[NARRATOR POV]
The humid air of Milshion clung to the walls of the small meeting room, carrying with it the scent of distant rain and the underlying musk of the demon continent's perpetual twilight.
Claude stood before a makeshift table cobbled together from salvaged wood, his small frame casting an oddly authoritative shadow in the flickering candlelight.
"We've established our network across three sides spanning two continents," Claude began, his voice carrying a weight that seemed too heavy for his young shoulders. "Mike maintains our position in the Asura Capital on the Central Continent, while Somar operates from the Criminal City in Millis. Now that I'm here in Milshion as our hub, we have the infrastructure to control information flow between the Central and Millis Continents."
Two weeks had passed since Rudeus's group had taken refuge in Milshion, their original plan to leave the capital postponed indefinitely. The Metastasis Event—that catastrophic tear in reality that Claude had failed to prevent—demanded they gather more intelligence before making their next move.
They waited for Mike's report with the kind of tense patience that had become their constant companion.
"Based on our intelligence network—primarily Mike's contacts—Sauros has been cleared of all charges. The court deemed him innocent, which eliminates one of our concerns." Claude's eyes found Eris across the room, and something flickered in his expression—guilt, perhaps, or the ghost of alternate outcomes. "Our second problem lies with you, Eris. What are your intentions regarding your family's estate?"
Eris crossed her arms with characteristic defiance, her red hair catching the candlelight like flames. "I don't know yet! I'll decide when I see Grandfather face to face!"
Her voice rang through the small space, causing Rudeus to wince and cover his ears while the other adults exchanged knowing, if strained, smiles. Despite everything they'd endured, Eris remained refreshingly, stubbornly herself.
"We'll table that decision for now," Claude said, though his tone suggested he'd expected this response. "Ruijerd, are you willing to assist in our search operations?"
The Superd warrior straightened, his weathered face grave. "I will contribute what I can, but my primary duty remains escorting this group safely. I cannot commit beyond that responsibility."
"Understood. Arbalest will make contact when you reach Roa—I anticipated this answer. Mike will coordinate with you there."
Ruijerd inclined his head in acknowledgment.
"Are you certain this arrangement is sufficient?" Paul interjected, his voice carrying the uncertainty that had plagued him since the disaster.
Claude's gaze turned cold, cutting through the humid air like a blade. "Don't question tactical decisions beyond your expertise. Ruijerd possesses the combat capability of ten men of your caliber."
"That's right, Father!" Rudeus added with perhaps too much enthusiasm. "Even ten of you couldn't match him!"
Paul's shoulders sagged, his face falling as the weight of his perceived inadequacy settled over him like a shroud.
Vera placed a comforting hand on his back, her touch gentle despite the calluses earned through recent hardships.
The mention of Vera brought Claude's attention to her transformed appearance. Gone was the provocative armor she'd once worn—a misguided attempt to protect her sister by drawing unwanted attention to herself.
Claude remembered their earlier conversation with crystalline clarity, one of those moments where his fragmented memories had aligned to provide useful, if brutal, wisdom.
"Your strategy is fundamentally flawed," he'd told her bluntly. "Do you honestly believe those predators will focus solely on you because of exposed skin? Paul—in your prime, would you have ignored a woman in robes simply because another wore revealing armor?"
Paul's sheepish admission had been damning: "I would have pursued both opportunities."
"Exactly. Your approach doesn't redirect danger—it multiplies it. In our current situation, with law and order fractured, you're defenseless in the wilderness. But in populated areas? Meet the wrong noble or corrupt knight, and you'll end up as entertainment in some basement or sold to establishments that cater to... specialized tastes."
Vera had paled at his words, immediately adopting more practical attire. Rudeus had clicked his tongue in disappointment at the loss of scenery, but even he couldn't argue with Claude's logic.
Stories of women vanishing into noble estates or being found dead in gutters weren't common, but they weren't rare enough to ignore.
Such crimes rarely saw justice—cold cases filed away and forgotten, regardless of whether the perpetrators wore noble crests or criminal brands.
"Moving forward," Claude continued, steering the discussion back to strategy. "I've briefed you on my enchantment capabilities and the contingency plans Mike and I developed."
"Why didn't you share this information with the adults from the beginning?" Paul asked, his voice carrying a mixture of hurt and confusion.
Claude's laugh held no humor. "Would you have believed a child claiming to be a Miko? Would any of you have taken seriously warnings about an apocalyptic event based on dreams and visions?"
Paul shifted uncomfortably. "I... well, no. Probably not. Even now, knowing what you've accomplished..." He trailed off, the admission hanging in the air like smoke.
