While Draco contemplated mounting an offensive, many of the adventurers in other parts of the battlefield had abandoned direct combat with the evilus.
They had shifted their focus to escorting innocent civilians north toward the designated evacuation point—the Twilight Manor, home to the Loki familia.
Faced with few alternatives, this plan emerged as their only viable option.
The remaining evilus fighters had accepted their fate, choosing to risk everything since they had nothing left to lose.
Their sole objective was to kill as many adventurers and civilians as possible before they met their end.
In contrast, the adventurers had many lives to protect and found no secure structures to shield them, as the enemy relentlessly used magical weapons and unleashed devastating spells that reduced everything to rubble.
In response, the Astraea, Bahamut, and Loki familia moved quickly to gather the scattered adventurers and civilians still stranded on the battlefield.
They concentrated their forces and began moving toward the Twilight Manor.
Naturally, the evilus did not intend to leave things easy, but the adventurers had anticipated this resistance.
A swift assault team was organized, comprised of fast adventurers capable of rapid movement. Their mission was to scout the evacuation route ahead and eliminate any evilus armed with magic weapons.
This tactic proved highly effective against the enemy's fractured organization following Valletta's departure.
Their tactics had devolved into a simple and predictable one, compared to the sophisticated strategies when Valletta commanded them.
Within minutes, the assault team had forged a clear path toward the central area where Draco was staunchly guarding a large group of civilians.
Once the team had neutralized the surrounding evilus, Draco lowered the protective earth dome, thankful that reinforcements were arriving on time.
He had nearly risked removing the earth dome too early, which might have cost many lives.
"Draco nii! Bahamut-chan!" Eleni called out in relief as she ran toward her brother and goddess. Although she logically understood they were safe, she could not help but be overwhelmed by lingering worries and countless "what if" scenarios.
"It's good to see you are in one piece," Bahamut said softly, gently stroking Eleni's hair as they embraced.
After the brief, heartfelt reunion, Eleni quickly briefed everyone on the unfolding situation and the plan they needed to follow.
Draco murmured, "I see, so that's what happened," as he fought to regain his composure.
'To think Vasileios and Nikolaos ended up facing someone as dangerous as Valletta. What if Alise, Ryuu and Eleni hadn't made it in time? If they had encountered one of those level 7 foes, who knows what might have happened? We were lucky this time, but what about when luck runs out?' Draco pondered, yet he quickly discarded such thoughts.
The main group tasked with escorting civilians would soon arrive, so it was vital to clear the path instead of dwelling on what might have been.
After informing Kaguya, Eleni, and Bahamut of his plans, Draco unfurled his wings and took flight.
Determined to clear his path, he vowed to dispatch any evilus who threatened to stand in his way, intent on ending the chaos of the day.
As the assault team followed his lead, they observed a trail marked by the fallen bodies of the evilus.
Death had come swiftly, with each enemy struck down by a single, devastating blow from above.
For Draco, hunting these foes felt like a familiar task.
Most of the evilus were merely ordinary mortals armed with magical weapons, making them easy to hunt.
Magic weapons also gave off an odd signal when in use which Draco was able to pick up with his search magic.
Within a short time, Draco had cleared a relatively safe passage to the evacuation point, ensuring that the group escorting the civilians could follow without impediment.
Even if a few adversaries managed to escape his immediate attention, the persistent assault team would handle them.
His next objective was clear: locate the remaining evilus stragglers, whether they were still fighting, hiding, or even disguising themselves as civilians.
.........…
A guttural cry echoed across the battlefield as the final evilus soldier crumpled beneath Gareth's axe.
In that grim moment of victory, the old dwarf found himself too grievously wounded to relish his triumph.
Deep, searing burns laced his skin—scars inflicted by the searing blaze of magical weapons and potent spells.
Smoke curled upward from the fissures of his battered armor as he rested his heavy battle axe on his shoulder, surveying the ruined battleground with heavy eyes.
"It appears this is the end of them," he murmured, his voice carrying equal parts relief and sorrow as he took in the carnage.
