The soldier barely managed to answer, clutching his body as if he might collapse. Étienne snorted in disdain. Even for a low-ranking member of the Holy Legion, it was ridiculous to see someone fumbling over their words like this. It was almost laughable.
“Let me ask you again. ‘It probably didn’t happen,’ right?”
“S-sorry! I’ll correct myself immediately!”
Only then did the soldier realize the Legion Commander’s displeasure and begin to panic.
“Stop wasting time on nonsense and return to the field to verify things properly. If you still can’t give a clear answer upon your return, you won’t escape responsibility for your incompetence.”
No matter where he went, his striking features drew attention, but they couldn’t hide his irritation. With a deeply furrowed brow, Étienne issued sharp orders before setting out to assess the situation himself.
The investigation concluded earlier than expected.
It appeared the prisoners had hidden explosives within their bodies—though “explosives” might not be the precise term. Just last night, following Mia Blanchard’s advice, they had searched the prisoners again and found nothing. Yet now, objects seemed to have materialized out of nowhere.
The chaos around the prisoners’ barracks made it clear something had exploded, but no traces of typical explosive components could be found. It was as if an unknown curse had been cast upon them.
Even the theory dismissing this as a supernatural event was based solely on one person’s claim, making it difficult to fully trust.
What puzzled Étienne more was the timing of the self-destruction.
The battle had ended long ago, and no further interrogations had occurred after the previous failed attempt. To be precise, the commotion caused by Lennard’s incident had left no resources for prisoner interrogations. Yet the fact remained that they’d been nearly neglected.
The explanation that they’d chosen a moment with fewer people around to maximize damage was unconvincing.
So why had they decided to immolate themselves and escape now?
The mysterious figures who vanished without leaving corpses offered no answers to the mounting questions.
Countless unresolved mysteries crowded Étienne’s mind.
“Commander.”
Bertrand, the medic who had finished treating patients, interrupted Étienne’s thoughts. The Legion Commander’s expression darkened slightly at the sudden address.
“Is there an urgent matter?”
The question, delivered with a polished tone and gleaming demeanor, seemed to imply Bertrand would regret it if the matter wasn’t urgent.
Fortunately, Bertrand was quicker than most. He hastily explained, “The patients have been stabilized. I’ll prepare a detailed report for you to review when time permits.”
“Before leaving, recheck the warehouse area for casualties.”
Bertrand bobbed his head and scurried off. “Gods, this is tedious,” Étienne muttered, clicking his tongue as he watched his subordinate retreat.
Everywhere he stepped, debris from shattered barracks and scattered supplies littered the ground—items now too damaged to be of use. Trampled food spills dotted the area.
Seeing this, it seemed miraculous the explosion hadn’t caused wider damage.
‘If our remaining provisions are this meager, prolonging our stay here will be impossible.’
Étienne raised his head. As he turned from the nearby ruins, his gaze fell on a barracks he hadn’t previously noticed, nestled among collapsed wooden beams.
He froze.
‘Did I check that one?’
He had no memory of visiting it. Though one wall appeared fully collapsed, the interior showed no signs of damage—likely why it hadn’t been prioritized.
Given its location among storage barracks, the half-standing tent had probably narrowly escaped destruction. Assigning subordinates to investigate now would suffice...
Yet Étienne hesitated, gripped by an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
Even as Legion Commander, he didn’t memorize every barracks’ purpose in temporary camps. More pressing matters always demanded his attention.
But if this structure felt familiar, it must have served a role beyond mere storage...
Unless—
A name flashed through his mind.
Paling instantly, he ignored his subordinates’ confused shouts and sprinted toward the barracks.
BOOM.
The sound marked the beginning. Audible near the tactical officers’ barracks but drowned out in the camp’s center, it left even Mia baffled. Whatever method they’d used, her prior warning had proven futile—the explosion occurred exactly when she’d predicted.
Lord Rochefort wouldn’t have overlooked threats to the camp’s safety. They must have searched the prisoners thoroughly yet found nothing.
Truthfully, Mia herself didn’t understand how these “explosives” functioned, despite experiencing similar events before. She’d hoped a personal inspection might have yielded clues, but now locating the devices seemed far harder than anticipated.
Worse, Mia’s situation grew precarious. Her plan—to blame the warnings on suspicious items found during searches—crumbled when nothing was discovered. Now her foreknowledge of the explosion would invite suspicion of collusion.
‘Tch. Shouldn’t have meddled.’
She needed an excuse—fast—before someone accused her of treason.
Mia pressed her temples, a habit when stressed. As if mocking her frayed nerves, the intact wall’s entrance fluttered open, revealing a thoroughly expected visitor.
“Lord Rochefort.”
Sweat glistened on his dust-streaked face, his eyes darting urgently around the barracks. Mia observed him until his gaze finally locked onto hers.
“...Knew you’d come.”
Before she could finish, Rochefort lunged at her. In the blink of an eye, he gripped her face, inspecting every inch for injuries. Only after confirming her safety did he pull her into a crushing embrace, her tense frame collapsing against his chest.
Mia stared blankly past his shoulder, an incongruously gentle scent tickling her nose.
“You’re unharmed.”
