Episode 227
The Duke and Duchess of Saxen’s Bedroom.
The night was deep, and the rustling sound made the Duke of Saxen turn his head. His wife, Elena, was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Can’t sleep?”
“Oh, did I wake you?”
Elena’s words were met with a shake of the Duke’s head as he sat up. He watched her back, still turned away from him, and maintained a quiet silence.
After a moment, he reached out, wrapping his arm around her neck from behind in a gentle embrace. Elena swallowed softly.
“Alan…”
She whispered his name, but the Duke did not respond.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
At his words, Elena took a quiet breath. She turned to face him, taking his cold hand in hers. Despite the chill, there was a warmth in his touch that she could never forget.
“I’m sorry, my love.”
“For what?”
The Duke tilted his head slightly. Elena paused, then murmured bitterly.
”…I feel like I’ve failed as a good wife.”
“That’s not true.”
Elena mumbled, and the Duke shook his head, not even asking for a reason. Instead, he kissed her neck tenderly.
“You are the most beloved wife anyone could ask for.”
Even the highest nobles of the empire are not immune to death in war. No matter the value of the blood in their veins, no one can escape death.
Ray Eurys, the eldest son of the Eurys Marquisate and heir to the Red Tower, had fallen. By the hand of the Black Duke.
Furthermore, the title of Grand Duke of Lancaster had passed to the Black Duke’s wife, Charlotte. The most fertile and powerful territory in the empire had come under Saxen’s influence.
In the ever-changing tides of war, the balance of power was shifting. In the coming storm of a new era, the seeds sown early by Dale were finally bearing fruit.
Yet, before the final war, the Black Duke still had tasks to complete.
Beyond the Demon King’s domain, a land even the otherworldly heroes could not conquer—the Demon Realm.
There lay the Shadow Tower, built by the Saxen patriarchs, the Immortal Duke Frederick, and the Eldritch.
It wasn’t necessary to defeat all the Eldritch. The only victory needed was to bring the Immortal Duke Frederick to his knees.
But how could one forget the overwhelming power Frederick had displayed that day?
A battle lost without even a semblance of resistance.
With the power of a hero and the Book of Cold Ash in his possession, how far could he stand against him now? What strength did the former Saxen patriarchs hold?
It was unknown. Yet, if the Saxen family were to face the Golden Empire in a final showdown, leaving the Demon Realm and the Shadow Tower unchecked would be akin to suicide.
Without resolving the ancient darkness Saxen had built, victory in war was impossible.
‘But time is not on our side.’
Even his father, the Black Duke, could not guarantee victory against such a formidable foe.
He recalled the words of Eris, the Black Duke’s agent.
Among all the Saxen patriarchs, the Eldritch, only about three, including the Immortal Duke, could confidently claim victory over the Black Duke, who was merely in his forties.
There is a power unique to humans, lost when they forsake their humanity.
But what exactly is this human power?
That realization would be the key to defeating the Immortal Duke.
After pondering this, he shook his head. This was not something that could be solved through contemplation alone.
“The Book of Cold Ash.”
All Dale could do was focus on what he could accomplish now.
The presence of the Demon King resided in Dale’s shadow heart, and he needed to embody that presence more fully.
As ashes scattered, the incarnation of the grimoire and his old nemesis appeared.
The Lord of Ashes, who had fled the dark lands after being defeated by the Immortal Duke Frederick.
“I’ve been waiting.”
At the Demon King’s words, Dale nodded silently.
“How much do you know about the founder of Saxen, the Immortal Duke?”
“Have you seen him?”
“Yes.”
Dale replied.
“What are my chances against him now?”
“Chances?”
The Demon King laughed incredulously.
“That being is a monster beyond your current reach.”
”…”
Dale didn’t respond immediately. Just then, a voice echoed.
─ That’s not true.
The tendrils wrapped around Dale’s heart stirred, and a voice spoke.
─ You can win.
“Shub…?”
─ As long as my brother chooses to remain human, there’s always a chance to defeat our father.
”…I see.”
─ I believe in you.
Shub said, and Dale nodded quietly. Nothing had changed.
“Demon King Balor.”
Dale raised his head and began to circulate the magic within him.
“I’ll need you to spar with me until I can at least reach his level.”
“You’re as foolish as ever.”
The Demon King scoffed, and at the same time, ashes of annihilation began to swirl around him.
The old nemesis, now coexisting with Dale’s shadow heart, had become one.
The aura within him surged like an explosion, and the otherworldly hero leaped forward.
Several months later.
Dale had turned eighteen, but there was no time to leisurely celebrate his birthday.
