Became the Villainess’s Guardian

The futures she witnessed were not absolute.
Therefore, what she perceived were not truly the future per se, but rather potent yet fickle possibilities that could readily shift, depending on circumstances.

And there were only two reasons a witnessed future would remain unaltered:

One, when it lay beyond human ability to influence.
While foreknowledge of tomorrow’s snowfall or next week’s typhoon would allow preparations, an individual could not prevent such occurrences.

The war against the Demonic Tribe fell under this category.
Regrettably, since she could not single-handedly storm the Dark Citadel, slay the Dark Lord, and return unscathed, this inescapable future differed little from a natural disaster.

The other reason was:

‘When I did not wish to evade it.’

No matter which path she chose, no matter how desperately she contorted and fled, the conclusion inevitably converged upon a single destiny.

As one who could glimpse the future at will, Freugne had occasionally viewed it as a spoiler for her life.
But the world tended to regard such fated futures with a more romantic term – destiny.

‘My proposal for Edan to defect to the Demonic Tribe likely falls under this category.’

Perhaps she would have eventually arrived at the truth of the impending war, regardless.
The reasons would gradually emerge through interrogations, but the Demonic Tribe, aware of her abilities, had undoubtedly issued threats akin to today’s encounter.

Thus, she would have naturally sought out her most cherished person, urging them to flee together.

But what other reason could there be for her persistently attempting to persuade Edan over five long years, regardless of the variables or futures she glimpsed?
It meant she was destined to ultimately propose defecting to the Demonic Tribe’s side, no matter what.

Conversely speaking,
Even if it meant being shot, she had resigned herself to persuading Edan to abandon humanity’s defense and flee alongside her.

Why?
Freugne already knew the answer to that question.

‘…Because he is precious to me.’
Even now, fully aware of the circumstances, that conviction remained unchanged.

Such steadfast futures were rare, no matter how frequently revisited.
Until now, if a future displeased her, she would directly reshape it herself. And if it seemed inconsequential, she would casually let it shift of its own accord.

And yet, Freugne was cognizant of another future she had repeatedly witnessed, even as she doubted her own eyes.

‘…Honestly, you enjoyed it too, didn’t you, uncle?’

‘But still, I was your first experience.’

‘…Will you really only speak such lewd words? This won’t do, come here.’

Perhaps such a future also fell within the realm of destiny.

Glancing up, she found Edan quietly watching her from the living room.
His unwavering gaze caused a slight flush to rise in her cheeks. Had she not witnessed such an outlandish future, her heart would not have stirred so.

“Haaahm.”

She had been diligently active since the evening, compounded by glimpsing the future four times – no wonder drowsiness was setting in.
At the very least, she could take solace in having finished the ice cream Edan had prepared.

Mustering her remaining strength, Freugne gently opened her eyes once more.
Through her heavy lids, Edan’s figure appeared faintly before unconsciousness enveloped her, cradled in his warm embrace.

After sinking into the sofa, I watched Freugne begin to noisily devour the ice cream in the kitchen.

“Is it tasty?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

While not to my personal taste, people’s palates naturally differed.

“You mentioned graduating next year, didn’t you?”

“Yes. This winter term is nearing its end, and the summer term after the break will be my last.”

Having finished speaking, Freugne let out a small yawn.

“You seem quite fatigued today.”

“That’s why I’ll be heading straight to bed. Haaahm.”

As I waited, Freugne soon began nodding off at the dining table.
I carried her to her room and tucked her into bed. She needed ample rest to grow properly.

The house had grown quiet once more, perfect for indulging in solitary contemplation.
I turned my gaze towards the framed photograph on the table – my modest memento from when Freugne had enrolled in high school. She had grown weary from having to hold that posed smile for so long.

“…She has matured considerably.”

The time when I first met her at the orphanage, frail and withered, seemed like only yesterday. Yet next year, she would graduate.
All traces of her previously emaciated form had vanished – a testament to how much time had passed and my mental preparations for the impending war.

In the distant past, I had planned to dig an underground bunker and take refuge.
While I had partially purged it from my mind, neglecting its maintenance, the small basement I had excavated in a remote valley years ago likely still remained.

However, eking out a solitary existence underground was no life for a human.

