Reuniting with Lance brought both surprise and nostalgia. Felix spoke with him at length, asking about his past years and present life.

Lance had once been part of a battlefield squad. Their mission was to repel Sarkaz mercenaries pressing into the Laterano border. But one disastrous encounter left them overwhelmed and captured—the very time Felix first arrived in this world. The squad, once dozens strong, had already lost three members to Catastrophe. Others left the front lines, some finding clerical posts with the Notarial Hall or Papal Hall, while the rest joined new units to continue the same endless routine.

Lance himself had withdrawn from the battlefield squads. His record earned him a post in the Papal Hall as a clerk. Yet after several years, he found himself yearning for the days of field missions. Recently, he applied to lead a newly formed special ops unit, and so returned to active duty.

He was just as curious about Felix. Listening to his summary of current circumstances left Lance impressed. The boy he once met on the battlefield was now the director of a company… and judging by the looks of his companions, not lacking in luck with women either.

Felix, for his part, got to the point. He already suspected the quest he had triggered—Ballad of the Deep Sea—was tied directly to Lance’s mission.

“We suspect Sarkaz involvement,” Lance said seriously. “But their retreat routes don’t lead into Iberia. You know this: the Notarial Hall has eyes everywhere here. The Inquisition runs the show, but they don’t meddle with our ops teams.”

He pulled up his terminal, a glowing map unfolding between them. One coordinate was marked in red.

“Our initial trace points to this location. But it’s far from Kazdel, and that’s what makes no sense.”

“Could be straggler mercenaries,” Felix suggested, resting his chin in thought. “But are you sure it was Sarkaz who stole the weapons?”

It was natural for Lance to assume so—nine times out of ten, when Laterano’s shipments went missing, Sarkaz mercenaries were behind it. But this time was different. Why move stolen goods into Iberia?

“The mission site…”

Lemuen stepped up beside Felix, her voice urgent. “That coastal village the monsters are targeting—it’s the same one.”

“What!?”

Lance shot to his feet, eyes wide. “What’s the Inquisition’s response?”

“They’ve dispatched forces,” Lemuen answered calmly, as she always had in her squad days. “But right now, most units are tied down guarding other sectors, keeping watch on the sea. They have no transport. At their marching pace, by the time they arrive, the village may already be lost.”

“…”

Lance turned to Felix, expression hard. “Luckily, I brought vehicles. I’m leaving at once. From your face, I can see you’re as urgent as I am. Felix, will you come with us?”

“Of course.”

Felix nodded. “I’ll go with you to the village. Together, we’ll uncover the truth as quickly as possible.”

Lance clapped him on the shoulder, then gathered his squad and piled into their transport. Felix did the same with his team.

When little Susie heard she would be accompanying Felix, she let out a quiet sigh of relief. The thought of being left behind, separated and alone, had frightened her.

But when Felix gently told her she could come so long as she stayed safe above all else, she smiled sweetly—like a girl finally being treated as grown.

Two black jeeps sped down the night road, engines roaring. Felix had received an extra radio from Lance, so even on this signal-dead highway, they could keep in contact.

The convoy had been driving for about half an hour when Lance’s voice crackled over the radio.

“I see it… the village ahead is already burning. Looks like we’re late.”

“Any sign of Inquisition forces?” Felix asked.

“None…”

Felix hesitated. This was, after all, Iberian soil—resolving Iberian problems on Iberian ground. But with Laterano’s Notarial Hall as his backing, they should have enough legitimacy. Even Saint Carmen wouldn’t have much to say against that… right?

A sudden shout cut through the static.

“Whoa—what the hell is this!?”

Lance had disembarked. His voice carried over the comms as he stared at a creature that looked disturbingly like a coral growth.

“…This thing’s too bizarre. Wait—don’t tell me this is actually alive?”

The coral mass twitched. Then it began to crawl toward him, and Lance felt his skin prickle. Swearing, he drew his firearm.

“Open fire! Take it down!”

Gunfire roared. Even the tenacious “Seaborn” couldn’t withstand the barrage; the coral thing was blasted to pieces in an instant.

Felix, stepping down just behind him, couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. Materials from Seaborn weren’t worthless—their gelatinous tissue was like slime gel. And slime gel? If this were Terraria, you could make all sorts of gear out of it: special weapons, even armor.

Like that slick slime suit in That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime.

Earlier that morning, he’d already scavenged a batch of material. But he was still far from having enough to craft proper slime gear. Which meant, in his eyes—this battlefield was also a supply run.

“Prepare for combat!”

Felix unsheathed his lance, his teammates closing ranks around him to form a protective formation, little Susie shielded safely at the center.

The girl clutched the lamp-like staff Felix had given her. Her hands trembled, her stance still awkward—but her voice grew firmer.

“I’ll light the way for everyone!”

Arcs of crackling energy flared around her. Sparks leapt into the air, coalescing into floating motes of electricity that orbited her staff before firing bolts of power at the enemy.

Against the water-aspected Seaborn, the results were devastating. The creatures shrieked in eerie, soundless wails, staggering back under the doubled elemental damage.

“Good job, Susie.”

Mostima ruffled her damp pink hair. Susie blushed and giggled shyly.

“Lance, I’ll cover you.”

“Alright—let’s move!”

Lance’s special ops squad had seven members: five Sankta, each armed with heavy guns, and two Liberi wielding halberds to intercept anything that got too close to their gunners.

With that formation, their advance was swift. Within minutes, they broke into the burning village.

“…This isn’t arson,” Felix muttered, sniffing the air. “The stench of gasoline is everywhere. Looks like the villagers tried to use fire to hold back the monsters. But the flames are out of control—they won’t be able to contain it.”

“I’ll rescue survivors. Lance, go after the cargo you came for!”

“Got it. The rest is in your hands!”

