The Duchy of Klein also sent troops to support the cause. With their forces bolstered, Yuri advanced toward Liberta.
The continent seemed to sense something.
This march might be the final journey of Prince Briol, a hero renowned for his valor.
If victorious, his name would be remembered for generations; if defeated, he would become just another righteous soul fading into the empire’s twilight.
Some scoffed, calling it a pointless endeavor.
Others were moved by his quiet procession, cheering him on or joining the long line of followers trailing behind.
At last, Yuri and the anti-empire coalition he had formed reached the capital of Liberta.
The king of Liberta himself came out and, from a distance, knelt on one knee to pay his respects.
Yuri had no intention of halting the march just because the king appeared. He returned the gesture with a solemn bow and pressed onward, walking silently like a pilgrim on the road to the empire.
Outside the city, Liberta’s army waited to join Yuri’s ranks.
Spotting a familiar face at the front, Yuri broke into a smile.
“Hey, Sven Gain. My friend.”
“Good to see you again, Your Highness.”
“You look stiff.”
“Well, given the times…”
When the Prince of Briol called Sven a close friend, murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Though Sven had recently risen to prominence, few knew of his close ties to Yuri Briol.
Of course, the story behind their bond—born from a beating—was a secret only they shared.
Yuri chuckled, recalling that moment.
“Remember when we first met?”
“Of course I do.”
“And now here we are, fighting side by side. Life’s full of surprises, isn’t it?”
“Indeed.”
“I kept my promise back then. Didn’t tell a soul.”
Even Sven, who had been serious moments before, couldn’t help but smile.
“Thank you, truly.”
“See?”
Before meeting Yuri, Sven had been a petty, arrogant man who took his status for granted—badmouthing other nations behind their backs and rarely acknowledging those better than himself.
But that was no longer the case.
He had changed.
Still mounted, Yuri reached out to Sven, who was waiting nearby.
“Let’s do our best this time, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
After a brief handshake, Yuri grinned and urged his horse forward.
Watching them with a pleased expression, Wolf Gain spoke.
“Sir Eto.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t you feel proud?”
“I do.”
“One day, my son will follow in your footsteps.”
“I should be the one to follow you first, Wolf.”
“You’ve already surpassed me.”
“Being skilled with a sword isn’t the only virtue of a knight. Compared to you, I still have a long way to go.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Someday, I’ll be a knight like you.”
“Then I’ll become a father.”
“A father…”
“That way, you’ll become a better knight—and a better man.”
The sound of a horn echoed, and Liberta’s army joined Yuri’s march.
Wolf shouted, “Liberta stands with Briol. We will fight to the very end. Now, forward!”
The anti-empire coalition, which began in Briol, was steadily growing like a rolling snowball.
Yuri Briol, the lord of the Age of Conquest, continued through the small nations’ alliance and arrived at Bursen.
Bursen’s reaction was fierce. Unlike other countries that merely bowed, they waved flags and shouted, making the march louder and more spirited.
All the bonds Yuri had formed over time had gathered here.
The king of Bursen didn’t stand idly by; he ran up to Yuri and handed him something.
“Here, have a drink before you go.”
It was wine.
“Could this be…”
“Sabone Mukara. Made in the best vintage.”
A specialty of the Alas region, situated between the Holy Kingdom and Bursen. Not long ago, the two nations had fought a war over it, which Yuri had helped to quell.
Yuri smiled.
“How generous of you to offer this.”
“For you, it’s worth every drop.”
The king of Bursen smiled back.
“Drink quickly. No need to pour it out.”
“Yes.”
Mounted, Yuri and the king stood side by side, filling their glasses with deep red wine.
“To your success.”
“You just wanted to drink this, didn’t you?”
“Quiet, everyone’s listening.”
They both smiled and downed their wine.
Yuri sighed in admiration.
“Indeed…”
“Good, isn’t it?”
“I can’t put it into words.”
“Me neither. I won’t bother with words. This wine carries my heart—please save the continent.”
“I will.”
“By the way…”
The king added, “The best wine is still unopened. I’m saving it for your victory.”
“And if I lose?”
“I’ll drink it in mourning. If you fall, I won’t live long either.”
“Ha ha…”
Yuri smiled and handed back his glass.
“Another, please.”
“Gladly.”
The king poured again. After several rounds, Yuri held the wine in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.
“I must win.”
“Exactly.”
“Of course.”
Returning the empty glass, Yuri said, “I will come back.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
The king stepped back, cradling the wine bottle.
Yuri’s procession resumed, followed by countless troops from every nation they had passed through.
Not only Briol, Klein, Liberta, and the small nations’ soldiers, but also the fighters from tiny independent territories and the hidden swordsmen—all had joined.
Now, Bursen’s army was added to the ranks.
The king raised his hand and shouted, “My loyal knight, Jose Aratur!”
“Yes!”
Jose, standing behind, answered loudly. The king called out again.
“Assist Prince Briol and save the continent!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
Jose’s voice rang out.
Then the horn sounded a long call.
Bursen’s army, lined up, began to merge into the procession in time with the signal.
Jonathan, watching the troops’ movement from the rear on horseback, said, “Most of these faces look familiar. From the allied forces, right?”
“That’s right.”
“So many connections from back then are still here.”
