There were no guards or any of Arakawa's men in sight. This was deeply suspicious. When Yusha had first arrived, the courtyard had been full of life — soldiers patrolling the outer walls, others standing watch at the gates. Now there was nothing. Not a single sound. Not a single soul. Yusha stopped the wagon and stepped down immediately. He looked around carefully. There were no signs of a fight or an attack — which somehow made it even more unsettling. If there had been a struggle, at least he would have understood something. But this? This was just emptiness. Still, he had to keep moving. If he was being honest with himself, he was terrified — terrified of the silence, and of what it might mean.
Yusha turned to the woman and spoke before she could say anything.
— Do not leave this spot — any of you. Stay here and wait for me!
The woman looked into his eyes and saw it clearly — he was shaken. She didn't know exactly what was happening, but she could feel it. Something was very wrong.
This was the same young man who had taken on a group of slave traders all by himself. Yet now, his hands were trembling. He was scared — truly scared.
Yusha wasted no time. He passed through the large marble gate that separated the inner garden from the courtyard and entered the palace with silent steps. Even the smallest sound could give him away. He moved through the corridors slowly, stopping every now and then to listen. Any noise would have sent him straight into hiding — but the palace was completely silent. That silence was somehow worse than any sound could have been. It felt unnatural. Wrong.
When he reached the end of the corridor, he saw the first body.
(In that moment — right in that moment — he knew. This was not normal. Nothing about this was normal.)
He moved closer, holding onto the faint hope that the person might still be alive. Then he saw another. And another. Soldiers, servants — it didn't matter. Everyone had been killed. Some of the bodies had been left in ways that were too horrible to describe. The dread building inside Yusha was almost too much to carry — but he couldn't turn back. He had to know who was responsible for this.
He made his way to the throne room. The door was slightly open, and he could hear voices from inside. He took a slow breath and looked through the gap.
Almost everyone was dead — including the Emperor.
And there they were. Three of them. The ones who had done all of this.
One of them — short, carrying a spear — was speaking. He was telling Yui Miya that she had no choice but to join their alliance. She would use her S-rank healing and support magic only for them. In return, she would receive a large share of the Empire's treasury. The short assassin spoke calmly, as if he were offering a business deal — not standing in a room full of bodies he had just created.
Miya's voice was trembling.
(She did what most of us could never do.)(She rejected the offer.)
She was terrified — anyone could see that. Her hands were shaking, and her voice was barely steady. Yet despite all of it, she did not back down. She stood her ground.
— I will not become one of those 'hero-pretenders' — one of those murderers satisfying their own egos, she said. You are a disgrace to our ancestors.
Before she could even finish her sentence, the spear came down — and Miya was knocked to the ground.
Yusha froze.
The girl he had just fallen for had been struck down right before his eyes. He wanted to burst into the room, to do something — anything. But his body wouldn't move. His legs felt like stone. He just stood there, watching, unable to look away — and unable to act.
(He had fallen in love too fast. But what can you say? Love has no time or place.)
The spear-wielding assassin didn't even look back at Miya. He turned his attention toward the silver-haired Princess Mariana, as if what he had just done meant nothing at all. At that, the girl assassin carrying a bow stepped forward and blocked his path.
— Enough!I can't stand you anymore!! she snapped. You always do this, you disgusting pig! Take one more step and I'll turn you into a pincushion!
The spearman looked at her for a moment — then let out a slow, mocking laugh.
— You're really the one saying this to me? At the Hunters' Guild, there isn't a man you haven't flirted with and you call me a pervert? You make me laugh. He took a small step forward. Besides, how could someone like you ever kill me?
The tension between the two was rising fast. It looked like it could boil over at any second.
(Then the third assassin — clad in heavy armor like a knight — cut them both off with a booming voice that echoed through the throne room.)
— ENOUGH!
A heavy silence followed.
