The Prient Family’s Tomb. Hundreds of gravestones were arranged at uniform intervals, surrounded by a mixture of ominous magic resembling splattered filth and starlight purifying it.
In that chaotic place, the dwarf Goldmund stared at Shiron with blurry eyes.
Having lived half his life in starlight, his vision was dim. His back, bent from a lifeti of shoveling, hindered his ability to judge his surroundings, but even so, he could discern arrogance from authenticity.
‘This isn’t arrogance.’
It only took a mont to assess. While Shiron emphasized the differences between himself and his fallen predecessors, Goldmund focused instead on the similar aura they shared.
Having witnessed the rise and fall of countless young Prients bearing the title of Family Head, it was impossible for him to ignore the pattern.
Imnse strength coupled with an endlessly thick ego.
They paid no mind to the unsettling magic that twisted their innards. In this turbulent place, they never faltered, even before the graves of their fallen ancestors.
A sense of superiority: “I am chosen.”
A sense of sanctity: “I carry on the hero’s na.”
They had passed their coming-of-age ceremony and were granted the prestigious title of Acting Head. Strength reaffird their confidence, intoxicating them with self-admiration.
But the fallen dwarf, [Gravekeeper Goldmund], didn’t see this as inherently negative.
What might seem presumptuous or arrogant to others was intentional here…
Thus, he assud the young man before him would follow the sa path.
“What are you staring at so blankly?”
“…”
While his arrogance verged on outright impudence, Goldmund knew this too was likely Yuma’s intention.
“I don’t have ti to waste on petty squabbles. If you’re going to give it, give it quickly; if not, get lost.”
‘Has there ever been a Prient so quick to speak in such a tone?’
Goldmund thought with a faint groan.
As the Gravekeeper of the Prient Tomb, he often exchanged words with the One-Horned Yuma.
Every conversation invariably turned to one topic: the human Shiron Prient. Yuma never spared praise, extolling both his character and strength.
Though the role of Acting Head fell to Lucia Prient, Yuma often declared that Shiron would fulfill her wishes.
‘Is this what she ant by special?’
Even with Yuma’s softened deanor over the years, she wasn’t one to lavish insincere complints.
Because of that, Goldmund couldn’t help but feel a faint sense of curiosity…
“May I confirm a few things?”
“What’s there to confirm? Can’t you see the Holy Sword?”
‘…Special indeed.’
While his combat prowess was uncertain, his personality was undeniably unique. Suppressing discomfort, Goldmund continued speaking.
“It’s not about you; it’s about the one beside you.”
“Why Lucia?”
“I heard from Glen Prient. The starlight chose Lucia Prient.”
Goldmund gestured toward the distance.
A towering obelisk piercing the sky. Inscribed upon it in starlight were the nas of past Family Heads. The final na engraved was Lucia Prient.
“Since it seems adequate, giving it won’t be difficult. However, internal discord within the family is not sothing I desire.”
“…?”
“Preventing future division is also part of the observer’s duty.”
Goldmund turned his gaze toward Lucia, who had a gag in her mouth.
“Are you really willing to relinquish your rights?”
“Mmph!”
Lucia answered by vehently shaking her head. Goldmund narrowed his eyes and shook his own.
“I’d prefer to hear it from your mouth.”
“…Ha.”
Shiron removed the gag, freeing Lucia’s speech. The mont she was free, Lucia cast a sharp glare at the dwarf.
She recalled events from 500 years ago: the powerful and ruthless demons she had fought with all her might. Among them, there was no demon called Goldmund.
Currently, Kehol of the Makal Mountain Range reconnaissance team knew she had slain [Mad Wolf] Fokal’s offspring.
Atmos, who had forged the Star Sword Sirius, was infamous as the leader of the Giant Forces.
“What’s your problem? Should I swear on mana?”
Yuma, Atmos, Fokal…
All of them were prominent nas from the Great War, yet Goldmund didn’t even appear in her mory, signifying he wasn’t a significant figure.
Already annoyed by his status as a demon, Lucia couldn’t help but find Goldmund’s ddling insufferable.
“Fine. If you can, go ahead.”
“Hmph!”
At her words, Lucia’s heart trembled.
“As a Prient, I relinquish all my rights to Shiron Prient. I also promise not to hold any grievances or rebellion regarding this.”
A blue aura coalesced in the air. The spoken words took form and rged into her chest.
“…Ho.”
Goldmund’s expression twisted in astonishnt.
