The afternoon sky burned in shades of orange as I stood by the window, watching the last light stretch across the horizon. After a moment, I returned to the book resting in my hands — formulas on mana circulation, detailing a technique I was close to mastering.
Behind me, Yuki's voice broke the silence.
"Your father might not come home tonight."
I nodded without looking up, eyes scanning the diagrams.
Expeditions often delayed him.
But he did return — long after night had swallowed the sky.
When he entered, something was different.
His expression was composed, as always. Cold. Controlled. Yet beneath it lingered something heavier — a restrained grief… and rage.
We sat for dinner in unusual silence. The warmth that once filled these evenings felt distant.
Mother noticed it too.
"What happened during the expedition, dear?" she asked gently.
Father paused.
Then, in a voice tight with restraint, he spoke.
Near our northern border lay a small village.
By the time his unit arrived, the houses were already burning. Demonic beasts roamed freely.
The air reeked of blood and smoke.
Without hesitation, he ordered the subjugation of the beasts and a search for survivors.
They fought.
They won.
But there were no survivors.
As he finished speaking, I noticed his hand clench slightly against the table.
That subtle tremor revealed more than his voice ever would.
Mother stood and embraced him.
Quietly, she dismissed me.
Understanding, I left without protest.
The hallway felt heavier than before.
Yuki followed silently behind me.
"Yuki," I asked, keeping my voice steady, "can I access the records of the deceased?"
He studied me for a moment, golden eyes unreadable.
"I don't know what you intend to do with them," he said at last, "but they're in your father's office."
I nodded and made my way there.
The office was immaculate, as expected.
I moved to the desk and began reading the reports.
Names. Causes of death. Estimated times. Damage assessments.
Cold data.
Efficient.
Precise.
Then I saw two names that froze my thoughts.
Marilyn. Ethanol.
Common names — perhaps.
But not to me.
They were Alicia's parents.
Silence filled the room.
In the original story, Alicia's tragic background was summarized in a single line.
"Her village was destroyed by demonic beasts." Nothing more.
No names. No details. No weight.
But now I understood.
This world was not limited to the perspective of the main characters.
There were tragedies never recorded in the narrative. Lives erased without acknowledgment. Variables I had never accounted for.
For the first time, I felt something unfamiliar.
Not fear.
Not grief.
But limitation.
I am not omniscient here.
There are events unfolding beyond my knowledge.
Dangers hidden outside the "script."
That realization was sobering.
Then clarifying.
If there are variables I cannot predict… then I must reduce uncertainty.
If there are threats I cannot handle alone… then I will not remain alone.
I looked down at the reports once more, eyes steady.
Allies.
Not for friendship.
Not for comfort.
But for leverage.
If this world hides its evils in the shadows—
Then I will build the power to drag them into the light.