Youngest 001

Ch. 1

“Hey.”

At the sharp call, the child lifted their head.

Covered in dirt and dust, the child was rummaging through a corpse’s pockets.

“Are you hungry?”

Leviathan asked. Instead of replying, the child’s blue eyes rolled searchingly.

Though it looked like they wanted to say they were hungry, their expression was guarded.

‘A wise choice.’

No matter how hungry you are, you shouldn’t run up to strangers—absolutely not.

Then again, rifling through the pockets of a dead soldier wasn’t exactly ideal, either.

“Eat up.”

Leviathan pulled a piece of jerky from inside his coat and held it out.

“Step away from that, too.”

He couldn’t bear to keep watching the child stand so close to the ravaged corpse.

Even if this was a war-torn battlefield that reeked of blood.

“Must’ve been from Eosia.”

From the uniform, the dead man seemed to be a soldier of Eosia.

Leviathan let himself drop onto the rubble of a ruined building and pulled a cigarette from his pocket.

As he lit up and released a breath of smoke, the desolate surroundings sharpened into view.

“I’m from the Empire. I won’t hurt you.”

He offered another piece of jerky.

Long ribbons of smoke scattered each time he exhaled.

“The war’s over now.”

The child remained stiff, still wary.

But after a moment, they crept forward and took the food.

“……”

“You should say thank you.”

The child pressed their lips tightly together.

Up close, the child’s appearance was even more disheveled.

Filthy, ragged clothes—what were they even wearing? Rags?

Tsk, Leviathan clicked his tongue.

Roughly shorn hair and skinny wrists poking out from the shabby sleeves were unmistakable signs of a child raised without an adult’s care.

And yet…

For some reason, the blue eyes gazing up at him were shining—strangely bright.

“All right, enough. Eat now. Quickly.”

Leviathan handed over the food gruffly.

The child gave a small nod, then took a tiny bite off the top. The marks on the tough jerky were almost pitiable.

Such a small child.

Six or seven, perhaps.

‘Lost their parents, maybe.’

The village had been left in ruins by a dark beast attack. Suppressing a heavy heart, Leviathan blew a long trail of smoke.

“A relief squad will be here soon. Eat while you wait. Stay away from the corpses. You’ll catch something.”

The wind changed direction. Leviathan quickly squashed out the cigarette.

He dusted the dirt from the child’s silver hair, and the child stared up intently.

‘Damn, those eyes…’

How are they so big and clear? Are they about to cry?

Scratching the back of his head, Leviathan stood up.

The moment he took a step, the child’s tightly closed lips parted.

“Mister.”

A surprisingly clear voice.

“Yeah?”

“Is the war really over?”

Leviathan looked down at the child for a moment.

“Yes. It’s over.”

As he forced out the words, the truth finally sank in.

Ten years.

A full ten years.

The war between humans and dark beasts.

Leviathan had spent all ten of those years on the battlefield.

But it was over now. He’d killed the accursed dark mage who started it all.

All that remained was to mop up the scattered enemy remnants—just like the dark beasts he’d wiped out in this village minutes ago.

Even so…

Leviathan swept his gaze over the ruined village once more.

“I’m sorry.”

The child’s wide eyes blinked.

“For not coming sooner.”

Leviathan spoke softly, beginning to walk.

Soon, the relief squad would arrive, and the child would be cared for by them.

He planned to return to the Empire.

Then—he felt the faint tug of a small hand on his coat.

“……”

Looking back, those eyes that had troubled him so oddly were gazing up at him once more.

“…You want to come with me?”

A nod.

“It’s not exactly a good idea. Still want to?”

Another, firmer nod.

“Just in case—your parents…?”

A shake of the head.

“…Any other family?”

The child shook their head vigorously.

Unable to watch anymore, Leviathan took the small, bobbing head in his hand.

“All right, that’s enough.”

“……”

In the clear, transparent eyes, he saw his own troubled face reflected.

He ruffled the back of his own head roughly.

“Ha… Well. As long as you’re not from the Mage Kingdom.”

The Mage Kingdom, Arcadia, was a closed nation of mages. Its citizens were forbidden to move outside its borders without royal permission.

Leviathan let out a long sigh.

‘This is troublesome. The child looks like a local here.’

Still, it was hard to turn away from those eyes, clear and blue as sapphires, or from the small hand clinging to him like a lifeline.

After all.

What did nationality matter to a child who’d lost everything? For them, the whole world had simply ceased to exist.

“Come here.”

