How to Save a Time-Limited Heroine

The snowy field was dazzling.

Its brilliance was so sharp that when squinting at it, one could almost imagine seeing specks of light between the glittering snow.

Agnes wondered if the terrain had always been this flat or if it just seemed that way because of the snow.

“So empty.”

The snowy field was both dazzling and hollow.

“Get your face away from the window.”

Deltain said, arms crossed, addressing Agnes.

The reason he was scolding her wasn’t anything unusual.

It was because Agnes was sitting on his thigh, looking out the window.

Despite the empty seat beside her.

Agnes finally turned to look at Deltain.

He was glaring at her with a deeply furrowed brow.

“Don’t you like it?”

“No.”

“But I’m so pretty.”

Agnes placed her hand on her cheek and leaned toward him.

Her face, with a mischievous smile, truly had a beauty more radiant than the snowy field outside, but people—what kind of creatures were they?

Weren’t they creatures of adaptation?

“Move.”

By now, just looking at her face no longer fazed him in the slightest.

With a scoff, Deltain unfolded his arms and pushed her forehead back with his index finger.

Agnes pouted in displeasure.

“Your love has faded.”

“I never loved you.”

“No wonder people say not to get married. I’ve heard it before—men act like they’ll give you their liver and gall bladder while dating, but once married, they toss you aside. I guess it’s like they don’t care once they’ve caught the fish.”

Her words were uttered with the flair of a tragic heroine, but to Deltain, they were absurd.

“How do you manage to say so much, yet not a single word is right? Sorry, but I’ve never married you, never dated you, and certainly never gave you my liver or gall bladder.”

“You’re so stingy. You could’ve just let it go.”

“Let it go? Turning a blind eye and let you spread lies about my love life and marriage?”

“I think you could.”

Agnes said this while curling up in Deltain’s arms.

She lifted his arm and draped it over herself.

Just as Deltain opened his mouth to speak, Agnes spoke first.

“Because it’s cold.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The temperature in the car is perfectly controlled.”

“My heart is cold.”

“…”

Deltain gave up continuing the conversation.

He understood why she was acting clingy.

“Just hold on for three more days. Then you’ll be able to get out of the car.”

It had been about a week since they left the capital.

Which meant she had been stuck in the car for that long.

Even with the space-enhancing magic inside, it was still a car.

It was only natural that she, who had just started walking again, felt cooped up.

“Once we reach the barbarian lands, there will no longer need to worry about demons or monsters. You’ll be able to walk all you want then.”

“That’s interesting. Tell me more.”

Agnes said this while fiddling with Deltain’s hand.

“Why don’t demons go there?”

“Because the barbarians of the snowy mountains are blessed by the spirits.”

“Blessed?”

“It’s nothing major—just wide-scale mental protection.”

“That sounds pretty major to me. Like Saint Hall.”

“Saint Hall is actually based on it.”

Agnes let out a small .

“So, you were imitating the spirits?”

“All creativity begins with imitation.”

“You don’t deny it. Copycat Deltain.”

“I’m not ashamed of it.”

Agnes giggled, her laughter vibrating through Deltain as her head rested on his chest.

Deltain felt uneasy with her fidgeting, so he said.

“Get off. Your scalp smells.”

“I think it smells nice.”

“There’s no such thing as a nice-smelling scalp.”

“There is.”

“There isn’t.”

Agnes shoved her scalp right under his nose.

“Sniff~”

Deltain held his breath and glared at her.

Agnes peeked up and smirked.

“Neat freak Deltain.”

“Copycat, neat freak—you’ve got all sorts of names for me.”

“Picky Deltain. Tone-deaf Deltain.”

“… are you picking a fight?”

“Nope.”

Deltain let out a long sigh.

His face was lined with exhaustion.

“Please, just sit still for once.”

Over the past week, Deltain had been thinking.

It wasn’t that different from when Agnes had regressed to be a five-year-old.

She still couldn’t sit still, wriggling from boredom and bothering those around her.

“You know how to make me sit still.”

Deltain raised an eyebrow at her comment.

“Are you five years old?”

“I just haven’t lost my sense of innocence.”

There was only one reason for this conversation.

The that Agnes mentioned was holding her and patting her back, just like soothing a child.

“You’re really a pain.”

“Even though you say that you’ll end up doing it anyway.”

“If I don’t, you’ll throw a fit.”

“Exactly.”

Agnes curled up even tighter like a ball.

Deltain sighed, wrapping his arms around her and patting her back.

Agnes began to slowly close her eyes.

“When you do this, I feel at peace.”

“Well, my peace seems to be disappearing.”

“That’s just because you’re excited.”

“Do you feel nauseous when you’re excited? That’s something new to me.”

“You’re just too excited, so your body isn’t responding properly.”

The conversation gradually quieted down.

It was because Agnes’ voice had started to show signs of drowsiness.

Agnes found comfort in being gently embraced and patted on the back.

Deltain realized this just five days ago.

‘Emotional deprivation?’

It seemed that way.

Considering how much Duke Levadine cared for her, it was puzzling, but this reaction could definitely be seen as a sign of emotional deprivation.

Looking at it from a purely medical perspective, it made sense.

‘The lack of physical affection is the cause. Perhaps, since she’s been bedridden for so long, her loneliness has deepened. The duke goes to the palace for work, and the duchess…’

She was already dead.

As Deltain continued to think along those lines, Agnes had fallen asleep before he even noticed.

After confirming this, Deltain cleared his thoughts.

