A dim battlefield.
In the sky, dark clouds from which the thunder energy had vanished hung heavy, covering the sun.
And beneath them.
Crack, crackle—
Teordo’s body crumbled away.
The eyes that had been unable to close from resentment, the body with not a single part left whole.
The dozens of wounds, and the pieces of metal lodged in them, all broke apart and scattered.
What replaced them was pitch-black smoke.
Thick, unnatural smoke whose depths could not be seen at all.
That ominous smoke grew larger and larger, until at last it surged high into the sky.
The black air that had been swelling for some time.
The smoke rising high into the sky split vertically with a sharp crack.
—Heh, heh, heh, heh…
Purnell’s laughter, as if he were barely suppressing his delight.
—This is far more than I expected…
A black form slowly revealed itself between the split smoke.
A body made solely of death energy.
He had been large even in life, but now he was a head taller than before.
A knight who, already dead, could no longer die.
—Is it not a masterpiece!
The knight of death parted the black smoke and strode out, stopping before Hio.
Amid the darkness, his eyes shone with a blackness even deeper than the rest.
Black energy fluttered around him like a haze.
Hio looked up at that knight for a moment, then turned his head.
The screams still rang out in the distance.
The sorrowful sound of steel clashing against steel.
The energy of death scattered chaotically through the air.
The war was not over.
“Second Prince Belloke still remains.”
At those words, the knight moved toward the place Hio was looking.
Behind his steps, taken without the slightest hesitation, pitch-black darkness wavered.
In his great empty hand, a massive sword began to form.
A black hilt and a sharp black blade.
A greatsword made of death energy.
“Bring me Belloke’s head.”
Nothing had changed.
His deep-blue aura had turned black.
His blunt, expressionless eyes could no longer be found.
His body would no longer feel pain, blood would no longer spurt from it, and even if it were cut apart, it would simply regenerate.
But nothing had changed.
“Teordo Ricart.”
The knight still held a sword.
“Let’s end this war.”
The knight would still swing that sword.
“Open the path.”
For the princess.
* * *
For the energy of death to encroach upon one’s body meant that one would soon die.
And before that death, one would indirectly experience every manner of demise, suffering terrible pain until death suddenly took them.
There was nothing physically wrong, so it could not be treated.
Even the divine power of a high priest could only suppress the energy for a short while.
Once its effect wore off, one would ultimately be consumed by death again.
Once the energy began to invade the head, there was no longer any way to solve it on one’s own.
One could only lose consciousness, collapse, experience every sort of death as if it were real, and then die like that.
Burned to death, cut apart or ground to death.
Falling to death, bursting to death, freezing to death, dying as every drop of blood drained away.
Experiencing every kind of death, one slowly died that way.
The eyes that had been closed for so long slowly opened.
Silver eyes revealed themselves once more.
Inside a carriage.
With severe dizziness, Sylvia slowly raised herself up.
“Where… is this…”
Unable to understand where she was or what situation she was in, she forced her powerless body upright.
She staggered to her feet and opened the carriage door, and only then did she grasp the situation.
The scent of blood carried on the sudden gust of wind.
Faint shouts. Screams. Cries. Wails. The sound of weapons clashing.
A battlefield.
While she had been unconscious, while she had been fighting that terrible nightmare, the war had already begun.
But… why was there no one around her?
This should have been a war they could win easily.
If things went according to plan, they should have been able to win without shedding much allied blood, and yet…
Wasn’t something strange?
She moved her feet and headed outside the carriage.
The dark clouds hanging in the sky finally poured the rain they had been holding back down onto the earth.
Rain began to fall, drop by drop.
No wonder it had seemed so dark; the sky must have been full of clouds.
Sylvia walked on through that rain.
With each step she took, her mind grew clearer, and her staggering movements gradually became steadier.
She had to gather herself.
This was the war she herself had chosen.
Fortunately, before long, she found a familiar back.
The same attire as ever, even on a battlefield like this.
A back that seemed at ease, unlike everyone else.
“Hio.”
At Sylvia’s call, Hio turned his head.
“Sylvia.”
His pupils widened slightly in surprise. Then a faint smile appeared, as if in relief. And…
A hint of inexplicable panic.
That was the expression Sylvia read on Hio’s face in that brief instant.
“I’m sorry. I woke up far too late, didn’t I?”
Hio shook his head.
“You’ve been lying down for days, so you must not have any strength. You can stay inside. It’s raining, and… the war will end soon.”
The undying knight had departed, so he would soon return with the Second Prince’s head.
But naturally, Sylvia did not go back.
“I can’t do that.”
She stood beside Hio and looked out over the battlefield.
Mm.
As expected, it felt empty with one person missing.
“Where’s Teordo? Was the situation so bad that even Teordo had to join the battle?”
Hadn’t the plan been to appear when the First Prince and Second Prince’s forces had nearly annihilated each other, then sweep them all away at once?
There should have been no need for even the knight who guarded the princess to step forward.
Sylvia looked at Hio and asked, but Hio only stared straight ahead in silence.
An ominous silence.
Then, with difficulty, he opened his mouth.
“…The information… was leaked.”
She could tell that those few words contained a great deal.
“Ah… I see.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s not your fault, Hio. To begin with, if you hadn’t been here, we never would have made it this far.”
Sylvia smiled as if to say it was all right and waited.
He still had not answered her question of where Teordo was.
She waited for the words that would follow from his mouth.
But.
“……”
The silence stretched on.
His lips parted, then closed.
He hesitated as though he might speak, but in the end, Hio’s mouth shut tight again.
The silence continued. The unease grew.
The words that finally came from Hio were.
“…I’m sorry.”
Cruel.
“I see… So that’s how it is.”
