11. Walk with Fire (III)

Hesiod was in better condition than Alwen had expected.

He had thought he would see a collapsing order, or something worse, but he had been wrong.

Ordinarily, he found it difficult to tolerate being "wrong," regardless of the reason or the matter involved. Yet at this moment, he was glad to have been wrong, and even hoped he could be wrong again and again.

However, as he looked upon the bustling, prosperous streets crowded with people, that fleeting joy was ultimately suppressed.

Who knew how many inhuman things were among them?

Was it the mother resting beside the fountain with her child in her arms, or the tall man striding past them? The Raven Guard's dark eyes passed over one ordinary, unremarkable face after another. He saw joy and happiness, or the little troubles of peaceful daily life—a vendor haggling with customers, a child sulking at their parents.

Such things were treasures his homeland could never possess again. The sons of Nocturne had shed untold blood to buy them this precious peace.

But soon, perhaps all of it would cease to exist.

The realization filled him with fury.

He continued upward, climbing the exterior of the towering building that served as the city's administrative center, one step at a time.

No one noticed him. Not a single pair of eyes busy behind reinforced glass and windows caught sight of him, as though everything outside were perfectly normal—as though no towering giant in black-and-white armor clung to the building, his crimson lenses reflecting their own faces.

He climbed all the way to the top—one hundred and twenty meters. Not especially tall, but on Nocturne, it was already a rare high-rise.

The citizens of the shelter cities prided themselves on being civilized and progressive people who had cast off the trappings of