— We are wasting time because of you two. We take our share from the treasury, divide the Imperial lands, and move to our regions. Now ,I have wasted enough time with you already. Not another second. Stop fighting and follow me.
(The armored assassin turned and walked toward the door without waiting for a response. After a moment, the other two fell in behind him — still glaring at each other.)
The room fell silent.
Right at that moment, a whisper came from behind Yusha — quiet, but clear.
— Yusha... Yusha... come into this room. Quickly.
He recognized the voice immediately. It was Aide Arakawa. Yusha didn't think — he just moved, lunging into the room at the very last second. The door clicked shut behind him. He had made it.
For a brief moment, just seeing Arakawa alive in front of him brought a wave of relief. This man had saved his life. Yusha owed him everything.
(But how? How had Aide Arakawa survived? How was he still here?)
That relief, however, didn't last long. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't push the image out of his mind. The girl he loved — struck down right in front of him. She was dead. She was gone. And he had loved her — do you understand? His chest felt hollow. His hands were trembling and he didn't even notice.
Arakawa didn't know exactly what had happened between them, but he could see the state Yusha was in. He tried to console him. He spoke quietly but firmly — nearly everyone in the palace had been slaughtered today. There was no time to fall apart. They had to move. They had to stop crying for the dead and start fighting for them — only then could they ever hope to take their revenge.
Yusha didn't respond. He just stared at the floor.
(Aide Arakawa struck Yusha with a sharp slap across the face.)
— Pull yourself together! You are not the only one grieving. People lost everyone they loved today — their families, their friends, everyone they had. The number of survivors like me doesn't even reach the fingers on two hands.
(The slap worked. Yusha stood there for a moment, breathing hard. Miya's face was still in his mind — the way she fell, the sound of it. He wanted to hold onto that image. He wanted to fall apart right there on the floor. But Arakawa's words kept hitting him, one after another, like cold water being thrown in his face. His hands were still shaking — but slowly, the shaking stopped. His breath evened out. He pressed his jaw tight, stared at a fixed point on the wall, and forced himself back into his body.)
Arakawa grabbed Yusha by the arm and pulled him toward the door.
— We have to get out of here. Right now. Follow me.
They moved quickly through the palace corridors, pressing close to the walls, placing each step carefully. As they ran, Yusha spoke in a low voice.
— There is a wagon in the courtyard. If we can reach it, we have a real chance of getting out of here.
Arakawa said nothing. He gave a single nod — short and firm. His eyes were not the eyes of a frightened man. They were focused, scanning every shadow, every doorway they passed. His jaw was set. His breathing was controlled. He looked like a man who had already accepted the danger and decided to move anyway.
The three assassins were still busy in the treasury. That bought them time — not much, but enough. They pushed through the last corridor and burst outside. The cold night air hit them hard — sharp against their skin, filling their lungs in one sudden rush. After the smell of blood and the heavy silence of the palace, even the air outside felt different. Cleaner. Like the world out here hadn't heard what had happened in there yet.
As they sprinted toward the courtyard, the killers were making their way through a glass-walled gallery inside the palace. The spear-wielding assassin's eyes drifted toward the courtyard for just a moment. He thought he saw something moving near the front of the palace — but he wasn't sure. Maybe it was nothing.
— Hey — Emi, Suna. Am I seeing things, or are there people trying to escape out there?
(A beat of silence.)
— No, you're not seeing things, you idiot. There are people there! Why didn't you say something sooner?!
They broke into a full sprint.
They couldn't leave a single witness alive — not one. Their "Hero" titles, their reputation, their place in the eyes of the common people — all of it depended on silence. To the outside world, they were protectors. Noble, righteous, almost divine. That was the image they had built. That was exactly why they had killed everyone in that palace — to make sure no one could ever say otherwise.
(Princess Mariana was the only one they had chosen to spare.)