"Precisely. At the time, I appeared to be nothing more than a precocious child with an active imagination. Even after the orbs manifested, I lacked concrete proof of the coming disaster." Claude's voice carried the bitter weight of hindsight. "Mike and I spread rumors about the apocalypse the orbs would bring. We sent warnings to the great noble families. All ignored."
The memory of those desperate, futile attempts sat heavy in the room's stifling air.
"Which is why we developed the GPS network and distributed the devices to Arbalest operatives and Buena Village residents. I gave one to Rudeus as well."
"GPS?" Rudeus repeated, the term triggering something in his memory. As a shut-in NEET from the early 2010s, he'd heard of GPS technology but never fully grasped its applications. The knowledge felt familiar yet distant, like trying to recall a half-remembered dream. After more than a decade in this world, such fragments of his previous life often emerged at odd moments, then faded just as quickly.
"The combination of tracking monitors and GPS positioning gives Arbalest unprecedented operational vision," Claude continued. "More importantly, it establishes our legitimacy as representatives of the Fittoa region's regent and, by extension, the royal authority."
The implications struck the room like a physical blow. Several mouths fell open as the adults processed what Claude had accomplished.
"That... that places Arbalest on par with the great noble houses," Paul breathed, his eyes wide with something approaching awe.
"As a Miko, Arbalest naturally commands respect similar to the temple Mikos in the Millis Kingdom," Claude explained. "However, I refuse to be chained like Shirone's Miko. My status remains classified for now."
The adults nodded slowly, though their understanding of Miko abilities remained limited. The title itself carried more mystery than knowledge—everyone recognized Mikos as beings of power blessed by divine forces, but few understood the true nature of their gifts.
What people did know came from legends and observable examples. Some achieved their abilities through birth, others through training that might take lifetimes to master—if they succeeded at all.
Shirone's Prince Zanoba could level armies single-handedly, while the unnamed Miko of Millis could pierce minds and souls with her gaze.
During the Laplace War, Mikos had stood as bastions against the Demon Lord's advance, their presence alone inspiring hope in human hearts when darkness seemed absolute.
"There's another complication," Claude continued, his voice dropping to a more introspective tone. "My abilities haven't fully manifested. The information I receive remains... fragmented."
"You mean you weren't certain about the Metastasis?" Rudeus asked, leaning forward with sudden intensity.
Claude met his gaze, and for a moment, the mask of confidence slipped. "Would you trust dreams that began the day after taking a water ball to the face?"
"I... I see."
"Fear permeates every vision," Claude said, his voice taking on a distant quality. "Initially, the experiences were remarkable—sharing knowledge, memories, glimpses of possible futures across multiple timelines." His expression grew haunted. "But when I witness their deaths, their failures... when I experience the weight of their regrets firsthand..."
He paused, collecting himself before continuing with forced casualness. "You learn to prepare for every contingency, because the unknown future stretches ahead like an abyss."
The simple words carried such profound burden that everyone in the room felt it settle over them like a physical weight.
The idea that someone so young could carry such responsibility seemed almost obscene.
"Is that why you sought training from me?" Paul asked quietly.
"Partially. The memories sparked my interest in swordsmanship, but at the time, they were still integrating. I wanted to test the knowledge I'd inherited while learning to separate useful skills from traumatic experiences."
Paul nodded, understanding the desire to master something that felt both foreign and familiar.
"And your enchantment abilities?" Rudeus pressed. "How did you learn without formal instruction?"
"The memories provided... guidance," Claude replied carefully.
Though he spoke truthfully, he omitted crucial details. His understanding of his abilities had crystallized considerably since those early days, but some truths remained too dangerous to share.
He'd revealed that his Miko powers granted glimpses of potential futures, but he'd never mentioned the nature of his alternates—the parallel versions of himself who had failed catastrophically in their own timelines.
The story he'd crafted contained gaps, but Claude doubted anyone would probe deeply enough to expose the inconsistencies.
If they did, he could always claim ignorance—another convenient aspect of incomplete memories.
"Now," Claude said, deliberately steering the conversation toward more immediate concerns, "let's discuss our countermeasures for the next phase of operations."
The candlelight flickered as if responding to his words, shadows dancing across determined faces as they prepared to face an uncertain future with whatever tools they could forge from the ashes of their shattered world.
___________________________________________
✨ Enjoyed the chapter? Dive deeper into the story world!
I've started to share my source here, and thinking to create a AI based video by story telling the story, I already had a testing video for another fanfiction of mine.
Check them out and let me know what you think! Your feedback really helps me grow.
📺 YouTube: @LibraryEternal
🎵 TikTok: @library3550
📸 Instagram: @libeternal
☕ Love the story? Support and read ahead!
Help me keep creating by becoming a patron:
💖 Patreon - EternaLib
Read up to 50 chapters ahead + get early access on my site:
📚 Eternal-lib.com
__________________________________________