Chapter 44: Grace Period

That person was so far away, and I couldn’t even send any news,

Yet one day, a letter from that person suddenly arrived.

*         *         *

[Ruceras Calendar, Year 4676] May 1st. Blossoms bloom.

Today, I dreamed of junior Ransen.

It had been a long time.

I kept wondering.

Where he was now, and what he was doing.

Just what kind of man was he?

That junior brat... would he ever think of me, even once? After all, we were comrades who fought side by side.

*         *         *

I quietly stared at the Book of Fate.

After I had finished my last time travel, one day, without any forewarning, a page shamelessly appeared.

And on it, these words were written.

[Iodin Serom is thinking of you. Total number of episodes related to her: 2. Out of her diary, 2 entries related to you will be revealed at random.]

This thing really had all sorts of functions.

At first, I just took it lightly.

But strangely enough, I kept staring at the sentences written there.

Strangely, I missed her.

We hadn’t known each other for long, nor had we been particularly close.

Yet, as though I had always missed her, there was a trembling that came from deep inside.

“Khm-”

No. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in sentiment.

I cleared my throat once, pulled my heart together, and quickly flipped the page.

What I needed to focus on wasn’t this one, but the other diary.

*         *         *

[Ruceras Calendar, Year 4674] January 10th. It snows.

Today! I went to the ‘Tomb of Glory’!

This place where senior knights who had achieved great merits within the Horizon Knights, along with their beloved soldiers, were enshrined.

Just walking among them made the path I had to follow shine clear before me. Would I, too, be able to be buried here?

Normally, not just anyone is even given the qualification to pay respects here... perhaps Master greatly acknowledged my merit in severing Kashigier’s head.

Yes. I, Iodin Serom.

I had come this far.

To never forget this place, I recorded the positions of the Thirteen Gods as I looked up from in front of the Tomb of Glory.

...(omitted)

But,

Where in the world had junior Ransen gone?

Even Master said nothing about him...

It was an accomplishment we had achieved together.... If only he had come with me.

*         *         *

‘Tomb of Glory’.

I checked the Book of Glory from time to time, and went searching for that place.

Thankfully, my senior had kindly recorded the positions of the Thirteen Gods well, so it wasn’t hard to find.

It was in a border region about 20 kilometers away from Glowingsteel.

It was written to be located on the summit of a mountain, but when I arrived, there wasn’t a mountain—just a slightly raised hill standing alone.

Ten thousand years, it seemed, was time enough to bury even a mountain.

“Shall I begin?”

I raised my aura and dug up the ground whole.

Only after struggling for quite a while did I finally discover the entrance.

I worried it might have collapsed, but it was surprisingly well preserved.

It seemed some kind of magic had been cast upon it.

Inside, it was a little damp and dark, yet the statues, stone tablets, and ornaments were all clearly intact.

“This should... be enough.”

The Tomb of Glory.

A place where knights of the Horizon Knights, who had achieved great feats, were enshrined together with their beloved soldiers.

Grand halls and corridors repeated endlessly, with magnificent tombs lined up to the left and right.

In each tomb, many ancient armaments were displayed.

Every single one of them, from fine-grade to treasure-grade ancient armaments.

With this alone, I could more than secure every armament I needed.

The especially good ones—I would make sure to set aside for my younger brothers and retainers.

I carefully stored just as many as were necessary into my subspace, and along with the armaments, I took rubbings of the epitaphs to pair them together.

Even if I was taking them because they were needed... at the very least, I wished to uphold some minimum of respect.

Because I had come alone, I had to do everything by myself, which took quite some time, yet even after finishing, I didn’t leave immediately.

Instead, I explored the Tomb of Glory corner to corner.

I simply felt like doing so.

Iodin had said she wanted to come here with me... if she had, what kind of feeling would it have been?

I wondered that as I imagined it.

Perhaps I didn’t even know what I was truly looking for.

Even if I hadn’t been conscious of it.

And in the deepest part, inside the most splendid tomb, I realized at last what it was I had been seeking.

— The great ⬛⬛ ...ster Iodin Serom. Here lies in eternal rest. (Year 4649 ~ 4⬛⬛⬛)

“Ah...”

The sound slipped through my lips unconsciously.

I brushed my fingertips over her name carved on the tombstone.

Though the passage of long years had worn away some of the letters, her name alone still remained vivid.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

For some reason, my heart was pounding fast.

So fast that even I, a Swordmaster, could not control it.

“She... truly existed...?”

Something unknown—whether it was joy or sorrow—stung sharply at the tip of my nose.

My senior, who had been so far away that I couldn’t even ask how she fared.

This had been her end.

What kind of life had she lived?

Whether she had been satisfied...

Suddenly, a certain phrase came to mind.

Even though I had been utterly ignorant of literature, it was as though someone whispered it into my ear, clear as day.

— The silence of the dead leaves a clamor so loud in the hearts of the living. Thus it continues. Though life is extinguished, some echoes remain, resounding and resounding throughout this world.

