“I-I’ll talk. I’ll talk, I swear…”
“Oh? Now you want to talk? Don’t tell me you’ve got some poison tied up in your teeth? Planning to off yourself?”
“I’ll talk, so please stop…”
“The guy who kept his mouth shut all this time suddenly can’t wait to spill everything after just one cut?”
Yuri prodded the injured eyeball with his blade. The leader clutched his face and slammed his head against the floor.
“Ugh…”
“Good. Fine. My offer still stands. If you talk properly, I’ll let you go right away.”
“Thank you. Thank you.”
“So, who sent you? Who’s your master?”
“That is…”
The leader hesitated for a moment. Yuri reached out his hand.
Expecting more torture, the leader flinched, but instead, Yuri cut a strip of black cloth from his clothes and used it to staunch the bleeding from the wounded eye.
“Come on, speak.”
“Is… is that all I have to say?”
“Yes. Then you’ll be free to go.”
“The one who sent me was…”
He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.
“Prince Hwang—”
Suddenly, something burst forth from his mouth.
Yuri stepped back, raising his Wind Circle Sword.
“What the—?”
A black snake slithered out.
The serpent crawled from his throat, flicking its tongue at Yuri before turning its head and burrowing into the leader’s remaining eye.
The leader screamed.
The snake wriggled inside his skull, twisting through his brain.
His body convulsed violently on the spot, twisting and writhing until blood poured from every orifice on his face—and then he died.
The black snake soon turned to smoke and dissipated into the air.
It was a horrifying sight.
Yuri stood up.
Jared, standing behind him, shuddered.
“What was that just now?”
“Can’t you tell? Black magic.”
“Ugh…”
“There was a binding spell. No wonder they sent such clumsy pawns.”
Though they hadn’t uncovered who was behind it all, one thing was clear.
The black magic, which until now had been only a strong theory due to lack of evidence, was truly festering in the empire’s shadows.
Jared asked, “Could it really be the Crown Prince?”
“Highly likely.”
“So Hassan must be part of this dark faction too.”
“Yes.”
Yuri thought of the Crown Prince—the man who sat beside Emperor Ivar. His expression was gentle, almost weak compared to Georg, who sat nearby.
“Do you think the Emperor is involved?”
“Probably not.”
“And why do you think that?”
“If the Emperor were involved, the assassins wouldn’t be this sloppy.”
“Ah…”
“For now…”
Yuri stood up.
“Check if anyone’s still alive.”
“Huh?”
“We can’t let any of them go.”
Yuri counted the fallen black-clad men—twenty in total, matching the number they’d seen at the start.
He moved among the bodies, stabbing each one to confirm the kill.
Jared watched in stunned silence.
“Your Highness.”
“Hm?”
“You’re ruthless.”
“Have you never fought orcs before?”
“But those were orcs.”
“Same difference.”
Without looking back, Yuri shrugged and continued his grim work.
“They tried to kill us. That’s what matters.”
Just then, one of the black-clad men lying near Yuri suddenly sprang up, feigning life, begging for mercy.
Yuri asked the same question he’d posed to the leader.
“Who sent you?”
“That is…”
“If you tell me, I’ll let you live.”
The man couldn’t bring himself to speak.
He must have witnessed the leader’s death in secret.
He must have realized the binding spell was on him too.
“Wait.”
Yuri stopped him.
“Hold on.”
He had once severed Okuwa’s black magic with the blade of the Soul Severing Slash.
If the binding spell was created through black magic, maybe he could remove it this time as well.
He summoned his mana method and gazed into the soul’s landscape.
In the colorless world, the man’s form knelt before him.
Black tendrils intertwined his body and soul, fused completely.
Yuri groaned softly.
“Damn…”
Compared to Okuwa’s, this black magic was smaller in scale but far more intricate.
If the monster who created this spell sacrificed more victims to complete it, what terrible things could it do?
Yuri said calmly, “I can’t do this.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t think I can break the binding spell on you.”
“Ah…”
Resignation washed over the black-clad man’s face. After a moment of trembling lips, he said,
“Just… make it quick…”
Before he could finish, Yuri’s sword sliced through his neck.
His head fell, mouth still open in mid-plea.
His body collapsed, blood pooling beneath him.
Yuri methodically checked the remaining bodies as if performing a routine task.
No one else stirred.
Twenty corpses were left abandoned outside the imperial city.
Yuri said to Jared, “We’ll bury them all.”
“Huh? All these bodies?”
“Use mana to bury them.”
“Why?”
“So whoever’s behind this will be curious.”
Yuri was already dragging the bodies together.
“They sent twenty assassins, and now they’re all gone. If there were bodies, we’d think they lost in battle. But they vanished completely. What do you think they’ll do?”
“Ah…”
“They’ll come to me, trying to probe me quietly.”
“Would they be that foolish?”
“We’ll see.”
Yuri looked toward the imperial city in the distance.
The empire’s red flag fluttered atop the sturdy walls.
“The Crown Prince won’t fear me. No reason to. So whether he suspects me or not, he won’t care. He won’t be cautious.”
“And if he is cautious?”
“Then things get harder.”
Jared groaned as he began gathering the bodies.
Together, they piled the twenty corpses and dug a grave.
Yuri struck the earth with his sword’s flat edge, tearing up the ground.
“Your Highness.”
“Hm?”
“If the Crown Prince really is using black magic…”
“Yes.”
“Do you have to be the one to deal with it?”
“Jared, do you think Briol would be safe if the royal family falls?”
“Well, no, but…”
“Compared to this, Okuwa’s rampage with orcs will look like child’s play. The empire will be going mad.”
“Hmm…”
Jared descended into the pit, swinging his sword, then suddenly said,
“You remember what you told me before?”
“What?”