The ground was littered with the remnants of a brutal conflict: the heap of fallen foes, the injured crying out in despair, and an overwhelming stench of smoke and iron saturating the air.
Without delay, Gareth's sharp tone cut through the murmurs of devastation.
"Raul, quickly—summon the Dian Cecht Familia! We require their aid without pause." he Instructed.
The Dian Cecht familia operated a medical facility in Orario, functioning much like a hospital, they offered their medical services, sold various kind of potions and provided jobs for adventurers such as; quests for rare alchemy materials in the dungeon.
"Y-yes sir," stammered Raul, his head bobbing stiffly as he obeyed.
Raul and the other young members of the Loki familia, unaccustomed to the brutality of combat, were visibly shaken by the horrific scenes around them—so many casualties, severe injuries, and expressions of terror etched on every face.
The dreadful silence was intermittently broken by the anguished cries of the wounded and bereaved.
A heart-wrenching wail from a distant corner of the field rose above the din: "Aaaah, my son!" A tormented father's sorrow mingled with another desperate plea, "My legs! I can't feel my legs! Someone, please help!" These cries wove through the narrow, debris-strewn streets of northern Orario like a somber dirge, a stark reminder of the day's brutality.
Swoosh!!
In a sudden, almost surreal moment, a figure swooped in from the smoky sky, briefly interrupting the despairing echoes.
It was Draco, descending with precision and urgency.
His arrival stirred concern among the beleaguered survivors.
"How are things?" asked Alise anxiously as she hastened toward him.
Draco unfurled a map, his finger methodically tracing the markings he had made throughout the chaos.
"We must dispatch emergency help to these places," he explained calmly, indicating areas circled with decisive marks.
Alise's determined voice rallied the gathered adventurers. "You heard him—move swiftly and tend to the wounded. Every moment counts!" With that, the group began organizing their rescue efforts.
Under these dire conditions, many survivors lay trapped within crumbled rubble—some with limbs horrifically crushed, others barely clinging to life with injuries so severe that even a cry for help was impossible.
Wooden debris and shards from shattered windows and buildings littered the field; while a fortunate few escaped with minor scrapes, most bore injuries that robbed them of vital organs or fractured their very bones.
With a severe shortage of healers and manpower, Draco had repeatedly taken to the skies, using his search magic to uncover those stranded in hidden, perilous spots.
Every newly discovered survivor was carefully marked on his map, ensuring that reinforcements could be dispatched with surgical precision.
When he encountered patients too gravely injured to wait, Draco applied some first aid with his water magic to stabilize them, a taxing endeavor that depleted his physical, mental, and magical resources yet was absolutely indispensable.
Noticing Draco's fatigue, Gareth drew near with a kind but stern tone.
"Take a short rest, young friend. You're overexerting yourself," he advised quietly as he stepped beside the weary dragon-kin.
'When did we become friends' Draco wondered in surprise.
Draco wasn't averse to befriending the old dwarf, Gareth was a chill and likeable person, always thinking about the future generation.
So he offered a wry retort, a hint of humor lacing his words despite his exhaustion.
"Says the old man that smells like roasted meat." Gareth just chuckled in response, though his eyes betrayed a deep-seated sorrow.
"Bahahaha! I've withstood far worse than a few burns. It's the only thing, I can do." Yet, beneath that mirth lay the weight of guilt.
Tasked with the protection of this area, he could not shake the feeling of failure, despite having anticipated such an attack.
"Why don't you take a seat with me, Gareth-san" Draco offered, gesturing toward a modest mound of rubble where they could rest.
"We need to gather our strength in case there are some extra surprises left today."
"Just call me old man," Gareth replied with a tired smile, settling beside him as both stared blankly across the desolate street, contemplating the heavy cost of the day.
Meanwhile, beyond their brief moment of respite, determined adventurers scurried toward the locations marked on Draco's map.
Immediate help was signified by an 'X' while areas where rescue could be momentarily delayed were denoted by an 'O'.
Their coordinated efforts, underlined by urgency and compassion, were now essential to mitigating the ravages of the day's relentless tragedy.