The Last Step Chapter 79: Knights Of The Realm

Levi’s Perspective:

It’s been a few days since we were wiped out in Rinascita.

Yeah. Wiped. Not "beaten." Not "outplayed." Wiped...

I’ve managed to get most of my injuries patched up. My legs were the real pain. Cracked like brittle glass, but hey—I’m walking now, aren’t I? Credit to the healer that pulled off that miracle.

I don’t rember their face, just the warmth in their magic and the cold realization that I’d actually live to feel pain again. Lucky .

Xander and Alina? They’re doing better. Lucky bastards got off with fewer wounds and hopped out of the infirmary days before . I teased them for it, obviously. Told Xander he probably faked his injuries just to sleep all day.

He didn’t even argue. Just gave that lazy smirk of his. Tch.

But Aaron...

Aaron didn’t wake up.

Terminally unconscious. That’s what they’re calling it now. What the hell does that even an? Sounds like they just slapped a fancy na on we don’t know how to fix him.

I heard soone overwheld him—no magic trick, no god-tier spell—just raw pain, so intense it fried his nervous system and dumped him into that coma.

I hate that. Not because it happened. But because I wasn’t there.

We were sabotaged. Sabotaged and dumped into a war zone designed to kill us.

The rain—we thought it was just weather. No. It was artificial. Debuffed healing.

ssed with our spell formulas, like soone coded in a cheat mid-battle and pressed "nerf party." Our magic didn’t work. Healing was slower than a snail. And nobody noticed until it was way too late.

That’s why we couldn’t recover. Why everyone looked half-dead even before the grotesques showed up.

And then...

Sylvia said a single man—yes, one guy—obliterated the grotesques.

Alone.

I almost laughed when I first heard it. Thought she was still hallucinating from mana poisoning. But she wasn’t joking. Her eyes weren’t dazed—they were honest.

She saw it.

Said there were traps—hundreds of them—hidden all over the town. Triggered only for grotesques. Lured, cornered, slaughtered. One by one. Painfully.

That wasn’t a defense tactic.

That was predation.

I don’t understand it. Not one part of it.

It’s giving a headache.

I stood up slowly, muscles still stiff, and walked to the window of this dusty little room I was stuck in. The people outside were walking like the ground might fall apart if they stepped too hard.

The air was still humid, thick with leftover fear. Not grief. Not yet. Just that quiet kind of tension that builds when people know sothing’s coming, but pretend they don’t.

I raised my hand, flexed my fingers.

Still shaky. Still recovering.

Still pissed off.

"They’re gonna co again..." I muttered. "Of course they are."

It was obvious. You don’t break a town like Rinascita and just walk away. Not after setting up war-traps like that. Whoever did it—whoever this ’single man’ was—he didn’t defend the town.

He claid it.

And now this place? It’s bait.

"Y’know..." I said aloud, to no one, "if I were the bad guy here, I wouldn’t co marching in again."

I cracked my knuckles and leaned against the window.

"I’d wait until the defenders relaxed. And then I’d slaughter them during lunch."

Yeah. That’s what I’d do.

Still... the fact that one man killed grotesques alone with traps... I an, I’ve done so flashy things in my life, sure. But that?

Who is this guy?

A part of wants to et him.

Another part wants to punch him in the face just to see if he bleeds.

I chuckled.

"Who the hell are you?" I whispered, looking out at the anxious streets. "And why do I feel like the next ti we et..."

I turned away from the window, grabbing my coat off the chair.

"...you’re either going to be my favorite person—or my favorite fight."

-----

After a while, we were all summoned.

A private eting with Lord Avelric—how noble.

I didn’t feel like putting on a shirt, but I had to. Politics and propriety and all that crap. Even when the world’s burning, nobility loves their curtains drawn right and their chairs polished.

I limped my way through the cold hallways of the Rinascita estate, faint candlelight flickering along the stone walls like they were whispering old secrets I didn’t have ti for.

By the ti I entered the chamber, Xander and Alina were already seated.

Figures.

Xander was half-slouched, elbow on the table like he was about to take a nap mid-war briefing. Alina sat like a statue. Back straight, eyes forward. That quiet, doll-like poise she always carried. You’d think she wasn’t even breathing.

I dropped into the nearest empty seat, wincing slightly. Damn legs still weren’t right.

There were two chairs left untouched.

One for Aaron.

The other for Navina.

I glanced at them for a second longer than I ant to. Aaron was still out, and Navina...? She vanished after the war. No one’s seen her since. Not even her guildmates. Maybe she ran. Maybe she was taken.

Hope she’s okay.

"Thank you all for coming," Avelric’s voice rang out, smooth and refined, but carrying this weight of quiet dread underneath.

"I know the wounds of this war still burn... but what I have to say may provide so clarity. Or at least, an unsettling form of peace."

He stood at the far end of the table, robes draping elegantly, blond hair tied back. He looked like soone ant for opera halls, not warzones. But his eyes had seen things.

"Let’s skip the pleasantries," I said, crossing my arms. "Why are we here?"

Alina didn’t react. Xander yawned like it was too early in the day to talk about death and strategy.

Avelric’s eyes fell to the parchnt in his hands. "We have confird it. The reason Rinascita didn’t fall..."

He paused.

"...is because soone laid out over five hundred and sixty traps. Spiked pits, crushing contraptions, net snares rigged with alchemical fire. Ingeniously hidden."

My eyebrow twitched. "Five-sixty? You counted?"

"We did," Avelric nodded. "Every one of them filled with grotesque corpses."

"Okay, sure, but—" Xander cut in lazily, "—why did they fall for them? Grotesques aren’t that stupid. Not usually."

