The greatest problem facing Reunion was the shortage of food. Although Talulah encouraged the fighters of Reunion to trade or organize hunting parties, it did nothing to change the habits they had long formed: looting.

Talulah repeatedly emphasized discipline, again and again, yet most fighters simply nodded on the surface while sneaking off with their squads to act on their own.

Many joined, and many left. Some, after gaining strength, wanted to “defend the rights of the Infected” in their own way — which meant burning, killing, and plundering. Others simply no longer wished to fight. They wanted to move into the mobile city Talulah had taken, settle down, and live normal lives.

Talulah’s silence had become increasingly noticeable. She still fought on the front lines, still led Reunion with unwavering resolve, but Alina sensed a change in her. Talulah no longer showed her emotions openly. She no longer shared her secrets. There was now a faint sense of unfamiliarity clinging to her presence.

She still ate and chatted with those who had followed her from the very beginning, but she had shifted from a speaker to a listener.

Alina worried deeply for her friend, but she kept the worry buried in her heart. She understood that Talulah was a leader. She could not reach out to her or show concern in a way that others might interpret as weakness.

“Ah… thank you, Miss FrostNova. I have to trouble you again.”

Alina smiled politely at FrostNova standing before her, while several members of the Yeti Squadron took the sled from behind Alina. It was time for their routine trading trip.

After the ambush Alina suffered last time, Talulah issued a new order. Any member without combat ability had to be accompanied by armed personnel during trade missions. FrostNova and Alina were close, so whenever FrostNova had time, she acted as Alina’s escort.

“Where to this time?” FrostNova asked.

“Um… the village to the west. I want to trade for sugar and salt,” Alina answered honestly. “Of course, if we can get condiments, I’d like some of those too.”

FrostNova nodded lightly. “Let’s go.”

The sturdy Big Bear and Greg pulled the sled, while Petrova opened the path ahead. The five of them started toward the west.

Along the way, Alina kept touching the pistol at her waist. She looked as if she had something to say but couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Seeing this, FrostNova sighed softly. “It’s about Talulah, isn’t it?”

“Ah… yes.”

Alina lowered her head. She didn’t know where to begin or how to articulate the tangled emotions in her heart. Watching her friend walk step by step toward what felt like a deep abyss — the feeling haunted her even in her dreams.

FrostNova walked forward. “Talulah is already stuck in a situation she can’t easily escape. When Reunion had only a few hundred or a few thousand people, it was easy to manage. But once the number exceeded five digits, there was no realistic way for her to spread her laws into every heart, to make them actually follow them.”

“The Infected lived in despair for so long. If you want them to obey laws, you have to give them the benefits and treatment they deserve. In that regard… the Brotherhood has done very well.”

FrostNova exhaled. Perhaps Tomorrow’s Development played a role in this contrast, but the difference among the Infected was undeniable. The Brotherhood’s Infected were cheerful, bright young people every day, while Reunion’s Infected looked lifeless and drained.

“With treatment like that, it’s no surprise the Infected act the way they do.”

FrostNova pressed her lips together. At this moment, she felt that her father had been right. Patriot had believed Talulah’s dream could not last; that was why he never supported her. FrostNova had been the one who believed in Talulah’s ideals and joined Reunion without hesitation.

Looking back now, she realized she had been too naive.

Using hatred to advocate for the rights of the Infected… perhaps Talulah had not intended this in the beginning. But as their numbers grew, this had quietly become the core of Reunion’s ideology.

In the past, when Reunion carried out missions to rescue Infected, they simply helped them leave in silence. But now everything was different. Reunion fighters burned civilians’ houses, looted shops, and some even stabbed innocent people with knives stained by Infected blood.

They wanted others to experience, to feel firsthand, the despair of the Infected.

The actions filled FrostNova with disgust. She had already distanced herself from the main forces of Reunion, now working only directly with Talulah. Yet even this arrangement felt fragile. She didn’t know how much longer these days could last.

Alina understood FrostNova’s inner conflict. Her lips trembled, unsure whether Reunion’s current state was good or bad.

She herself had once been attacked by former Reunion fighters. Though those criminals were now dead, the memories of their faces still lingered in her mind: the smiles of comrades fighting at her side, and the twisted expressions they wore when raising their blades.

“That village looks strange.”

FrostNova suddenly pulled Alina back. At the same time, Petrova also sensed something was wrong. “The drying racks and ice chests at the village entrance are gone.”

The drying racks and makeshift ice chests were essential for preserving meat. In this freezing climate, villages had to build such structures from natural materials to keep food fresh.

“I remember the western village had Infected residents… but I don’t see them.”

Petrova raised her binoculars and peered toward the distant settlement through the frosted lens. “Big Sis, weren’t the Infected we rescued living here?”

FrostNova nodded. “When we took the northwest mine last year, the elderly and women who couldn’t fight were relocated to this village.”

“Did something happen to them?”

Alina’s voice trembled. These were people with no ability to defend themselves.

FrostNova glanced at her group. Only four of the five could fight. That left two possibilities: the Infected had been found and taken away by the Ursus Enforcers, or… they were still inside the village.

Could the four of them win if it came to a fight?

FrostNova tightened her grip on her staff and signaled to Petrova. Petrova crouched low and began creeping toward the village.

“Alina, stay here.”

