Chapter 33: Will You Find a Melancholic Patriotic Wendigo on the Roadside

“Rabbit, you’re still under strict surveillance.

Do you mind not clinging so tightly to our side?”

“Our side?” Frostnova shot back, her voice dropping a few degrees.

“Clearly, it’s you—this Sarkaz—who insists on clinging to your Commander.

Didn’t you just declare you wanted to keep me under strict watch?”

“White Rabbit, are you bored out of your skull?” Wis’adel scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Then why are you glued to a fragile guy like him?”

“I didn’t see you caring about his fragility a moment ago.

What, worried I’ll take your place?

Or do you actually dare to defy your own orders and clash with me?”

“Hypocritical Cautus!”

“Illiterate Sarkaz.”

The two women flanking you simultaneously scoffed, turning their heads away in perfect, icy synchronization.

They clearly couldn’t stand the sight of each other.

It was glaringly obvious that their compatibility was sitting somewhere in the negative digits.

The scene looked bizarre from an outsider’s perspective, but you knew this wasn’t some cliché, jealous galgame scenario.

It was purely because the two of them were far too similar.

They were both stubborn children who had clawed their way out of brutal, discriminatory childhoods just to survive.

One had met Patriot, finding a father in the frozen wastes; the other had met you and Theresa, finding a home in the Babel of the past.

Frostnova had learned to resist and sacrifice everything for her ideals, while Wis’adel had learned to survive by any means necessary after tasting the bitter ash of betrayal.

Looking at each other was like staring into a distorted mirror.

For two people who had already cemented their agonizing paths in life, seeing that reflection was downright sickening.

Perhaps one day, when the endless suffering of this land finally vanished and the past stopped stinging them at every waking moment, they could actually become friends.

But that day was certainly not today.

“Alright, let’s get moving.

We’re all heading back to Rhodes Island!” You waved a hand dismissively, forcibly dragging their arms together to maintain a flimsy facade of harmony.

“Keep your eyes peeled.

We might even pick up something good on the way!”

Pick up what good things?

A foreboding chill crept into Frostnova’s heart.

She had been marching through this frozen wasteland with her troops for ages; how come she hadn’t stumbled across any of these ‘good things’?

A short distance away, the battered members of the Yeti Squadron were being gently helped to their feet by Rhodes Island operators.

That massive bag of emergency rations previously unloaded from Mon3tr had finally found its true purpose.

Gurgle, gurgle…

Ever since Talulah’s betrayal plunged Reunion into madness, how long had it been since they heard the comforting sound of a boiling pot?

Life always instinctively reaches toward the light.

A simple bowl of brown sugar-soaked biscuits was handed to each person.

As the sweet, scalding broth flowed from their cracked lips down into their freezing stomachs, a deep realization washed over the camp: once they tasted that warmth, no one wanted to die anymore.

One by one, the Yetis peeled off their heavy masks.

They revealed gaunt, exhausted faces marred by the jagged black crystals of Originium erupting from their skin.

Most were Ursus, with a scattering of Felines and Liberi among them.

The Yeti Squadron formed a quiet, orderly line, waiting for the Rhodes Island operators to distribute the remaining food.

The two factions that had been at each other’s throats mere hours ago began to thaw, growing familiar amidst the rising steam and shared warmth.

Regardless of the politics, this bloody, senseless war that had ignited in Chernobog was finally over.

It ended abruptly, yet entirely naturally.

There were no dramatic death throes, no final plot twists, and no desperate, life-and-death struggles.

It simply fizzled out, exceeding everyone’s expectations, much like every other weary war in history.

Meanwhile, Patriot had just arrived on the perimeter, feeling incredibly awkward about whether or not he should actually show himself.

First of all, he hadn’t expected the amnesiac Doctor’s methods to be so terrifyingly efficient.

By the time he marched up with his heavy Shieldguards, the entire conflict had already been settled.

Secondly, the enemy was handing out food.

Handing.

Out.

Food!

As a grizzled veteran who had spent more than half his long life wading through battlefields, he knew exactly how starved his troops were.

To step out of the shadows now and order them to drop their warm bowls to fight again…

well, first of all, they probably wouldn’t succeed.

And secondly, he couldn’t even get past the moral hurdle in his own heart to issue the command.

So, he honestly waited in the snow with his elite vanguard until everyone had finished eating.

But as the minutes ticked by, he found it even harder to give the order.

Because the Yeti Squadron had already started changing into Rhodes Island’s specialized cold-weather gear.

Perhaps the image of the Doctor shamelessly hugging Frostnova’s leg earlier had been too psychologically shocking.

Despite the inherent humiliation of donning an enemy faction’s uniform, not a single Yeti felt it was wrong.

Patriot hid behind a crumbling concrete ruin, watching helplessly as a typically iron-willed Ursus guerrilla—after putting up a purely symbolic, five-second resistance—spun around happily to test the fit of his new, heavily insulated coat!

Is the Commander on the other side a succubus?!

Where is your vigilance!

Patriot remained silent for a long, agonizing while.

Finally, his deep, rattling voice broke the quiet.

“If, anyone wants, to stay, with them…

I, will not, stop them.”

The towering Shieldguards exchanged heavy glances.

They could all see the desperate longing reflected in each other’s visors, but not a single man moved.

Most of them had been raised by Patriot since they were orphaned children.

They were not just a general and his soldiers; they were a father and his sons.

But the old Wendigo was far too stubborn.

Even though he had already silently acknowledged the Doctor’s victory, his towering pride refused to let him take a single step forward.

Who could possibly persuade him?

The Originium crystals ravaging Patriot’s body had almost consumed him entirely.

If he were to die alone on this desolate snowfield because of such ridiculous, archaic persistence—especially when a clear turning point was sitting right in front of him…

Whether it was an intentional act of insubordination or a genuine mistake, a typically cautious personal guard suddenly slipped.

His heavy boot kicked a small cluster of pebbles, sending them clattering loudly out from behind their cover.

Fortunately, the Doctor on the other side didn’t seem to notice the noise.

Patriot let out a long, rattling sigh.

He turned his massive horned head, preparing to lead his men quietly back into the blizzard.

At that exact moment, whether by pure coincidence or calculated design, the Doctor suddenly turned to Frostnova with a bright, conversational smile.

“I have indeed lost a lot of my memories, but I seem to have some vague impression of what you mentioned earlier.

There should indeed be demons on this land, and I actually remember their true names.

They are…”

Patriot spun around so fast his armor shrieked.

He had completely forgotten that the amnesiac Doctor might not be aware of the catastrophic dangers of an infohazard leak!

The Northern Demons—the Collapsals.

Once a person spoke their true names aloud, everyone present could be instantly corrupted, transformed into twisted, mindless abominations!

Throwing all caution and stealth to the wind, the towering Wendigo completely stopped caring about being exposed.

He burst from the ruins, charging forward like a freight train to prevent the impending tragedy.

“Stop—!”

“They are called Khorne, Tzeentch, Nurgle, Slaanesh, and the Emperor,” the Doctor finished cheerfully.

“Though, if you call that last one a demon to His face, He might actually smite you.”

Patriot froze dead in his tracks, his massive halberd halfway raised.

He was utterly stunned.

Demons…

had names like that?

Which Terra the hell is this?!

[Rhodes’s Note:

Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?

(This daily grind literally pays the landship’s rent!

to use the links!)