"Indeed," Avelric replied, a trace of tension behind his words. "That is the mystery. But the alchemists believe the traps were baited. All of them. With... decaying blood. The sll triggered the grotesques’ hunting instincts. Lured them in."

There was a long silence.

My mouth opened slightly. That sll... I do rember it, now that he ntions it. That rotting stink lingering in the air during the siege. I just assud it was the grotesques themselves.

Avelric continued, voice quieter now. "Weeks ago, there were a series of murders in Rinascita. Civilian disappearances. Bodies never recovered. Until now. Every one of them... was found inside the pits."

I leaned forward slightly. "...You’re telling the person who saved the town... is the sa one who was murdering people in it?"

Alina finally spoke. Her voice was calm, but had that cold edge she always carried when her thoughts were too heavy to hide. "He sacrificed a few... to save hundreds."

She closed her eyes for a mont. "I’ve heard rumors. People have started calling him the Dark Killer, haven’t they?"

"Yes," Avelric nodded grimly. "And that na, twisted as it may be... holds truth. These traps weren’t spontaneous. They were laid weeks in advance. Before the grotesques arrived. Before we even knew war would reach Rinascita."

Xander sat up a little. That got his attention. "So he predicted the war?"

Avelric looked around the table. "He anticipated everything. Where the grotesques would breach. Where we’d fall back. Where our last stand would be. He predicted our loss. But still ensured our survival."

His voice dropped lower, almost like he hated what he was saying next.

"...He planned our defeat."

There it was again—that weird silence no one wanted to break.

I leaned back in my chair, eyes flicking to the ceiling like maybe the answer was scribbled up there.

He used corpses. Human corpses. As bait. To save all of us.

He predicted the fall. Predicted us. Our decisions. Our positioning.

Every step of the war... played out like he was reading it off a script.

That was the real headache.

Not the guilt.

Not the blood.

Not even the fact that we lived thanks to a serial killer.

It was the fact that soone out there saw it all coming. And not just saw it—they played it. Like we were pieces on their board.

I clenched my jaw.

"Who the hell even thinks like that...?" I muttered.

A monster? A genius? Or sothing in between?

Doesn’t matter.

We had other problems now.

Because if they knew we’d lose once, then maybe...

Lord Avelric adjusted his cuffs, then raised his gaze with a heavier tone than before. "There is more. Miss Sylvia also left us... sothing else."

That got my attention.

"She delivered to us a special type of weapon," he said. "Claid it was the only one that can reliably kill grotesques. A sword."

My brow furrowed. "Just... a sword?"

That didn’t sit right. Why would she hand over so random blade like it was Excalibur?

Alina broke the silence, calm but direct. "What does the sword do?"

Avelric opened a sealed letter from the table and scanned the contents. "This sword, unlike the ones you are accustod to, does not support elental infusion. No fla channeling. No wind blades. No conductivity for magic amplification. Structurally, it lacks any of the combat-optimized modifications you’ve all trained with—no adaptive hilt, no lightened center of mass for flick techniques. Simply put, it is... inert."

Xander blinked slowly and gave a flat shrug. "So... it’s just inferior?"

Alina nodded in quiet agreent. "Then why bring it up?"

Avelric’s lips thinned. "We believed the sa. All of us. We almost discarded it."

"But Sylvia," he continued, folding the letter with care, "insisted. Vehently. She requested it be examined thoroughly by our researchers. So we followed through."

Alina sighed quietly. "Why was she so passionate about it...?"

Xander, arms still folded lazily, muttered, "She claid a single man used it to wipe out all the grotesques, right? Said she didn’t know him, though."

I nodded to myself.

She didn’t know him.

But I sure as hell knew that story wasn’t fake.

Avelric’s tone turned colder. Maybe even... disturbed. "That sword is not for humans."

We all stared.

He continued slowly, like even he hadn’t co to terms with it. "It was designed to slaughter the evolved grotesque race."

A silence hit the room like thunder.

"...You’re kidding," I said under my breath.

"No," Avelric replied grimly. "We had one of the grotesques’ corpses preserved—an evolved variant. The ones slashed with that sword had their crystalline core... destroyed. Not cracked. Shattered at a molecular level."

I felt a chill crawl up my spine.

Avelric’s voice turned clinical as he explained what the alchemists discovered. "The chemists believe the blade is infused with mana-reactive quartz dust—pulverized and magically aligned at a substructure level. When infused with a specific elental bond—naly water—it creates a biochemical resonance field. The grotesques, whose exoskeletal cores are calibrated to vibrate at a frequency unique to their species... fail to detect it."

Xander sat up straighter. "...Wait. You’re saying the sword makes them think it’s one of them?"

"Exactly," Avelric nodded. "The quartz particles mimic the grotesque’s aura signature. It doesn’t trigger their defense response. The blade bypasses their resistance by exploiting their own biology—tricking their crystalline sensors into allowing entry."

Alina’s eyes widened slightly. That was basically screaming for her brain to overanalyze.

Avelric kept going, now clearly shaken even while maintaining his noble facade. "And when contact is made, the mana-infused blade reacts to the grotesque’s internal core. A destabilization chain occurs. Water elent catalyzes it. The inner structure of the grotesque’s magic crystalline core fractures into volatile filants. It’s not just a fatal wound—it’s a systemic collapse."

I blinked. "So basically, the sword tells their bodies, ’Hey, buddy, I’m one of you,’ and then explodes their insides the mont they buy it."

"Crude," Avelric said, "but accurate."

We were all quiet. Even Xander.

That’s how you know sothing’s serious.

Alina finally scratched her head. Her voice was soft, almost in disbelief. "...So Sylvia... was telling the truth."

"Yes," Avelric confird. "Whoever that man was, he wasn’t a myth. He saved Rinascita. Alone."