From the mont she appeared gagged, he had sensed sothing unusual. But he hadn’t expected her to so casually swear on mana.
“A damn dog… A loyal dog who only knows its master…”
“What the hell did you just say?”
“…Apologies. I was so startled that I spoke my thoughts aloud.”
Goldmund averted his gaze, muttering. Shiron, restraining an incensed Lucia, re-gagged her.
“Anything else needed?”
“…No, this will suffice.”
Goldmund turned toward the obelisk, Shiron following behind. Seira and Lucia watched them, their expressions narrowing.
“Quite fascinating, isn’t it?”
“Mmph?”
“Where do these demons keep popping up from? Yuma, Atmos… Despite wandering countless places for 500 years, I never heard of this place existing.”
“…We were too hasty.”
Lucia spat out the gag and murmured. Her once-gentle expression sharpened as she took a few steps away from Shiron.
“Back then, we weren’t prepared, and the casualties were imnse. It’s the price of rushing things.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Regret what?”
“Not stopping Yura when she was restless before the final battle.”
“…Yes.”
Lucia nodded faintly.
While the unfinished business had allowed her to et Shiron and start a family, there was still much left unresolved.
Regret didn’t linger without reason.
The world’s destruction was delayed, but it wasn’t the outco they had hoped for.
Because of their haste, Yura died, and both Andrzej and Binella were overworked without the ti to grow stronger, forcing them to leave the stage miserably.
That’s why, sotis, such thoughts occurred:
Though I was sorry to Yura, who led the Hero Special Forces, as I had grown older and more thoughtful, such ideas had surfaced.
If they had taken more ti,
If there had been enough ti to grow stronger,
If they had gathered more capable individuals…
It was not to bla Yura.
It’s just that, back then, Yura often conveyed a sense of urgency.
“We must hurry. There’s not much ti left.”
The faint image of her worn-out face arose. Dark circles around her eyes, pale lips—Yura’s face.
She was the weakest in the group, likely bearing the most strain during the grueling marches, but even so, she never complained. Back then, there wasn’t even a mont to reflect on Yura’s condition.
“Yura wouldn’t have known either. Who could have predicted that the Demon God would revive?”
“…But Yura died before the Demon God did.”
Sniff—
Lucia rubbed her stinging nose and gazed at the obelisk at the edge of her vision.
Woooooosh—
The starlight gathered and swirled around the towering spire. Shiron stood there, his hand on the obelisk, quietly absorbing its energy.
“This ti…”
Lucia plopped down on the ground, watching him. Her golden eyes shimred with a blue hue, faintly reflecting Shiron’s form.
“I won’t let it end in death.”
The reason Lucia relinquished all her rights to Shiron was simple:
To avoid repeating the regrets of the past, Shiron had to beco stronger than Lucia.
One Year Later – The Empire.
Siriel was once again reading letters that had arrived at the mansion.
The number of tis she’d read letters had long surpassed three digits, but she paid no attention to how many letters arrived or when they did.
To be more precise, it would be fair to say she deliberately chose not to care.
One year ago, the Dark One had arrived at the mansion with bad news, alongside a long apology letter from her brother:
[“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when the child is born. Please forgive for choosing the Hero’s mission…”]
At first, she felt a lot of resentnt and disappointnt. But ultimately, as the letter said, Siriel didn’t hate Shiron.
She had forgiven him long ago.
[“Sorry, I’m almost there. I think I’ll succeed soon.”]
Today’s letter brought nothing new, as usual.
“If you’ve got ti to write letters, just co ho already!”
CRASH!
The table where the letter had been placed shattered completely. Across from her, Yoru, wearing a maid’s uniform, was startled and broke into a cold sweat. Glen heaved a long sigh, while Hugo tried to soothe his whining granddaughter.
“Darkie.”
Thud, thud, thud—
Siriel dusted the sawdust off her hands and spoke.
“Y-yes?!”
“Prepare to head to the Demonic Realm.”
“But my duty is to stop you, Siriel…”
“And you’re telling to wait here even longer?!”
“…One year is a long ti to wait.”
At Siriel’s icy outburst, Yoru nodded repeatedly. After letting out a heated sigh, Siriel cald herself and approached her daughter, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.
“Father, I’m entrusting Elise to you.”
“…Sniff. Take care, my dear.”
Perhaps due to his age, Hugo’s eyes welled up with tears. Unable to stop Siriel, he simply watched her with glistening eyes.
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