The sun had not yet reached its zenith when Guts and Rem once again crossed the improvised palisade surrounding the village. In their absence, preparations had accelerated: carts full of children, women, and elders were ready to leave for the mansion, escorted by a few of Anastasia's soldiers and several blades from Crusch's camp. Some men held spears or pitchforks with unsteady hands, their trembling betraying their state.
Ricardo spotted them first and raised his hand in greeting.
Ricardo: "Just in time," he grunted. "You can feel it coming."
Rem nodded, tense.
Rem: "The calm before the storm."
A strange silence hung over the village. A silence like the end of the world. Even the birds seemed to have fled.
The villagers stepped aside as Guts passed, some with hope, others with silent fear. He heard murmurs, muffled but clear.
— "It's her, the half-elf… She's the one drawing all this."
— "And that guy, with his sword… Are they here to save us, or doom us?"
— "Why are they back now? Too late, too early… the evil is already here."
Guts said nothing. He walked to the center of the village, toward the crude barricades and sharpened stakes marking the defensive perimeter. Behind him, Wilhelm, Julius, Ricardo, and Felix lined up. Rem stood to his right, straight as a drawn blade.
He turned toward the gathered men.
The sky was dull gray. Light clung to the village like a leaden weight.
The men said nothing. Some stared at the ground, others at their clammy hands gripping weapons they didn't know how to use. Amid the chaos of final preparations, Guts could feel their doubt.
He stepped forward in silence, the Dragon Slayer across his back. His gaze slowly swept over them. No passion. No pity. Just the cold urgency of survival.
Guts: "Listen."
His voice cracked through the silence.
Guts: "This village is a fortress now. Not one step back. Not a single breach. Wilhelm, you take the west with your detachment. Julius, the east. Ricardo, Mimi, Hetaro—you cover the north slope. Felix, you and your squad stay in the center. You're the reserve. Don't move unless we call for you."
He turned, pointing to the main entrance.
Guts: "I'll take the front. Rem stays with me. If the enemy comes through there, they'll find me first. The rest of you—stay hidden. No lights. No fire. No noise. They mustn't know how many we are, or where we are."
He paused. A murmur rose among the crowd. He had already heard it when he first arrived—words, sighs, barely veiled blame. So he stared at them.
Guts: "I've heard your voices. 'It's the half-elf's fault.' 'If she weren't here, none of this would be happening.' Right?"
No one answered. But he saw their eyes shifting. Jaws clenched. So he continued.
Guts: "Maybe you're right."
A brutal silence followed.
Guts: "Maybe she draws the cult. Maybe she's cursed. But here's the truth: she's here. So are you. The cult is coming. And it won't ask your opinion before burning your homes."
He let the weight of his words settle. These were not prayers. They were orders.
Guts: "So you have a choice: run and die. Or fight and live. Because right now, there is no alternative. We win—or we lose everything."
He turned his back. His cape whipped through the air. Rem followed silently.
Behind them, a silence. The kind that comes before a storm.
Then a howl rang out. Harsh. Brief. One man. Then another. Then ten.
Suddenly, the entire village roared.
Not a war chant. Not a glorious clamor.
The cries of cornered beasts, ready to bite.
Cries of hatred, of fear, of life.
Blades raised. Fists clenched. Shaking. Rumbling.
And in that chaos, something was born.
Not courage. Something rawer: a naked, animal will.
Guts didn't look back. He didn't need to.
He knew.
The battle could begin.
Time skip
The village had been ready for hours. The barricades were set. Positions assigned. Weapons sharpened. And yet… nothing came.
The waiting dragged on—heavy, almost unreal.
Rem couldn't keep up.
Why had Guts changed? Why had he taken command?
Why was he doing all this—for Emilia? For Roswaal? For her…?
She didn't know.
He wasn't the same man anymore. No longer the one who endured fate.
Now he moved ahead of it. Provoked it.
And she didn't know what to make of it.
She looked at him in silence. Admired him.
Maybe even… more than that.
But she didn't understand.
Why try to be a hero? Why now?
She had so many questions—but none would come out.
Everything was moving too fast.
Since the capital, everything had accelerated.
And him… had he felt it too?
Maybe. But she wasn't sure.
Meanwhile, Guts stared at the horizon.
The sky darkened slowly. The sun dipped low.
Blood-red light slid across the rooftops.
And in that suspended moment, time seemed to slow.
As if the world held its breath.
Rem stepped closer. Her footsteps barely stirred the earth.
Rem: "Guts…"
He didn't turn. He knew it was her.
The wind played with her blue hair in the silence of twilight.
Rem: "You haven't changed… not really. But something in you is different," she finally said, hesitantly. "Since the capital. Since you fought that thing."
Guts remained silent for a moment. His eyes were lost somewhere far away, where the sun was dying.
Guts: "I just realized one thing."
Rem: "What is it?"
Guts: "That I don't want to be too late anymore."
He finally turned to her. His gaze wasn't hard. Nor cold. Just… heavy.
Guts: "I've seen what it costs to arrive too late. I won't let anyone be taken without fighting first. Not this time."
Rem felt something tighten in her chest.
Rem: "You're doing all this… for us?"
Guts: "I'm doing it because I'm here. That's all. I don't need a reason."
Silence enveloped them again. Then Rem stepped a little closer—close enough that their shadows touched.
Rem: "I'm glad it's you."
Guts: "Hm?"
Rem: "Standing there. Facing this. Choosing not to run."
He didn't answer. But his gaze lingered on her for a long moment.
Guts: "You should get some rest. We'll need all our strength."
Rem: "I'll stay a few more minutes. Just… beside you."
And they stood there.
Two silhouettes frozen in twilight.
United in silence, as the world tipped over.
And then, finally… they came.
The Cult.
Here.
Without sound.
Without fear.
They didn't walk. They glided.
Soulless. Faceless. Voiceless.
Like shadows escaped from hell, they appeared at the village gate.
The same as last time.
The same black uniforms.
The same masks.
Expressionless. Empty.
They looked human—but hadn't been for a long time.
Rem had felt it.
Long before she saw them, she had sensed their arrival.
And so had Guts.
Her mark still bled when the impossible took shape.
This time—no surprise.
This time—they were ready.
Or at least… as ready as one can be against the unknown.
The cultists had stopped. Formless. Without order. Still as specters.
Not a word. Not a scream.
Not even a glance.
Just that presence.
Heavy. Suffocating.
And that fear…
That fear creeping into the defenders' bones.
Some villagers stepped back. Others collapsed to their knees.
Soldiers gripped their weapons until their knuckles turned white, clinging to steel like it could save them.
— "They're not breathing," someone murmured.
— "They're not human…"
Guts stepped forward.
Before them all.
Rem followed, upright, eyes clear.
She too trembled—but she moved.
He didn't know how this battle would end.
But at least, this time…
They would fight before it was too late.