“Maybe not so many,” Proin smiled. “Just one connection. Yuri Briol. He’s the one who brought everyone together.”
“Is that so?”
“Think about it. It’s like they’ve been preparing for a day like this.”
Proin ran his hand through his horse’s mane.
“It all started with the allied forces—Orcs and dark magic. The war to protect the continent has been going on since then.”
“Could be.”
They nodded in agreement.
Those who had formed bonds during the allied forces were now united in a battle for the continent’s fate.
Bursen’s troops fully joined the procession and began moving forward. Jonathan and Proin urged their horses onward.
People on both sides wished them luck.
Jonathan smiled.
“Has there ever been a war like this?”
“Hm?”
“A war truly worth fighting—not for greed, foolish misunderstandings, or sacrifice for the whole. Absolute evil has appeared, and we take up arms to protect the continent and those dear to us. How magnificent is that? We’ve fought many battles before, but were any truly worth dying for?”
“That’s true. Still, life is good.”
“Let’s live.”
They moved forward.
With that, Bursen’s forces had fully joined the anti-empire coalition. They now marched straight north.
The long journey was nearing its end.
After passing through the Holy Kingdom, they would head directly toward the empire.
Compared to Bursen, the Holy Kingdom greeted Yuri Briol more quietly.
Luther Arseint, who had been placed on the throne by Yuri, dressed in white, blessed them. Priests emerging from the temple chanted prayers like incantations, wishing for their victory.
The knights, paladins, and all the forces of the Holy Kingdom joined the march.
Because of their nature, the Holy Kingdom harbored a strong aversion to dark magic, so their response to this war was significant. Everyone capable of bearing arms seemed to join the procession.
As Yuri exchanged a nod with Francesco and Fennec, who waited with their troops, his thoughts turned to Sibylla.
If not for what had happened, she might have joined this war.
That would have been better.
But the past couldn’t be changed. All Yuri could do now was kill Cedric and soothe her restless soul.
While lost in thought, Ainger approached.
“They say the Holy Kingdom has completely used up their orichalcum. They’ve supplied a large amount of weapons.”
“Is that so?”
“Most of the weapons are orichalcum-based. Though alloyed, so the purity is lower.”
“That’s enough. The Holy Kingdom did well.”
“That dwarf’s face is half gone.”
“Ha ha…”
Yuri laughed, thinking of Umstine.
“That’s to be expected.”
He glanced back. Francesco was riding toward them.
When he had lost his mana, he’d become a wreck, looking like a bandit. Now, having lost weight and shaved his face, he looked entirely different—almost a handsome young man.
“Yuri Briol.”
“Your face has improved.”
“This might be the last time. I want to look good.”
Then Francesco waved to the people of the Holy Kingdom, who cheered.
“When I lost my mana, I thought it was a trial from God. When you returned it, I thought you were a messenger sent by God.”
“Are you serious? You mean I’m a messenger of God?”
“I don’t mean you’re literally sent by God. It’s more like our meeting itself might be divine guidance, something along those lines.”
“Maybe so.”
“But in the end, I think everything was arranged for this very moment.”
“An arrangement only counts if we win, right?”
“We will win.”
Francesco spoke with unwavering confidence.
Yuri asked, “How can you be so sure?”
“Have you ever seen an unfinished painting?”
“Huh?”
“In the grand cathedral, there’s a mural that’s never fully completed.”
As they rode side by side, Francesco explained, “It shows saints from history walking together, but the end of the path is left blank. Instead of a clear image, there’s just a wash of radiant light—colors meant to express brilliance, but no concrete form.”
“Did the artist just give up?”
“There are many stories, but none are certain. Some say the painter abandoned it halfway. But that doesn’t matter. Even if it’s unfinished, we know what lies at the end of the saints’ path.”
Francesco smiled knowingly.
“That’s why it’s called the holiest sacred painting.”
“I think I see what you’re getting at.”
“Yes. The path we’re on, the path you’ve walked—it’s clear where it leads, even without looking.”
He placed a hand on Yuri’s shoulder.
“We will win. If this journey ends in tragedy, then the artist who painted that mural must have been mad. But the god who created this world is no madman.”
“That sounds comforting, but isn’t it a bit much?”
“No, trust me.”
“Did you receive a vision in your dream last night or something?”
Francesco’s eyes flickered.
Yuri frowned.
“Are you serious, or just saying that?”
“Just take it as true.”
“Did the real God appear in your dream?”
“He came as a light beyond description, like the one in the cathedral’s painting.”
“What did He say?”
Francesco said nothing, only looked at Yuri.
“Why? Why won’t you say?”
Instead of answering, he gently patted Yuri’s back. Somehow, the touch felt warm.
Yuri gave a reluctant look.
“Don’t tell me you were talking about me?”
“Let’s win. We will win, Yuri Briol.”
“What was the vision?”
“Let’s go.”
“Please, tell me quickly.”
“How could a mere human like me ever understand the will of God?”
“Still, what was it about…?”
Even as they bickered, the march never stopped.
The sound of the horn echoed through the air.
And so, the anti-empire alliance’s procession, sparked by Yuri Briol, swelled like a snowball rolling downhill, growing into an enormous force.
Now, only one thing remained: the advance north.
Into the shadowed empire, the final army led by Yuri Briol moved forward.