“When we fought Okuwa, you said the allied forces were just the beginning, and to expect more…”
“What did I say then?”
“Um…”
Jared leaned close and whispered. Yuri burst out laughing.
“Oh, right.”
“Did you really mean that?”
“Don’t you think so?”
Yuri smiled wryly, looking down at Jared.
“Look at what we’re doing now. Step by step, don’t you think it’ll happen?”
“Ah…”
“Have faith, Jared.”
Jared sighed deeply.
“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll die before my time.”
“Everyone dies.”
Yuri followed him down into the pit and draped an arm over his shoulder.
“How you die is what matters.”
Jared sighed so heavily the ground seemed to shake.
“Heavy.”
“My arm?”
“No, Your Highness’s will.”
“Did you think it’d be light?”
“If I’d known, I’d have just stayed with the guards and taken it easy…”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. Should’ve just relaxed and enjoyed myself…”
Yuri watched him quietly.
Over Jared’s face, the image of his past self flickered.
Back then, they weren’t close at all.
Jared was just one of the guards Yuri barely knew. But after fighting together, he’d proven quick and agile, though lacking training to last long in battle.
He reminded Yuri of himself.
“I’m frustrated, Your Highness.”
“What?”
“If I could turn back time, I’d train until I dropped dead…”
“Hey, cut the nonsense.”
The memory made Yuri laugh.
What regrets had Jared had in his final moments during the next battle?
Had he wished, like Yuri, to return to the past and get another chance?
After laughing aloud once more, Yuri met Jared’s eyes.
“Hey, cut the nonsense.”
He patted Jared’s back and resumed digging.
“Uh…”
Jared looked dazed.
That lighthearted phrase sounded strangely familiar.
Had he heard it long ago?
When wandering the dungeon built by Briol’s founder?
No, he’d seen strange visions then, but it wasn’t the first time.
He’d been puzzled by the sense of déjà vu for a while.
“Hey, cut the nonsense.”
That phrase.
He must have heard it somewhere in a distant, forgotten past.
Suddenly, an inexplicable feeling welled up inside him.
His chest ached strangely.
For some reason, being with Yuri felt like a great relief.
A strange feeling.
Yuri kept his back turned, digging.
Jared cleared his throat softly.
“Your Highness.”
“Yes?”
“When the time comes, you’ll really give me a position, right?”
“What position?”
“A high one.”
“And if you don’t?”
“Then I’ll ask again.”
“You want it?”
“I do.”
“Alright.”
“After all this hard work, you have to give it to me…”
Embarrassed, Jared grumbled and started digging furiously.
Yuri was taken aback enough to step back.
“Hoo…”
She sighed as she looked at Jared.
“So you really wanted to climb the ranks that badly?”
“Huh?”
“You greedy bastard.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Not what?”
“Don’t you get why I said that? Can’t you feel it?”
“Go dig a hole, then.”
“What do you take me for…?”
“You want a high position, right?”
“Exactly. But this isn’t sincere—I just said it because of the situation…”
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t give it to you?”
“Please.”
After a moment of digging, the two rolled twenty bodies into the pit.
They covered them with soil, tamped it down, then dragged fallen trees over the grave. On top, they laid grass and rocks to blend it seamlessly with the surroundings.
With all traces of the battle erased, the clearing looked as peaceful as it had before.
The work was done.
Yuri brushed the dirt off her hands.
“Another hard day comes to an end.”
“Indeed.”
“Jared, you’re meant to be someone who climbs high—shouldn’t be doing this kind of labor…”
“No, really.”
“Let’s head back. Tonight, let’s just have a cold beer.”
“Sounds good.”
“Tomorrow’s the main tournament for Roland, right?”
“Yes, that’s right. Will you be cheering him on?”
“Not really…”
Yuri and Jared dusted the dirt off each other’s clothes and started trudging toward the imperial city.
As the sun dipped low, their shadows stretched long behind them.
Where they had left, a rock Yuri had planted stood tall like a gravestone.
Unlike the preliminaries, the main tournament was held on a proper stage.
It took place at the comprehensive sports stadium on the outskirts of the imperial city.
Thousands of citizens filled the stands, eagerly awaiting the upcoming duels.
The announcer stepped forward and shouted.
His voice boomed through a voice amplification artifact.
[The continent’s finest swordsmen have gathered to prove themselves. The tournament for His Majesty’s medal—the round of 64—now begins!]
Fireworks exploded overhead.
This time, Roland was the first to step up. His opponent was a knight from the empire, though not a particularly well-known one.
The announcer approached the two on stage and introduced them.
First, the imperial knight.
[Espero Garfield, a knight of the empire’s Second Order. Known as an exemplary model for others.]
The crowd cheered.
[Now, a word for the citizens of the imperial city watching today.]
Espero cleared his throat nervously, then fixed his gaze on a particular spot in the VIP section overlooking the stage.
Though the emperor was absent, the second prince Georg and Princess Ekaterina were in attendance.
Espero said,
“I will win the medal… and dedicate it to the princess.”
Cheers erupted from the audience.
At his declaration, Ekaterina smiled gently, without a hint of awkwardness.
The announcer clapped to encourage the crowd, then turned to Roland.
[Roland Flandre, eldest son of the Count of Francaise, a prodigy who has won countless sword tournaments!]
Citizens from Briole shouted loudly. Though fewer in number than the empire’s supporters, their voices were no less fierce.
The announcer asked Roland,
“Any words before the duel?”
Roland smiled calmly.
“I’ll do my best.”
A rather unexciting answer. The announcer brought the artifact close to Roland and pressed on.
“Hmm, if you win the medal, could you share what you plan to do?”
Roland glanced toward the VIP section. His eyes met Ekaterina’s.
After a moment of looking at her, a smile spread across his lips.
“You’ll find out if I win.”