A fierce battle erupted at Riot Castle.
An even greater number of monsters than usual filled the space before the castle, packed so tightly there was hardly any ground to see.
It was a great battle lasting four full days.
Many soldiers died, and countless knights were wounded.
Yet, we achieved victory.
Not a single monster set foot inside Riot Castle.
“Wow—!”
The soldiers lining the ramparts shouted in unison.
Though utterly exhausted from the grueling fight, their spirits remained unbroken.
I looked at the ramparts, then turned away.
Amidst the heap of red and black corpses, the assault squad—myself included—stood at the center as always.
Among us, Avart stood out the most.
Helga’s Knight, kneeling on one knee, gasping for breath.
“You are today’s hero.”
I patted Avart’s shoulder, acknowledging his effort.
Avart, for his part, only nodded while drawing ragged breaths.
Judging from his pale, haggard face, it seemed he lacked the strength even to respond.
It was only natural—today, for the first time, he unleashed the power of the demon axe.
With each blow, a thunderous roar followed, and monsters fell by the dozen. Just in this battle alone, the number of monsters Avart killed must easily be in the hundreds.
Truly, it was a display befitting a top-grade Artifact, the likes of which are rare even in the Southern Continent.
“I…”
Suddenly, Avart opened his mouth.
Resolve flared in that tired face.
He rose, standing tall.
“I will not be ruled by this power. I will use it only when absolutely necessary.”
Thump, thump!
The conviction in his words rang true as he struck his breastplate.
“Wow—!”
The soldiers and knights once again let out cheers for Avart, the hero of this battle.
Helga’s Knights, in particular, raised their voices in celebration.
I stood quietly, watching them.
It all felt pleasing.
Avart, who finally steeled his heart, and his companions who shouted encouragement.
***
Riot Castle quickly moved to tidy the battlefield. There was no delay, for the Garden devoured every last monster corpse.
Afterward, we held several meetings, then sent messengers to the neighboring fiefs.
The fiefs surrounding the fortress were bound by law to answer emergency summons, so there was no chance the messengers would return empty-handed.
I was watching the messengers fade into the distance when—
“Chwik! I want to get to the Titan already!”
Huger came to me, pressing his case.
He’s been like this ever since our last conversation.
“Not yet.”
“If we’re going anyway, isn’t it better to hurry?”
Huger let out a sigh, his tone dry.
He was so thankful for this battlefield, but now he can’t wait to leave.
“Just wait a little longer. We leave when the Royal Support Corps arrives.”
I gazed up at the sky as I spoke.
Huger is a precious asset.
If he were to leave the battlefield now, soldiers who might otherwise survive would die, and knights who might not be injured would end up hurt.
“You say I can go when the Royal Support Corps arrives? Chwik, I bet you’ll change your mind again later!”
“When have I ever changed my mind?”
“You’re going to keep me here until the Royal Support Corps is acclimated to the battlefield, aren’t you? It’s obvious.”
Huger grumbled petulantly.
“Hmm… The splendid road of a king awaits me, but I can’t just leave our weakling soldiers behind. Chwik.”
“You can go. As soon as the Royal Support Corps arrives, that is.”
I told the orc, who was nothing like a typical orc.
The truth is, what I meant by the Royal Support Corps and what Huger was thinking were quite different.
It’s not just the northern fiefs that can send reinforcements to Riot Castle.
Sss—
I took a deep breath.
The fresh scent of grass from the Garden filled my lungs.
But this peace would be fleeting. Before long, the stench of monsters would once again fill this place.
“For now, focus on preparing for battle. The frequency of attacks has increased lately.”
“Tsk. Got it.”
At Plague Castle, there were already signs that Third Generation monsters would soon emerge.
Their growth was even faster than expected.
***
“It’s been a while.”
Ludwig gazed at the young man before him.
His second son, Sig Batenberg, had just returned after nearly two years on a long-term mission.
A faint smile touched Ludwig’s lips as he looked at his son.
Sig, who had reached the level of Swordmaster five years ago, now exuded an even deeper aura.
He must have made considerable achievements during this last long-term mission.
“Have you been well?”
Sig bowed his head with a calm expression.
Sharp eyes and tightly pressed lips.
Ludwig was struck by how much Sig resembled Richard.
The two exchanged plain words about their long-overdue reunion.
Even as they spoke, a subtle tension flickered between the two men, each measuring the other’s strength.
“You’ve grown even stronger.”
After a long moment of this invisible struggle, Sig finally gave a resigned look and withdrew his energy.
It was a routine he went through every time he returned from a mission.
To Sig, Ludwig was always the one he wanted to surpass.
“You’re still not ready to inherit the House.”
Ludwig’s words stung Sig’s pride.
Sig frowned slightly, then spoke.
“It seems a lot has happened while I was away.”
He’d heard rumors: the entire Third Knight Division removing the Bartenberg insignia; his foolish younger brothers abandoning the family name; and most surprising, the youngest, Richard, being mentioned as a candidate for the next successor alongside himself.
Sig looked to Ludwig, seeking an explanation.
“You must have heard about the situation with Baren, known as the Shield of the Northern Continent.”