I tilted my head back. Alone. That word kept repeating in my head. This was no ’lucky genius’ or average hero. Whoever did this... was soone on a different plane entirely. Strategy, science, alchemy, war...

I had to et him. Or kill him. Or both.

Avelric took a deep breath, then added, "We’re attempting to replicate the sword. We gathered several of the most skilled craftsn in Rinascita—over twenty. Alchemists, blacksmiths, even forr royal weapon designers."

"And?" I asked.

"They’re struggling," he admitted. "Even after studying its structure and readings, none of them have been able to mimic the resonance calibration. To be frank... it’s hard to believe a single person crafted sothing so precise. With zero institutional backing."

Of course it is. Because he wasn’t trying to impress nobles.

He was trying to win.

Avelric looked at us all, gaze heavy with tension.

"...And more importantly—grotesques are coming back."

Oh. There it was.

There’s the real reason we were called.

I leaned back again, exhaling through my nose.

"Fantastic. Round two." I muttered. "And this ti, we know their weakness."

Avelric straightened his back, his voice slow and pressing now. "We’ve scanned the outer periter using mana-sweepers and alchemic drones. It appears the grotesques are reorganizing. Based on movent patterns..."

He paused, then t our eyes.

"...They may arrive in two days."

Two days.

That landed heavier than it should have. Even for soone like , I was tired out now... Two days wasn’t ti—it was a countdown.

My fingers curled unconsciously. I wasn’t healed enough for another war. Hell, we barely survived the last one. And now they were coming back?

Alina suddenly spoke, her tone still cold but laced with a quiet tension.

"...Is the Swarm Tyrant dead?"

The room froze.

Even Avelric didn’t speak.

I glanced at him. The way his eyes flicked away—yeah, he didn’t know either.

Xander leaned back, arms behind his head like usual, but there was a glint in his half-lidded eyes. "That night," he said slowly, "it was like a damn bloodfest. Sky lit up with mana pulses, explosions... the clouds even twisted. I swear, I felt it—that was the Swarm Tyrant fleeing."

I nodded. "Yeah. Sothing was off. The grotesques vanished after that night. No attacks, no scouts, nothing. It’s like sothing scared them."

"Or killed them," Alina added.

Avelric shook his head slightly. "We searched the surrounding zones. Sent in scouts, both magical and physical. We didn’t find a single body."

"No grotesques?" I asked.

He shook his head again. "None."

"And... no human body either?"

"No."

Xander clicked his tongue. "So either the Swarm Tyrant escaped..." He smirked faintly. "...or soone turned it into ash."

Alina’s brows furrowed. "But do you really believe it? That the sa man who set up those traps... went alone into the hive to face the Tyrant?"

She looked at each of us, searching for logic. "I an—think about it. The grotesques number in the thousands. The hive is a living fortress. And the Swarm Tyrant... is classified as a catastrophic-tier monster. To go in there alone... That sounds insane."

"It is insane," I replied. "But then again... so is baiting grotesques with rotting corpses and wiping out five hundred of them like it was a morning jog."

Alina didn’t argue.

Xander chuckled. "You ever hear about those types of guys in war? The ones who show up once, do sothing absurd, and vanish like myths? That’s what this guy is starting to sound like."

"Not a myth," I said quietly. "A ghost."

Alina crossed her arms. "But who is he, then? So kind of hidden monster? A rogue alchemist with combat experience? The Devil?"

"Could be a martyr with a god complex," Xander said lazily. "Or soone who just hates grotesques more than he values human life."

"He predicted the fall," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "Even our fallback strategy. He knew we’d lose. And he made sure we didn’t."

Avelric’s tone was quieter now. "Which ans... he’s either one of the greatest minds of this generation..."

"Or a monster in human form," Alina finished.

Silence fell again. A heavy one. No one really wanted to admit it, but we were all thinking the sa thing.

If he was on our side—if—then we were lucky.

But if he wasn’t...

We never stood a chance.

Just then—

Knock. Knock.

Three slow knocks echoed from the chamber door.

All our heads turned.

Avelric raised a brow, already tense. "We weren’t expecting anyone else."

I shifted in my seat, legs still sore but instinct ready. "So... are we opening that?"

Xander stood up slowly, stretching. "Depends. If it’s bad news, I’d prefer to hear it with tea."

Alina said nothing. But her hand was already brushing the dagger at her side.

Avelric stepped toward the door cautiously, voice low.

"...Let’s find out."

The door creaked open—not with drama, but with dread.

A young man in servant robes stumbled in, pale as snow, panting like he’d outrun death itself. He looked at Avelric, eyes wide, trembling. "M-My Lord...!"

Avelric raised an eyebrow. "Calm down. What is it?"

The servant swallowed hard. "The Holy Knight of the Realm... from the Asura Empire... has arrived here."

For a full second, none of us reacted. It didn’t compute.

Then it hit.

Asura?

Holy Knight?

Here?

My eyes snapped to Avelric, and his face had lost every drop of color. Xander actually sat upright. Alina’s hand slipped off her blade—out of shock, not relief.

And then...

He walked in.

The room shifted. I don’t an physically. I an everything felt heavier. Like gravity obeyed him. The light from the chandelier dimd slightly, not because it weakened—because he outshone it.

A tall figure with a powerful build, lean and broad-shouldered, stepped through the doorway like he owned Rinascita. Black coat dusted in silver steel-thread, shoulders lined with royal crests, and boots that thudded like war drums.

He wasn’t armored. He was armor.

Black hair, unkempt yet regal, fell to his neck. Yellow eyes—burning, sharp, and predatory. A scar traced from his left jaw down to his collarbone, like a signature of wars past. His expression? Calm. Controlled. But undeniably dominant.

He walked up to Avelric and extended a gloved hand.

"Lord Avelric," he said, voice deep but clean, like a steel blade sliding from its sheath.

