"Ugh...!"
The moment I opened my eyes, a sharp pain flared in my abdomen.
"Do not move recklessly, young warrior."
Beside the bed where I lay stood an old man with horns on his head. He seemed to have just finished changing my bandages, as a pile of blood-stained gauze sat beside him.
"Thank you. You treated my wounds."
"Perhaps. I am no professional doctor, so I cannot say for certain if the treatment was adequate."
Still, without even this basic care, I likely wouldn't be among the living anymore.
"By the way... what's with the 'young warrior' title?"
Gratitude was one thing, but such an embarrassing title was a bit much to bear.
"Hm? Is it not you who killed those loathsome Ursus soldiers at such a young age?"
"No. While it's true I killed them, I couldn't have done it without Yelena's help."
I was simply stating the facts, but the doctor shook his head slowly.
"Even if there was a bit of help, it was you who struck them down. You protected a young girl with your own hands.
You should take pride in that. Even in our Guerrilla, there are only a few capable of such a feat."
The Infected Guerrilla. I felt a wave of relief hearing the name of the organization that protected the Infected while conducting guerrilla operations near the Ursus tundra.
So, Yelena and Patriot have met, just as the game's history dictated.
"Is Yelena alright?"
"She was by your side the entire time. She only just went to sleep since it is evening. Ah, if you are asking about her physical condition, she is perfectly fine, unlike you. You needn't worry."
That's a relief. The weight on my heart vanished at the news of her safety.
"For now, get some sleep to recover. It seems someone who wishes to see you will be coming tomorrow."
As he administered an injection, my eyes began to close once more. It seemed he had given me a sedative to ensure I rested.
...
Despite the sedative, it didn't take long for me to open my eyes again.
I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it felt as though I had slept for a very long time.
"Alright. I have to work hard at nursing him again today. Oh... huh?"
Yelena lost her words for a moment when she saw me awake. She looked quite flustered. It was a fresh expression for someone who always had a cold impression on the game screen.
"Why are you just standing there? Come in. It's still morning, it must be cold outside."
"Earth!! You're awake!!"
A single white rabbit lunged toward my bed. The weight of another person pressed down on me, but it wasn't painful. Yelena was just so light.
Soon, she wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. In the game, anyone who touched her would suffer frostbite due to the side effects of her Arts, but what I felt in my arms was the warmth of a living person.
Is it because it's still the early stages? Or is it because she hasn't pushed her Arts to the same output she did in the cave to kill those men a few days ago?
I hoped it was the latter.
"Oh! Are you okay? Is it alright for me to hug you like this?"
"It would have been much better if you'd asked before lunging at me."
She looked dejected, fearing she might have worsened my condition, which was actually quite cute.
...Good grief. What am I thinking? Get a grip. She's just a kid.
"I'm joking. My wounds have healed a lot. I'm fine."
"Thank goodness..."
As she let out a sigh of relief, a massive shadow loomed behind her.
"The two of you seem to get along quite well. Am I interrupting?"
Some called him the Patriot.
Some called him the Shield of the Infected.
The commander of the Guerrilla, his face entirely concealed by a helmet—Patriot was standing right before my eyes.
I subconsciously swallowed hard at his appearance. Even considering my young age, he was more than twice my height, and his bulk seemed comparable to a small car.
He was like a mountain in human form.
"...Are you the one leading this army?"
To be honest, I was terrified to speak. Anyone who doesn't feel fear when looking at a creature that defies common sense must have something broken inside them.
But regardless of his appearance, he was the one who had protected and treated Yelena and me. It would be incredibly rude to hesitate to even speak to a benefactor, let alone thank him.
"Thank you. I want to repay the debt for saving me and Yelena."
"A bolder child than you look. I suppose that is how you survived that hell."
Patriot nodded his massive head as if finding something logical.
"There is no need to repay the debt. Where I stand is always a battlefield. To repay me is to assist me as a warrior. You both are still too young to shoulder such a burden."
His words made perfect sense ethically. Both Yelena and I were barely ten years old. It was an age where we should be running around without a care in the world.
However, special circumstances change things. To survive as an Infected in this barren tundra, strength was needed above all else.
And Yelena was a person with the mental fortitude to overcome the tragedy of losing her parents and grandmother, while I had the mind of an adult to begin with.
Both Yelena and I had long since cast aside our childhood innocence.
"You are quite the idealist, sir."
At my words, the left eye visible through Patriot's helmet flickered slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"In this world filled with snow, and filled with a hatred even more bitter than that, age is not a privilege."
He listened in silence, as if prompting me to continue.
"It's true that we are young. If we were ordinary children in the capital, we would have accepted your offer. Whether as civil servants, knights, or merchants—painting a picture of our ideal future selves."
I paused for a moment and imagined a Yelena who wasn't part of Reunion. In the original story, she was a squad leader who looked after her subordinates well. In a normal company, she might have been a capable manager.
"But sir, we are Infected. And this is the tundra, where even a single blade of grass is hard to find. We must face reality coldly. What we need right now isn't 'childhood'."
"Then what is it that you need?"
"Strength."
The power to reliably fend off the threats stemming from the hatred of overseers and the non-Infected.
That was what was necessary for the Infected of this land. Even children were no exception.
"Yelena here can handle high-level ice Arts despite her young age. I was also able to kill several Ursus soldiers. With just a little training, we will be of use to you."
"A logical statement. However..."
The sudden shift in his presence made me gulp involuntarily. This was... bloodlust.
Fortunately, Yelena didn't seem to realize what was happening. In other words, he was focusing his killing intent solely on me.
"The battlefield is a place where blood and chaos are intertwined. Not just anyone has the resolve to stand there. Especially not a child."
I wanted to say that I was prepared to stand on the battlefield.
But I couldn't open my mouth.
What if I die on the battlefield?
Should I just listen to him and live quietly in hiding?
The terror Patriot radiated made even those thoughts cross my mind.
However... I snapped back to my senses at the warmth I felt on my right hand. Turning my head, I saw Yelena looking at me with concern, her face having suddenly gone pale.
"Sir, may I say something?"
The white rabbit beside me answered him in place of my frozen self.
"I lost my parents and my grandmother in the very mine you rescued us from. But I can't blame anyone. In the end, all of this happened because my family and I are Infected.
I... I believe I need the strength to protect myself, if only to ensure such a tragedy isn't repeated."
Get a grip. How can I let her worry about the mess I started? I bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood to clear my fear-frozen brain. The metallic taste of blood on my lips helped ease the tension slightly.
"...What does resolve matter? Standing on the battlefield is inevitable anyway. As long as we are born as Infected in this land, that is. Because of our status as Infected, we need strength for our own sake."
Patriot, our savior and a hero who had lived through the ages, was silent for a moment.
-----
Patriot had always questioned his own judgment. It was only natural. His wife had died due to his wrong decisions, and his son had died as well.
Yet, a steadfast conviction remained in his heart. The conviction his son had fought so hard to protect was passed down to Patriot, the father. For the rights of the Infected, he had deserted along with his trusted inner circle.
He might not be as delicate as his son, who was a scholar, but he had strength.
With that strength, he could save many Infected. This time was no different. Most had died, but fortunately, the two youngest children had survived and were successfully rescued.
"You are quite the idealist, sir."
An idealist? It was the first time he had heard such a thing.
And the child's subsequent words were incredibly bold. He found it quite admirable that the boy used his own logic to seek professional training and be of use.
However, at the same time, it would be a lie to say he didn't think the boy was just a child talking big.
To Patriot, who had lived his entire life on the battlefield, nothing but the logic of the battlefield held weight. And in his battlefield, child soldiers were unnecessary.
The heat of battle, the chaos, and death were far too cruel for a child to handle. He showed a fraction of that to the boy.
As he expected, the boy named Earth froze like a frog before a snake.
The boy called him an idealist, but this was reality. Just as he was about to withdraw his killing intent and turn to leave...
"I believe I need the strength to protect myself, if only to ensure such a tragedy isn't repeated."
"...What does resolve matter?"
The boy, and the girl beside him, defied Patriot's expectations. The logic of the battlefield he held was shattered along with them.
Their refusal to bow before him, trying to persuade him with their own logic, made them look just like... his beloved son, Grohveze.
"...I have heard your resolve."
"Then... will you accept us into your army?"
"No. You two... shall become my adopted son and daughter."
It was a sudden decision, but Patriot did not regret the words he had spoken.
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