MEMELAND

Taai ran.

Every step sent pain through his battered body.

Bandages wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

Blood had already seeped through the cloth around his ribs.

His breathing came heavier than usual.

Each inhale burned.

Each exhale reminded him of the bullets and blades that had found their mark earlier.

Still—

He never slowed.

The western district was engulfed in smoke.

Buildings burned.

Collapsed stalls littered the streets.

The scent of blood mixed with charred wood.

Everywhere he looked—

People were fighting.

Guards.

Mercenaries.

Blacksmiths swinging hammers.

Shopkeepers wielding spears they had never intended to use.

Even elderly veterans had picked up weapons once more.

Muscle City was bleeding.

But it was still standing.

Taai vaulted over a collapsed wagon.

A demon lunged.

Without breaking stride—

He drove his fist through its skull.

CRACK.

The corpse rolled across the street.

Another monster charged.

Taai's enlarged forearm intercepted it.

One swing.

The beast flew through a burning storefront.

He continued running.

"...Status!"

A passing officer immediately saluted while sprinting.

"Western line stabilized!"

"Casualties high!"

"North Gate requesting reinforcements!"

Taai nodded.

"Keep moving!"

The officer disappeared into the smoke.

Taai pressed forward.

The closer he came—

The stranger the battlefield felt.

The pressure...

Was changing.

Moments ago—

The western front had been on the verge of collapse.

Now—

The monsters weren't advancing.

They were...

Retreating.

Not intentionally.

They were being pushed back.

Taai climbed onto the remains of a collapsed stone wall.

From there—

He finally saw the battlefield.

Andrew.

Still fighting at the very center.

Laughing.

Bleeding.

Having the time of his life.

A massive ogre demon swung a tree trunk.

Andrew caught the trunk with one hand.

"...Weak."

He twisted.

The monster lost its balance.

His scythe carved a crimson arc.

The demon's head left its shoulders.

Several cultists rushed him together.

Andrew simply threw the corpse into them.

Bodies scattered.

Further beyond—

The mysterious man in black.

Long crimson coat.

Wide-brimmed hat.

Two pistols.

He barely moved.

He simply walked.

Bang.

A cultist collapsed.

Bang.

A monster lost an eye before another bullet pierced the exposed brain.

Bang.

A demon attempting to leap from a rooftop fell lifeless before landing.

Every shot.

One kill.

No wasted motion.

No panic.

Only precision.

Taai watched silently.

"..."

The western front still looked like hell.

Smoke covered the streets.

Buildings continued burning.

The dead lay everywhere.

Yet...

It no longer looked hopeless.

The soldiers had noticed.

Morale slowly returned.

Squads reorganized.

Shield formations formed again.

Archers repositioned.

The wounded were finally being evacuated instead of dying where they fell.

Someone shouted.

"We're pushing them back!"

Another answered.

"Hold the line!"

"We can win this!"

The words spread.

Like fire.

Hope.

Taai allowed himself a single breath.

"...Good."

He jumped down.

The nearest captain immediately approached.

"Chief!"

Taai pointed toward the western defenses.

"One third stays."

"Protect the evacuation routes."

"Secure the civilians."

He pointed toward the streets leading deeper into the city.

"The remaining two thirds."

"With me."

"The north gate."

The captain hesitated.

"...But your injuries—"

Taai cut him off.

"My injuries can wait."

"The city can't."

"...Move."

The captain straightened.

"...YES, CHIEF!"

Orders spread instantly.

Soldiers began dividing themselves.

Those still capable of fighting fell into formation.

Even wounded guards forced themselves back onto their feet.

Some wrapped bleeding arms.

Others leaned on broken spears as makeshift walking sticks.

No one complained.

No one questioned the order.

Because Taai was still standing.

That alone was enough.

Nearby civilians watched.

A butcher picked up his cleaver again.

A mason grabbed a sledgehammer.

A teenage apprentice tightened the grip on a borrowed sword.

If the Chief could keep fighting—

So could they.

Taai watched them.

His chest tightened.

Not from pain.

From pride.

"...Good."

He looked back toward the western avenue one final time.

Andrew noticed him first.

Even while wrestling a horned demon into the pavement—

He somehow found time to wave.

"OI!"

"I GOT THIS!"

Taai couldn't help smiling.

He raised one hand.

A tired nod.

Nothing more.

Andrew grinned wider.

Then immediately headbutted the demon hard enough to crack the street beneath them.

Taai looked toward the man in black.

The stranger didn't acknowledge him.

Another shot rang out.

Another monster fell.

"...Order..."

Taai muttered quietly.

"So the rumors were true."

For years...

People spoke of a hidden organization.

Some claimed they were myths.

Others insisted they secretly protected humanity.

Taai never knew what to believe.

Now...

One of them had appeared.

Not for glory.

Not for recognition.

Simply to fight.

He looked toward the northern skyline.

Black smoke.

More explosions.

The distant sound of siege beasts battering the gates.

His expression hardened.

"...The city's still in danger."

He inhaled.

Then raised his voice.

"WE MOVE!"

The soldiers answered in unison.

"YES!"

Boots thundered across the streets.

The citizens capable of fighting followed behind.

Taai led from the front.

Bandaged.

Bleeding.

Exhausted.

Yet his back remained straight.

As long as he could still take one more step...

Muscle City...

Would never kneel.