Then, he scoffed.

‘… none of my concern.’

Deltain cast his gaze outside the window.

*

It was a day before they arrived at the snowy mountains.

Now, if one looked into the distance, the snow-covered peaks piercing through the clouds were clearly visible.

Deltain left Agnes in the carriage and stepped down, looking at the approaching hounds.

Their bodies were covered in blood.

It seemed like they had tried to wash it off with snow, as traces of water glistened here and there.

“The Snow Tribe?”

“We took care of them! A few tribes bewitched by the demons came charging this way!”

Kaltara raised her thumb confidently.

Hanging from her belt was Cargo, now as thin as Deltain.

“Lastoria… please save this sinful servant… save me… save me….”

Cargo, half out of his mind, continued praying with his hands clasped together.

It had been a long time since Deltain had seen him like this, not since the war.

Then again, considering Kaltara’s combat methods, it wasn’t entirely surprising.

Deltain didn’t bother paying too much attention to it and continued his thoughts.

‘It’s clear that the demons are targeting us.’

He needed to think about their strategy.

They could proceed to the snowy mountains as planned, but thinking about the return trip made him reconsider.

Now that the demons had started moving in organized groups, leaving enemies behind would undoubtedly cause trouble later.

“We should clean up a bit.”

With that judgment, Deltain gave his orders.

“Galan, Kaltara, Cargo. You three stay and rest. Pobler, Jevis, you’re with me. We’ll hunt down the nearby demons.”

Cargo’s expression brightened.

“T-thank you!”

Tears welled up in his eyes at the thought of finally resting, but his appearance was so pitiful that instead of feeling sympathy, Deltain found him more repulsive.

“… get in the car. You stink, go clean yourself up.”

Cargo hurriedly scrambled into the car.

*

It wasn’t difficult to spot demons in a land as entirely white as this.

All Deltain had to do was rise into the sky and look for groups of black dots.

No matter how much they tried to hide by burrowing into the snow or taking cover under trees, they were still demons.

Since they were usually composed of red and black flesh, it wasn’t hard to spot them with a bit of focus.

It took Deltain about 30 minutes to find the demon horde.

They were in the snowy forest at the foot of the mountains.

‘Fifty of them.’

There were quite a few.

But it wasn’t a dangerous number.

There wasn’t a single named demon among them.

‘I’ll just take care of them quickly and move on.’

Deltain snapped his fingers.

Whoosh.

Flames flared up behind Deltain.

The swirling fire quickly grew into a massive column of flames, rippling in the air.

In the entirely white snowfield, the brilliant hue of the flames stood out even more.

Deltain noticed the demons stirring restlessly.

‘Too late, idiots.’

With a wave of his hand, the vortex of fire surged forward.

There was no other noise.

The sound of wind sweeping across the snow.

The sound of water splashing as the snow melted and evaporated.

Despite the quietness, the visual destruction was overwhelming.

Whoosh!

As the pillar of fire reached the forest, everything around it melted away.

There were no crackling flames or explosions, just a quiet dissolution.

The faint cry of a demon echoed briefly before Deltain dispelled the magic.

Then, he sent a message through his communication spell to Jevis and Pobler.

[Finish things up.]

Deltain turned around.

*

Jevis walked along the now-exposed path where the had passed, humming a tune.

Of course, it was easier to finish off dying demons like this than running around hunting the Snow Tribe.

The forest he arrived at was no longer recognizable as a forest, with everything melted down to traces of what once were trees, and the disintegrated corpses of demons scattered everywhere.

“I’m going that way.”

Pobler spoke, already munching on a demon he’d picked up.

“Is it well done?”

“It’s well-done.”

“Oh.”

Pobler disappeared, and Jevis chuckled to himself, looking around for any surviving demons.

In particular, he was searching for a .

His eyes gleamed with a strange desire.

“Where could it be…?”

To understand this look, it was necessary to know about Jevis, a nymphomaniac.

It was not a long or complicated story.

It was just one of the many tragedies scattered across the continent five years ago when the demon invasion began.

Jevis, at the time, was a 16-year-old squire in a rural estate.

He might have lived a life like any other, but that changed because of a single Demon of Lust who heralded the start of the invasion.

Click!

His prosthetic leg, full of embedded weapons, had replaced the one that had been torn off when it was sucked into the Demon of Lust’s grotesque form.

His deep fear of women came from the horrific sight of that day.

He became a hound with no future, having lost his family, friends, and lord to the same demon.

And so, among all demons, Jevis particularly hated the Demons of Lust.

He also hated the person he had been, crawling away in fear from that demon.

All these hatreds blended together, making Jevis feel a strange heat whenever he encountered a Demon of Lust.

“Found it.”

Jevis grinned wickedly.

Right before him was a mid-level female-shaped Demon of Lust, its blackened exterior charred and trembling.

Without hesitation, Jevis rolled up his pants, revealing his prosthetic leg, and shoved it into the demon’s grotesque hole.

Crunch.

As he pressed harder, pus and blood spewed out of the demon.

At that moment, Jevis felt a tightness in his waist.

“Huuu….”

He narrowed his eyes and began to channel mana.

The surging mana enveloped his prosthetic leg.

The prosthetic clicked.

A dreadful vibration followed.

What happened after the sound was something that would make anyone who saw it frown.

“Coming…”

Boom!

The area around the prosthetic exploded.

The demon shattered into pieces, scattering in all directions.

“Boom~!”

Jevis’s grin widened.