Chapter 73

‘…It’s over.’

He felt no sense of relief—no joy at surviving, no thrill of victory.

It was merely the feeling of finally completing a difficult, necessary task he’d been forced to undertake.

For someone who had defeated a legendary monster, his reaction felt hollow, but he couldn’t help it.

“I lost…”

Had he defeated the monster with his own hands, perhaps he would have felt some satisfaction. But in the end, he had relied on someone else’s strength. He had given it his all, yet he lost—thoroughly, without a single excuse.

The taste lingering in his mouth wasn’t refreshing; it was as bitter as chewing a mouthful of herbs.

…However.

“Heh, as long as the kids are safe, that’s enough.”

He didn’t feel any sense of helplessness or self-loathing.

His students, his kids, had survived. That one fact was his only source of pride.

—For Pendragon! For Lionel…!

—Waaah!

From a distance, he heard the triumphant cheers of victory.

It seemed they had succeeded in annihilating the gnolls within the Coliseum.

Even amidst the mingling shouts of countless voices, he could distinctly recognize his students’ voices, confirming that they were all safe.

“You brats.”

Finally, Ihan allowed himself a satisfied smile.

“Haha, it seems being a teacher suits you well. Or maybe you’ve always had a soft side, and I just didn’t know,” said Baltar Grace.

“…I’m just savoring the afterglow, so leave me be.”

“That arrogant mouth of yours hasn’t changed… If only you’d learn to respect your elders.”

“When someone’s worthy of respect, I do show it. But you’re not one of them, old man.”

“…Should I have just let you die?”

Baltar Grace clicked his tongue in exasperation. Even as Ihan lay there like a wilted vegetable, he was still as sharp-tongued as ever. He was the type of person whose mouth would float even if he drowned.

“Who told you to come so late? It would’ve been nice if you’d shown up when I called.”

But Ihan wasn’t complaining without reason.

—Help me out, old man.

When he’d first noticed the unusual presence of the monster, Baltar was the first person he had sought for help.

But the old man had—

“It’s unwise to act on uncertain information.”

“So you come after the disaster? I’d love to see you use that excuse if everyone had died, ha!”

“…Ahem.”

At this point, Baltar had nothing to say and averted his gaze. It was his own decision not to trust Ihan.

“Still, I came running the moment I sensed any trouble. So let’s move on, alright?”

The distance between the academy and the royal castle was roughly 30 kilometers. Baltar had covered that distance in an instant, so he’d put in quite an effort. But on the other hand—

“If I and the kids hadn’t held out, everyone would’ve been dead.”

“Mm, you’re right.”

Recognizing that the effort had meaning only because Ihan had held his ground, Baltar acknowledged the debt owed to Ihan for preventing a disaster when no one else had acted.

“Who knows about those mongrels, but if that thing had rampaged in the capital, it would have been disastrous.”

Slither… Slither…!

Baltar glanced at the dismembered Demon King, who was still attempting to regenerate even though he should be dead.

The title of “Immortal” suited this grotesque creature perfectly.

“…If that thing had managed to consume any food, even I would’ve struggled.”

“Lucky for us, it was too stupid.”

Ihan didn’t downplay his own contribution. Had that monster ignored him and consumed some other source of food, it would have regained much of its full strength, and the fight would have ended on the spot.

Had it regained even a fraction of its prime power by feeding, not even an aura user could have—

“Still, it’s a shame. Fighting it at its peak would’ve been fun. Heh.”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“…Senile old man.”

Ihan found himself wondering, if the Demon King had been at 100% instead of just 30%, would Baltar have still emerged victorious? In Ihan’s mind, Baltar Grace was a figure who could not be imagined losing.

‘If that troll is the Demon King, then this old man is the “God of War.”’

A giant of his era, undefeatable.

He doubted that even his perfected plum blossom sword technique would be able to make a dent.

“Enough. I’m tired of this.”

The mountain he aimed to climb still seemed far from visible.

Later, royal soldiers and reinforcements finally arrived, quickly securing the area.

