6 – The Rift

A rift itself signifies an artificial distortion, a spatial warp occurring in the fabric of space.

The important thing here was the artificial creation and the spatial warp.

‘Put plainly, someone’s carving a blatant pathway to invade.’

And given that the rift disgorged monsters, it was quite evident who would be sending such creatures.

‘The Demon Lord or his demons.’

Considering the original, we’re still in the early stages, so it’s more accurate to assume a lesser demon, far below the Demon Lord, orchestrated this.

Of course, even if a low-level demon committed such an act at this juncture, the protagonist and his supporting cast are still too green, likely overwhelmed.

Hence, the numerous casualties.

Thankfully, my efforts to restore warmth to the city reduced the devastation compared to the original timeline.

Nonetheless, I couldn’t deny the losses were still significant, verging on severe.

‘I warned them long ago, though.’

Dangerous, reinforcements needed, are you truly certain there’s no issue?

I subtly offered these warnings, yet it seems no one heeded them.

‘No help for it, then.’

Since the original progressed from the protagonist’s perspective, it only depicted them fighting monsters upon arriving in the North.

Without a precise depiction of when the rifts began appearing, it was impossible to deduce anything. Pushing for reckless power-growth felt inappropriate.

‘Besides, only after suffering a setback like this in the original did they thoroughly prepare for rifts.’

Perhaps this current, extreme devastation, sparking vigilance, might ultimately benefit the North.

Reaching this point, the question of what truly served Ellysia best surfaced.

‘Immediate aid? Or leaving her to stand alone in the future?’

What’s the correct path?

My emotions lean towards immediate assistance, implying that rational judgment dictates letting things be.

Realistically, the latter is right… but a growth fueled by someone’s death feels unsettling, eliciting a bitter smile.

‘I don’t know. Either way, there’s nothing I can do.’

Nor should I. I decided to merely concentrate on warming the North, distributing my spirits, when Lorraine rushed into my room, relaying an unforeseen development.

“Many within the North claim you, Little Master, caused the rifts to appear.”

*

The genesis of the incident was as follows.

With significant casualties, someone needed to take ‘responsibility.’

From their perspective, they were incredibly fortunate to have a foreigner, someone whose family’s influence alone could bear the blame, conveniently present. Thus, some sought to pin it on me.

‘Considering their insular nature, it feels like protecting their own.’

Even with disliked siblings, we involuntarily rally to defend them when danger strikes. Lorraine theorized they were enacting a ‘sticking together’ maneuver with their Northern kin.

My opinion differed slightly.

“With a surge of monsters erupting from the rifts, the North likely lacks the capacity to focus on the South. Therefore, one reason they accepted me – plans to advance into Central Politics – has evaporated… It seems they’re attempting to shift the blame onto me.”

Lorraine, hearing those words, seemed struck by a sudden thought, letting out a small “Ah,” before adding,

“Could this somehow be connected to the trouble that’s befallen the Karsaril family?”

“Trouble?”

“Oh… never mind.”

Suspicious, I nearly pressed her for details.

But before I could, those sent from the North arrived at my room, knocking on my door.

“Master Damian, Lord Leikrik Wintreiven summons you.”

The Grand Duke of the North, the head of Wintreiven, was calling for me. I had no choice but to follow.

Realistically speaking, they couldn’t harm me.

Not because I was innocent, an idea too naive, but because I was the youngest son of Duke Karsaril.

The instant a scratch marked my skin, the Karsaril family, with its considerable influence in the central government, would bring immense pressure to bear.

Even if I were truly guilty, they’d likely offer a mere ‘apology,’ gently reprimand me, and send me back home.

‘And that’s probably the outcome they desire.’

In the end, no one would be killed or injured.

And for the Wintreiven family, closed off and obligated to maintain a strong internal bond, it would be a reasonably acceptable calculation.

‘Except what I don’t understand…’

They must have subtly known I was the source of their prosperity.

I can’t quite comprehend why they would try to push me away, the one who brings such great benefit to the entire North.

As I walked forward, still puzzled,

Lorraine whispered in a small voice beside me.

“Young Master, if you wish, I will prepare a carriage to return to the main house immediately.”

Either I go to the Grand Duke, or I return home. Either way the relationship would be broken anyway. Therefore she tells me to leave before things get worse.