Her voice carried a chill that made Alina shrink into herself. She instinctively hugged her arms, fingers trembling around the pistol at her waist.

FrostNova handed her a small portable heater. Adventurers said it was an import from Kjerag, powered by simple Originium art. It was wonderfully warm in winter.

Alina accepted it carefully. Greg and Big Bear pulled the sled to the edge of the nearby forest. The Yeti stayed behind to guard her.

FrostNova and the Yeti Squadron advanced under the cover of wind and snow. The more she worked with adventurers, the more she realized the shortcomings of Reunion. Calling their fighters “soldiers” sounded generous; they were little more than thugs wielding wooden clubs and crude blades. They had strength but no understanding of how to use it. Their combat was uncoordinated and chaotic, and horribly inefficient.

If Reunion’s fighters were thugs, then the Yeti Squadron were merely ordinary militiamen. They were nowhere near a proper army. FrostNova had seen how the Brotherhood’s adventurers trained: they had structured divisions, clear formations of defenders, melee fighters, snipers, and casters. They were born warriors. The Yeti Squadron had only a few hundred members.

Their training could never compare. Their weapons and equipment had improved thanks to trade with adventurers, but at their core, they were still militia.

The only force in Reunion that could stand against Ursus soldiers head-on was the shieldguards under Patriot’s command. Even they had not fought a real battle in a long time. They were like Reunion’s final anchor.

FrostNova pressed her lips together. She had overheard adventurers talking about Pioneer, about Tomorrow’s Development. Some said he now commanded three thousand-man legions, each strong enough to crush armies. Others praised him as an emperor, naming his Third Legion the Emperor’s Children.

In the end, she could not keep up with Felix’s pace. A complicated emotion stirred in her chest. She wanted to walk beside the Pioneer, to explore and witness the world together, but reality slowed her steps.

“Big Sis, are we going straight in?” Greg whispered, bringing her out of her thoughts.

She brushed the snow from her goggles. “We scout from the outside. We don’t know what happened here. Stay cautious.”

Petrova gripped her weapon. The group moved along the village perimeter, slow and careful. Snow began to fall, masking their footsteps and presence.

Soon, FrostNova halted. Petrova and Greg also sensed it: unease, a creeping tension in the air.

The smell was unmistakable, like rust.

FrostNova’s heart tightened. She quickened her pace. Greg and Petrova followed close behind, teeth gritted against the cold.

The granary came into view — the villagers’ winter storage for grain and food. Under normal circumstances it would be filled with rice and flour.

But from the granary ahead drifted a thick, metallic scent of blood.

FrostNova rushed ahead. The ominous feeling in her chest had reached its peak. She approached the granary, pressed herself against the back door, and listened. From inside came faint groans. Aside from those weak sounds, there was nothing.

She pulled the door open.

The sight before her made her vision snap blood-red. Originium Arts leaked uncontrollably from her, frosting over the outer wall of the entire granary.

Blood. Dried splatters everywhere. On the walls, on the floor. Where food had once been stored, bodies now lay in heaps, still dripping with fresh blood. Some slumped against the wall, their limbs twitching in irregular spasms as Originium crystals crept across their skin.

“Big sis!”

Petrova grabbed FrostNova’s shoulder. FrostNova was already drowning in rage and tried to shake her off, but Greg seized her other arm. As the cold burst from her body, Greg began to shiver violently. His trembling voice urged her on.

“Big sis… Mr. Felix would never want you to use your Arts like this!”

The chill retreated. FrostNova bit down hard on her lower lip. She was still not mature enough. She slowly straightened, her eyes apologizing to both of them before she pushed the door fully open and stepped inside.

There were still people alive, but for them, death was already a mercy.

Blood flowed across the floor. The villagers lay scattered, covered in sword wounds. One man saw FrostNova and the others enter, and with the last of his strength forced a rasping sound from his ruined throat.

It was the old village chief. One of his arms had been severed, and he no longer had the strength to fully open his eyes. FrostNova felt tears threatening as she knelt beside him, lips trembling.

“Village chief…”

“…”

The old man’s mouth moved. A faint smile appeared on his face, fragile and brief before pain washed it away.

That smile was the same one he had given them a week ago when he sent them off, insisting they take the thick furs he had prepared. He had urged them to take care of their health in such weather, telling them not to let youth slip away under illness.

Who could have imagined that seeing him again a week later would be their final farewell.

Greg began to cry softly. He is not that old, but his youth was hidden by the snow and the heavy coat of a Yeti Squad member.

Hearing him, the old village chief moved his mouth again and slowly, firmly shook his head.

“…Please… set us free.”

“…”

“Understood.”

FrostNova almost did not recognize the coldness in her own voice. Yet the words came naturally. Her heart felt carved from stone. She clenched her fists.

“…Let’s give them peace.”

Greg wiped his tears. Even if these infected were treated, the blood loss and grave injuries meant they would not survive their next Originium flare-up. No medicine could save them. Big sis had made the right decision.

FrostNova took the dagger she carried. Kneeling, she whispered an apology. Then her arm moved like lightning, driving the blade into the village chief’s chest.

He seemed to smile once more. Then he slowly slumped to the floor, resting his head on the body of his wife, long since gone cold. At last, he found a final peace. The rest of the Squad also freed some of the barely alive survivor from their suffering.

Snow began to fall again in thin, scattered flakes. FrostNova’s heart was as cold as the weather outside.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep