And then came the unexpected.
As they advanced, the silence of the ruins began to fracture.
First, a whisper.Then, a sob.
People emerged from places no human being should have survived:
Beneath burned beams.Inside dried wells.In makeshift caves between shattered rocks.Trapped among massive roots like frightened insects.
Women with hands caked in dirt.Children covered in soot and dried blood.Elders so thin they seemed like living shadows.
They had spent days hiding, barely breathing, expecting every sound to be their end.
And now, at the sight of the Duchy's banners, something inside them began to break.
Hope.
A woman stumbled out from what had once been her home. Her legs trembled. She clutched a baby to her chest as if the world itself were trying to steal it away.
"A-are you… from the Duchy of Douglas?" she asked, her voice shattered, unable to believe it.
Lusian dismounted without hesitation.
Not as a duke.Not as a noble.
But as a human being who could not look away.
"Yes," he said gently."You're safe now."
The woman collapsed to her knees, sobbing with a mix of relief and long-suppressed terror. The baby cried too—but that cry sounded… alive.
Around them, more people emerged with the same sound:
Sobs. Cries. Prayers.
The sounds of those who had waited for death through endless nights…and suddenly found an escape.
In the next ravaged village, the story repeated itself.
A six-year-old girl clutched a rag doll without eyes. She did not cry. She did not smile. She simply stared—as if, at her young age, she already understood that the world could vanish in a single night.
Albert approached Lusian, speaking in a low voice.
"My lord…" He glanced at the civilians gathering behind the escort. "If we keep taking in survivors, our march will slow."
Lusian did not answer immediately.
He looked around.
At the girl without tears.At the old woman leaning against a trunk, struggling to breathe.At the hundreds who, without him, would not survive another day.
And he felt his chest tighten.
Erwin, inside Lusian, was screaming.Screaming that it would be monstrous to leave them behind.Screaming that only someone hollow and cold could abandon them.
"Albert…" he said at last, his voice quieter than ever."If I leave them behind… they die."
That was the dilemma.
Help them, and they would be delayed.Delay, and Emily's mother might die.Save Emily, and innocent people would be left to perish.
There was no clean choice.No path without blood.
Albert swallowed, understanding the weight of that decision.
Lusian drew a slow breath.
"I am many things…" he murmured, watching the line of children staring at him with eyes full of fragile hope."But I am not someone who abandons women and children to die alone."
His hands trembled slightly, though no one noticed.
That was his conflict.
That was his humanity.
"Form groups," he ordered. "Set up temporary shelters. Treat the wounded."
"We continue forward… but no one is left behind."
Albert nodded with quiet respect.
The people began to cry again.
This time from relief.From pure hope.
And Lusian walked among them, feeling the weight of every gaze, every life, every soul now depending on him.
He was not a hero.Nor a saint.
But on that road of ashes, surrounded by innocents still trembling…
Lusian chose to be human.
The eight-day journey…
became ten…
then twelve…
then fifteen.
The caravan of two thousand grew to more than seven thousand, moving slowly like a wandering city.
Fortunately, the fallen monsters provided food.
Culinary mages prepared the meat.Children ate hot soup for the first time in days.