"I’m Adonis Alcatraz. Head Rank Four of the Fifteen Knights of the Realm of The Asura Empire."

Avelric hesitated before taking the handshake, and even then... it was like he was grasping a ghost. His expression said it all. He knew this man. And not from banquets.

"Adonis... I wasn’t inford of—" Avelric began.

Adonis cut him off smoothly. "Her Majesty Empress Rose sent ."

"To assist Rinascita," he continued, "in the grotesque war."

Avelric’s mouth parted slightly. "You’re... assisting us?"

I tilted my head. "Oh wow. From refusal to reinforcents. That’s not just a change of heart, that’s a whole heart transplant."

Xander exhaled through his nose. "Now I’m getting a headache."

Alina muttered, "Asura originally rejected our request for military aid. They called Rinascita a containnt zone..."

I nodded. "Yeah. And now they send the Number Four?"

Avelric, still stunned, recovered just enough to ask, "Forgive , Sir Alcatraz... but why the sudden support? We are, of course, deeply grateful."

Adonis’s smile vanished. His expression flattened.

"We should be asking you that," he said.

That pulled all our attention.

"...What do you an?" Avelric asked, clearly caught off guard.

Adonis folded his arms. "All over the capital of Asura, propaganda and rumors have spread like wildfire. Saying Empress Rose refused to assist a dying town. That innocent people were being butchered, while the Empire sat pretty behind its marble walls."

Avelric blinked, stunned. "What...?"

Adonis took a step closer, voice low and pointed. "The streets are flooded with posters, news scrolls, tavern whispers. Saying Rinascita bled alone. That our Empire has lost its honor."

He glanced around the table, then locked eyes with Avelric.

"Tell , Lord Avelric. Was that... your political maneuver?"

The room went still again.

I stared at him, jaw slightly open. "Wait... what?"

Even Xander looked confused. "I don’t get it. Rinascita doesn’t have the political power to spin public narrative in Asura. That’d take money, spies... and planning."

Alina blinked, lips slightly parted.

Then her eyes widened—just slightly.

I noticed it.

She turned her head toward , and I knew we were thinking the sa thing.

It wasn’t Avelric.

It was him.

The ghost in the ruins. The one who laid the traps. Who predicted the retreat. Who lured grotesques like cattle.

And now...?

He was playing politics too?

I leaned forward slowly, muttering under my breath, "The mastermind... He didn’t just fight the grotesques. He made sure we’d get help."

"He weaponized public perception," Alina whispered. "Created a story the Asura Empire had to answer. Or risk public rebellion."

Adonis’s words echoed again in my head.

"Tell us—was this political move done by you?"

I stared at Avelric.

He was just as lost as us.

Which ant...

That monster had reached all the way to the Empire’s capital... without anyone even knowing his na.

And I—

I felt sothing weird in my chest.

Not fear. Not respect.

Anticipation.

The rest of the eting was... well, exactly what you’d expect when politicians and knights start rubbing shoulders.

Long-winded. Carefully phrased. Lots of "for the good of the realm" this and "by the will of the Empire" that.

Still, credit where it’s due—Adonis didn’t waste ti. He laid out his strategy cleanly. Brutally.

Avelric and he eventually reached an agreent—joint command, shared tactical intel, and formal recognition of Rinascita’s guilds as part of the operational force. Finally.

Adonis even assigned replacents for fallen squads, and to our surprise, he stepped up to take Aaron’s role. Personally.

He’d be replacing Valhalla.

I wasn’t sure if that made relieved or uneasy.

The Knights of the Realm aren’t like us. They’re... different. The world says they’re each blessed by a god. Real ones. Not the poetic kind. Divine favor.

Sword Saints like ? We’re freaks of nature. Born different.

Knights?

They’re chosen.

The myth goes: even an S-Rank adventurer has a less than one percent chance of winning a fight against a Knight.

Which ans Adonis wasn’t just confident—he was sure.

But I couldn’t help thinking...

What if the mastermind sabotaged us again?

What if everything—the traps, the chaos, the propaganda, the Empress’s involvent—was all one big ga, and we were still dancing where he wanted us?

Would even Adonis survive that?

When the eting finally ended, the table empty and the room dimr, I stood without a word and stepped out. My legs were still sore. My head more so.

Outside, Alina stood alone by the corridor window, arms folded, eyes distant. That usual calm detachnt.

But I could tell she wasn’t detached now.

I walked up beside her. "You looked like you were in deep thought there."

"I was," she replied softly, not looking at . "Still am."

Silence stretched for a few seconds.

"...Do you trust him?" I asked.

"Adonis?" she replied.

I nodded.

"I don’t trust people," she said flatly, then after a pause, "but I trust his power. And right now, that’s what matters."

I leaned against the window fra. "Fair. He’s afterall one of the strongest knights of Asura... guided by a God."

Alina glanced at , her expression still unreadable. "But even gods can be manipulated."

I raised a brow. "You think he’s being played too?"

She didn’t answer directly.

Instead, she said, "With that sword—the one that destroys grotesque cores—and the propaganda... and now the knights stepping in..."

She exhaled slowly. "It feels like soone’s using all of us..."

I looked away, toward the distance. The sky was overcast again. Heavy. "If that’s true... then it worked. Because if we have that weapon, and we have Adonis, and if Rinascita stands even after all that..."

"We can win," she said.

I nodded. "Yeah. We can win."

She was quiet for a mont.

Then, almost in a whisper, "Maybe that was the point."

I turned to her. "Hm?"

She looked at , sothing sharper in her gaze now.

"Maybe he let us lose," she said. "Let the grotesques overrun us. Let Aaron fall. Let Valhalla shatter. So that it would look bad enough to trigger outside help."

