Before the Human-Monster War: The Case of Ronant

Today's second installment

Lonaut's perspective

Just before the war

It's been a long time.

Long time no see, Master.

I had not seen my first disciple, the Hero Julius, in some time.

It had been several years since they had met face to face.

The interference from the Church of the Divine Word prevents even a proper meeting.

Damn it, this is unbearable.

Good to see you're doing well.

"You, too. Despite your age, you still seem energetic and active."

Who do you think I am? I’ll be in peak condition until the moment I die.

"Typical of a teacher."

A disciple laughs with refined grace.

When I was watching over her, there was still a touch of youth about her. Now, she has become a full-fledged adult.

"Julius, wait. Lord Ronant. When did you arrive?"

The one who entered without knocking on the door—was it Hailins, or something like that?

One of the companions and friends of Disciple One.

Just now.

Suddenly appeared out of nowhere. I’ve been telling them to stop, it’s startling—tried to warn them repeatedly.

If you can't even sense the signs of transfer, then you're still far from ready.

Ignoring the complaints of the first disciple.

We must meet in secret—otherwise, the Church of the Divine Word will cause trouble.

"Still the same as ever."

The boy from Hyalins sighs. Even I am aware of the basic rules of decency.

Then? Didn't you and Master Hyalins come for a reason?

Hmm. Let’s skip ahead to the requirements set by the boy from Hailins.

My requirements are not significant.

Just meddling.

It wouldn't matter if it were postponed.

"Boy. Well, to Lord Ronant, you are a boy, after all."

What’s wrong with calling you a boy? If you wish to argue, first prove yourself worthy of challenging me.

Please, forgive me.

The boy forces a strained smile, then instantly reverts to a serious expression.

"Lord Ronant. What I am about to say here is classified military information."

"Ah, understood. I promise not to speak of what I hear here."

The boy likely wished I would leave the room, but he has already given up on that expectation.

We have a moderate acquaintance. He should know me well enough by now.

As expected, he begins his report with resignation in his expression.

"The reconnaissance unit failed to return on schedule. The most likely conclusion is that they have been eliminated."

The boy's report causes the first disciple to grow solemn.

The unit stationed here, at the front line of humanity, is no ordinary force.

Elite among the elite.

The reconnaissance unit failed to return, having gathered no intelligence.

The implication is clear—enemy forces are that dangerous.

"Ah. How many units failed to return?"

"All of them."

Remarkable.

This is worse than anticipated.

Reconnaissance units typically split into multiple groups before large-scale engagements to collect intelligence.

Even if one group is detected and destroyed, others should return with data.

Yet all units failed to return this time.

Therefore, the enemy possesses superior detection capabilities, surpassing the stealth of reconnaissance units, and the strength to eliminate them swiftly.

Moreover, they must have sufficient numbers to assault all dispersed units simultaneously.

Reconnaissance units do not communicate with one another by design.

They should have been trained to retreat swiftly if any unit showed signs of disturbance.

Not being allowed to do so means they were attacked simultaneously.

Enemy forces with detection capabilities capable of locating reconnaissance units.

Enemy forces with combat capabilities capable of eliminating reconnaissance units.

Such enemy units must exist in at least the same number as the reconnaissance units.

"Looks like a difficult battle ahead."

Disciple One muttered, voice heavy.

Likely contemplating the fallen reconnaissance unit members.

"Disciple One."

I called out in a low tone, intending to lecture such a foolish disciple.

"Even you, considering the fallen reconnaissance members— if you have time for that, consider yourself instead."

"Master! What do you mean by that!?"

The first disciple, ordinarily unyielding in voice, grew sensitive when it came to matters of life and death.

"Consideration of the reconnaissance unit's casualties is not what matters now."

"Master! There are things one may say to a master, and things one may not. Say more, and I will not allow it."

"Oh? And how will you not allow it?"

The disciple flinched under the elder's pressure.

The first disciple showed no outward tremor, but it was only pretense.

"Exactly how do you plan to not allow it? Surely you don't believe you could defeat me?"

Each word spoken deliberately, low and measured.

Swallowing was the first disciple's reaction—or was it the boy's?

"Presume nothing. There is always someone above. Whether you are a hero or not..."

The pressure released. The elder tapped the disciple's forehead lightly with the staff.

Even with the reconnaissance unit, that’s how it is. They completed their duty. They died in battle when their strength failed. To mourn that death is not wrong. But to feel responsible for it—now that is misplaced. Do you truly believe a hero can save everyone, no matter what? Or are you thinking, 'If only I had been the one on reconnaissance'? That would be the greatest insult. Stealing the work of the dead, calling them incompetent. Surely, surely, a hero would not entertain such filth, such base thoughts.

The disciple had no answer to my words.

He lowered his head, silent.

He’s always been like that.

He takes on burdens he should not carry.

It’s always his fault when someone dies in battle.

Not anyone else. Only the one who fights himself.

What delusion does he harbor, believing he must save everyone to be satisfied?

Even a god could not accomplish such a thing.

“Julius.”

Not “Disciple One.” A name.

I slowly lift his lowered head.

“In battle, think only of yourself.”

If your attention strays elsewhere, survival becomes impossible.

“There is always someone above. You know this well enough? Only the strong can protect others. You are weak. You cannot even defeat me.”

“Then such a master is strong enough to say so.”

I chuckle sharply at Julius’s feeble rebuttal.

“There is someone above me. You know this well enough?”

Julius, who knows that person, should understand.

That such power exists—something beyond the reach of even humans like yourselves.

“Listen. If danger arises, do not hesitate. Flee. You are, at the very least, a hero. The fact that a hero fled is less problematic than a hero’s death. Remember that well.”

“I’m fine. Julius, I’ll protect you.”

The brat’s blathering again.

“Someone weaker than my first disciple? Their words carry no weight.”

“Harsh indeed!”

The mocking tone—likely meant to lighten the mood.

To keep the first disciple from sinking into despair, to lift their spirits.

Combat effectiveness is lacking, but a good friend is present.

“Hmph. Then I’ll let you protect me.”

“Right. Rest easy.”

As anticipated, the apprentice appeared slightly more composed.

“Still, Lord Ronant. It’s rather endearing how you scolded me for worrying about you.”

“B-Be quiet! I didn’t think anything of the sort!”

What nonsense is this fool spouting!?

I thought the apprentice was a good friend—apparently, I misjudged.

“Ah, blushing. Blushing.”

“Not blushing! Honestly! I’m leaving now!”

“Indeed. Master, thank you for today.”

“Hmph.”

Activated teleportation, departing the scene.

That was the final parting between me and Julius in this lifetime.

Reference material

Wait—please! Ronant’s status at this point: Magic stat 1500, Physical stat 300

Ronant’s status at the time of the Elf Village battle: Magic stat 4000, Physical stat 400

A hentai who, despite being nothing more than an elderly man past his prime and descending into decline, has magic-related stats doubled or more.

Julius: Average Stat 2600

Slightly stronger than Kunihiko or Asaka.