The dawn after the battle wasn't red with blood, but with the quiet, triumphant light of a sky finally clearing. As the sun climbed higher, the villagers, slowly emerging from the hidden safety of the mines, saw the empty streets, the abandoned mercenary stronghold, the absence of bandits. A collective gasp, then a ripple of tentative cheers, began to spread. They hadn't dared to hope. Freedom, or something like it, had come. The sounds of joy, fragile but real, filled the air, a stark contrast to the screams of the previous night.
My family, returning from the mines, found me standing in the center of the marketplace, amidst the lingering scent of smoke. My mother, Maple, rushed to embrace me, tears of relief streaming down her face. Kirito, my father, placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, his eyes filled with a quiet pride. Setsuna, my little brother, clung to my leg, looking up at me like I was a hero.
"We did it, Shouyo! We're free!" Miles shouted, rushing up, his face beaming. Asuna, Lindsy, and the rest of the Kutsilyo Shadows emerged from the shadows, their faces grim but their eyes holding a flicker of hard-won satisfaction.
I watched the villagers, their faces etched with newfound hope, their cheers growing louder. It was tempting to join them, to simply bask in this fleeting moment of peace. But a cold, hard knot tightened in my gut. Free? Not yet. Not truly. Yui's face, lifeless on the market floor, flashed in my mind. The documents from Grimo and Valerius, detailing the intricate web of noble deceit, burned in my pocket. This was just the first, smallest step.
I stepped forward, raising a hand. The cheers slowly died down, replaced by a curious silence. "Villagers of Kutsilyo!" I projected my voice, making it carry across the plaza. "Let us not rejoice yet." A murmur went through the crowd, confusion clouding their faces. "Grimo and Valerius are gone. But their headquarters, their camps, still hold secrets, still hold things that can help us. We need to secure every valuable item, every document, every scrap of information from those places. We need to ensure every last corner of our village is clear of their lingering filth. Only then can we truly begin to rebuild. Only then can we call ourselves free."
I looked at my father, a silent appeal in my eyes. He understood. Kirito, stepping forward, his voice regaining some of its old authority, echoed my sentiments, putting his chief's weight behind the task. "Shouyo is right! We must be thorough! Let us secure our village first. Tomorrow, we will celebrate. Tonight, we work!"
A low grumble, then a reluctant nod from the villagers. Their immediate joy was dampened, but my words, carried by Kirito's authority, held sway. The Kutsilyo Shadows, no longer ghosts, moved openly, efficiently, guiding groups of villagers to search the former bandit and mercenary strongholds, collecting anything useful. I personally oversaw the collection of documents, making sure nothing was missed.
Later that night, the village was quiet again, the work done, a sense of cautious anticipation hanging in the air. My family was finally resting, but my mind was a whirlwind of questions. I found my father in his study, sitting by the dying embers of the hearth, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Father," I began, my voice low, the words carefully chosen. "Tonight, we found many things in the headquarters. Documents. Letters. They spoke of noble families… House Blackwood, House Thorne, House Volkov. And they mentioned your name, Father, and the Count, trying to regain control. This village… what is it, truly? Why are powerful noble families fighting over Kutsilyo? Why are they willing to use bandits and mercenaries to keep it destabilized?"
Kirito looked at me, his gaze softening, a deep sadness in his eyes. He sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of generations. "Shouyo, my son… you are perceptive. More than I ever was at your age. These are old wounds, deep secrets. You deserve to know." He paused, stirring the embers with a poker, a faint glow illuminating the lines of weariness on his face.
"You know, Shouyo, the moment I was born here, my father, Cronos, told me stories. Stories of our family. We were not always simple village chiefs. Our family, the Contis, were once Viscounts. We held vast lands in this area, including what Kutsilyo truly was. This village… it was far grander, far more prosperous than what you see now. It was a thriving hub, a fortress, a key strategic location."
My breath hitched. A viscounty? This ruined place?
"During my father's reign, and even before, noble families from our kingdom, and indeed, from different kingdoms entirely, began to fight for this place. Not with open war, not at first. But with spies, with schemes, with mercenaries and bandits like Grimo and Valerius. They stripped us of our power piece by piece, undermined our authority, until we were just… chiefs. And they forced the Crown to ignore us, to abandon us."
"But why, Father?" I pressed, the pieces of the puzzle starting to connect in my mind, forming a terrifying image.
"Because of its strategic location, Shouyo. It is a natural fortress, a vital choke point. Look at the Lake of De Bay. It's not just for fish. It connects to at least eight other kingdoms via complex river systems and hidden waterways. It's a natural artery for trade and military mobilization. And the land routes connect to another five kingdoms. This place is a gateway, Shouyo. A strategic hub that connects to at least thirteen kingdoms in total. Control Kutsilyo, and you control a vast network of movement and influence."
My mind raced, flashing back to a pivotal moment in my past life as Kakeru. I remembered a massive real estate deal, a sprawling piece of land that appeared unremarkable on the surface. My competitors had dismissed it, focusing on more obvious commercial districts. But I, Kakeru, had spent months analyzing every detail, every hidden nuance. I discovered it sat atop a vast, untapped geothermal energy source, perfect for a new, cleaner power plant, and, more importantly, it contained a natural, subterranean aquifer that could supply an entire new city. The true value wasn't the land itself, but the unseen resources beneath, and its strategic position for future development. I had acquired it for a song, transforming it into my most profitable venture.
Now, listening to my father, the parallels were stark, horrifying. Kutsilyo was that piece of land, but on a grander, more violent scale.
"And that's not all," Kirito continued, unaware of my internal revelation. "Kutsilyo also has vast natural resources. Our mines, Shouyo. Not just the old, abandoned ones. Deep beneath this land, there are veins of mana stone and deposits of special-grade materials that are exceedingly rare in this world. Materials that can only be found here, in the mountains surrounding the village. Nobles, mages, blacksmiths across the continent would kill for these. And those ruins you see in the nearby areas, those were all part of our former viscounty, hiding forgotten secrets and more resources. They were lost because we were not powerful enough to fight them all."
He looked at me, his gaze firm. "Even the royal family is trying to regain a true grasp in this area. Not just for resources, but because of its potential to become the largest trading hub in this part of the continent. My father, Cronos, always said it: they want to get their hands on this land, to control its power, to exploit its riches. That's why I've never left. We, the Contis, were stripped of our birthright. We were deprived by the crown and other nobles. This is our land, Shouyo. And they will stop at nothing to take it."
I stood there, stunned, absorbing the magnitude of his words. The casual "what if" from my dying moments had led me to a new life, only to uncover a deep, festering wound that had plagued my family for generations. Kutsilyo was not just a village; it was a forgotten kingdom, a strategic nexus of power and wealth, a prize that noble houses were willing to spill blood over. My immediate fight against bandits and mercenaries was merely a localized symptom of a continent-wide disease.
The true enemies were far greater, far more insidious, hidden behind noble crests and political maneuvering. They would not rest until Kutsilyo, and its hidden treasures, were entirely in their grasp. And I, Shouyo, now truly understood the scale of the war I had inadvertently stepped into. The fight for Kutsilyo had just escalated from a village skirmish to a grand, dangerous game of thrones.