Chapter 362: Why Didn't You Invite Me?
Because his little cabin had already been commandeered by a certain drunken red-haired swordswoman, Steven naturally couldn't spend the night the same way he had with Talulah and Alina—squeezed together in one bed.
Fortunately, he'd just tucked Shoggy neatly away into his brand-new Pokéball. And, as it happened, he had a theory he wanted to test on Talulah and the others anyway.
So, before long, he made his way back to the old guerrilla camp.
But the place was already empty. All that remained were scraps, discarded junk, and broken bits of equipment scattered across the snow—traces that proved the Infected had once lived here, now abandoned in a hurry.
"…Faster than I expected. Sure enough, as long as the logistics are settled first, the rest isn't a problem at all."
He smiled faintly, then pulled up his minimap and began following the route of their retreat.
Curiously enough, the trail of footprints led in the opposite direction of where the minimap indicated the group had actually gone. Which, far from confusing him, only deepened Steven's respect for their professionalism.
"No wonder they've survived this long out here on the tundra. These little details… that's exactly why they're still standing."
Compared to that, Talulah still had a lot to learn.
It was obvious to Steven that this was a decoy tactic, laid down by the guerrillas to throw off any pursuit. Not that he looked down on the Reunion movement, but let's be honest—Talulah's men wouldn't even think of tricks like this. They didn't have that kind of training or mindset.
Before long, Steven caught up to the column: a thousand or so Infected, trudging steadily under cover of night. Out here on the endless snowy plains, that many people was still barely a speck, far from conspicuous.
And with their numbers, plus the guerrilla fighters guarding them, they didn't have to worry about beasts or bandits trying their luck.
At the front of the line, Steven spotted Talulah—leaning her weight against a heavy cart, pushing it forward despite the strain. Beside her was Alina, her frail body unsuited to such labor. All she could do was wipe the sweat from Talulah's brow with a look of deep worry.
Steven slipped silently into the ranks. The weary Infected, trudging on with blank faces, didn't even notice the sudden addition of another traveler among them.
It wasn't until Talulah felt the weight of the cart suddenly ease, as if someone else had taken half the burden, that she turned—and saw the familiar boy beside her, hands casually on the cart like it weighed nothing.
"Who decided on leaving tonight? Let me guess… Patriot?"
Steven pushed the massive load forward with one hand as if it were nothing at all, even finding the leisure to chat.
"…Yes. He said the longer we linger, the greater the risk. No one knows when the local army might suddenly make their move."
Talulah nodded. In her mind, they should have rested one more night and set out in daylight. But Patriot's concerns weren't without merit, and after long consideration she had ultimately agreed.
If her Infected lagged behind the guerrillas, they'd be nothing more than helpless prey once stripped of that protection.
"Traveling at night does have its advantages," Steven remarked. "At least you don't have to worry about drawing too much attention with such a large crowd. The downside is, well, a snowfield at night isn't exactly pleasant."
He glanced at Talulah, then at Alina, and without a word handed the delicate girl a wool blanket.
Talulah, the little fire dragon, had no need to worry about the cold. But Alina wasn't so lucky—her frail body was already struggling.
"I know. That's why I'm so grateful for the food and supplies you gave us. Without them… I don't even want to imagine how many wouldn't have made it tonight."
Talulah's gaze was filled with gratitude.
When she'd first given the order to march with the guerrillas through the night, most had objected. The tundra at night was nothing less than a bone-crunching predator. Even Infected accustomed to hardship doubted a third of them would survive.
But then, the giant white rabbit had arrived with food and blankets. Opposition had melted away.
In the end, it proved a simple truth: there's no such thing as impossible. If people can't endure, it just means the preparations weren't good enough.
Now, with bellies full and bodies wrapped in warm blankets, the Infected weren't just willing to march through the night. If Talulah had told them to storm a nomadic city right then, many would've followed without hesitation.
"Hey, I already promised you I'd help, didn't I? I don't make empty promises. If I say I'll do it, you can relax."
Steven smiled faintly. This was all within his expectations. With Talulah's current authority, rallying Reunion's Infected under her command would still be difficult. But with benefits as the glue, at least cohesion wouldn't be an issue.
Feed your people, and they'll follow you. Whether Infected or ordinary folk—it was all the same.
"Gratitude aside… you are going to explain that stench of alcohol—and the smell of another woman—aren't you?"
Talulah suddenly stopped pushing, leaving the cart entirely to Steven, who handled it with ease.
Frowning, she leaned closer, her delicate nose twitching twice before her amber eyes fixed on him in scrutiny.
While she'd been running herself ragged with responsibility, he had gone off to drink with some woman?
She knew it wasn't really his fault—it was her choice that led to this situation. But understanding it was one thing. Confronting him about it was another.
"…Wait, really? The alcohol I get. But you can smell another woman on me? What are you, Draco or Perro?"
Steven tugged at his own collar and sniffed. All he could pick up was the reek of wine. As for that "other woman's scent" Talulah claimed to smell? Now that was pushing it.
He thought back. Aside from helping Surtr home at the end of the night, he really hadn't touched her, had he? And Talulah could smell even that?
"The problem," Alina chimed in with a sly smile, "is that all of your friends seem to be women. At least, that's how it looks to us."
Rarely did Alina tease, but this time she leaned in with mischief sparkling in her eyes—fanning the flames of the moment.
She liked Steven, supported him wholeheartedly, yes. But that didn't mean she was above minding these kinds of things.
"…That's unfair. I don't only have female friends! There's, uh… Patriot! And… Patriot. And… Patriot again? Doesn't that count as at least half a male friend?"
Steven had meant to list a few names, but after a quick review, he realized the pickings were slim.
The fighters of the Armorless Union? Subordinates, not peers. Iberia's people? Employees. And among Rhodes Island's operators, there were a few men, but Talulah and Alina didn't know them.
As for men of similar age, with whom he shared a connection? None came to mind.
Which left only one option: Patriot. True, their ages weren't even close, but hey—he considered him a solid "old friend."
…Well, there was another group he could talk with, but he doubted Talulah would be happy to see them.
"Looking for me?"
A deep, steady, and slightly raspy voice cut into the banter.
All three turned their heads. From the front of the column strode a man built like a mountain, his towering frame unmistakable—Patriot himself, the Wendigo leader of the guerrillas.
At his side walked a white-haired, rabbit-eared girl bundled in winter garb: Yelena. Her sharp eyes fixed on Steven, ears twitching with accusation.
Rabbit ears heard everything. And she had caught every word of Steven's earlier chat with Talulah. Especially the part about him sneaking off to drink with some "other woman."
He hadn't even thought to invite her.
Steven forced a laugh, waving off the dagger-stares. "N-no, nothing like that. I just meant we got along pretty well, that's all. But… judging by the way you've both shown up, I'm guessing you're not here just to grill me about drinks, right?"
Patriot's heavy steps stopped before them. His towering frame cast a long shadow over the three.
"...The guerrillas have received intelligence. The nearby army has begun to mobilize. They are encircling us, even now."
His voice was calm, but the weight of his words dropped like stone into the snow.
Faces stiffened immediately. The night march suddenly felt far more fragile.
"Can we avoid them?" Talulah asked quickly.
Patriot shook his head.
"The guerrillas can evade. The Infected column… cannot."
His eyes, as cold and resolute as the tundra, locked on hers.
"There is only one option."
A pause.
"…We fight."
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
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