### EP.472 The Path to the Final Stage (3)
The exploration team that had headed toward the northern tip and the northwestern edge of the continent returned. They entered the conference room in a shabby state, and began to share the information they had gathered with hollow eyes.
“Our Royal Guard investigated the northern tip of the continent, a place known as the Frozen Tower. Contrary to the information that it was a place where snow accumulated for ages, making it impossible to set foot…”
The Royal Guard, Crepin, spoke.
“There was a vast wilderness there. Not a snowy field, but a wilderness. At the end of that wilderness stood a tower, just as documented, and the artifact reacted in that tower’s direction.”
An artifact created by Ayla and Resti. The fact that the artifact responded to the essence of the Braver meant that the ‘Frozen Tower’ located at the northern tip was the stronghold of the Braver.
The answer emerged from the two choices.
There shouldn’t have been more to say, but the Royal Guards glanced at the mages from the Ashen Tower, who had arrived at Kateron Castle with them. It was as if they had overheard something.
“……”
After finishing their report, the Royal Guards took a step back. In their place stood the mages from the Ashen Tower. However, instead of delivering a report, they were petrified, making clack clack clack sounds as they chattered their teeth.
“We explored the Fortuna Temple located in the northwestern part of the continent.”
One of them finally managed to speak.
An abandoned ruin in the northwestern part of the continent. The mage from the Ashen Tower began to report in a terrified manner.
“The artifact showed no reactions. We detected no mana responses whatsoever. However, just as we were about to leave the temple, we encountered… it.”
The mage said with dread.
“The King of Beasts.”
They had encountered Barta, the King of Beasts.
According to the mages’ story, it went like this:
Just as they finished investigating the Fortuna Temple and were about to leave, the artifact began to blare noisily, and they looked up towards the source of the signal. Their gaze fixed on the top of a broken column of the temple.
There, they said, stood the King of Beasts.
In that moment, when their eyes met, none could dare move. Disaster, by merely existing in that place, suppresses the flow of the surroundings. Confronted by the immense pressure, the mages, sensing death, were petrified as the King of Beasts slowly spoke.
“Lac von Grace.”
The mage said.
The King of Beasts had spoken to him.
“Bring me Lac von Grace.”
With icy, haunting eyes, and outstretched fingers.
In that moment, recalling the disaster they had faced, the mage, terrified, kept repeating the same words.
“Bring me Lac von Grace.”
“If not…”
Replacing the terrified repetition of words was another mage who followed up. She spoke while looking at Lac.
“You will face me together with him at the northern edge.”
Lac’s gaze narrowed.
Not just Lac. Raniel, who was listening, furrowed her brow. The situation had just gotten a bit more complicated.
‘…What a load of crap.’
It was a threat.
For some unknown reason, the King of Beasts seemed aware of the existence of the Braver and their plans. Not just aware, but displaying a cooperative attitude towards the Braver. Raniel’s expression crumpled.
The pieces that she thought she couldn’t control.
So, the pieces she had set aside beside the chessboard.
The Braver had placed all those pieces back on the board. Raniel couldn’t comprehend how that was achieved. How they had lured the Demon Lord, and how they had captured the proud beasts was beyond her imagination.
‘But…’
Raniel slowly shifted her gaze.
It came to rest on Lac. Confirming the wavering look in Lac’s eyes, she exhaled briefly. She stood up and approached the investigation team.
“It must have been a tough mission, you did well.”
After patting the shoulders of the investigation team and greeting them briefly, Raniel cast a glance at the individuals seated in the conference room.
“You all take a break. It would be nice to have some free seats. And…”
Raniel looked at Lac.
“Lac, you stay here.”
Before long, the conference room was empty.
Left in the empty conference room were just Lac and Raniel. In the silence, it was Raniel who spoke first.
“What do you think?”
A question thrown with a thud.
Though lacking a subject or object, Lac understood what she was asking. He silently fiddled with the handle of the sword.
“To be honest, I’m not sure.”
“What about?”
“What I should choose.”
Lac said.
“I have a mission. More precisely, my family… the Grace family has a mission. It is an obligation that cannot be overlooked.”
Raniel understood what that obligation was.
“To liberate the founder, ‘Ganikalt van Galatrick’, the master of the Grace family. To subdue him. That is the duty of our Grace family.”
It was the promise and oath made by the founder.
“To uphold that promise, our family has kept the Holy Sword. We have inherited the ‘authority’ to wield the Holy Sword through our bloodline. However…”
Lac groaned.
“Even knowing that it is an obligation that cannot be overlooked, I cannot ignore the existence of Barta either.”
The King of Beasts, Barta.
“I cannot forget the scenes of my brothers meeting a terrible death before the King of Beasts. The ones eaten alive even in death by the beasts summoned by Barta… I cannot overlook the dignity of my brothers that was insulted. I must not ignore it.”
Lac clenched the sword handle tightly.
It was a scene he could never forget. Powerlessness. Loss. Rage. The self-loathing from failing to protect even the little dignity left to his brothers. That was the driving force that made Lac seek to surpass his limits, the reason he craved strength.
“I cannot overlook both battlefields, not at all.”
The mission to subdue Ganikalt, the Death’s Blade.