Lance and his squad sprinted toward the village center. Felix glanced at his own team, then tapped the flask hanging at his side.

To the others’ surprise, a small figure emerged from it—like a Pokémon called forth from a ball. A water sprite stretched, yawning, then leaned lazily against Felix without so much as dampening his clothes.

“You’re calling me out at this hour? How unusual…”

Muelsyse glanced at Felix with a mischievous smile. Then—under the gaze of everyone present—she leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Clear as day, impossible to miss. Her eyes swept the burning ruins around them, and she sighed softly.

“Another terrible fire…”

“Sorry to trouble you, Mumu.”

“Hmph. Next time, just buy me a hot cocoa and we’ll call it even.”

[Muelsyse used Hydro Arts!]

A torrent of water erupted forth, dousing the raging flames. The firestorm receded, smoke hissing into steam.

As Felix pushed deeper into the ruined streets, he saw bodies strewn across the ground—some charred by fire, others torn apart by the razor jaws and limbs of the Seaborn. Only a handful of villagers had survived, huddled in corners, clutching their heads, faces blank with shock.

To them, this was nothing less than a calamity fallen from the heavens.

“Enemies ahead, Felix—careful!”

Fiammetta’s warning snapped him back. He drew his weapon, flames licking up the blade until it blazed like a torch.

“…I see them.”

Two Seaborn emerged from the shadows—one twisted like a dog, the other a grotesque coral mass. They weren’t howling or sneering, simply hunting by instinct. A silent, suffocating dread.

A girl was their prey. She stumbled, fell, and scraped across the dirt, tears spilling down her soot-streaked face as she tried to crawl away. But her limbs gave out.

Water shimmered under the beasts, the element pooling until the ground seemed to dissolve into a shallow sea.

The jaws descended.

The girl squeezed her eyes shut and raised her hands to shield her face.

“—My lance will cleave the tides!”

A flash of azure fire burst forth. Felix’s strike carved through the night, engulfing the two Seaborn in flame-tinted light. A blazing line mark ripped across the ground, extending into the burning houses beyond. When the glow faded, the monsters were nothing but charred husks.

Felix exhaled. Then grimaced. He’d meant to harvest their gel—but he’d overdone it, reducing them to useless ash. So much for materials.

“You’re alright?”

He turned back. The girl had already risen to her feet. She wiped soot from her cheeks with her sleeve, revealing a delicate face streaked with tears.

“I… I’m fine. I just overestimated myself…”

The tears still wouldn’t stop. She scrubbed at them until her face was a smudged mess, then clenched her jaw.

“My family… they were killed by those sea monster.”

“…I’m sorry for your loss.”

Felix sighed and sheathed his weapon. He gestured toward the safer part of the village.

“Head to the marketplace. It’s cleared—you’ll be safer there.”

“Forgive me. I lost my composure.”

Even in grief, she held herself with surprising strength. Her lips pressed tight, her voice steady despite the tremor.

“May I ask… which Inquisition squad are you with?”

“Oh?” Felix tilted his head. “So, you’re with the Inquisition?”

“…No. My teacher is. I intend to join one day.”

Her voice was soft, airy, tinged with fragility. For a fleeting moment, Felix thought she sounded more like someone destined for a stage—an actress, or a singer—than for a battlefield where death waited at every corner.

“Either way, I need to keep moving. If you want to fight, you’ll need a weapon.” His eyes flicked to her empty waist. “But in truth, I’d recommend something else—help guide the survivors to safety. That may save more lives than a blade in your hands.”

“…I understand. Leave it to me.”

The girl gave a small nod before adding, “My name is Irene. May I ask yours?”

“Felix. Or just call me… the Pioneer.”

“Thank you, Pioneer.”

Irene wiped her eyes one last time, then ran off toward the surviving villagers.

“What a remarkable child.”

“And her voice sounds familiar… Like… Kiana?”

Shaking his head, Felix regained focus, Muelsyse drifted lightly to Felix’s side. She had, of course, overheard the exchange between him and the girl. With a soft sigh, she murmured:

“To lose her family and yet so quickly gather herself to help others… She must have had good parents—and a good teacher too.”

“Let’s keep moving forward.”

“Mhm~”

She clung to Felix’s side, occasionally casting a powerful Hydro Arts at the worst of the fires. Under her effort, the inferno gradually yielded, flames shrinking back until the smoke began to thin.

Lemuen’s gaze lingered on Muelsyse then Mostima. There was a quiet searching in her eyes, as though she wanted to confirm something with Mostima. But her best friend only gave her a playful little thumbs-up, urging her on like a cheerleader. Lemuen let out a helpless sigh. She hadn’t expected Felix to have such… complicated ties of fate.

Breaking through the burning streets, they finally reached the heart of the blaze: an old church. Its weathered façade stood solemn against the firelight, and for a moment it seemed that if one were to push open its doors, a venerable priest would be waiting within—ready to lead prayer, to listen patiently to whispered confessions.

Here, Felix found Lance and his squad. They were clearly seasoned professionals, each an expert in their own field. Yet in the face of this raging fire, even they looked helpless.

Lance’s team lacked a caster. Without arts to counter flame, they had no way to contain the blaze.

“…Anything?”

Felix’s voice cut through the crackle of burning wood.

Lance shook his head, letting out a long sigh.

“The fire’s destroyed most of the traces. Nearly everything’s gone. But we did get lucky—we managed to find one of the Laterano delivery manifests.”

He paused, his brow furrowed.

“Still… what a coincidence, this fire breaking out here of all places.”

Felix nodded slowly. Coincidence? Perhaps. And yet, standing before this church, something in him stirred uneasily.

From what he remembered—gleaned from the scattered accounts of other players—there was something… strange about the Iberian Church. Especially in places like this.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep