About Being Found and Adopted by Talula

Orson asked the timid-looking Liberi boy with short white hair hiding behind Sasha.

"Why... doesn't Simon resurrect the person he loves?"

"—"

Ino's question caught Orson off guard. After all, even Orson himself had never been able to come to terms with it.

A hero who had saved the entire universe—if he did not even have the right to make a little "selfish request" to save the person he loved, then that world was simply far too cold and correct.

But he was the substitute teacher now. What was a teacher? A teacher was someone who, even after spending half a class deriving the wrong answer, still had to grit his teeth and somehow explain it away!

"Ahem. Because their love was incredibly great. Simon sacrificed Nia for the sake of the world's continued existence, and Nia understood and accepted that sacrifice. Their feelings have already transcended the barrier between life and death—"

"But what was lost was still lost..."

Ino did not quite buy Orson's explanation. The thin boy, who was afraid of everything, still wore a gloomy, troubled expression.

"...Alright! There's still some time. Does anyone want to hear the dark, shocking heroic tale of the Chainsaw Devil and Strongman?"

"Yay!"

Orson changed the subject, trying to lift the children's spirits, and the effect was outstanding. Sasha and Ino stopped dwelling on their earlier confusion, their eyes shining as they eagerly awaited another interesting story from Orson.

—At times like this, they were clearly such cute, innocent children.

Looking at Sasha and Ino before him—Faust and Mephistopheles, whose hands would one day be stained with blood—Orson felt something indescribable.

Faust, Sasha, and Mephistopheles, Ino, were as innocent and immature as blank sheets of paper. The melody Orson could hear from them consisted only of extremely simple, singular notes.

Perhaps... just perhaps...

Perhaps my arrival in this world was not a "tragedy."

Perhaps there really was a god in this world, but it needed to choose an "agent"...

Perhaps I could change their desperate endings, filled with bloodshed and death.

Within the pure white forest, Orson reached out and gently touched Ino's snow-white hair, as pure and untainted as the falling snow.

"Ino, I'll give you some extra lessons tonight. We'll start with the Three Character Classic and the Eight Honors and Eight Shames."

"?"

Explosive Bedtime Talk

Night always fell quickly in northern Ursus. The azure sky was covered by a black curtain, dotted with countless dazzling stars.

If one did not have to consider the temperature or the difficulty of survival, the northern frontier was probably paradise for stargazers.

Beneath the Milky Way, accompanied by a wisp of white smoke, a faint flame was born from the tinder. It slowly spread, catching on the stacked firewood around it.

The sparks gradually gathered and merged into a campfire capable of warming the body and driving away the darkness.

"..."

Orson sat nearby, staring straight at the campfire.

"Teacher Orson, what are you spacing out about?"

Sasha curiously moved closer and asked Orson.

When Orson had first come to fill in, Sasha had warily threatened him with a bow and arrow. But he was still just a child. It was easy for him to become wary, and even easier for him to begin trusting someone. After spending some time together, Sasha had already accepted Orson as a teacher who could tell all kinds of wonderful stories.

"Oh... nothing. It's just my first time seeing a real campfire like this. It feels pretty amazing."

"You've never seen a campfire... Your old village didn't have them either, Teacher?"

Sasha asked curiously. Ino, standing behind Sasha, also twitched his ears with interest, wanting to hear Orson's answer.

"Mm. In the village where I lived, everyone only looked at the world they needed to see in order to survive. We had no intention of gathering around a campfire for warmth like this. After all, the lighting and warmth a campfire provided could also be supplied by a house and fireplace. Its 'social aspect' was something we discarded as unnecessary."

"I see... Then Teacher Orson, your past must have been really boring. Although—mmph! Ino?"

Before Sasha could finish, Ino poked him. The latter weakly grabbed the hem of Sasha's clothes and shook his head, signaling for Sasha not to continue the topic.

It seemed Ino already knew he was the "last survivor," which was why he had told Sasha not to ask about it.

Sigh. He had clearly been such a little angel as a child. How did he grow up so crooked and become that kind of bastard...

Orson sighed as he considered adding a few more moral education books to Ino's good-child development reading list.

"My past?"

The corpses and twisted faces of countless dead Infected surfaced in Orson's mind. He lightly shook his head.

"It really was quite boring. What about you two? Sasha, you and Ino are different races, but you seem to get along very well. Are you friends?"

Orson casually glossed over those hellish experiences and instead tossed the subject back to Sasha.

"Y-Yes! Sasha is my best friend."

Contrary to expectations, Ino answered first this time. His tone was still awkward and shy, but utterly firm.

"What about you, Sasha? Do you also think Ino is your good friend?"

"Of course. We won't ever be separated!"

Sasha declared it in a quiet but serious voice.

"That's wonderful. Since you're friends, Sasha, you must keep an eye on Ino and not let him do anything strange, alright?"

Orson stretched out both hands and ruffled the two boys' hair at once, then offered some advice to the future Faust.

"Uh... okay?"

Sasha agreed in confusion. Normally, everyone would ask the quieter Ino to look after the somewhat impulsive Sasha instead.

