How to Save a Time-Limited Heroine

“Uh, why…?”

Orga asked in disbelief.

Didn’t the man say that he would show the tribe how great he was?

So then, why was he now strangling him as if he meant to hurt him?

Could this be what they call a ?

Could this be what they call ?

Orga couldn’t hold back his tears as these thoughts filled his mind.

He sniffled, trying to hold back his sobs.

Then, Deltain spoke.

“I’m acting. Play along.”

“Huh?”

“We need to get inside first if I’m going to help you. To get in, we need to act, so just go along with it.”

Orga’s eyes darted between Deltain and his father.

His father was groaning, pressing his hand to his forehead, while Deltain flashed a sly smile.

‘Ah!’

It was all an act!

Orga, realizing this, let out a small gasp and responded softly, “Okay!”

He then flailed his legs, adding.

“Please, spare me~”

It was a clumsy performance.

However, the swirling snow concealed Orga’s expression, and the howling wind added a chilling edge to his voice.

Deltain turned his gaze toward the chieftain.

In that moment, he noticed something odd.

‘… why does he look like that?’

It wasn’t the expression of someone worried about his child.

No, it seemed to be quite the opposite.

The expression on the skinny man who appeared to be the chieftain was more like…

‘The look of someone watching a troublemaker.’

It was as if he had a headache.

This was strange.

After all, he was a stranger the tribe should be wary of, holding the future chieftain hostage.

Yet, why did they look like they were sighing in exasperation?

Deltain’s expression turned curious.

The chieftain spoke up at that moment.

“… let the child go first. Then come inside.”

With a wave of his hand, the transparent barrier vanished.

Only at the entrance of the village, though.

The chieftain glared at Orga as if to say, ‘We’ll talk later,’ before turning to Deltain with a stern expression.

“We’ve been expecting you.”

Deltain furrowed his brow.

*

The village they entered wasn’t much different from how it appeared from the outside.

Snow covered the roofs of the long line of huts, and in the middle of the main street was a round plaza with a large bonfire.

A big cauldron hung over the fire, boiling something.

It smelled like meat.

“… we were preparing a meal. We caught a large beast for the first time in a while, and it takes time to cook.”

At the chieftain’s words, Deltain let out a small, incredulous laugh.

‘So…’

The people who had been watching him ever since he entered the snowy mountains must have been trying to stall him until the food was ready.

What a ridiculous story.

Deltain, at a loss for words, asked.

“Why were you waiting for me?”

“I don’t know. But the spirit told us to welcome you, so we did.”

Deltain’s steps came to a halt.

“What?”

“I was told that you’d understand if I said that.”

At that moment, Agnes whispered.

“Maybe it was the one in our garden that told them.”

Deltain nodded.

It wasn’t impossible.

‘Spirits can communicate with each other without leaving their place.’

He knew of it only as a concept of the void dimension.

Deltain, who hadn’t studied spirit magic, knew this for one reason.

He had dealt with the void dimension to master fourth-tier spatial magic.

“… I’d like to ask more about that spirit.”

“Don’t rush. You’ll understand when you meet it.”

“But I have questions for you.”

“I can’t tell you anything.”

The chieftain shook his head.

“Sorry, but I’m bound by a contract, so I’m not of much help.”

Deltain clicked his tongue.

Yet, he didn’t press further.

He understood that those bound by a contract with a spirit often acted like slaves to appease them.

“So, when can I meet it?”

“If you want, right now. But I’d like you to have a meal first. I don’t want to send you up without feeding you.”

“… how long will it take?”

“It’ll be done in 30 minutes. We’re here. You can rest in this hut until then.”

The chieftain stopped walking and stepped aside.

In front of Deltain and his group, a rather large hut came into view.

“Welcome to the tribe.”

The chieftain said, and Deltain nodded.

“Let me know when it’s ready.”

As Deltain entered the hut, Orga snuck in after him.

The chieftain’s eyes widened, but Orga pretended not to notice.

*

There was a lot to think about.

First, there was No. 3 the Token of Endless Winter. According to information, it was a blessing given by the spirit to each new chieftain. Second, the spirit was expecting him, and No. 9, the Magic Flower Actrias, was somehow connected to the spirit.

Could this journey to the snowy mountains secure both materials?

As these thoughts crossed Deltain’s mind, Orga spoke up.

“Mission accomplished!”

His voice was bright.

Deltain and Agnes turned to look at him.

Orga beamed and finally removed the heavy coat that had covered his entire body.

Agnes exclaimed in surprise.

“You’re a girl?”

“Hm?”

When Orga removed her coat and hood, her long hair flowed down past her shoulders.

She was around ten years old, and with such thin clothes, it was clear that she was indeed a young girl.

Orga smiled cheerfully.

“That’s right! I’m a girl!”

Agnes’ expression turned complex.

Orga then hurriedly approached Deltain, her eyes shining as she asked.

“So, what’s the next plan? What do I need to act out this time?”

Deltain glanced at Orga.

“There isn’t one.”

“What?!”

“There’s no plan. I don’t need you anymore.”

Thud!

Orga fell to her knees.

She clung to Deltain’s pants, her voice trembling with tears.

“Th-then what about me? I might get in trouble with my father!”

“That’s your problem. Who told you to get caught back there?”

“Uuuuu-!!!”

Orga was stunned, her face blank with shock.

When Deltain gave her a little nudge, she collapsed onto the ground.

Drip.

Tears trickled down from Orga’s eyes.

Orga, ten years old.

She had learned betrayal, albeit at a rather late age.

*

Thirty minutes passed quickly.

What appeared before the party as they left the cabin was the meat of a massive beast, about five times the size of Kaltara.

“Whoa.”

Agnes let out a gasp of amazement.

