Clear the bodies and regroup the forces.
The war is over.
We are no longer enemies, but comrades—so lay down your swords.
Move together.
Raise the flags and blow the war horns with vigor.
Sound the victory bells and open the castle gates.
It is the procession of the great Imperial Princess.
It is the procession of the new Emperor His Majesty.
Everyone, rush out and pay your respects.
Celebrate with a festival.
The war is over.
A head tilts left and right in confusion.
Along with it, crimson eyes shift in tandem.
“Ambiguous. So ambiguous.”
Rank 3. Airlights.
To be precise, it was “Airyaitschu,” but everyone called her Airlights, and since she didn’t mind, that’s how it stuck.
“Must be Jijoncheonma, right?”
She had seen the battlefield through ‘different eyes.’
The power that had wiped out the First Prince’s forces in an instant alongside a bolt of lightning.
“Impressive, but not unbeatable.”
…
Airlights herself had molded the First Prince’s camp to her liking, after all.
“Of course, it wouldn’t have been as easy as going for a stroll.”
Airlights had put considerable effort into her masterpiece, and other rankers couldn’t have achieved the same feat so easily.
“That’s why it’s stranger. If she had that much power, why delay?”
For what purpose?
If it were only to make the Imperial Princess the Emperor, following Sirbert’s plan, she could have ended the war instantly using that power.
Yet, the person suspected to be Jijoncheonma wasted a lot of time, then struck down the First Prince and immediately vanished.
Airlights just couldn’t understand that.
“Hmmm.”
Her tilted head slowly stops moving.
The corners of her mouth begin to curl upward.
“Well, we’ll see soon enough.”
Below her, dozens of men bow deeply.
The walls of the room are filled so densely with paintings that one might mistake them for photographs.
Hundreds of paintings—all depicting one man.
The overwhelming number one, envied and admired by many rankers.
The Original☆Cheonma★.
Airlights smiles as she gently strokes the man in the paintings.
“Miss you.”
Her crimson eyes gleam chillingly.
[Achievement Unlocked! – Benefactor of the Emperor!]
[400 Points earned from achievement]
***
[Stories spread about the ‘Magician who controls lightning.’]
[Reputation increased. 2 Points gained]
[Reputation increased. 2 Points gained]
[Reputation increased. 2 Points gained]
[Reputation increased. 2 Points gained]
[Stories spread about the ‘Knight who refuses death.’]
[Reputation increased. 2 Points gained]
[Reputation increased. 2 Points gained]
[Reputation increased. 2 Points gained]
[Reputation increased. 2 Points gained]
[Use the Point Shop to enhance stats and skills!]
Even now, her reputation points rise little by little.
It was due to her actions in the large-scale war.
Though brief, her impact was intense, causing rumors to spread by that strength.
However… more talk focused on the Knight who refused death than on the Magician controlling lightning.
“Imagine a Death Knight more famous than his master. Do you think that’s right, Teordo?”
Hio, sprawled lazily on a plush sofa, spoke, but Death Knight Teordo ignored him.
In a spacious chamber reserved for dignitaries within the imperial palace, Hio lounged comfortably.
To be exact, he’s not really the master. Symbiosis? No, that’s odd too… What should I call this?
The relationship between Teordo, now a Death Knight, and Hio was quite strange.
If Teordo had become a Death Knight by normal means, it would naturally be a master-servant relationship.
He would be forced into absolute obedience to Hio. But Teordo was not like that.
Created without any magical effect, that was only natural.
Fortunately, Hio’s ability to inject morale granted him some authority over Teordo, which was a relief.
“First, you need to quickly learn Necromancer Magic. You should at least master basic summoning and dismissal.”
“Okay, okay, I’m trying my best.”
Though it seemed like he was muttering to himself, Teordo didn’t find it odd.
He already knew something else inhabited Hio’s soul.
Instead, he stood quietly, staring at the door.
Hours passed like this.
Unable to bear it any longer, Hio spoke to Teordo.
“If you’re just going to stand there, I’m telling you now.”
Teordo merely shook his head.
He worried about Sylvia.
***
After the war ended, when they regrouped and headed to the imperial castle, Sylvia had been half out of her mind.
Furnel clicked his tongue in disapproval, and even Yohn Torno was worried about her condition.
Hio also had many concerns on multiple fronts, but…
Upon arriving at the imperial castle and entering the palace, Sylvia changed.
Her weak appearance vanished, replaced by a cold and ruthless Imperial Princess who began to seize control of the palace.
Though she had not yet officially ascended the throne, she declared the civil war over and worked day and night to stabilize the volatile political situation.
Hio, who had worried whether she could handle being Emperor, was somewhat relieved by how quickly she adapted.
Of course, that was only her outward appearance.