Time passed, and the children had long since gone into their tents to rest from exhaustion. The flames of the campfire in the center of the camp had gradually weakened as well.

As darkness gathered once more, Orson suddenly thought of a problem: where was he supposed to sleep?

Orson glanced at the tents around him. They all naturally already belonged to someone, and there was no way he could poke his head into each one to check for an empty spot.

But sleeping outside was completely out of the question. At northern Ursus temperatures, if he slept outside for one night, Orson was afraid he would be able to smash boulders with himself the next day.

"Brother Orson? There you are. You're really hard to spot. If not for that chain, you would've been impossible to find. Hahaha!"

Just as Orson was agonizing over it, an Infected warrior found him.

"What is it?"

"Talula asked me to tell you where you'll be sleeping tonight."

"Oh, oh, oh! I knew Sister Talula wouldn't be that heartless...!!"

For a moment, Orson had genuinely wondered whether Talula would throw him outside to freeze into a dried corpse after witnessing her come out of the closet—literally. But it seemed Sister Talula was still the best.

"It's too late to set up a new tent, so Talula arranged for you to share one."

"Share... a tent? You mean, sleep together with someone?"

Orson swallowed.

"Yeah. I don't know why, but Talula seems to have a poor impression of you. Still, it wasn't easy for her to make this arrangement. FrostNova probably won't be happy about it either... Anyway, Orson, you really are something. You arrive on your first day and get to witness something none of us have seen in ages."

The Infected man kept talking to himself, while Orson's heart began racing.

—Was he going to sleep under the same roof as FrostNova, or Talula?

The answer was Patriot...

Orson gently turned over. Out of the corner of his eye, he accidentally caught sight of the huge figure sitting on a chair nearby, wearing a terrifying antlered helmet like some statue of a demon god. He silently swallowed and rolled back to the other side.

"..."

—I can't sleep at all!!

Right beside him was the big boss of Reunion from the game, a living legend, the Shield of Ursus whose true face no one had ever seen. No matter how carefree Orson was, there was no way he could sleep peacefully at a time like this.

It was not merely because of the other man's physically overwhelming presence. Orson could also sense from Patriot a deep, earth-shaking melody like that of a cello.

That feeling again... Is there something wrong with my brain?

Orson still did not understand what these melodies represented. He only felt as though he might be losing his mind.

—Anyway, this was when he should count Eyjafjalla!

Just as Orson was about to force himself to fall asleep, a deep voice sounded.

"What is your goal, survivor?"

The voice was so deep that Orson initially thought it was the howling wind and snow. Only several seconds later did he realize that Patriot was speaking to him.

"Uh, well... does surviving count?"

Though he did not know the other man's intentions, Orson could only answer through gritted teeth.

If he pretended to be asleep now, he would probably be stripped naked, tied to the old man's spear, and turned into a satellite.

"It counts. But you are different from those who merely seek survival."

"Then... protecting others?"

Orson noticed that Patriot's manner of speaking was not yet broken and halting.

"Vague. Without foundation. Who will you protect? How will you protect them? In what way will you protect them? Have you prepared answers to those questions?"

Orson had thought this was merely some kind of "bedtime chat," but Patriot's questions left him speechless.

And in the end, what ability or standing did he have to protect anyone?

"Survive first, survivor. The thing around your neck is not decoration."

"...Mm, I know."

That chain and collar around his neck were proof that Talula and FrostNova could kill him at any time, and that they remained wary of him.

A goal?

Having muddled along ever since arriving in this world, he was finally going to start thinking about that.

Somehow, in the haze, he felt as though a girl had once told him to seek something worth protecting.

A girl... a dandelion...

A sense of loss welled up within him.

"One more thing. Remember it well."

Patriot's voice interrupted Orson.

"Please enlighten me, Mr. Patriot!"

Orson eagerly waited for this living history of Ursus to offer some kind of philosophy of life to a green young man like him.

"Do not touch my daughter."

"...Huh?"

Going on a Mission with Sister Talula

Morning—

For people living in the northern frontier of Ursus, daytime usually did not begin because of sunlight or an alarm clock. They were simply awakened by cold that could penetrate their blankets.

"Mm..."

Orson crawled out of his sleeping bag. As the familiar biting chill awakened every still-sleepy cell in his body, he looked around in confusion.

His brain slowly warmed up and began turning. After a while, Orson finally came back to himself. This was no longer the village where he had lived for half a year, but the base of Talula and the Gatherers. No wonder he could not find a restroom.

His terrifying roommate, Patriot, had already disappeared. He had probably secretly followed FrostNova because he was worried about her operation today, right? However, a brand-new set of toiletries had been placed on the table, which surprised Orson somewhat.

It seemed this settlement still traded goods with nearby villages. They had not stolen these, had they?

After wandering around yesterday, Orson had gained a rough understanding of the settlement. Everyone here was Infected, gathered together either to earn a living or because they agreed with Talula's ideals. Unlike the later days of Reunion, these Infected might have been angry, but they were not insane.

After washing up, Orson recalled his conversation with Patriot the previous night.

A goal like protecting others was indeed far too hollow and unrealistic. Without someone truly connected to him, protecting others was nothing more than aimlessly muddling through without convictions.