I blinked.

She kept going, voice steady but low. "He didn’t just save Rinascita. He made sure no one would ever ignore it again."

A pause.

"...He used the loss to guarantee the win."

I couldn’t help but grin a little. Not because it was funny. But because—

"...That’s terrifying," I muttered.

Alina looked back out the window.

"It is," she said.

And neither of us said the next part out loud.

But we both felt it.

Who is this mastermind?

---------------------------------------------

Sylvia’s Perspective:

I stood at the ridge just outside the Rinascita woods, the stone trail behind half-covered in damp leaves and silence. It was around 2 p.m., though the afternoon sun had vanished behind a thick wall of clouds. The sky looked heavy—like it was watching, but saying nothing.

The town below felt calr today. Rumors had already spread: the Knight of the Realm was here. Reinforcents from Asura had finally arrived. People were moving with a bit more confidence again, like their breath was no longer stuck in their chests.

But still... no birds. Not a single sound in the sky.

That strange silence again.

Even without seeing it, I could feel it.

Kaiser.

This stillness, this hush of nature—it’s always the sa when he’s near. But no matter how much I try to piece it together, I can’t figure out why he’s doing all this.

He’s never been the type to move without a reason.

"Sylvia..."

I turned.

The voice sent a chill through my spine before I even saw her. Familiar. Focused.

My eyes widened.

"Sophia?"

She stood there, calm and sharp as always. Her presence hadn’t changed—her green eyes stared at .

"Tell ," she said firmly, "Who gave you that weapon? Who saved Rinascita that day?"

I blinked, then offered a cool smile. "Oh, Sophia. Long ti no see. When did we last et—the Asura crisis?"

"Don’t change the topic." Her voice had more edge now. "Tell who you saw."

I looked away, my tone asured. "Like I said... I didn’t see their face. I don’t know who it was."

Lies.

But I told them so well, I almost believed myself.

Her eyes didn’t waver. "It was Kaiser, wasn’t it?"

My breath almost hitched.

For a split second, I almost gave myself away. But I gathered myself and smiled again—tighter this ti.

"Sophia, don’t be naive. Kaiser died years ago. During the crisis. You were there, weren’t you?"

She didn’t even blink.

"Kaiser was here," she said. "I know that."

I narrowed my eyes. "What makes you say that with such confidence? And let’s—hypothetically—suppose he was alive... why would he bother saving us? He doesn’t help people out of kindness."

"You and I both know that’s true," I added softly.

She looked at like she was trying to see through .

Then she said it.

"Sylvia... you’re acting like you know him very well."

I smiled again. But this one didn’t reach my eyes. "Oh? And what more do I need to know? Care to enlighten , Kaiser’s ex?"

That stung. I knew it did.

But she didn’t flinch.

"He’s protecting soone here," Sophia said. "He actually cares for soone. Soone other than Elfie."

...What?

My thoughts froze. My grip on the railing tightened without noticing.

No.

That’s not possible.

Kaiser? Caring for soone?

Not observing. Not using. Not calculating.

Caring?

That wasn’t the Kaiser I knew.

"Impossible..." I breathed. "No... further than impossible."

My voice trembled. My throat felt dry.

"...And who is this person?" I asked, barely getting the words out.

Sophia didn’t hesitate. "He protected her with his life. Took care of her. And promised her—promised—that he’d always be there for her."

My heart skipped.

She looked dead in the eye. "And you know her, Sylvia. He’s doing all of this... just to protect her. Everything. Every trap. Every corpse. Every calculated move."

Everything was spinning now. The edges of my thoughts unraveling.

He... promised soone?

Kaiser?

I knew he could mimic emotions. Knew he could deceive anyone, even .

But... promising soone protection?

That wasn’t a move. That wasn’t cold logic. That’s sothing a human being would do.

And Kaiser was far from a normal human.

Unless—

No.

Unless he changed.

But for who?

And why does that shake more than anything?

Sophia’s words kept echoing in my mind like a curse I couldn’t cleanse.

Kaiser... made a promise? To soone here?

Still reeling, I tried to breathe through the growing storm in my chest, but she wasn’t done yet.

"Speaking of which," she said, eyes sharp, "the Knight of the Realm—Adonis—he arrived here recently, didn’t he?"

I blinked, still trying to stabilize my thoughts. "He did. Just earlier today. He’s... assisting Rinascita in the grotesque war."

"And you don’t find that suspicious?" she asked.

"Of course I do. But how is that related?" I asked, watching her carefully.

Sophia’s lips parted, her voice colder now. "Because a few days ago... the Swarm Tyrant was killed."

My eyes widened.

"What?" I asked, tone half-breathless. "Killed? That monster?"

Sophia gave a slow nod. "It didn’t die by accident, Sylvia. He did that."

I stepped back instinctively, my heartbeat picking up again.

"How are you so sure?" I asked her, my voice growing quieter.

Her answer was like a dagger to the gut.

"Because the one he made that promise to... was Celia."

Everything stopped.

The weight of those words made the whole forest feel still.

Celia...

That white-haired girl with blood-red eyes. The Queen of Curses.

She was the one...?

My head spun as I pieced it together. The grotesques. The retreat. The square.

Celia—taken during the raid.

I rember hearing it...sothing dragged her off.

The Swarm Tyrant. That monster must’ve taken her to the hive.

My lips parted, no strength to mask my shock. "Then... he... went after her."

Sophia nodded. "Alone."

She didn’t need to say it outright. I saw it now—Kaiser, cutting through waves of grotesques like shadows through mist.

All to keep a promise.

I stared out at the overcast town, as if hoping to find answers in the clouds.

"That... could be true," I whispered. "That sounds like sothing he’d do..."

Sophia’s voice cut through again. "But we have a bigger problem."