The duty to take revenge on Barta, the King of Beasts.
“Choosing is extraordinarily difficult.”
Lac couldn’t take his eyes off either. However, one cannot stand on two battlefields simultaneously. Ultimately, a choice had to be made. In such a situation, Lac was lost.
“…What a pathetic thing it is. Not even being able to make a choice for myself.”
Lac reached out into the air.
What he grasped in his outstretched hand was the Holy Sword. The First Holy Sword, held by the First Hero, Ganikalt van Galatrick. While looking at that Holy Sword, Lac continued speaking.
“Sometimes I think this sword might be too much for me. After all, I wasn’t a knight to begin with, and I’ve lived a life completely unrelated to this sword.”
Raniel listened silently to Lac’s words.
Lac touched the blade of the Holy Sword.
“I often think there is someone more suited to wield this sword than I am.”
What Lac recalled were events from several years past.
The day he first held this sword.
In the moment he clashed with Ganikalt, Lac lost hold of this sword. And that day, that moment, there was a knight charging forward with the sword Lac had dropped.
Kyle Toven.
The knight who charged at Ganikalt, wielding the sword stuck in the snowy field. He landed a blow on the Death’s Blade and earned recognition from Ganikalt. Lac could never forget the trajectory of the strike Kyle executed in that moment. It was a strike almost close to perfection.
“I…”
“I know who you’re thinking about.”
Raniel, who had been quietly listening, spoke up.
“That guy wouldn’t use that sword even if you threw it to him, you know?”
“…Huh?”
“Kyle, you’re talking about him right? Sure, he did show off that great sword stunningly against Ganikalt… but I don’t think he would need such a thing now.”
“What do you mean…”
“You might not know, but…”
Raniel chuckled.
“He split the skies with just one sword he had. A single ordinary sword that was no longer a Holy Sword. Ganikalt probably felt the same way.”
It wouldn’t have mattered what he was holding.
They were not mere fools swayed by a sword, but knights who wielded and swung it. So, Raniel suggested that they shouldn’t feel the weight of that sword too heavily.
“To begin with, Lac.”
Raniel chuckled lightly.
“There’s no way someone unsuitable for that role exists. There’s no such thing as someone unsuited for that sword. What exists is someone standing at a needed spot, fulfilling a needed role, and that’s the protagonist.”
She said, resting her chin on her hand.
“You said you don’t know what to choose?”
“…Yeah.”
“How about tossing a coin then?”
“…Huh?”
“You said you don’t know which way to choose.”
Front, and then back.
At Raniel’s suggestion, Lac was flustered. Although he said he was in deep thought, choosing this way felt odd.
“No, that’s a bit…”
“A bit odd, right?”
Raniel flicked a coin between her fingers, flashing a smile as she caught it in mid-air.
“So think carefully and answer.”
Without regrets.
“Choose the direction you want to go. This time, I’ll let you make the choice yourself.”
Think for yourself and arrive at your own conclusions.
That was the only way to avoid regrets.
“…Understood.”
Screech, thud.
Raniel opened the door and stepped out of the conference room. Alone in the empty conference room, Lac struggled with his thoughts, weighing his options, and finally reached a conclusion.
“I will.”
After what felt like a long break.
Before the people who returned to the conference room, Lac declared his choice.
“I will head to the Fortuna Temple in the northwestern part of the continent.”
The campaign to subdue Barta, the King of Beasts.
Participant.
Lac von Grace, one person.
Once again, he dreamed.
Despite knowing it was a dream, Destel walked towards the other side of the dream. A wilderness full of corpses. When he looked into the blood pooled on the ground, he saw a shabby man’s face reflected there.
Hollow eyes. Messy hair.
Clothes stained with blood and a face covered in scars.
Even in jest, he did not resemble a hero. There seemed to be no room for fairytale words like alienation, hope, or the best in those cynical eyes. With hollow eyes, Destel looked at someone ahead.
“……”
There stood someone advancing silently.
A warrior who, while staggering and being condemned, kept walking without stopping. No one called her a hero anymore. That was only natural.
Unlike the hero who had been a symbol of victory, she was akin to a symbol of death and disaster.
Wherever she walked, death followed.
She appeared on the most dangerous battlefields, achieving victory with the most deaths. The moment she arrived on the battlefield, knights bent their heads, sensing death rather than hope. That is why she was the symbol of death.
…That place, thought Destel.
She was someone who had failed to protect anything. A person who hadn’t achieved anything. Thus, Destel wished for death. However, she could not choose self-destruction. That would be an act of desecration against the lives sacrificed to save herself.
If she could fight until the end, die while being of some help, that would be great. At the very least, if it had meaning.
With that thought, Destel followed behind Raniel. However, time and again, she survived. Unable to die, she kept walking after Raniel. Soon, she was walking not behind Raniel, but alongside her.
“Isn’t it terrible?”
At that moment.
A voice was heard. Destel blinked, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them. The scenery that came into view was a ruined landscape covered in ash.
“It must be terrible. Surely.”
A temple filled with ash and dust.
Someone sat on a broken pillar of that temple.
“Nice to meet you, idiot.”
The future Destel smiled at the current Destel.