Leviathan picked the child up. The weight was shockingly slight.

He set the child on the warhorse that was drinking nearby.

Yes. He hadn’t liked the thought of leaving the child alone in a place surrounded by the dead.

‘What a burden I’ve picked up.’

Climbing up behind the child, he saw the small, thin shoulders twitch.

‘It’d be best to take them to the Empire and find a suitable place to leave them.’

Anywhere would be better than here.

Clip-clop. The horse began to move.

Leviathan minded his pace, keeping it gentle.

“……”

He could feel the warmth of the child’s body through his chest.

A shaking, round crown, silver hair cut any which way, lips chewing on the last of the jerky. Chubby cheeks… actually, none. Far too thin.

‘Small for a boy.’

He forgot to ask the child’s age.

Well… we’ll part ways soon anyway. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Don’t eat while riding, you’ll bite your tongue.”

The child immediately tucked the jerky into their shirt.

---

No matter how I think about it… right?

It has to be!

“Stay back. You’ll get burned.”

That face.

“Why are you shaking like that? Are you cold?”

That way of speaking.

“Might as well put this on.”

That insignia!

I flipped open the inside of the big military coat the man draped over me.

Deep navy, the lining of a standard Allied Forces uniform, embroidered with a personal ID tag.

And there—the emblem of the Babylon Empire.

‘The crest of House Zevert!’

As I thought, this man is Leviathan Zevert!

‘Huh…’

Tears stung my eyes.

My whole nightmarish ordeal ran through my mind like a reel.

You see, it was right in the middle of this damned war zone that I regained memories of my past life.

That’s right. This was the world of a novel.

A war epic called Sword Planted on the Ruins.

I’d been reincarnated here as an extra never even mentioned by name.

The novel was split into two parts, all about the war between humans and dark beasts.

And the protagonist standing right before me—

‘The hero’ Leviathan Zevert himself.

According to the original story, it was now the end of Part 1. In other words, the first Human–Dark Beast War had just come to a close.

‘Leviathan himself took out the dark mage!’

For a non-mage to kill the continent’s greatest dark mage—he truly deserved the title of hero.

But the problem was…

‘This isn’t where it ends.’

What does the “Part 2” of a war novel mean?

That a new war begins.

‘Oh dark mage! Please return and let the world witness once more the might of mages!’

As if the author had lost their mind, the king of the Mage Kingdom sets out to resurrect the dark mage and plunge the land into chaos again.

The dark mage’s resurrection and rampage is possible for one simple reason.

The protagonist of Part 1, the strongest in the world—Leviathan Zevert—suddenly dies.

‘(Omitted) —And thus, the hero of the Human–Dark Beast War, Leviathan Zevert, died.

The continent was plunged into mourning.

Taking advantage of that, the Mage King succeeded in summoning the dark mage. The once peaceful continent reverted to ruins.

So then, now.

Who will plant the hero’s sword in this wasteland once more?

’

A crazy ending.

Enraged at this shocking cliffhanger, readers hurled invective at the author.

Ironically, the novel found new life in Part 2, when the writing vastly improved and the characters exploded into brilliance, leading to memes like [Update: Webnovel Author Returns from Pact with the Devil.jpg].

‘But I’m a Part 1 character!’

A character obviously fated for the cliff!

“Aaaah…”

Thus, my conclusion was simple.

I want to live. I’m done with war.

That means I cannot allow Part 1 to end.

The peaceful conclusion must last forever and ever. Which means…

“The ground’s going to cave in, you filthy rascal.”

That hero must not be allowed to die!

‘But… I can’t remember why Leviathan dies!’

No matter how hard I racked my brain, the cause of his death wouldn’t come to me.

To be honest, I’d skimmed the later part, and life here had become so overwhelming that my previous life’s memories grew hazy.

But to forget the single most important thing!

‘I have to find out why the hero dies. Which means I need to stick close to him at all times.’

I looked down at my own hands—tiny, clearly belonging to a small child.

As a child, there wasn’t much I could do.

So this really was the only way.

“Mister.”

At my solemn voice, Leviathan glanced up.

With his sharply upturned eyes, he looked like a wild beast whose hunger had just been sated.

‘Honestly, with his mouth shut, he looks completely terrifying…’

But I wouldn’t be cowed.

I was far more afraid of the author’s crazy cliffhanger. So don’t die, hero! Get to work!

Melting my facial muscles into the most harmless face I could muster, I said,

“Don’t you need a youngest at home?”

From war epic to slice-of-life. Here goes.