Sylvia calmly turned her head and looked back at the battlefield.
“…So that’s what happened.”
So that was what happened.
Teordo Ricart.
My only knight.
He was dead.
“That’s not something you should apologize for, Hio. I’m sure you did your best. I know that.”
How strange.
Why was she so calm?
How could she comfort Hio so composedly?
“Yes. That’s right. It must have been unavoidable.”
As she nodded like that, she suddenly realized.
Why she could be so composed.
As she nodded and unconsciously looked behind her, the empty space entered her sight.
Only then did she understand.
She had not yet felt it.
She still had not truly felt it.
That the knight who had always stood silently behind her was dead.
Because if she waited quietly like this, it felt as if he would stand behind her in silence, as he always had.
That was why it did not feel real.
The knight who, whenever she turned around and their eyes met, would bow his head to her.
The knight who, when she complained that he no longer smiled like he used to, would grow flustered and then show her an awkward smile.
Because she could not believe that he was no longer there.
Sylvia moved her feet.
Because she did not want to look back. Because she did not want to see that desolate empty place.
Because she did not have the courage to turn around, she walked forward instead.
The strength left her staggering legs, and Hio caught her.
Sylvia smiled.
“Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”
Then she walked again.
Forward. Toward the battlefield, one step at a time.
“You know.”
The raindrops gradually grew heavier.
“His body?”
No answer came back.
“Yes. I see.”
She took another step.
The raindrops that had grown heavier were now pouring down in sheets.
Perhaps because of that, her vision blurred white.
So that was how it was.
He had fought so desperately that even his body could not be found.
My knight had.
Wiping at the corners of her eyes, Sylvia swept her ash-gray gaze over the battlefield.
If she could not even find his body.
If she could not even see his face one last time, then she would search for his soul instead.
Above all, she clearly remembered that shining soul.
She kept wiping at her vision that blurred again and again, searching her surroundings.
The days she had spent unconscious had been years, or perhaps an even longer nightmare.
A dreadful, cruel nightmare.
A long, unending nightmare, as if every nightmare she had ever had had been combined into one.
It had been the pain of her body being torn apart, ground down, and burned.
It had been a time so agonizing it truly felt as though she would die.
She had endured desperately and thought she had finally escaped the nightmare.
“…What is this?”
Was she not still inside the nightmare?
Was this not a terrible nightmare she could never wake from, no matter how much she endured?
Her rain-soaked body felt unbearably heavy.
Her face seemed to burn with fever, but even so, she did not stop walking.
Because she had to find his soul.
Because she had to find that soul, nobler than anyone’s, and yet…
She could not see it.
The noble soul that had shone so brightly had vanished without a trace.
“Teordo…”
Just once… Could she not meet him just once more?
Could he not show her even his soul?
So she could tell him thank you.
So she could tell him she was sorry.
Had he left this world without hesitation because he could not bear to look at such a weak, useless master?
That was too cowardly, Teordo.
You should have given me time to apologize.
You should have given me the chance to say thank you. To say I was happy you were by my side.
To say I was glad you were my guardian knight.
You may have hated and resented me, but you should have let me say goodbye.
“…Hm? Teordo.”
The strength drained from Sylvia’s body, which had barely been holding on.
Her powerless body collapsed helplessly.
No, someone caught the body that almost collapsed.
A strangely familiar black hand.
A large, firm hand that resembled someone’s.
Sylvia’s ash-gray eyes moved to find the owner of that hand, but…
Soon, she turned her head away.
His appearance was far too different from the knight she knew, and his soul was far too different, so she quickly withdrew her gaze.
Because it was such a terribly dark soul.
Because she knew better than anyone how noble that knight had been in life.
That was why she did not recognize him.
* * *
The heavy raindrops poured down violently.
Within them, the noise of war could no longer be heard.
First Prince Allenbert’s camp.
The prince’s head rolling on the ground. Beside it, a single knight with his head bowed.
Second Prince Belloke’s camp.
A path of blood stretching in a long, straight line.
A wide path carved by a single unreasonable knight.
It was the path to the imperial palace.
A path of death made to end the long, long war.
At its end lay Belloke’s body, bereft of its head.
The war was over.
* * *
Why had she tried to become emperor?
It had not been for herself.
Nor had it been because she wanted to live.
She had wanted her knight to be glorious.
She had wanted the knight who had guarded her side all his life to be admired by all, not as the knight of a powerless princess,
but as the empire’s great guardian knight.
Yet that knight was dead, and she would soon become emperor.
What meaning was there in that?
…She no longer knew.
Sylvia staggered to her feet.
The one supporting her was Teordo.
As the pouring rain beat down on them, Teordo silently looked down at her feverish face.
At that face desperately holding back tears.
Without realizing it, he reached out a hand, then stopped.
Because the hand he had extended was far too black.
Because the energy that had driven Sylvia to the brink of death now surged within his own body.
His half-extended hand could go no farther.
Sylvia’s gaze did not turn toward him.
She searched for the noble soul that must be somewhere.
Unaware that the soul was already stained black and standing right beside her.
She simply stood there, being drenched by the rain.
The silent battlefield.
The gloomy battlefield where the sound of pouring rain was everything.
“Throw down your weapons and kneel.”
A great voice rang low through the rain.
A voice that spread across the vast battlefield through Shout.
“Bow your heads.”
Lower your heads.
So deeply that you cannot see the girl holding back her tears.
Bow your heads very deeply.
The words the knight would have shouted until his throat tore, had he been alive.
Hio spoke them in his stead, though they were never meant to be his role.
“Pay your respects to the new emperor.”
It was a declaration of the war’s end.
“We will go to the imperial palace.”
And there was no victor.