“So, things like that live in the snowy mountains.”

It might have been a mountain goat.

It was hard to tell since all its fur and skin had been stripped away, leaving only the chopped-up meat, but the smell was similar to lamb.

Deltain replied to Agnes’ remark.

“It’s Feber Lord, a second-class dangerous beast.”

“A second-class danger? Isn’t that pretty high? How did they manage to catch it?”

“Don’t underestimate the barbarians. They might be stupid, but their hunting skills and combat ability surpass those of imperial folks by several times.”

The most notable example would be Kaltara.

Although she was a bit of an outlier, making her a tricky benchmark, she was perhaps the clearest example of potential among barbarians.

In any case, unlike the imperial knights who trained their whole lives to reach their level, Kaltara was born with the strength of a lord-level warrior.

“There’s a reason why the empire controls the north, south, and west through barbarians. They’re afraid of them.”

“It’d be nice if we could get along.”

“As if that’s ever going to happen.”

As they conversed, the chieftain approached them.

He carried a large plate piled with the leg meat of the beast.

“Please, eat. It’s the best part.”

“Thanks. So, once we eat this, will you take us to the spirit?”

“Yes. Are you planning to depart right after eating?”

“That’s what I’d like to do.”

“In that case, leave your subordinates behind.”

“What?”

“The ones the spirit wants to meet are you and that woman only.”

Deltain frowned as he looked at the hounds and Cargo.

The four, aside from Kaltara, looked delighted at not having to climb further up the mountain.

“… do we really have to do that?”

“They wouldn’t be able to meet the spirit anyway.”

“In that case, I probably wouldn’t see the spirit either.”

“You will. The spirit will make it so.”

Deltain’s eyebrows raised.

‘A spirit capable of manifesting a form?’

Among spirits, only two types could weave matter into a body.

The spirit king or direct descendants of the spirit king’s soul.

It was probably the second type.

The spirit king, being the embodiment of the planet itself, didn’t make contracts with individuals.

‘I did hear that the spirit king could be seen here.’

Deltain thought further.

The chieftain must have contracted with a direct descendant of the spirit king.

Through that spirit, they might get to meet the spirit king.

‘The one the spirit king is interested in is…’

Deltain’s gaze shifted to Agnes.

She was picking at the meat with her fork, eating slowly.

‘… her. Or more precisely, her magic flower.’

Impatience bubbled up inside him.

He had a way to solve the mystery crowding his mind right in front of him, yet he had to bid his time.

He wanted to throw caution to the wind and race up to the peak of the snowy mountain, but that would undoubtedly complicate things with the spirit.

‘Better wrap this up quickly and get going.’

Deltain picked up a piece of meat and took a big bite.

“How does it taste?”

“Tough.”

“That’s a shame.”

The chieftain looked regretful.

*

They wasted no more time.

Having finished their meal, Deltain set off again with Agnes, the chieftain, and Orga in tow.

As they walked, Deltain asked Orga, looking over at her.

“… why are you coming along?”

“….”

Orga clung to Agnes’ leg.

From the sulky look she shot at him, it was clear she felt quite betrayed.

Yet, she kept glancing at the chieftain, seemingly afraid of getting scolded, so she stuck close to the guests.

“… Orga, we’ll talk later.”

“Eek!”

At the chieftain’s words, Orga hid behind Agnes.

Agnes smiled gently, patting Orga’s head.

“You’re cute.”

Deltain sighed at the strange situation but soon brushed Orga aside and lifted Agnes into his arms.

She couldn’t handle climbing in her current condition.

“Let’s head out.”

With that, they began their ascent to the snowy mountain’s peak.

The terrain was steep, and the snow was falling thickly.

Yet Deltain felt oddly unaffected by it.

‘A spirit’s blessing.’

Spirits, when pleased by someone entering their domain, protected them from the harm of their power.

Deltain figured this was also due to Agnes.

Her innate spirit sensitivity of 8.9 wasn’t an ordinary value.

Even if it was a direct descendant of a spirit king, it would find her sensitivity intriguing.

Perhaps Agnes might even form a contract with the spirit of this snowy mountain.

Lost in such thoughts, Deltain climbed until the summit finally came into view.

Stop.

He froze.

‘Is that a spirit?’

In the middle of the frozen lake at the peak.

Something stood there, shaped like a woman woven from snow, smiling gently.

Its gaze was fixed on Agnes.

It was a truly mysterious sight.

It clearly had a form, yet nothing could be felt from it. And still, he was sure it was a living being.

“We greet you, Spirit.”

The chieftain bowed his head.

Orga, looking uncertain, also bowed at a 90-degree angle.

The spirit began to walk.

Its steps were light, and with every movement, the swirling snowflakes softened, like petals fluttering in the wind.

[Ah, you’ve arrived.]

The distance between them shrank.

Now they were close enough to make out the spirit’s facial features.

Deltain realized then that the spirit bore the face of what humans would consider a classic beauty.

[It’s such a pleasure. So fragrant…]

Just as the spirit came within five steps of them.

[… urk?!]

The spirit suddenly retched.

Just as confusion appeared on Deltain’s face, the spirit stepped back, looking at Agnes in shock.

What on earth was going on?

That thought crossed everyone’s minds when—

[Uweeeh!]

The spirit gagged.

Of course, what came out of its mouth was pure white snowflakes.

The spirit’s body convulsed.

Its expression contorted into one of utmost disgust.

The abruptness of it all was bewildering.

The spirit, trembling and casting another glance at Agnes, finally spoke.

[S-such an… impure scent…]

Agnes’ face went blank.

[You’re not… pure, are you?]

As the spirit’s face contorted with betrayal, Deltain thought.

‘A unicorn?’

Was it not a spirit but a unicorn, after all?

It seemed so.