I turned toward her sharply. "What do you an?"

Her expression turned grave.

"Adonis. And his knights."

"They hate cursed users. You and I both know how much Asura still holds onto the scars from the crisis."

I froze.

She was right.

To the Asura Empire, cursed magic wasn’t just dangerous—it was taboo.

They labeled cursed users as threats to order, instability.

They executed them without trial during the crisis.

My breath caught. "If Adonis tries to hurt Celia... that would an—"

Sophia didn’t flinch. "It would an an all-out war."

"...Against Kaiser Everhart."

My chest tightened. I felt cold.

"That’s insane," I whispered. "No. That can’t happen. Besides—Celia is missing. Most likely won’t return. They’ll never see her."

Sophia nodded. "That’s true. But..."

She looked in the eye, her voice like a warning carried by the wind. "If she does return... I can promise you one thing."

"It will be like the end of Year 2. At the academy."

I didn’t even realize I’d tensed until the goosebumps spread across my arms.

The final examination.

The Superior Class had rigged the whole match. Elfie was alone—isolated, outnumbered, broken.

And then...

"She cried in his arms," Sophia said softly. "And I think you rember what he said."

I closed my eyes.

"I won’t be holding back. No one can save you now." Kaiser said that day...

Those words still lived in the back of my mind.

And when he said them...

He ant every syllable.

Sophia stepped forward. Her tone was no longer cold—it was pleading. "That’s why I ca here. To et you. Because you know. You know the truth, Sylvia."

She lowered her voice further.

"Please... I don’t want another all-out war. Especially not standing against him."

My throat tightened. "Against him...?"

Sophia stared at , her eyes holding sothing deeper than fear.

Sothing like experience.

"I know the side of him the world hasn’t seen," she said. "Trust , Sylvia. If he sees her... hurt. Crying. Like Elfie was..."

Her voice turned to ice.

"...It’ll be worse than the grotesque war."

I let the silence stretch for a mont, eyes drifting across the gray-stained sky, until the question slipped from my lips.

"...What does Celia know about him?"

Sophia exhaled through her nose. "Not the truth. That much is clear."

"She doesn’t know who he really is?"

She shook her head. "No. He never told her. She thinks... he’s just an E-Rank. So quiet wanderer who stood beside her when she was at her lowest."

I stayed quiet, watching the leaves sway beneath the ridge.

Celia...

I rember her well. That wild, untad force cloaked in a girl’s body. Ruthless with enemies, terrifying with magic. But underneath it all, she had... sothing. Fragile, maybe...

She was strong—on her own.

But with him beside her?

I couldn’t even imagine the future.

A cursed queen... with Kaiser as her shield?

It sent chills down my spine—not out of fear.

But out of knowing exactly how unstoppable that could beco.

Sophia’s voice broke through my thoughts again.

"You should already know... Lucas is present here too."

I nodded slowly. "I know. I’ve been hiding my presence... He hasn’t approached yet."

He will. Eventually.

But then—A question hit .

Like lightning.

"Wait, Sophia..." I turned to her. "If Kaiser just wants to protect Celia... why not just take her away?"

"Why is he orchestrating all of this? The traps, the blood trails, the manipulated propaganda... Why?"

Sophia’s expression twisted slightly, like she’d asked herself the sa thing far too many tis.

"I don’t understand that either," she admitted. "For so reason... it feels like he wants to wipe out the grotesques. All of them."

I frowned. "But... couldn’t he just go there alone? End them all in one night? You and I both know he can."

"I know," she said, her voice a little quieter. "But for so reason... he’s letting us do it."

Letting us...?

I fell silent, letting that sink in.

Then I said it out loud, slowly. "Yeah... the only ti he stepped in directly was when she was taken. By the Tyrant."

Sophia nodded. "Exactly. That was the line. That’s what made him move."

"And that’s what terrifies ," she continued. "If that was the trigger... then what happens next? What’s he waiting for now? What’s his real plan?"

Her voice faltered at the end.

The mont fell still again.

No answers.

Only wind brushing against our skin—sharp and cold. Like sothing was watching.

We both stood there, staring into the distance.

The future was uncertain.

But one thing we both understood deep down...

With him in the equation, no matter how many variables we calculated—Nothing could be predicted.

Sophia stood there beside , the wind tugging strands of her hair across her face, her eyes locked on the horizon like she was watching fate itself walk toward us.

"We need to team up," she said. "You and ."

Her voice held no hesitation. Just quiet certainty. Like she already knew what was coming.

I didn’t need to think about it long.

The grotesques might not wipe out this town.

But Kaiser...?

If they actually hurt her—if lines were crossed that shouldn’t be—

He would be the one to burn it all down.

"I agree," I said, softly but firmly. "The grotesques are terrifying, sure. But if an all-out war breaks out here... Kaiser would be the one to end everything."

Sophia nodded once, then turned to fully. Her expression darkened slightly.

"First, I want to know sothing, Sylvia..."

I looked up at her, eting her eyes. "What is it?"

"You’re a noble of Asura," she said. "You’ve seen the Knights of the Realm, trained with them, studied alongside them. You know how they think."

She paused, narrowing her gaze.

"So tell ... if all the Knights of the Realm were to fight against Kaiser Everhart—every last one of them—"

"Who would win?"

I didn’t speak at first.

Because I honestly didn’t know.

"...I don’t know," I answered truthfully, quietly.

She nodded. "They say every Knight of the Realm is blessed. A god watches over them. That’s why they win. That’s why no one can defeat them."

Her voice dropped slightly.

"So... do you think Kaiser could beat a god?"

My lips parted.

But no answer ca.

Not imdiately.

Instead, silence stretched between us again, broken only by the sound of wind pushing through branches and leaves—gentle, but cold. Like sothing unseen was drawing closer.

