"Report, Vice Admiral."
"All 265 children have been safely returned to their homes."
"The medical supplies and relief goods we brought have also been fully distributed. As for the additional materials you ordered to be requisitioned, they've already been dispatched and are on their way here."
At a street corner near the border, Momonga stood stiffly at attention and gave a solemn salute as he reported.
"Good work," Nao replied casually.
He was too busy to even look up.
Despite the biting winter cold, he wore only a white undershirt, hammering and repairing the small house in front of him. His body was covered in soot and sweat, looking more like a construction worker than a Vice Admiral.
The man who, just last night, had single-handedly repelled hundreds of thousands of invading soldiers—a figure like a god in the moonlight—now seemed like a completely different person.
Momonga moved to help, but Nao waved him off, nailing the last plank onto the window frame before wiping the sweat from his brow and straightening up with a long breath.
"Alright. That's done."
He clapped his hands clean, grinned, and grabbed the coat hanging nearby, draping it over his shoulder.
"Let's go. We'll walk around town—see if there's anyone else who still needs help."
"Yes, sir," Momonga nodded subconsciously and quickly followed.
"Thank you, Mister Marine!"
A child's bright voice called out from behind. Momonga turned to see a little girl, no older than eight or nine, waving enthusiastically at them.
Nao smiled and waved back, and only then did the girl skip back to the small wooden house, circling it joyfully, her pale face glowing with happiness.
"Is that child… alone?"
Momonga hesitated, then asked, "Where are her parents?"
"They've passed away."
Even though he'd half expected it, Momonga still felt his heart jolt when Nao said it aloud.
"A week ago. Both of them succumbed to Amber Lead Disease on the same day. The neighbors buried them as best they could."
"And that," Nao continued, eyes fixed ahead, voice calm, "is just one tiny fragment of the tragedy this city has endured over the past month."
"A month ago, Flevance had a population of two hundred thousand. Now, fewer than eighty thousand remain alive."
"That means… more than sixty percent—"
Momonga's throat tightened; he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.
"Don't take it so hard," Nao said faintly. "You've been a Marine for years. You've seen worse. Whole villages, even whole islands wiped out—it's not new."
"Maybe so…" Momonga murmured bitterly, "but this time is different, Vice Admiral."
In the past, the horrors he'd witnessed were the result of pirates—plundering, burning, slaughtering.
But this time… this month-long nightmare that had consumed the people of Flevance had been engineered entirely by the World Government and its Cipher Pol agencies.
That truth was unbearable.
He could feel the same turmoil that once shook Aokiji after the Buster Call at Ohara—an ache that gnawed at his faith in the white cloak he wore, and the "justice and order" it was supposed to represent.
And despite the Vice Admiral's calm demeanor, Momonga knew—
beneath that still surface, Nao's fury and grief were burning just as fiercely as his own.
Momonga instinctively glanced up at Nao, trying to read any hint of suppressed anger in the latter's face.
But—
He found nothing of the sort. Nao's expression was even colder than his tone, yet his gaze… felt different from before. It was as if something had been resolved inside him—deep, steady, and so unnervingly profound that it made the watcher's heart skip.
"What are you staring at?"
Nao's voice suddenly pulled his thoughts back to reality. Momonga started and realized Nao had turned to look at him with a puzzled expression. "What, is the dust still not wiped off my face?"
"No—"
Momonga hurriedly shook his head. He was about to explain when Nao stopped walking, as if struck by a thought, and gave an order:
"Oh, right. I forgot to mention—when the marines finish escorting the children home and come back, have them go door to door and tell everyone to gather at the central square tonight. Make sure nobody's left out. Not a single person."
"Eh?"
Momonga froze, startled. "Is there something you need to announce?"
"No need to make a big production of it."
Nao shook his head and squinted at the rising sun overhead. "Just trying something… maybe it'll cure every last person in White City once and for all."
——
Thanks to the Marines' door-to-door efforts and the eager children spreading the word, by evening every resident of Flevance had received the same notice:
— Vice Admiral White Dragon Nao has found a way to cure Amber Lead disease, and tonight he will treat everyone in the central square.
It sounded impossible. If anyone else had made that claim—even the Fleet Admiral at Headquarters—people already suffering from the disease would have torn them to shreds.
But the announcement came from the very man who had saved the entire White City the night before—Nao himself.
So when night fell, most of the townspeople made their way to the central square without hesitation.
Those who remained skeptical either chose to believe in the end, or succumbed to neighbors' and friends' urging, and little by little they arrived too.
Around eight o'clock.
The central square—normally used for big festivals—was packed. Most people sat on the ground; some of the seriously ill had been brought on stretchers, hooked to IV drips and still unconscious.
Nao stood on the raised ledge by the fountain, looking out across the survivors through the night.
"Over eighty-thousand people…"
he muttered. "The square isn't that big. I don't even know if one use will cover them all."
He only dared to stake his reputation and gather everyone because he had good reason to be confident.
That confidence came from an item he'd bought at high price in the system shop two months ago.
[Healing Wind]
Type: Consumable
Description: Upon use, will summon a green healing wind over a large area in front of you. All living beings within this area will be cleansed of all diseases and negative status effects.
Note: Remaining uses (2/2). A precious one-time skill scroll, please use judiciously and with caution.