The corridors shook under their heavy, rushing footsteps. But by the time they reached the courtyard, it was already too late. Yusha had the wagon moving. They burst through the palace gates and onto the open road. The wheels clattered loudly against the stone. Yusha snapped the reins hard, pushing the horses faster. Arakawa had climbed onto the back of the wagon, one hand gripping the wooden edge so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. His eyes never stopped moving — scanning the road behind them, the tree line, the shadows — and whenever he spotted something, he called it out to Yusha in a sharp, low voice.
The killers had one card left to play — Emi.
She was the fastest of the three. She came from a line of Pure-blooded White Elves a clan known across the realm for producing the deadliest marksmen and most feared hunters alive. While most people struggled to make out a face from across a field, Emi could read the expression on it. She could spot the twitch of a finger before the hand even moved. She could track a target through thick trees at full sprint without losing sight for even a second. If Emi took a shot and missed, it wouldn't just be embarrassing it would follow them forever. But missing was something Emi almost never did. She had been trained since childhood, put through hundreds of trials that would have broken most grown soldiers.
(She was lean and light built for speed, for silence, for death. Every curve of her body, every muscle, every instinct had been shaped by years of training into a single purpose: to hunt, and to never miss.)
She spotted a tree, ran straight for it, and climbed without slowing down. The branches flew past her hands as she pulled herself up. At the top, she planted her feet on a thick branch, steadied her breathing — slow in, slow out — pulled the bowstring back and took aim. The wagon was small in the distance. But not too small. Never too small for her.
She released.
She missed!?
For a long moment, she didn't move. She just stared at the place where the arrow had landed deep in the wood of a tree, far from the wagon, far from anyone. The forest was quiet around her. The wagon kept moving. Getting smaller. Her fingers were still curled from the release, frozen in place. Emi did not miss. She had not missed in years — not in training, not in the field, not once in her life. And yet.
She exhaled slowly through her nose.
She didn't let herself think about it any longer. She leaped to the next branch, then the next, her body moving on pure instinct while her mind locked back onto the target. She nocked a second arrow. Pulled the string back further this time, until her fingers ached and the bow groaned under the tension and released.
— THWUCK!!
Struck by the arrow, Aide Arakawa collapsed backward, falling onto the family huddled behind him. When Yusha turned to the sound from behind and saw the fallen body of old Arakawa, he pulled the reins even harder. He had to after all, Yusha had no intention of dying here.
Arakawa moved his hands toward the warm liquid coming from his stomach. It was the first time he had ever felt this warm. His body felt as if it were catching fire. It was his own blood, after all but he couldn't escape the sense of relief that the warmth created. It felt as if, once he closed his eyes, he could sleep so long that he would never open them again.
As time passed, Arakawa's energy depleted further. He couldn't even speak properly anymore; he was busy taking quick, shallow breaths. That was all he could do.
Emi drew her bow once more and took her shot at the target. This time, Yusha was hit in the right arm. As a result of the arrow striking his right arm, Yusha lost control and the wagon turned sharply to the side.
As Emi was jumping from branch to branch, this unexpected situation distracted her for a moment, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground. Though anyone watching might have wished she would crash hard, Emi managed a controlled fall with only minor scratches. Despite falling from a tree nearly seven or eight meters tall, she tried to continue the pursuit. She couldn't let them escape. She had to eliminate them. And yet, she had been enjoying the taste of freedom so much lately...
A momentary slip and the fall had cost her far too much time. All she could see on the horizon was the wagon slowly disappearing from view.
Yusha told the woman that she needed to describe the way to the nearest settlement immediately. The woman was almost offended by his rudeness and tempted to stay silent, but she could see how urgent and panicked he was through his eyes—and by the way his voice trembled, despite how loud he spoke. (Ignoring Yusha's behavior, the woman described the way to the nearest town). While Yusha drove the wagon, he constantly asked the woman about Arakawa's condition. To slow the bleeding, the woman had torn a piece of red cloth from her dress and was pressing it against the wound. The children were holding the old man's hands, trying to offer support. Indeed, even though the old man was in a pitiful state, he didn't let his face fall. He tried not to look hopeless. He wasn't sure if he would survive, but at the very least, he was going to try not to scare or worry these little "cotton balls" (the children).