I thought of the past.

Of what I’d seen him do.

Of how he moved when he was serious.

And I looked her in the eye.

"...You’re asking the wrong question, Sophia."

I turned back to the forest.

"The question isn’t ’can he defeat a god.’"

I exhaled.

"It’s how long would the god survive... against Kaiser Everhart?"

Her expression didn’t shift, but the way her eyes lowered slightly—I could tell. That answer settled deep.

Because deep down, she knew.

We both did.

"I don’t know what’s going to happen in the coming days," I continued, "or what kind of war is waiting for us."

"But let’s work together. One more ti."

I turned to her again.

"Not for politics. Not for our own self-interests. Just to make sure that war never happens."

Sophia stepped toward slowly, reaching out her hand.

I took it.

Our handshake was silent.

A silent agreent to stop history from repeating itself from two years back...

Sophia’s hand slipped from mine slowly, but her eyes stayed locked with mine, as if there was still more—sothing crawling beneath the surface of all this.

Then she spoke, her tone quieter now. A rare crack of worry slipped in.

"...Sylvia, do you think she’s figured it out yet?"

My breath caught for a mont.

I looked at her. And I didn’t need to ask who she ant.

A slow wave of unease crept into my chest.

"...Rose."

Sophia nodded grimly.

"Empress Rose Valentine isn’t the type of woman to stay quiet after being manipulated on a political scale like this," she said. "Especially not when the entire capital’s blaming her."

I folded my arms, my voice tightening.

"I know... believe , I know." I looked down, thinking back—our days in the academy, the second year trial...

"That ti... we went against her. And Lucas."

Back then, even with everything stacked in their favor, they didn’t break us.

But Rose—

Her mind was a labyrinth.

"Her intelligence might even rival Kaiser’s," I admitted. "She sees things before others even realize sothing’s begun."

Sophia’s voice dropped further.

"Yet she still sent a Knight of the Realm to assist Rinascita... She gave sothing away—willingly. That’s not like her."

"She might be scheming sothing else entirely."

My fingers curled a bit.

Rose Valentine... Empress of Asura. Sharp as a blade.

Unforgiving.

"I don’t know how much she’s changed since we last saw her," I said. "But if she has figured out the truth..."

"I’m certain she’ll take revenge."

The air between us grew still again.

Not the soft silence from before—but sharp, tense.

"...She might’ve already figured it out," I whispered.

And if she has—Then this whole war, this whole elaborate ss we’re trying to manage—

It’s no longer just between us and the grotesques.

It’s between ghosts of the past...

---------------------

Sowhere far from the shadow of war and the scent of blood, beneath the warm embrace of the Asura Empire’s radiant sun, life thrived.

The sky stretched endlessly above like a sea of gold-painted blue, touched only by the passing clouds that drifted lazily on the breeze. In the cobbled streets of the capital, laughter echoed—light and pure. Children giggled as they danced barefoot through shallow fountains, their tiny hands guiding floating globes of water with basic magic, splashing each other in joy. The sll of sweet breads and grilled spices drifted from the countless food stalls that lined the walkways, each one buzzing with voices haggling, greeting, and laughing in chorus.

The capital was alive.

Peace had returned.

Or so they believed.

Beyond the marketplace and gardens, behind marble walls and silver-laced pillars, inside the towering spires of the royal palace... sat the woman who held the weight of that peace in her hands.

Rose Valentine.

The Empress of Asura.

She sat quietly in her office—still, poised, refined. Draped in a white royal uniform threaded with gold, she seed more like a statue carved by divinity than a woman of flesh. Her long blonde hair danced lightly in the wind coming from the open window behind her, strands catching the sunlight like woven silk. And her eyes... those piercing sapphire eyes, stared not at the kingdom—but through it.

Past it.

Toward sothing only she could see.

The paperwork on her desk remained untouched. Reports, military logs, letters from nobles—all stacked in pristine order. Yet she paid them no mind. Her gaze was fixed outward, locked onto the horizon where the sky t the earth in perfect silence.

To others, she looked serene.

But deep within... calculations blood.

Each move made against her, each shift in the political landscape, every whisper of rebellion, every rumor that painted her heartless—every one of them was a thread.

The grostesque war was not her priority.

It was the deception.

The man behind it.

The one who turned the world’s gaze against her without even showing his face.

As a breeze slipped into the chamber and fluttered the edge of her white gloves, she closed her eyes slowly.

Then opened them with the glint of storm.

Rose Valentine did not forget betrayal.

And above all, she never forgave it.

--------------------------------------

Empress Rose’s Perspective:

The light from the window spilled across the marble floor, soft and golden. I sat still, fingers gently intertwined atop my lap, eyes resting on the horizon where the clouds floated—ignorant and free.

I had no such luxury.

The people outside were laughing. Living.

Because I allowed it.

A knock broke the silence.

"Enter," I said, my tone light but controlled.

The doors parted, and one of my high-ranking intelligence officers stepped inside. Lord Damon Velhart—decorated, noble-born, razor-focused. He dropped to one knee with respectful ease, his voice low and reverent.

"Your Majesty."

I gestured with two fingers. "Rise, Damon. Speak."

He stood, adjusting his deep crimson mantle. "The unrest in the capital has been... contained, to so extent. But the source of the propaganda remains elusive."

"Elusive?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow delicately. "In my empire?"

His throat tensed slightly.

I offered a thin smile. "You disappoint ."

He cleared his throat, correcting himself with haste. "We’ve analyzed the parchnt, ink, magical residue. It appears the posters began appearing roughly three weeks ago, mass-produced and—"

"They were not mass-produced," I interrupted gently. "Each was individually conjured with minor variant flaws to simulate mass printing. Sloppy... but charmingly clever."

