Abel’s brain briefly stopped functioning.
The collapse of Enkart City?
The sole survivor?
In the game… was there such a setting?
He quickly searched his memories from his previous life.
As a launch player of “Goddess Knight Order,” he prided himself on knowing the main storyline and important character backgrounds inside out.
But Julius’s background in the game was just a few sparse lines—
“A young and promising marquis,” “the protagonist’s reliable older brother,” “parents died early.”
Could it have triggered a hidden plot?
Or… because of his own choices, had the “plot” of this world already shifted?
Abel’s breathing quickened slightly.
He recalled those hints from the mid-game—
Julius’s occasional melancholy, his unusually intense focus on those “Divine Pollution” events, and in certain side dialogues, his silent profile gazing at distant ruins.
So those foreshadowings were buried here.
“So, about what happened back then…” Abel’s voice was a bit dry.
“Big Brother, you’ve been hiding it all this time?”
Julius nodded gently, the light from the window casting interwoven shadows of light and dark on his face: “It was too unbelievable. Telling others would only get me labeled as crazy, or… attract unnecessary attention.”
He paused, his gaze landing on Abel’s face. “But now, you have the right to know the truth.”
He walked back in front of Abel, placing both hands on his younger brother’s shoulders with heavy force.
“Abel, these disasters won’t stop. Twelve years ago it was Enkart, yesterday it was the royal capital, tomorrow it could be anywhere.”
Julius’s blue eyes burned with a flame Abel had never seen before.
“I don’t want the tragedy that happened to us to repeat on more people.”
His voice was low and firm:
“So, my good brother, let’s together—turn this imperfect world into the one we desire.”
Abel felt a current shoot up his spine to his brain.
This sentence seemed to touch some deeply buried memory.
Not a game line from his previous life, but… something even older.
Fragmented images flashed in his mind.
Two children high-fiving under the starry sky, childish voices making a vow:
“We’ll be heroes! Beat all the bad guys away!”
“Aw, Abel, think of something more practical.”
He lifted his head, meeting his brother’s gaze, and said word by word:
“I’ll end this disaster.”
This wasn’t a promise, but a declaration.
Julius smiled.
That smile held relief, pride, and a trace of complex emotion that Abel couldn’t understand, deeply hidden.
“I believe you can do it.”
He released his hands, regaining his usual composure.
“But before that—”
He pointed toward the door, his tone suddenly light:
“You have to deal with the ‘disaster’ outside first.”
A question mark popped up over Abel’s head.
“Some troublesome guests have arrived.” Julius shrugged.
“And they’re here for you. Sebas and the others are about to be overwhelmed.”
“Guests? Who?”
“Who else?”
Julius smiled ambiguously.
“Of course, the noble lords and ladies coming to befriend our ‘great hero who thwarted the heretics’ plot with one punch.’ Oh right, seems like there are church people and royal envoys too.”
Abel’s face twitched fiercely.
He hated these occasions the most.
Fake smiles, roundabout flattery, probing recruitments, and those eyes appraising him like a rare animal.
“Big Brother…”
He tried to struggle.
“Can I not go? Just say I’m unwell…”
“Of course not.”
Julius grinned like a fox.
“You have the heart to let your brother face that pack of wolves and tigers alone? They’re bringing all sorts of ‘generous gifts.'”
Abel opened his mouth, realizing he really wasn’t that shameless.
“…Got it.”
He resignedly drooped his shoulders.
“I’ll go prepare.”
“That’s more like it.”
Julius patted his back, his eyes sparkling.
“Change into something decent—don’t wear that traveler’s cloak. Elfi should have prepared it already.”
Abel responded weakly, turning to walk toward the door.
Even after Abel left, Julius still stood at the window, his gaze abyssal, as if looking at something nonexistent.
The morning light plated his body in a golden halo.
His profile lines were unbelievably graceful, the corners of his mouth holding a faint smile, but those blue eyes gazing out the window held a deep, almost sorrowful loneliness.
He murmured lightly, his voice so low it was almost scattered by the wind:
“Julius… your little brother is amazing.”
It wasn’t the usual way an older brother addressed a younger one; instead, it was like speaking from another person’s identity.
“I’m even starting to fall for him a bit.”
The moment the words fell, the reflection in the window glass in front of Julius seemed to blur for an instant.
After speaking, his face suddenly turned pale, and he covered his mouth, coughing nonstop, with bloodstains continuously flowing down through his fingers.
However, it wasn’t the fresh red that blood should be, but a golden liquid.
Twelve years now—that injury from back then was too severe.
This body is about to give out, huh?
He thought this, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over a portrait hanging in the bedroom. In the portrait was a girl with waist-length silver hair, Julius’s fiancée, the daughter of the Earl of Enkart—
Euphelia’s memorial portrait.
Almost identical to the figure in the window glass reflection…
***
Abel stood at the side entrance to the reception hall, swallowing nervously, his mood a bit uneasy.
Inside the hall, heads bobbed, with elegant attire and coiffed hair.
The butler, old Mr. Sebas, was surrounded by three lavishly dressed noblewomen, fine sweat beading on his forehead, the notebook in his hand nearly written through.
“Butler Sebas, this is our family’s treasured moonlight wine, the vintage is just right…”
“Look at ours first! This bolt of Eastern silk is priceless!”
“When can Young Master Abel see us? We came all the way from the southern border!”
Servants shuttled back and forth with tea and snacks, trained smiles on their faces, but Abel could see the haste and fatigue in their steps.
His heels quietly shifted back half an inch.
Maybe… slipping back to his room now was still possible?
Just say a sudden illness, injured from the battle with the flame giant, needs quiet rest.
Yes, a very reasonable excuse.
Just as he prepared to execute the retreat plan, an irresistible force came from his back collar.
“Young Master~”
A sickly sweet voice sounded in his ear.
Abel stiffly turned his head, meeting Elfi’s crimson eyes curved into crescents.
“Where are you going?”
The maid asked with a beaming smile, but the force in her hand didn’t relax at all.
“A man of the marquis family can’t flee the battlefield like a coward~”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but in the noisy hall, it was unusually clear.
In an instant, the entire reception hall fell silent.
The nobles’ heads swiveled like radars, dozens of eyes turning uniformly toward the door, focusing on Abel.
Then, amiable smiles appeared on their faces.