There were such things as the rules of RPGs. Level-design guidelines for game developers, for instance.

They went something like this: when designing a map, provide a variety of exploration options, but use clearly visible tiles for the main route to guide progression.

They weren't mandatory, but they were generally worth following for the sake of convenience.

And naturally, Ivan knew all about them.

Back in his old life, Kim Seonwoo's hobby had been leaving 5,700-character "critical reviews" and "advice" on all kinds of content. Anyone offering advice to creators ought to possess the requisite grounding, and his advice knew no genre boundaries.

Meaning he hadn't discriminated between games, comics, and web novels. He'd spent his life plastering nasty comments on every piece of content he could get his hands on.

As such, he possessed extensive knowledge of this sort of game, too.

Now, consider the following scenario. Here was a beginner party with an average level somewhere between 5 and 10.

A warrior, a bard (Berserker subclass), a knight (rogue subclass), and a mage (Mind Sorcery). A party composition whose design philosophy defied understanding.

They were novices who hadn't learned a single proper attack skill. They had only just scraped through the tutorial content.

What enemies should they encounter in the hunting grounds at this stage?

"Goblins or something would have been ideal."

Watching the orcs, Ivan pressed a button.

CRASH!

Trees came tumbling down, splitting the group in two.

The orcs' screams rang out. Watching from a distance, Ivan drew another map in his head.

Orc warriors specialized in close combat, making them difficult opponents for beginners. With that many of them, the party as it stood had no chance of winning.

That was where "level design" came in.

First, yes. Random encounters with fewer than five enemies at a time, carefully adjusted to maintain a combat-to-rest-to-travel ratio of 2:3:5. Intermittent encounters, just enough to promote growth.

And...

"You're too strong to be this stage's boss."

Ivan murmured as he looked down at an orc crying out through a gag.

The orc looked up at him through tears. Fear of the incomprehensible, of the unknown, showed in his eyes.

Perhaps that was only natural. Civilization and common sense would be difficult for an orc's little brain to understand. Ivan studied his eyes, smelling the cortisol mingling with his body odor.

Vertebrates capable of emotion shared certain mechanisms: the physical responses triggered by stimulation of the hypothalamus when the amygdala awakened the survival instinct amid fear.

Typical responses included dilated pupils, an elevated heart rate, tense muscles, and blood vessels constricting as the sympathetic nervous system activated. These in turn caused pallor, increased trembling, and cold sweats.

Meanwhile, the endocrine glands began secreting cortisol. That was when it started. The distinctive smell of someone terrified.

The Extermination Unit called this "a state conducive to honesty." Ivan tore open a potion and placed his hand over the orc's mouth.

"You must have plenty of questions."

He whispered, gripping the orc's head tightly.

He could guess what they were. How had Ivan managed to abduct him alone without anyone noticing? How long had he been lying in ambush here? How had he known they would come here and been waiting for them? Questions like those.

There was only one answer to all of them: "A common-sense assessment of the situation." And he had neither the means nor the inclination to teach such common sense to a demihuman like this.

So, as an efficient agent, his job wasn't to answer questions. Only to ask them.

"I have plenty of questions for you, too."

Ivan had devised this entire setup with only one certainty: "attackers" would come. In other words, he too had no idea who the attackers would be, or how they could penetrate all the way into southern Krasilof.

So who had opened the way for them? At what level did collaboration with the demons begin? How many more demon strike forces were there? Were the demons now building a unified alliance, or were they still divided?

How had they anticipated that the "Hero's Party's children" would gather in this rural backwater as soon as summer break began? Where had they obtained that information? This was, in fact, a very serious problem.

He hadn't yet obtained Elizaveta's approval for this operation.

Elizaveta was the only person above him in the approval chain, and she wasn't someone who would share this information with anyone else.

Then how the hell had these vermin wormed their way into the heart of Krasilof and started brazenly strutting around fully equipped for close combat?

As demonstrated, Counterintelligence Command was fundamentally a curious institution.

And unlike most other "curious little troublemakers," it had a wide range of tools at its disposal for proactive intelligence gathering.

Ivan released the terrified orc's head and slowly began unpacking.

CLINK. CLINK.

Out came tools that were not remotely suspicious.

"Fortunately, we have plenty of time."

The students' training was scheduled to proceed very slowly.

At those words, the orc squeezed his eyes shut.

* * *

"S-stop. Whew... Hah... The sun, it's setting."

"Already? Is it that late? What time is it?"

"Nobody has a watch... Whew... Let's just... rest a little."

The bedraggled party members sank to the ground. Elpihera was about to conjure a spark in the chilly forest air when she flinched and stopped.

"Flames are too easy to spot after dark. That's common sense."

She muttered, her face frightened, and fidgeted with her fingers.

"I'll try setting some booby traps around camp."

"Do you know how?"

"You figure it out after falling for a few."

Esidisi staggered to her feet and disappeared into the forest. Isabelle nodded.

After all, setting traps around your campsite was common sense.

"Oscar. I'll take second watch tonight."

"I'm still fine, Miss Isabelle."

"Oh, come on. Did you even get three hours of sleep?"

"... Thank you."

Naturally, rotating watch duties while camping was common sense. Anyone who'd drawn an exhausting shift like second or third watch deserved some consideration the following night.