“You mean the place where Richard and Moritz left with the knights?”
Sig watched Ludwig nod silently, convinced now that something serious had occurred.
After all, it was no ordinary matter for members of the Bartenberg Bloodline to lead knights out of the House.
Interest flickered in Sig’s eyes.
“Baren did not request support, but if it falls, the damage will only spread further. As soon as you finish preparations, head to Riot Castle.”
Ludwig’s tone betrayed no concern for his two sons.
He seemed only to be stating the duty of a House that reigns over the Northern Continent.
Yet Sig could clearly sense Ludwig’s true feelings.
“You are still clumsy, Father. Are my foolish brothers really so untrustworthy in your eyes?”
If it were just concern for Baren, Ludwig would have sent the First Knight Order or the Second Order of Knights long ago.
Sig knew the man behind the Iron Blood moniker all too well.
“You want to see what Moritz and Richard are capable of, but you can’t help but worry if you leave them entirely alone.”
So after much deliberation, he decided to send Sig himself.
Sig made this assumption, entirely of his own accord.
“I will act as you command.”
Sig glanced briefly at his Lord, whose expression was unreadable, and immediately set about preparing to leave.
Having just returned from a long mission, there was little for him to pack.
Krrrk—!
He was just about to mount his beloved pet.
“Hey! Isn’t that a wyvern? You’ve tamed it well!”
A voice called out cheerfully from somewhere.
It was Leon, captain of the First Knight Order.
“Sir Leon?”
“It’s been a while. Hehe.”
Seeing Leon grinning, Sig recalled a painful memory.
He had tried so hard to win this man to his side.
“I heard you became Richard’s man. Is that true?”
“If I had pledged myself to him, I wouldn’t be here now.”
“That’s a relief to hear. I thought I’d lost my first love while I was away! Haha!”
The two men, always close, bantered freely as if no time had passed.
Then Leon’s gaze shifted to the wyvern.
More precisely, to the bundle tied to its back.
“Are you heading straight to Riot Castle?”
“That’s right,” Sig answered with a shrug.
“Seems the Lord is worried about my younger brothers. The foolish lot they are.”
“Hmm, worried, huh…”
But Leon’s expression was odd.
“Why the strange look?”
“I’m sure the Lord isn’t sending you just because he’s worried about the two young ones at Riot Castle. Please be careful. If you let your guard down even for a moment…”
You might end up believing in the Cross Insignia, too—
But those words remained unspoken on Leon’s lips.
***
Keeeeeeh!
With a rough roar, the wyvern took flight.
Mounted atop it, Sig circled high above Barten House, gazing down.
At the highest point of the main building fluttered the Banner.
After a moment watching it, he turned his direction southward.
His mind was filled with thoughts of Richard and Moritz.
Curiosity shone in his jet-black eyes.
He was dying to know what his brothers left the House for, and what kind of Faith they carried in their hearts.
He was equally eager to see just how much Richard—whom the retainers never stopped praising—had changed.
“I heard he received swordsmanship instruction from Sir Vallach. That little brat…”
Perhaps he’d caught Leon’s infectious curiosity.
Sig’s excitement surged.
He felt not the slightest wariness toward Richard, who was said to be rapidly rising as a candidate for next heir.
Though Richard had already abandoned the Bartenberg name, as an older brother, Sig could only feel joy at his brother’s achievements.
Even if the House followed the law of the strong, Sig always welcomed fair competition.
So he headed south for a long while.
The further he went, the more the sky grew dark and foreboding.
Demonic energy tightened around his body, so much that the wyvern faltered midair.
“Hold on,” Sig murmured, spreading his aura to shield the wyvern from the miasma.
Several days passed like this.
Finally, Sig gazed down upon Baren’s royal capital below.
Everywhere, banners fluttered, all bearing the Cross Insignia.
Not just in the capital, but in nearly every territory he’d passed on his way to Riot Castle, unfamiliar banners with the Cross Insignia hung in abundance.
He wondered what on earth they meant, but the wyvern did not slow its flight.
At last, Riot Castle appeared at the edge of his vision.
『 In the darkest night 』
『 He will bring joyful tidings through the light 』
『 Soon, the dawn will break 』
From the direction of the castle, a song reached his ears.
Kiiiiii!
The wyvern beat its wings with renewed vigor.
Any sign of exhaustion from the long flight had vanished.
『 The darkness holds fear 』
『 The lambs hold faith 』
『 How could they not endure this brief night 』
As Sig circled above Riot Castle, he found himself at a loss for words.
Below, Riot Castle was locked in battle with hideous red monsters.
Yet louder than the booms of battle, the song rang out—pouring from the mouths of the army fighting the monsters.
Rough like any military song, yet somehow mysterious and reverent.
Then, his eyes met someone in the midst of the battlefield.
A young man, wrapped in rays of light, whose very form seemed woven from the song’s melody.
The youth, who had been gazing up at Sig, smiled broadly.
And then, silently mouthed words.
‘Welcome, brother.’
He definitely said that.
No matter how he looked, that couldn’t be Moritz…
Then could this radiant man truly be Richard?
Sig muttered in disbelief.
They said he’d changed, but he never imagined he would become someone entirely different.