It was a phrase embarrassingly sentimental, so much so that I could hardly understand why I would think of it... and yet, strangely, it lodged itself firmly in my mind.

I slowly rose to my feet.

“We’ll meet again.”

In the distant past. Surely. Once more.

Cheok—

I placed both hands upon the hilt of my sword in salute toward my senior’s coffin, then turned my back.

Inside that tomb, I hadn’t touched a single thing.

*         *         *

Time passed quickly.

From lowly soldiers to commander-grade Experts.

Everyone devoted themselves to training.

No one uttered a single groan of complaint.

We were all wagering on the gamble of a lifetime, and everyone knew it.

For the first week, I personally directed the training.

But from the second week onward, the training began to run on its own.

That had been deliberate.

After all, when the real battle came, I would be focused solely on hunting Haarun.

So even if I wasn’t there, the command system needed to function smoothly. From the start, I entrusted nearly everything to the frontline commanders.

That left me with a little spare time.

Thanks to that, I had been able to visit the Tomb of Glory.

When time allowed, I would return, walk throughout the fortress, checking the training conditions and giving feedback.

As I made my rounds like that, I came across Kalserik and Zaltran training.

Zaltran at twenty years old. His muscles were already thick and bulging, and he had already reached High-grade Expert—a younger brother with a promising future.

Each of them was leading soldiers in tactical drills.

Kalserik commanded the cavalry, while Zaltran led the heavy infantry.

Spotting me from atop his horse, Kalserik raised his voice.

“Hey, Commander! Do me a favor here!”

“What is it?”

“Help knock some sense into this brat’s stubborn head!”

Kalserik’s tone was one of sheer exasperation.

“Stubborn?”

“Yes! You can’t block Barkan’s cavalry charge with just shields, right? So I told him: put soldiers in front, and you stab with a glaive or a pike from behind… but he just won’t listen.”

Ah…

I think I get it.

But probably, even if I told him, it wouldn’t change a thing.

Sure enough, Zaltran raised his voice in defiance.

“Sir Kalserik! If we line up soldiers in front, they’ll just keep dying! Since I’m stronger, of course I should be the one holding the front!”

Yes. That was precisely the spirit of Zaltran’s house, the Count House of Juan.

To break the enemy’s spearpoint from the most dangerous position. To protect their allies.

Kalserik, apparently displeased with that kind of Gloryland-style chivalry, bared his teeth and growled.

“And have you ever once stopped my cavalry charge?”

“I only failed because I’m not used to the timing yet. If I try again, I will stop it.”

“Ha! Brat. I’ll grant you’re a noble and you’ve trained in some high-class martial arts. But if you keep throwing yourself around relying on that, one day they’ll just find your corpse.”

“This time I’ll stop it.”

Zaltran’s blue eyes blazed with unshakable resolve.

“Fine…. If you can’t stop it this time, you’re on your own.”

Kalserik, who had been asking me to mediate, suddenly burned up with fire himself.

“Let’s go! Charge!”

The cavalry under Kalserik surged forward toward the heavy infantry led by Zaltran.

At the very front, Kalserik raised his long cavalry spear high, while Zaltran at the head of the heavy infantry lifted his kite shield.

‘…He’s not holding back at all.’

A Peak Expert—Kalserik, boasting skill close to the pinnacle of the grade—was unleashing a full-force strike against twenty-year-old High-grade Expert Zaltran.

‘That’s exactly how it should be.’

Yes, training had to be like this.

At last, the moment the two clashed—

“Uraaaah!”

Zaltran’s shout shook heaven and earth.

And at the same instant, aura exploded from his shield.

‘Whoa!’

I was genuinely startled.

“Aura Repulsion!”

That technique.

I had seen it before.

That day, when the royal palace of Banroa was burning and we fled in haste.

A knight of the Count House of Juan had received a Swordmaster’s strike using this very technique.

The back that had seemed like a mountain then.

The broad shield that had protected us all.

Now, on Zaltran’s back, I could see the shadow of that knight.

Aura Repulsion.

An extreme defensive and counter technique that detonates aura at the exact moment of impact, creating overwhelming repulsion force.

That was what struck Kalserik’s spearhead dead-on.

Kwaaang!

“Guaagh!!”

With a strange cry, Kalserik was thrown from his horse and tumbled across the ground.

Bang! Thud! Boom!

With Kalserik, who was supposed to be the centerpiece, collapsing like that, the cavalry charge was helplessly blocked by the pikes and shields of the heavy infantry.

Step.

Zaltran walked up, looking down at Kalserik sprawled flat on the ground, and reached out his hand.

“Are you hurt, sir?”

Gentle concern shone in Zaltran’s eyes.

Kalserik shook his head, got up on his own, and brushed himself off.

“Damn it, the Commander’s brats really are all monsters.”

Dusting off his clothes, he readied himself for training again.

In front of him, Zaltran turned to me and flashed a broad smile.

As if to say he could do it. As if to ask me to watch.