He blinked.

I rose slowly from my chair, walking toward the large crystal map inset in the floor. As my heels clicked softly against the stone, I traced my finger eastward across the capital.

"Three weeks ago... when the market in Liraine district caught fire. A minor accident, they said. But the real detail was buried in the report." I glanced back at him. "A stall that specialized in illusion components was ransacked."

He frowned. "You believe the disguising components were stolen—"

"I know they were," I said, voice sharp like silk drawn across glass. "The one responsible used them to alter not only appearance, but scent trails. Magical traces. They’ve been moving every four days."

I tapped a specific point on the eastern district.

"Right now... they’re here. In Virel’s Quarter. An abandoned glassworks on the edge of the alchemist trade path. Low foot traffic. Minimal patrol. High magical insulation."

Damon looked stunned. "That’s... incredibly precise."

I offered a small, amused smile.

"Precision," I said, "is the difference between nobility and rulers."

He blinked, clearly srized. I could almost hear the awe slipping through his composure.

"But..." he hesitated, "how do you know it’s a he?"

I tilted my head slightly, the smile returning—wider this ti.

"The ink used in the fourth wave of posters bore a faint scent of burnt cedar—used in older Asuran military scrolls. Only veterans or collectors carry those. And..." I stepped closer, voice lower. "One of the posters was posted six centiters higher than regulation board height—habitual for soone tall, perhaps six foot two."

Damon swallowed. "That’s..."

"Excessive?" I offered, eyes glinting. "Or simply necessary?"

He wisely said nothing.

I returned to my desk and sat down, folding my hands together once more.

"Make no mistake, Damon. This isn’t just political rebellion. The person behind this seeks to orchestrate the kingdom. They’ve bled misinformation through carefully planted channels, weaponized our own people’s pity, and forced ..." I paused, lips curling faintly, "to respond."

Damon hesitated. "You an... the deploynt of the Knight of the Realm?"

"Of course." I gave a slow nod. "Adonis is the perfect answer. I want the world to see Asura cares."

"But your Majesty... why truly send him?"

I leaned back in my chair, voice velvet.

"To draw them out."

Damon’s brows knit. "You believe the mastermind is still watching?"

"They never stopped." I looked toward the window again, eyes cold. "The mont they forced my hand, they challenged my throne. Whoever they are, they’re smart. Perhaps even... nearly on my level."

I rested my chin gently on my fingers.

"But eventually, every strategist slips. Even perfection leaves marks when pressure is applied. And when I find the one behind it all..."

My eyes sharpened.

"I’ll destroy them."

Damon flinched ever so slightly, but bowed. "As you command, Empress."

"Go," I said, waving him off. "And send the shadow corps to Virel’s Quarter. Quietly."

He bowed once more and vanished from the chamber like smoke.

The doors clicked shut.

Silence again.

I stared at the reports before .

Cursed users. Grotesques. The rebellion. The war.

They were all distractions.

My true enemy was the one who knew how to move the queen.

Soone who forced an empire to act from the shadows.

You...

I closed my eyes.

Whoever you are... you’ll kneel.

And when I place my foot upon your neck, it won’t be for execution.

No.

You’ll be my most useful pet.

Or I’ll break you until you learn to bark.

The sun had nearly set. Golden light spilled through the stained glass of my chamber, painting in a mixture of crimson and violet.

How fitting.

It always ends in red and violet, doesn’t it?

I leaned back in my seat, fingers lightly drumming against the polished armrest of my chair. Silence filled the room, broken only by the gentle rustle of paper as the wind teased the docunts on my desk.

War. Chaos. Manipulation. This is not the first ti I’ve played with them.

But this ti... it was orchestrated by soone else.

Unacceptable.

I closed my eyes.

It didn’t matter really... I’ve played my move.

The knight is on the board.

Adonis Alcatraz.

My most arrogant piece.

The God of Pride favors him for a reason. He doesn’t falter in stress. Doesn’t ask questions. He follows orders to the letter and rewrites history in the na of Asura.

And the mission I gave him?

Deliciously cruel.

"Find her," I whispered to the air. "The rumored Queen of Curses."

"Kill Her."

Celia.

That na has crawled from too many mouths lately. A girl born of curses, hated by everyone.

If the stories are true—and even if they’re not—she is a spark I cannot allow to exist. Her existence alone creates issues for my plans. And I... I will not compete with anyone.

Once Adonis finds her, I will have her heart.

Cursed hearts are not re organs.

They’re conduits. Living fragnts of ancient suffering. Power birthed through despair and shaped through will.

And once it is mine—Asura will ascend.

Rinascita is just the first stone in the river.

Valerion Kingdom will fall after. Their golden banners will burn, their queen will kneel, and the world will finally understand the silence of submission beneath a single empire’s heel.

My empire.

And as for Azrion...

I still find it laughable that of all people, he would send a letter. So polite. So conveniently worded. As if I wouldn’t see the strings beneath the wax seal.

He wants to know she’s alive.

But why?

Perhaps he’s grown sentintal in his old age. Or perhaps he thinks I will owe him a favor for this "gift."

Either way—when a monster hands you an offering, it is rarely without poison.

Still, it changes nothing.

Adonis has faced demons and gods.

If Azrion dares to interfere, he’ll be dealt with. Gods may whisper into Adonis’s ears, but I wrote the commands his blade follows.

And as for the true mastermind—the one who played this board before I could even set my pieces—when he steps from the shadows to protect his little dolls...

Adonis will be there too.

He’ll find him. He’ll crush him.

He’ll bring him to —alive.

Because whoever dared force my hand... will kneel before it.

Let them play their little gas. Let them scatter traps and rumors.

And unlike them—I will never lose a war of atrocious deception.

I’ll find you.