hung out with someone, was alone tonight, savoring a cigarette. This action would be unthinkable in the midst of a battlefield, but the city’s security had rapidly recovered due to the thorough suppression during the day.

Additionally, a strict curfew prohibited anyone other than Highserk soldiers from going out at night. Only the reckless or foolish would be out and about.

Walm tossed salt-preserved river fish, a war trophy, into his mouth. Normally used in soups or desalted before eating, it was extremely salty. Walm wouldn’t have eaten it if he hadn’t been so drained of physical and magical strength.

To wash away the saltiness, he took a sip from a flask. The alcohol rushed through his mouth to his stomach. He looked up at the sky after exhaling lightly.

In the sky, the twin moons faintly chased each other. On nights of a half-moon or full moon, the nights felt brighter than in Walm’s original world, but tonight was a new moon, making it dark.

Every time he saw the moon, he was strongly reminded that he was in another world. Lighting his cigarette with magic, Walm realized he could never go back to carrying a lighter.

Purple smoke slowly filled his lungs. As he exhaled, the smoke quickly dispersed into the air.

The fierce battle of the day seemed like a lie, with tranquility reigning over the night. Walm didn’t dislike talking to people, but he enjoyed these moments of solitude.

In military life, time alone was precious. Other squad members also took time for themselves when safety was assured.

He scratched his head and let his entire body relax. Doing so, he realized just how exhausted his body and mind were, both yearning for sleep.

However, his alertness didn’t miss the faint sound of movement. The noise was coming from a corner of the pier.

Ferries and fishing boats were all used in the pursuit of the Felius remnants. The only reasons for someone to be there were someone like Walm seeking solitude, someone attempting to escape the city, or a small animal like a cat—though the latter was unlikely.

Beside soldiers, many citizens were trying to escape the city. Initially, Highserk was lenient with escapes, but now, they restricted movement to prevent a population exodus.

“Who’s there?”

There was no response. The person either thought they could hide or was unsure what to do. If no one was there, Walm would look foolish.

He threw the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out.

Most of his armor and equipment were in the hut. He only had gauntlets and a longsword.

“I’ll ask one more time. Who’s there?”

Walm deliberately rattled his sword, and a figure emerged from a hut used for fishing.

“You’re not a Highserk soldier. There’s a curfew at night. Do you understand?”

Two people appeared. In the dim light, he could only make out their silhouettes.

“We’re sorry,” said an old man and a girl, their voices trembling. Walm wondered what to do—if not malicious, a stern warning and sending them away might suffice. He stepped closer and cast a spell.

“Torch.”

Shielding his eyes from the light source, Walm focused on the two. Illuminated were a surprised white-haired old man and a blonde girl.

They appeared to be a grandfather and granddaughter trying to escape the dangerous city, possibly to join relatives in the countryside.

Their clothes were typical of civilians, but something struck Walm as odd.

The old man had the broad chest and shoulders of someone who had been fit in his youth.

The girl’s hair was dirty, but she had little body odor, and her nails and fingers were clean. Labor would have roughened and dirtied her hands, and there were no signs of sunburn.

“Why are you outside?”

“We’re escaping the danger in the city. We planned to seek shelter with relatives in the countryside.”

Walm’s intuition told him they were not civilians. Perhaps high-ranking military officers, wealthy merchants, or… nobility.

“Are you a soldier?”

“No, not anymore. I served in a war decades ago. I can’t even hold a sword now,” the old man explained fearfully.

“You’re too well-built for a retiree. Men your age usually have bent backs. And the young lady’s hands are too pristine. Was she a sheltered daughter?”

“I’ve always been healthy, and my granddaughter lost her parents at a young age. I raised her without letting her suffer.”

Walm remained silent, neither denying nor affirming, just staring at the two. As he stepped closer, the old man’s eye color darkened. Walm could sense that the man was an experienced fighter, his skin tingling in anticipation.

There were no weapons in their baggage, but hidden weapons or magic bags could not be ruled out. Furthermore, warrior monks who could outperform armed combatants with their bare hands. Caution was necessary.

It wasn’t certain they were nobility, and even if they were, key figures had already been captured or killed. Walm interfering with their escape attempt seemed pointless.

The old man’s true abilities were unknown. He could be feigning ignorance, ready to strike unexpectedly. If Walm acted rashly, he might provoke an unwanted response.

While Walm contemplated calling for backup, an out-of-place sound interrupted the tense silence. It came from the girl – her stomach growling audibly in this dire situation, revealing her hearty appetite.

“Um, this is…”

The girl’s face turned red from embarrassment, which Walm found incredibly cute.

“Ha, hahaha!”

Walm’s laughter at the innocent moment caught the two by surprise.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just so adorable. Be careful, though. Being too clean and cared for might attract the wrong kind of soldiers. If your home is still safe, go back. I’ll overlook this just for now.”

As Walm gestured for them to leave, they bowed their heads and started to disappear into an alleyway.

“Wait.”

They tensed up instantly. Walm returned to where he was smoking and offered them two bottles.

“Sorry it’s half-eaten, but you must be hungry. Use this to fill your stomach.”

He handed them bottled salted river fish and a small bag of dried beans.

“Thank you so much.”

The girl accepted them, looking confused. The old man looked at Walm as if he couldn’t comprehend the gesture.

“It’s been a rough day. This is just my way of easing my guilt. Take it without hesitation; there’s no poison in it.”

The girl reached out to take the bottle and bag. Her hair, hidden under a hood, was tied up for ease of movement, resembling a field of supple golden wheat. Her eyes, reflected in the light of the “Torch” spell, shone like gold.

“Thank you.”

Her smile, likely to charm anyone, made Walm pause and admire. Her brief words and actions were elegant and showed her upbringing.

“Oh… you’re welcome.”

After lighting his cigarette, Walm left the scene. On his way back to the unit, he kept an eye on the river. Despite the lack of light sources at night, he noticed a boat silently crossing the river without torches or magic.

“They can’t go back home, can they?”

Walm, an invader, sympathizing with the victims was ironic. He might have killed their family or neighbors. After all, war was just a legal excuse for murder. Walm, who had joined the war without strong patriotism or loyalty to homeland, had no grand cause or pride.

“Can I, a hypocrite, be forgiven?”

The future of those who lost their livelihoods might be harsh. Walm was adjusting to this world, both in good and bad ways.

He wasn’t so sure anymore that he could maintain his humanity and morals from his old world.