Yalta suddenly stabbed his chest and clamped his mouth shut.
“Ugh…”
Graham crumpled, sensing his death was near.
“Sir Graham, I didn’t want to kill you. I told you to set the fire, damn it…”
With his eyes closed, Yalta ruffled his own hair and began muttering to himself.
Graham knew that once Yalta finished his muttering, he would take his own life completely.
He blinked.
He had expected a life-flashing montage before death, but there was none.
Instead, he felt calm.
So when someone suddenly appeared out of thin air, Graham couldn’t help but be startled.
It was a boy with salmon-colored hair.
Inariel, the great mage, whom Graham had seen a few times from afar.
He had no idea why Inariel was here.
While Yalta kept his eyes closed, Inariel looked down with a troubled expression, then waved his staff.
A breeze stirred.
And just like that, Graham’s time froze.
When he blinked again, he found himself not in his barracks but collapsed in a rainy forest.
Before him stood not Inariel, but the third prince of Briole.
“Your Highness…”
He opened his mouth.
Though his chest was pierced and he thought he wouldn’t be able to speak, thankfully, he could.
The third prince stepped closer and knelt on one knee.
“Inariel brought you here, Sir Graham. I was the one who killed Yalta.”
“Ah…”
Graham smiled faintly.
To think the prince had killed Yalta—he was no ordinary man.
Even facing death, Graham felt a strange pride in the third prince.
It was an odd feeling.
He couldn’t understand where it came from.
Why was he drawn to this prince? Why did he want him to succeed?
Was it simply because the prince was born with the rare qualities of a true knight?
At that moment, a vision passed over Graham’s eyes.
Flames flickered all around.
He was walking through a burning royal palace.
At first, he didn’t know where he was, but then he realized—it was Briole.
He blocked someone trying to flee.
They exchanged sword strikes. The opponent was covered in wounds, barely able to move, yet fought fiercely.
The determination in that sword was so immense that even Graham struggled to hold him back.
But in the end, he defeated him.
Leaning against the wall, the man raised his eyes.
Black hair.
Black eyes.
The unmistakable symbol of the Briole royal family.
Graham soon recognized the bloodied face.
“Sir Graham,” he said.
“Won’t you spare me?”
At that moment, Graham felt shame.
The contrast between how he saw the man and how the man’s dark pupils reflected him was stark. He was the unjust invader; the man was a knight who fought to the very end.
He gave a bitter smile.
“I can’t die here.”
Graham opened his mouth, then closed it again.
He wondered what he would have said if he were in that man’s place.
Probably, he would have simply asked for death.
But this man begged his enemy for his life, desperate to survive.
For him, duty was not something he could abandon by choice.
Graham closed his eyes and pondered.
He didn’t know what punishment awaited him for this, but it certainly wouldn’t be a pleasant future.
Still, somehow, he didn’t want to kill this man.
So he silently stepped aside.
The man looked at Graham with a strange expression, almost like a low chuckle.
Then he stood up and limped away.
“Thank you.”
That was his last word.
Against the backdrop of towering flames, he left his royal palace with a pitiful gait and disappeared somewhere.
That was what happened.
When, where, and how exactly, Graham didn’t know.
But at that moment, the man looked down at him with the same unwavering gaze as before.
“Your Highness.”
“Sir Graham.”
“Back then, I thought what you said was just talk.”
Before coming to Johaim, Graham had sought out the third prince and talked with him.
Before leaving, the prince suddenly whispered in his ear.
“Sir Graham, actually, you saved me back then. On the day the palace fell, when you chased me, you hesitated for a moment out of pity and let me escape. So you could say you’re the savior of my life.”
Graham had thought it was a made-up story.
But it had happened somewhere, sometime.
“I remember now.”
The prince’s eyes widened.
Graham wanted to laugh. He wanted to burst out laughing loudly, but his body, so close to death, could only let out a faint breath of wind.
A worthless, pathetic man, he had said.
Everything the prince told him was wrong.
Not a single thing was true.
The prince didn’t know himself at all.
Graham shook with laughter, blood trickling from his mouth.
“Enough, Sir Graham. Why are you laughing all of a sudden?”
Graham felt a lightness.
As if he had set down a heavy burden from his shoulders.
But at the same time, he felt sorry.
The burdens he had carried wouldn’t disappear—they would only grow heavier and weigh down the prince even more.
But he believed the prince could bear it.
“Your Highness, I will be watching. I hope you set everything right, just as you wish…”
His consciousness began to fade.
Graham tried to look clearly at the third prince of Briole, Yuri Briole, one last time.
Those dark eyes were as steady then as they were now.
Graham felt reassured.
“The best thing I ever did…”
His eyelids grew heavy. Soon, darkness completely covered his vision.
In the darkness, he smiled brightly.
“I saved you back then.”
That was the end.
The model knight, Graham Hartpole.
His heart stopped.
Yuri looked down at Graham’s fallen head and remained silent for a long while.
For some reason, facing death, Graham had spoken of his past life.
Yuri didn’t know if Graham truly remembered or if his dying brain was hallucinating the stories he had once told.
But it comforted him.
And it gave him a greater sense of duty.
Yuri wiped his eyes as he looked down at Graham’s peacefully closed eyes.
“Inariel.”
He called out. Inariel, who had been standing some distance away, came over.
“Did you exchange greetings properly?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“What will you do with the body?”
“Sir Graham…”
Yuri stood up.
“I’ll leave him here.”
“Leave him here?”
“Yes.”
Then Yuri drew the sword Graham had worn and plunged it into Yalta’s face.
