Reincarnated with the Country System

Nareth village —

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Morning came slowly. The smoke still hung low over Nareth, heavy in the lungs. The fires had died, but what remained was ruin—burned homes, cracked stone, collapsed beams still warm to the touch. The scent of blood and scorched flesh clung to the air.

And yet… life stirred.

Villagers emerged from hiding—some limping, others with bandaged wounds and hollow eyes. They worked in silence, carrying water from the well, scraping soot from what walls still stood. Children wandered, dazed, searching for familiar faces.

The bodies were everywhere.

Not just human—those were laid out gently in the square, wrapped in sheets or cloaks. But among them lay other things. Monsters. Abominations.

Kain stood atop a broken column.

"Burn the corpses of the creatures," he ordered the ISSD officers. "Away from the village. Use accelerants. No chances of infection or reanimation."

"Understood," a Bernardian operative replied.

To the side, Exo Knights lifted the massive monster carcasses like broken toys, dragging them out beyond the fields. Where they passed, the ground smoked.

Nearby, Raihan was directing a group of young men to help secure the wall, which had partially collapsed.

Elara, meanwhile, was elsewhere.

She walked quietly among the people, her soft steps leaving faint prints in the ash. She helped bind wounds, shared what little medicine they had left. And when the tears came—when the grief overwhelmed a mother or a son—she didn't flinch. She knelt. She stayed. She listened.

Just one night—more than a hundred villagers had died. Some were burned beyond recognition. Others had been torn apart by the abominations. Families had spent the morning searching for familiar faces—anything they could still recognize.

A makeshift stretch of cloth lay across the square, now turned into a burial preparation ground. The villagers gently placed the bodies—or the pieces of them—onto it. The living didn't wail or scream. Not loudly. It was quiet grief. Numb. Exhausted.

The village elder approached the strangers.

"Commander," he said softly to Kain, "we finished the search. We found… one hundred seventeen bodies. Villagers."

Kain gave a slight nod, jaw tight. "Any missing?"

"A few. But we believe they're among the remains we couldn't identify."

"Do you have a place for them?"

The elder hesitated, then nodded.

"There's a grove east of the hill. It's where we bury our dead... usually one by one. But... we'll do what we can."

Kain didn't argue. "We'll help dig."

"You've done enough already." Thе lаtеst сhаptеrs аrе аlwаys аvаilаblе first оn МV5LЕМРYR.

"We're not walking away while your hands are still in the dirt."

The elder stared for a moment, then gave a slow, tired nod.

.....

The burial site was quiet. The trees stood tall and dark, their roots thick beneath the earth. The villagers had cleared a space near the edge of the grove. Shovels and makeshift spades struck the soil. Exo Knights used their strength to dig deeper, faster.

They worked until the sun reached its peak. The heat was merciless, and the soil turned to dry dust.

When it was done, the bodies were laid down in rows, wrapped in whatever fabric could be spared. One by one, families stepped forward, laying down trinkets: a necklace, a child's ribbon, a carved wooden toy.

Elara stepped forward last. She removed her gloves and knelt before the open grave.

"Let the light of mercy find them," she whispered. "Though the heavens are distant and quiet in this world, may the memory of these souls remain untouched by the dark."

She bowed her head. Her voice, though quiet, was strong.

"No one dies forgotten."

She did not pray with magic. There was no divine radiance. But still, the villagers bowed their heads. Some wept. Others simply stood, hands clenched.

As the final shovel struck dirt, the villagers slowly returned to what remained of Nareth.

The elder found Kain again beside the firepit, where dry branches crackled.

"We owe you," he said. "Truly. Without you, none of us would be alive. But… forgive my asking. Who are you people? Where do you really come from?"

Kain didn't answer at first. He stared into the firepit, where dry branches were slowly burning. Then he said, "We've told you before. We come from a place called the Bernard Empire. And some of us, from the Holy Empire."

The elder scratched his beard. "Forgive me. At the time… we... we thought you were liars. Or lunatics."

"I don't blame you," Raihan said, folding his arms. "We'd think the same if the roles were reversed."

"But now we know," the elder said slowly. "You're not mad. Just... strange. From somewhere we don't know. Somewhere far."

Solas shrugged, arms crossed. "We're not even from this world."

The villagers exchanged uneasy looks.

"...Not from this world?" a younger man asked. "What do you mean?"

Kain exhaled. "We came through a Dungeon. A place of ancient power. Something went wrong—something opened, and we were pulled into your world. We don't belong here."

There was a long silence.

Then the elder leaned back, a strange look in his eyes.

"Not from this world," he whispered again. "Then... maybe that's why you fight like demons but save like saints."

An older woman gasped.

Another whispered, "Are they... are they from the heavens?"

"It must be that..." the elder looked between them, "now we see. You fought for us. You bled for us. You mourned with us. What sort of warriors do that for a land not their own? You are angels."

"You wield steel and light. And your machines—they glow. The power you used. Your strange armor. You heal and fight like no man. And your Saint—" he looked at Elara, "—she speaks like the old legends."

"She is," Raihan said softly. "A Saint. You people are right."

The elder's voice trembled. "Then it's true. The heavens must have sent you. Sent to protect us. Even the beasts fear you."

A few villagers knelt.

"You're angels... aren't you?"

Kain raised an eyebrow. "What? No. No, we're not angels."

But the villagers didn't care. The myth had already taken root. Whispers spread.

Angels. Saints. Warriors of Light. Heaven's Wrath.

Kain leaned to Raihan. "Do we stop this?"

Raihan shrugged. "Why? Let them believe. If it gives them hope—let them call us angels."