After thinking about her proposal for a moment, I shook my head.

“It’s alright.”

At least Elysia knows everything I’ve done.

With the fairness and level-headedness she always shows, she’ll immediately realize it isn’t my fault.

Even if no one else does, as long as Elysia sees me clearly, I feel I can endure anything, I thought as I opened the door.

It would be foolish to expect reason from those who have lost their children and parents.

Those seized by rage and emptiness desired not a perpetrator with a complex history, but rather a perpetrator who was blindly evil, a psychopath.

And the one designated as that perpetrator was Damian Carsaril, the Grand Duchess Alicia’s fiancé, he of the notorious, dissolute past.

“Did Lord Damian open the rift?”

The blunt question echoed with the start of the meeting.

In the normal course of things, one would proceed with procedure, conveying such an inquiry with reason.

But these people had already settled on a conclusion, and were now manufacturing the justification.

Such formalities were cast aside entirely, and they pressed only for confirmation.

“Of course not.”

“For all that, Lord Damian’s actions just before the rift opened were rather suspicious, wouldn’t you agree?”

Scanning the room, I saw that those bearing outright hostility amounted to roughly thirty percent. The majority of the remainder were either watching with apprehension, or simply pretending not to notice.

It seemed they all knew I was not at fault.

But the moment they spoke the truth, their own kin, those from the North, would have to select someone to bear the blame. So, they all avoided my gaze.

“What were you doing, going out into the deep forest every night? Is it not possible you were attempting to open a rift for some clandestine reason?”

“Of course not.”

Since whatever I said would lead to the same conclusion, I repeated the same words, lost in thought.

Just what could I say to alter this present situation?

After a brief contemplation, a simple conclusion emerged. They were trying to pin the blame on me because there was no risk involved for them. So, I would have to create that risk.

“Depending on your answer, a sentence bordering on execution could be passed. Choose your words carefully…”

“Are you prepared to handle all the ramifications of this?”

Employing a blatant ‘Do you even know who I am?’ tactic, I brazenly raised my chin.

It might only work in movies or novels when the protagonist is a madman, but in reality, this strategy can be surprisingly effective.

‘And furthermore, this is the North.’

Though the soldiers on the front lines were strong and steadfast,

without the supplies and reinforcements sent from the South, they would slowly wither away. Thus, even for such a closed-off community, ignoring the influence of the central government would be difficult.

Indeed, the fact that I pushed back so forcefully seemed to catch them off guard, causing them to hesitate.

But, it seemed that they would lose even more by reversing a conclusion they had already settled upon and pressed on regardless.

“My apologies. However, is it not a fact that a rift appeared after Lord Damian entered the deep forest? Can you truly prove there was no consequence stemming from your actions?”

A hollow laugh escaped me at the mention of proof.

The only way to prove it would be through a third party or an expensive magical artifact such as a magic orb.

But, of course, one like me, venturing into the deep forest, would not have such things.

“Alright then, what to do.”

For an individual to triumph against a collective bordered on impossible, so with a unilateral approach, reversing this would be out of the question.

Thus, the method I needed to employ wasn’t to simply strive to defeat them in an ordinary fashion, but rather…

A need arose to throw the entire game board away, and so, I addressed them.

“So, the question posed is that I, the youngest son of the Karsaril Dukedom, conspired with the demons to invade the North, is that correct?”

They, after all, were aiming to appropriately shift the blame onto me, suitably admonish me, and then…

To smooth everything over as if nothing had happened, to casually move on, that was their objective.

However, from the moment I spoke of colluding with demons and invading, all the matters they had aimed for would be shattered, necessitating a re-drawing of the entire board.

Indeed, those who realized the severity of the unfolding situation exhibited signs of attempting to intercede and speak, but…

Appearing unwilling to take responsibility, they ultimately couldn’t utter a word, and instead were occupied with avoiding my gaze.

Riding this momentum, as I was about to not only discard the board, but set it ablaze entirely…

“Emergency! A secondary invasion has begun from the rift!”

The secondary invasion had begun.

This signified that the North would suffer an unbelievably immense amount of damage, and…

Furthermore, it meant that Dale, the protagonist of this world, would arrive here.