To those who knew the truth, Sylvia’s inner state remained precarious.
Teordo worried about her.
But he couldn’t approach.
He had changed too much.
He himself exuded an ominous aura relentlessly.
He feared becoming a hindrance to Sylvia’s reputation, health, and future.
He could only spend all day staring at the locked door, filled with worry.
“Ugh… so frustrating. So frustrating.”
“I’m the one who’s frustrated! What are you doing not spinning your circle?”
“…Yeah. Sorry.”
“You’re just slacking off with so much to do. You should master all Second Circle magic quickly and move on to Third Circle! Are you going to rot in Second Circle forever?”
“I said I get it already…”
What he was learning now barely counted as magic.
According to Furnel, it was the bare minimum for a Necromancer.
The first thing to master was summoning and dismissing the undead.
“Disperse the morale with the power of the glyph. Teordo’s soul is saturated with morale, all connected to you. It’s easy now.”
He no longer needed to activate Ghost Vision to sense morale clearly.
Creating the Death Knight and borrowing the Death God’s power had greatly developed his senses.
After several practice sessions following Furnel’s guidance…
“Exactly. Well done.”
Teordo could summon and dismiss at will.
Technically, it was recalling the morale that formed his body, then reassembling it to shape his form.
Repeatedly summoning and dismissing during practice, Teordo’s gaze finally shifted from the door to Hio.
Though expressionless, it was clear he was sulking.
“…Sorry. I won’t do it again.”
Teordo turned his head back to the door.
Apologizing alternately to ghosts and the Death Knight himself—it was exasperating.
“What are you going to do about that guy?”
“Exactly.”
Teordo, revived as a Death Knight, was immensely powerful.
Even in life, he was a knight standing before a superhuman; now as a Death Knight, he was stronger.
An undamageable body and more morale injected meant greater strength.
Even without his undying body, his raw power alone would easily place him in the seventh tier.
“Bringing him along would be impossible.”
“Agreed.”
There was only one limitation on Teordo.
If Hio died, Teordo would vanish too.
But… would that knight fear such a thing?
And Hio himself didn’t want to take along a Teordo in such a state.
Normally, memories of life would fade, leaving only strong regrets to fuel resentment, forcing absolute obedience to his master…
But since he was recently dead and not created by normal necromancy, his memories and heart remained intact.
How could one forcibly take such a Teordo away?
Besides, there was no immediate need for raw strength.
They had essentially gained a powerful ally for the future.
“Learn properly, and next time establish a clear master-servant relationship before starting. This time… it can’t be helped.”
“Yeah, Teordo.”
At Hio’s call, Teordo looked at him.
“Let’s go see Sylvia.”
Teordo shook his head again.
“Then will you come with me?”
Teordo shook his head faster and more firmly.
Somehow, it felt unpleasant.
“You don’t like this or that… fine, just follow me.”
Hio dismissed Teordo’s summon and left the room.
He had been planning to see Sylvia soon anyway.
The atmosphere had been tense for several days.
Sylvia had been busy moving about, so Hio hadn’t visited her intentionally.
Politically, it was much more helpful to have Yohn Torno by her side than Hio.
Well, Hio himself also needed time to sort things out.
The mood in the castle wasn’t as chaotic as on the first day.
When all forces returned, carrying the heads of the princes, it had truly been the height of chaos.
The First and Second Princes had gone to fight the decisive battle—but the one who returned was the Imperial Princess.
‘Who could have imagined that?’
Thankfully, the seasoned Yohn Torno was there.
“And don’t forget about the imperial palace library.”
“I know.”
“You say that, but you’ll probably forget and ramble on nonsense again, won’t you?”
“When have I ever rambled like that…”
Furnel had been singing since they headed to the palace.
The imperial palace library.
A treasure trove of books accessible only to the royal family and their close associates, a graveyard of long and profound history.
“Anyway, we have to visit the palace library. There are many strange things to consider. We should read some recorded history. You never know—there might be ancient spellbooks.”
“Alright, enough already.”
Enough. Enough. Enough.
Sylvia’s chambers were not far off, so Hio called Teordo out.
Morale gathered and condensed into a body in the middle of the corridor—a dark knight appeared.
“Now, we’re going to see Sylvia. Ready?”
Teordo shook his head.
“The death aura you have won’t affect Sylvia. It’s fine.”
Still hesitant, Teordo faltered.
Then it happened.
“…Magician.”
The Sword Saint appeared.
***
Sword Saint Bitalianus Mahel.
After the late Emperor’s death, the Sword Saint had been holed up in his room without stepping out even once.
Now, the mourning period was over.
“I will pay my respects to His Majesty.”
The outcome of the civil war was something even he hadn’t anticipated.
It was the missing Imperial Princess, not the First or Second Prince, who returned to the palace.