“Let’s do it this way.”
If it became known that he had killed Yalta, his name would be added to the Ten Strong’s list.
Then the empire would be wary of Briole.
Not yet.
“Yalta went mad, set the fire, and ran wild. Sir Graham died trying to stop him. Let’s say it happened like that.”
“Agreed.”
Inariel nodded.
“That’s best.”
He waved his staff.
The scene of the fierce battle between Yalta and Yuri began to shift.
Even the bodies of Yalta and Graham changed little by little.
Now it looked like the two had fought each other.
“Can’t call him a kid anymore. Killing one of the Ten Strong.”
“He wasn’t a kid from the start.”
Yuri looked up at the sky.
“When will the rain stop?”
“Who knows…”
Inariel looked up as well. Thick dark clouds covered the sky.
“I held Graham in high regard too.”
“Everyone did.”
“It’s okay if the sky cries a little longer for him.”
Yuri chuckled softly.
“Yes, it seems so.”
Together, they began walking toward the edge of the forest.
Suddenly, Yuri put his arm around Inariel’s shoulder.
Because of their height difference, it was just the right height to lean on.
“What is this behavior now?”
“I’m just tired. Cut me some slack.”
Yuri’s whole body was battered from exerting himself beyond his limits.
Inariel frowned.
“Consider it an honor.”
“Sure. Oh, right.”
“What is it?”
“I need to get the slime mask…”
“Go get it.”
“I’m too exhausted to move…”
“…”
“I wish someone would just bring it to me…”
“Tch…”
Several days had passed since the wildfire that had burned the forest was extinguished by the rain.
The imperial army, leaderless and unsure what to do, waited, then finally charged blindly into the forest.
With no way back, the imperial soldiers fought recklessly.
The Aloy Brigade used the terrain to mount an effective counterattack, but the imperial army pressed on toward the other side of the forest regardless.
A brutal battle ensued.
Countless casualties piled up.
Among them were new heroes born in Johaim.
“Hopper! Hopper!”
“Count Seckernier, I’m done for…”
“This can’t go on!”
“I’m sorry.”
Jose’s acting was terrible, but Count Seckernier was a rather insensitive man.
“I will fight to the last for Johaim. Even in death, I will watch over Johaim, Count.”
“Hopper!”
Pretending to be wounded, Hopper staggered and then charged at the enemy.
“Yaaah!”
Watching his body disappear among the imperial soldiers, Count Seckernier shed tears.
“Hopper…”
Similar scenes were unfolding elsewhere on the battlefield.
Among the three sworn brothers, the first to fall into danger was the man with the long, beautiful beard—Low.
He had infiltrated deep into enemy lines to stop the imperial soldiers from setting fire, swinging his crescent blade fiercely. But in the end, he was struck down by an enemy’s sword.
The imperial troops closed in around him.
Seeing this, Javid dashed after him into the heart of the enemy ranks.
“Brother Low!”
Javid stood by his side, relentlessly swinging his spear.
But even he began to be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
It was a desperate situation.
“We have to save both of them!”
“We need to organize a rescue team and send it immediately—”
“Captain!”
Just as the militia was about to push forward recklessly to save the two,
a sharp voice rang out.
“Everyone, hold your positions!”
It was Yu-bi, the eldest of the three sworn brothers.
He spoke firmly.
“Charging in now will only lead to a senseless death!”
“C-Captain!”
“Stay calm! Discipline is our lifeblood. If we break ranks and rush in, that burden falls on those two alone to bear.”
His voice was controlled, suppressing his emotions.
Hearing this from Yu-bi—the eldest brother who cherished their brotherhood as dearly as life itself—a fierce, burning feeling surged within the militia’s hearts.
“But—”
Yu-bi raised his twin swords and continued.
“I am different.”
“Captain!”
“I, Yu-bi, swore an oath with my two brothers in the sweet potato fields. Though we were born on different days, we vowed to die together on the same day! So this is my order: from now on, the militia will follow Lord Gonte’s commands in all operations!”
“Captain!”
“No matter what happens to me and my sworn brothers, you must never come after us.”
“B-But—!”
“This is my final order. Survive. It has been an honor fighting alongside you, my comrades.”
With those words, Yu-bi charged into the enemy lines to rescue his brothers.
His twin swords danced through the air.
“For Johaim!”
Fueled by fierce patriotism and brotherly love, he disappeared deeper into the enemy ranks.
“Ahhh…”
Soon, flames erupted within the imperial formation where they fought.
The three battled to the very end amidst the inferno, becoming part of the raging fire that consumed the imperial forces.
A heroic last stand.
Hopper, Yu-bi, Low, and Javid—
The four who had appeared like shooting stars to save Johaim vanished suddenly back into the heavens, just as mysteriously as they had come.
But their sacrifice was not in vain.
Where they had fallen, the flower of patriotism bloomed.
“We will never forgive this!”
“Do not let their deaths be in vain!”
“Eradicate the imperial army!”
“Charge!”
The Johaim forces were no longer weak. Having witnessed the sacrifice of their comrades, they were reborn as a fierce army united by camaraderie and patriotism.
Fueled by righteous fury, Johaim’s troops pushed the imperial forces back.
And the next day,
shocking news spread across the continent.
—The imperial army had been defeated.
—Graham fell in battle trying to stop the rampaging Yalta, leaving a vacancy among the Ten Strong.
—Hopper and the three sworn brothers who rose for Johaim met a heroic end.
—A statue honoring the four was erected in the heart of Johaim’s royal city.