That brat…

I gave him a small nod, and Zaltran’s eyes burned even brighter as he gripped his shield firmly.

Honestly, I finally felt some relief.

‘If I hand him a treasure-grade ancient shield on top of this….’

He would be more than capable.

I had worried it might be too reckless a mission to entrust him with.

But he had grown.

My younger brother.

*         *         *

Leaving Zaltran behind, I wandered about, interfering here and there again.

And then, at one of the training grounds, I spotted Katrina and Varen deeply engrossed in their practice.

Crunch!

Varen Rodona. Twenty-four years old. A Peak Expert.

Normally, he walked around with perpetually drowsy eyes, but today, those eyes were filled to the brim with murderous spirit.

It seemed Katrina was helping Varen with his training.

“Varen. The strategy Uncle Kalserik came up with is good. It’s good, but if your fundamentals can’t hold up, it won’t mean anything, right?”

“Fundamentals?”

“Yeah. Reaction speed.”

Oh….

Katrina’s feedback was quite sharp.

“Zahir is a seasoned warrior. If it turns into a battle of wits, you’ll inevitably be outmatched.”

“…You’re right. That’s what happened last time too. What should I do?”

“It’s simple. Even if you get hit, you must react.”

“React… even if I get hit?”

“Yeah. I realized this while sparring with Ransen oppa lately. When fighting someone stronger, you have to react no matter what situation comes your way—only then do you survive.”

Katrina drew her longsword.

“Alright, I’ll attack. You just block or evade. With the resolve to respond to every one of my strikes.”

“Got it.”

A fierce spar began between them.

‘Good.’

There was nothing to fault. Training heading in exactly the right direction.

I nodded and moved on to check elsewhere.

And then, a few days later, when I looked in on them again—

‘Huh?’

There was one more person.

Rivera. The greatest marksman in our camp.

“You’re really going to do this?”

He asked Katrina with a reluctant expression.

“That’s right, aren’t you?”

Katrina passed his gaze back to Varen.

“Yes! Please do it!”

Varen’s eyes blazed.

What in the world had gotten into him?

This guy was never normally this passionate…

“Young Master Varen, be careful. My arrows are a bit underhanded, you know. I’ve even been called Rivera the Trickster before.”

“That only makes it better, Sir Rivera.”

Since Varen’s resolve didn’t waver, Rivera and Katrina exchanged a glance, then—

“Chaahhht!”

Clang—!

One came at him with a sword, the other with arrows. Both targeting Varen.

‘Can he handle that?’

Even against one opponent, it wasn’t easy to only block and evade….

There was a reason people said the best defense was offense.

Not attacking was practically the same as fighting with both hands tied.

I worried he might end up injured unnecessarily.

But then—

‘He’s pretty good?’

With killing intent pouring from his eyes, Varen wielded his single sword with freedom, blocking and dodging quite well.

At that level, it would be fine.

Relieved, I moved on again.

And then, after another few days passed, when I went to check how things were lately…

‘What the hell is that?’

I saw a sight I could hardly believe, even with my own eyes.

“Archers!”

At Katrina’s signal, the bowmen all drew their strings at once, aiming straight at Varen.

All of them were Expert-class warriors, their arrows shimmering with aura.

They were practice arrows with their tips removed, but since they carried aura, getting hit wouldn’t just leave him sore.

In the midst of it all, Rivera raised his bow and looked at Varen with bewildered eyes.

“…Is this right…? If all those hit, his bones will break, you know…? The war’s just around the corner…”

Rivera’s concern seemed entirely reasonable.

Right now, Varen’s appearance was… a wreck.

His clothes were shredded, half hanging off him, and his handsome face was swollen like kneaded dough.

There was a pile of empty potion bottles stacked in a corner, showing just how many he had downed.

Yet despite all that, Varen’s will remained unshaken.

“Bring it on!!”

Killing spirit and venom blazed in his eyes.

Katrina stared at him silently for a moment before asking.

“What’s the reason? Why are you pushing yourself this far?”

“I’ll kill him. Zahir.”

“Why? Your mission isn’t to kill—”

“I’ll kill him!”

“…Because of that time he hit you? Normally, you’re the type who shrugs off a few beatings.”

“It’s not because of that!”

“Then what’s the reason?”

Varen gnashed his teeth.

“There is one. A reason I’ll never forgive.”

At this point, even I was curious.

What is that reason? Just why are you carrying such venom?

What I asked of you wasn’t to kill Zahir—it was to bind him. So why go this far…?

This wasn’t something that could be explained by any ordinary motive…

Shweeeeee!

In the end, the arrows were loosed.

The astonishing thing was—

‘He dodged them.’

Varen’s movements had leapt forward by bounds in just a matter of days.

The boy really was a genius.

Part of me worried, but another part of me felt reassured.

Yes. He had to grow stronger. Only then could he survive.

Step by step, the soldiers, the younger brothers, the retainers—everyone was being steadily prepared.

And so two weeks passed.

Just as we all expected, the Storm King did not keep his promise of a one-month grace period.

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