I could perhaps subsist on foraged roots and herbs for a while, but how long could that realistically last?
Eventually, I would either starve to death or succumb to food poisoning from consuming dubious mushrooms, withering away to a pitiful end.

If I had found myself in Londinium on the eve of war, I might have seriously entertained such an option.

Born an orphan, without a single friend or family member in my childhood,
Londinium had once been a harsh labor environment and polluted habitat – a city that could crumble without surprising anyone.

While no dramatic changes per se, the city had been gradually improving.
And more importantly, it sheltered individuals worth risking my life to protect.

I too was aware of my life’s preciousness. For who would willingly perish without cause?
Thus, unless the Demonic Tribe’s invasion reached the kingdom’s capital, I intended to bide my time. A protracted, smooth-flowing war would better serve our interests than reckless engagement.

However, if they did advance to the capital,
forcing us to strike directly at the Dark Lord as in the previous great war,

Then I now possessed something precious enough to weigh my life against – the willingness to face death.

In essence,

Despite this harsh world, I had grown attached to it.

The reason the government had readily shared their military technologies was as follows:

Firstly, it facilitated standardization.
If I manufactured 0.3-inch ammunition, the military would simply rebuff me with, “7.62mm? What kind of arbitrary measurement is that?”

Fortunately, I had pre-configured the game to use SI units. Otherwise, I would have had to abandon my magical dreams from the outset.

We could extensively study and modify their obsolete weapons.
Since they were slated for disposal anyway, we could freely experiment through explosions or destructive testing for research purposes.

But more importantly:

“…You’re still using equipment developed 30 years ago?”

“That just makes it a classic, does it not?”

“No, we need to apply some coverup. This is clearly dated junk, not a classic.”

We could assess the kingdom’s military capabilities.

“External removal is prohibited beyond this point. We will provide the relevant data separately.”

“Demonic Tribe weaponry.”

“Some were seized during the war decades ago, but truthfully, those are of little use now. These were covertly acquired within the past decade.”

And by observing the Demonic Tribe’s caliber, we could compare the two sides.

After signing non-disclosure agreements, the members, myself included, excitedly unboxed the inner workings of the Glassgow Kingdom – the crown jewel of human civilization and prosperity.

“Over these past few days, we have conducted rigorous tests on personal and crew-served weaponry, culminating in one key conclusion based on the compiled data.”

“Please share your candid assessment.”

“This is untenable. If we engage now, we will be utterly outmatched.”

That chilling reality, diametrically opposed to the grand, majestic armaments I had envisioned, left me as dejected as a commander on a sweltering summer day.

“Even assuming all other conditions are equal, the Demonic Tribe still possesses superior physical capabilities compared to humans.”

“Our only advantage lies in technology, yet we seem to lack weaponry that capitalizes on it.”

“From the outset, the Demonic Tribe are a race who assert that a nation exists solely to serve its military. This assessment may still be an underestimation.”

As a life-or-death matter, I would have preferred a more favorable evaluation, but this was… rather ambiguous.

While the precise timing of the war’s outbreak remained unknown, we estimated it would occur within three to four years.
The game did mention a 32nd birthday celebration event, but the kingdom’s capital could not be overrun overnight.

Despite my various endeavors thus far, I did not anticipate altering the outbreak timing significantly.
Assuming the minimum three-year window remaining, could the kingdom’s military be elevated to world-class status within that timeframe?

‘Frankly, it seems difficult.’

Certainly, war was not a solitary undertaking – all of humanity would unite for survival.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the Demonic Tribe would have to pass through one gateway before reaching the Glassgow Kingdom.

The Belfast Republic bordering the Demonic Tribe lands to the south.
If they could stall the Demonic Tribe’s advance there, it might buy us a slight reprieve for rearmament and reorganization.

However, Belfast was equally unprepared.
Unlike the Glassgow Kingdom, having avoided direct harm, their lack of urgency was understandable.

Yet, as a mere magician, I could hardly lecture a foreign military on strategic matters.

Thus, I spent my days attempting to soothe my turbulent mind while consolingly stroking Freugne’s hair amid the uncertainty.

“The Belfast Republic has requested a technological exchange.”

“So suddenly?”

“It is a matter of urgency. They are seeking deployable magicians. Might you be interested?”

At last, an opportunity had arrived.