Since that day, he had been relentlessly training to gain the power to confront the Immortal Duke. Having just awakened to the sixth circle, the power he possessed was still insufficient.
The number of circles doesn’t necessarily determine victory or defeat, but the scale of power is an undeniable factor.
Gaining the sixth circle was a fleeting realization, and Dale’s desire for the next level of power was an audacious ambition.
Yet, Dale was undeterred.
“Come at me with all your might.”
At Dale’s words, Sir Helmut Blackbear, the Light Sword, nodded quietly.
In an instant, a killing intent was swung from behind without a sound, belonging to Master Baro.
Clang!
As soon as he parried the strike, the Wandering Sword charged. As the Wandering Sword’s blade clashed with Dale’s Peacemaker, the blow of a roaring beast descended upon him.
Training in martial arts against three of the Seven Swords.
Without an avatar, but with unwavering strength, Dale focused his consciousness as he parried their blades.
Facing the continent’s strongest warriors, he swung his sword again and again.
As the sun rose and set, and the dawn darkness descended.
With each swing of his sword, he concentrated on the calmness of his mind.
A wizard seeking enlightenment through the sword. It seemed like a ridiculous irony, but not to Dale.
Blades imbued with killing intent were swung from all directions. He savored the death within those blades and recalled the sensation of parrying them.
A sword is a weapon for killing. And a knight’s duty is to kill.
Thus, with each parry, he was reminded of the reality of death and life within those attacks.
The sensation of death.
This was Dale’s unique method of training for his confrontation with the Immortal Duke.
As Eris and Shub had said, the Eldritch are those who deceive death. They reject death, choosing immortality, and fall into eternal stagnation.
Thus, the only thing distinguishing them from humans was one thing.
Death.
Since that day, Dale had been obsessively exploring death itself.
The sensation that he could die with a single blow, the malice in the swords swung to kill him.
The difference between those who deceive death and those who must perish within their allotted lifespan.
“Is this where you are?”
And then a voice called out.
A voice belonging to a wizard more familiar with ‘death’ than anyone else on the continent.
“Father.”
“Your Grace!”
“Oh, my lord.”
The Black Duke appeared where Dale was training with his swords, and they all bowed their heads in unison.
“You’ve been dedicating yourself to training lately.”
“We must prepare for peace.”
Dale feigned innocence with a smile. But the Black Duke was not one to miss the underlying meaning.
“Let’s end the sword training here.”
Since that day, Dale had many teachers who taught him about death. But even knights who made a living from killing could not compare to the man before him.
“Are you ready, Dale?”
As a master of death, the Black Duke spoke softly. Dale nodded without hesitation.
Flap!
At the same time, black feathers scattered behind the man, and the caw of a crow echoed.
Before they knew it, the two stood on a barren land, where the twilight was fading.
A world woven from twilight.
“When you first declared you would defeat the Immortal Phoenix and bring the Shadow Tower to its knees, I must admit, I thought it was nothing more than sheer arrogance.”
In that world, Dale’s father continued, his voice steady.
“But now, I can’t help but believe.”
”…”
“That you might actually reach our ancestor, the Immortal Phoenix.”
“And what about you, Father?” Dale asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Do you think you stand a chance against the Immortal Phoenix?”
“I could never defeat him,” the Black Duke replied without hesitation.
”…But perhaps there’s a glimmer of hope for you.”
“Are you saying I’ll become stronger than you?” Dale pressed.
The Black Duke shook his head. “Defeating him doesn’t necessarily mean you have to surpass me in strength.”
Suddenly, beside the Black Duke stood an elderly gentleman in a Victorian suit, the embodiment of the philosophy within his grimoire, The Scales of the Heart.
“The Immortal Phoenix sacrificed his own daughter to write The Book of the Black Goat, and that is the most fatal flaw he’s revealed to you.”
”…”
Yet, as I mentioned, this isn’t a victory that can be achieved through sheer power alone.
It’s a triumph that can only be secured through a masterstroke.
To the ancient being who has lived through countless ages, Dale’s existence might seem like nothing more than a child’s folly.
And just as that ancient being, who scoffs at the very notion of mortality, was defeated by Dale’s father, so too could the Black Prince and the Immortal Phoenix meet their match.
In truth, few in this world understand the essence of ‘death’ as acutely as Dale does.
Not even the Black Duke is an exception to this.
“Remember death,” the Black Duke murmured, as the elderly gentleman in the suit struck his cane forcefully against the ground.
A swarm of crows filled the twilight sky, descending upon Dale in a relentless wave.