Since this was basic common sense for a party, Isabelle casually set down her backpack and crunched into a "nutrition bar."

It tasted rank, bitter, and sour, yet unpleasantly sweet; it was sticky, yet felt dry and crumbly in her mouth.

The taste defied description, but it was an emergency ration that required no cooking. A field ration you could eat on the spot when lighting a fire wasn't an option.

Now she understood why he'd packed these things.

That lunatic...!!

CRUNCH!

Having unconsciously crushed the nutrition bar, Isabelle looked up at the sky. The sun was setting.

"How many days has it been?"

"Three... Oh, five since we entered this forest."

"This is getting ridiculous. Why isn't the army coming?"

"I'm not sure... It's so remote out here that... perhaps they don't even know the demons have attacked?"

Oscar's answer was bitter.

He was right. This was a remote mountain, not a logistics hub. There wasn't a particularly large city, or even a single home nearby.

How many mountains like this must Krasilof have? There wasn't even a military garrison in the area.

Those factors were probably why it had been chosen as their training ground, but didn't that also mean it was ideal for demons to infiltrate?

"How did the demons get all the way here?"

"I don't know..."

"And what did they come all this way for?"

Isabelle was still looking up at the sky. The purple glow of evening was gradually deepening toward navy blue.

Counting the stars shining blue amid it, she quietly continued.

"What do you think, Oscar? You had 'knight' training back in Thilles, didn't you?"

"... Us, perhaps? Demons might want to eliminate the Hero's Party's children."

"How would they have known?"

The moment he heard her question, Oscar felt his mind go cold.

"Sir Yeremov—I mean, Mr. Ivan wouldn't have told them."

"Knowing mister, he'd split any demon's head open on sight."

"Yes. And Sir Yeremov probably holds a very senior position even within Counterintelligence Command."

"Right. So..."

There was a spy inside Counterintelligence Command? Or...

"What if we aren't their objective?"

"Pardon?"

"Remember the orcs that attacked us? For assassins sent on an infiltration mission, they were a little too..."

"Conspicuous?"

"How would they have managed to sneak all the way from demon territory looking like that, only to kill the four of us? Isn't that strange?"

"Miss Isabelle. Our lives are more..."

"Valuable than we think?"

Isabelle snorted and silently gestured around them with her chin. If their lives were so valuable, why were they still stuck like this? That was what the gesture said. Then she turned back with a smile.

"Say you're right. Why are they coming in little groups instead of attacking us all at once?"

"That's..."

Oscar berated himself for failing to think of something so simple.

Of course it was strange. Assassins who'd infiltrated deep into enemy territory were attacking their targets slowly over three or four days, sending just two or three at a time? How did that make any sense?

"That means we aren't what they're after."

Isabelle turned to Oscar, her eyes shining a vivid blue.

What if their objective wasn't the four of them, but some larger, more sinister scheme? And what if all they had done was run into and fight the patrols sweeping the area as that plan unfolded?

What if the demons were plotting something on this mountain, and she, her friends, and the Counterintelligence Command agents had stumbled into it through an extraordinary coincidence? What if mister couldn't come to their rescue because he'd gone out alone to thwart the "demons' grand plan"?

Just as her thoughts reached that point, Elpihera suddenly murmured.

"Once a seal is discovered, it's bound to be broken in the near future...?"

"What?"

"It's something Sir Yeremov said! He called it 'common sense about seals'...!"

At the words "common sense," every member of the party flinched.

"If we've 'discovered' something... then..."

"Something beyond our control is going to happen soon?"

"We're not the only ones in danger. Sir Yeremov is, too. Think about it. If he had even a little room to spare, would he really leave me—n-no, us—to fend for ourselves like this?"

Aside from the odd remark in the middle, it was a reasonably sound hypothesis.

Ivan wasn't the sort of person to abandon students he'd brought here and run for his own life in a situation like this.

So if he still hadn't appeared after they had fought at least five fierce battles against bands of orcs, didn't that mean he was in a situation that prevented him from coming...?

Having reached that conclusion, Isabelle quietly nodded.

"This time, let's be the ones to save mister."

"How? How are we supposed to do that?"

Oscar's question was reasonable. If demons had infiltrated the country and launched a large-scale operation that even Ivan, a powerful Counterintelligence Command agent, couldn't stop, it wasn't something four university students could solve, was it?

Wouldn't they be better off getting down the mountain quickly and calling for help, as they'd originally planned...?

"Elpihera's right. If mister taught her that as 'common sense,' there must have been a reason. We might not have much time."

"Isn't that all speculation?"

"At the very least, mister won't have much time. He could be dying right now."

Isabelle's eyes shone brightly, anger, anxiety, and worry flickering in them.

"Let's save him. Didn't everyone here say they owed him their life at least once?"

"..."

"Let's save mister. And, Oscar."

"Yes?"

Her eyes still blazing, Isabelle gave him a bright, clear smile.

"Demons have appeared, and we have swords. Just as our parents did. Oscar, son of Gilles Vert. Knight of Thilles. Let us take up our swords not for power, but for goodwill."

* * *

An agent listening from a distance finished his report, overcome with tears.