When they arrived at the nearest place, the town of Livenburg, Yusha asked where the nearest infirmary [the place where healing magic is performed] was or where it could be. However, the woman had only come to this town once or twice before to sell the fruits, vegetables, and pottery they raised in their village; she openly said she didn't know. Although this news annoyed Yusha, he had to hurry. He could see Arakawa's color fading more and more. He wished he hadn't seen it, but there was no life left in the old man's complexion. (Even though Yusha himself had taken an arrow to the arm, his own pain was just as intense, and blood was trickling from his wound).
He hoisted Arakawa onto his back and asked a citizen walking on the street for the location of the infirmary, but the person didn't know and said they had never heard such a word. They asked another, who also didn't know. Finally, it clicked in his head, and this time he explained it more simply to the man:
— This man is about to die; where can I take him to be healed... to heal... to get the man back to his old self?
— Are you stupid, brother? I can understand you. After you turn the second corner on the right, it will be immediately on your left.
— Is he an idiot or what, tch!! All the idiots find me anyway.
Without even saying thank you, Yusha sprinted toward the infirmary with Arakawa on his back. He was almost exhausted now. He was struggling to carry the old man. He felt his muscles catching fire for the first time; his muscles were burning, and every passing second felt like hot needles were being driven into them. Still, he managed to make it to the infirmary. When they entered, they were met by a short, bald man. (It was clear from his whitening beard and balding head that the man was even older than Arakawa). The card on the man's apron read "B+ Healer," meaning he was a talented healer who had served in this field for a long time.(Unlike other isekai worlds, magic here doesn't just develop through talent, nor does a "magnificent" lineage provide it for you—though they may not be like the Great Heroes, the common folk can reach quite high levels. However, family-inherited magic talent only allows you to understand that type of magic faster and develop more quickly. So, this world isn't as unfair as other isekais...).
Before the man could even ask what happened, Arakawa was scooped up from Yusha's back by the B+ Healer's assistant, a hulking man nearly 2 meters tall. The healer spoke to Yusha in a fatherly way for a reason Yusha couldn't understand.
— Son, you are wounded too. Go over there; a B-rank healer just arrived. He should be at the very end of the corridor. Get your treatment there. Don't just stand there injured.
— Okay... but what about him?
— Don't worry about him; we will take care of it. His condition isn't that bad, don't you worry.Even though Yusha was worried about Arakawa, he was just as battered himself. He figured it wouldn't take too long to patch up the wound on his arm with some healing magic. When he reached the end of the hallway, he ran into a half-wolf, half-human man—a Noll. They're like the mythological Gnolls, only shorter and leaner. He had these simple, tiny glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and looked like a total gentleman. His thick, black mustache curled upward, giving him a humble yet distinguished look.
(Yusha fought the urge to burst out laughing. "What the hell is this thing?" he thought. He had to keep it together; otherwise, he was going to lose it and spray the guy with a fit of laughter.)
-Please, have a seat right here.
(Yusha sat down on the chair.)
With his hairy, puffy hands, the man carefully examined the arrow wound in Yusha's arm.
-I need you to take a deep breath for me.
Just as Yusha was about to inhale and brace himself, the man yanked the arrow out of his shoulder in one swift motion. Before he could even register the pain, the healing magic was already at work. Since he hadn't had time to focus on the sting, his body began to recover before the agony could even set in.
Yusha felt a growing sense of relief, as if a cool breeze were spreading through his chest. As his consciousness began to fade, he muttered in a barely audible whisper, "I'll get your revenge, MİYA..." After repeating it once or twice, he drifted into a deep sleep right there on the soft infirmary chair.