He only learned that fact and refused to receive any further reports.
Though curious about the details, he wanted to see and judge with his own eyes.
Changing into his uniform, Bitalianus opened a drawer and took out a fairly heavy wooden box.
Carrying it, he left the room.
Months after the Emperor’s death, he finally left his room.
Everyone who saw him bowed their heads.
Bitalianus nodded with little emotion and headed to where the Imperial Princess was.
‘Imperial Princess.’
‘Didn’t it feel like he might see a somewhat familiar face?’
The most foolish knight in the world, who had refused the once-in-a-lifetime honorable post.
A stubborn knight beyond words despite his foolishness.
And strangely, a knight who resembled himself.
Looking at him brought to mind the past—when he was the Emperor’s Guardian Knight.
When he had taken up his sword and fought with all his might for the Emperor’s glory.
‘…What was the meaning of it all?’
He had drawn his sword to protect.
He risked his life for the Emperor’s honor.
But… the Emperor was dead, and he was still perfectly fine.
‘What was the meaning of it?’
‘What was there left to fight for?’
All that remained for Bitalianus was emptiness.
He walked forward with hollow eyes, as if it didn’t matter.
But as he turned the corridor’s corner, he saw—
“Now, we’re going to see Sylvia. Ready?”
A man dressed so plainly he could not avoid being noticed.
His fashion sense was still the worst.
“The death aura you have won’t affect Sylvia. It’s fine.”
Bitalianus’s expression changed upon seeing the man.
A pleased smile spread at the corner of his mouth.
“…Magician.”
An unknown magician.
A completely obscure figure in the world, yet harboring immense power within.
Hio Pavlenko.
Last time, he had brought a saint who hadn’t even awakened; this time, it was the imperial palace itself.
“I see.”
He began to understand.
How an otherwise powerless Imperial Princess had defeated all those forces and won the war.
“Magician. Since you willed it so, it naturally came to be.”
That single person’s appearance explained everything.
“What scheme do you have?”
The previous meeting had been with a street girl made saint.
This time, a powerless Imperial Princess made Emperor.
‘What grand plan could he have in mind?’
His footsteps, unlike before, carried faint excitement, strength.
Interest flickered in his hollow eyes.
“No, whatever schemes they are doesn’t matter.”
Those things could be found out later.
There was something more important.
“I want to finish the duel I couldn’t complete.”
The rage inside him.
He only wanted to vent his complaints through his sword.
Though his chest felt tight, he had nowhere else to release it.
He had lost the one he had served his whole life in a single day.
He hadn’t even been at his side during his final moments.
He had no choice but to bear it quietly.
He was the Empire’s great star.
The Sword Saint.
He must not waver.
The Emperor’s Guardian Knight.
The Empire’s Guardian Knight.
But if it was this magician—
If it was the man he recognized—
He could fully release the mysterious, boiling emotions inside.
Bitalianus finally arrived before Hio.
His legs stopped.
His eyes locked onto Hio’s.
A vast fighting spirit surged.
“Oh, Sword Saint. It’s been a long time.”
Then he noticed the other presence.
No, he had felt it all along but had ignored it, focusing on the magician.
The presence behind the magician.
Clearly not human, radiating pure foreboding.
Bitalianus’s gaze fell upon the figure standing behind the magician.
His eyes slowly scanned the black form from head to toe.
Examining the feet, the standing posture, the outstretched hands, then finally the face.
“Glad to see you, but let’s postpone the duel. I’m not feeling well today…”
Hio Pavlenko, as usual, made an excuse to avoid the duel.
Now it was Bitalianus’s turn to reply.
‘Still not feeling well, huh?’
‘How long are you going to keep dodging?’
But Bitalianus just remained silent.
His expression stern.
His gaze on the figure behind Hio.
Then looking back at Hio, he said calmly,
“The mood’s gone. We’ll duel another time.”
Without another word, he passed by Hio and walked on.
Hio, wearing a face that silently said “What’s this guy up to?”, watched him leave.
Bitalianus stopped suddenly and asked without turning back, “By the way, magician.”
“Do you happen to know a certain knight?”
A somewhat abrupt question.
“Very foolish, stubborn, and utterly inflexible.”
Hio paused briefly, then answered,
“…No way I wouldn’t.”
“As expected…”
Nodding, the Empire’s Golden Lion resumed his stride.
The swaying blond hair somehow looked a little empty.
The Empire’s Sword Saint.
The Emperor’s Guardian Knight, Bitalianus Mahel.
“My work keeps me busy, but could you deliver a message for me?”
His stride resumed, still blunt and unfazed.
His words utterly casual.
“Thank you for your service.”
The already deceased knight bowed his head.
“Tell him I envy him.”
T_T
o7