Me?

I just stayed put.

“Rest now. I’ll handle the rest.”

Since the old man had shown rare consideration, Ihan decided to trust him with the cleanup. However—

“There may be people who’ll try to use that thing to their advantage, so burn it quickly.”

“I know. Don’t nag me.”

Knowing exactly what Ihan was referring to, Baltar obediently agreed to burn the Demon King’s corpse.

Undoubtedly, nobles, mages, or other schemers would try to claim ownership of that body. It wasn’t just speculation; he was certain they would, and he could already imagine the kinds of schemes they’d devise with it.

‘I won’t let anyone pull any stunts with something I struggled so hard to kill.’

If Ihan ever saw people scheming over the corpse, he would snap and break all their necks.

Understanding this, Baltar complied.

There might be complaints later, but…

…Who could even say anything to him?

Unless the War God himself returned, no one had the authority to command Baltar.

Fwoosh!

With aura blazing like fire, he set the Demon King’s body ablaze.

Aura—the mystical power obtainable only by superhumans, the ultimate goal of every knight. Its mysterious properties were beyond even magic’s understanding. And with the touch of that unknown power, the Demon King’s corpse went up in flames.

Ordinarily, burning a monster would release a foul deathly energy, and burning something as powerful as the Demon King should have filled the capital with black smoke, but aura “purified” it all.

The purest, most potent cleansing force in the world.

Before aura, even curses, resentments, and impurities had no place to linger.

‘If aura existed in the modern world, environmental issues would be solved.’

He wondered if aura users in the modern world would have made a fortune, clearing away impurities without harming the ecosystem.

‘…Guess I must be exhausted.’

Such random thoughts. Ihan gave a bitter laugh, realizing he wasn’t in top form.

And with that—

“…Handle the rest yourself, old man.”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I want to rest.”

“You ungrateful brat, planning to dump all the work on an old man?”

“Should the one who did all the hard work also have to clean up?”

Why should he have to explain everything to people who arrived late?

“Haha, you’ve got quite the tongue on you.”

Though he was being sarcastic, his tone was lighthearted. It seemed he had no intention of stopping Ihan from leaving.

And then—

“You’ll be busy from now on. You’ve made too big a name for yourself with this incident.”

“…”

“Until now, they managed to keep all your achievements hidden, but this time, that’ll be difficult. You’ll likely be summoned to the capital within a few days.”

“…”

“Don’t act so put off. For some, this would be a glory they’ve dreamed of their entire lives.”

“Ugh! I can’t think about that right now. I’m leaving.”

Ihan waved dismissively, signaling he didn’t want to hear more, already feeling a headache coming on.

Knowing his personality, Baltar just chuckled, refraining from further comment.

Instead—

“Take this with you.”

“What is it?”

“Take it to a trustworthy alchemist or mage. You might get something useful out of it.”

“…Hm.”

He handed Ihan a gift.

The only remnant of the Demon King’s body that had survived the aura flames.

It looked like a jewel, but its grotesque appearance betrayed it as something else.

“This isn’t…?”

“It’s the heart. It somehow survived the fire.”

It was the heart of a monster.

And not just any monster—this was the heart of the Demon King.

Considering that even a troll’s heart could fetch the price of an entire castle, the value of the Demon King’s heart was beyond estimation.

A priceless treasure.

Ihan looked at Baltar with a curious expression.

Why would he give him such a treasure instead of keeping it for himself?

“I should reward the one who put in the effort. I’m not going to give a gift to freeloaders. Just take it. This is just between you and me.”

“…I’ll consider it compensation.”

“You rascal, can’t you say something nicer?”

“Want me to flatter you?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re so inconsistent.”

With that, Ihan tightly clenched the Demon King’s heart in his hand.

There was no point in questioning whether he deserved it.

‘I’ll make good use of this.’

Grip.

Once was enough to feel powerless.

Even though he was exhausted to the point of collapse, his eyes shone brightly, seeing this as a stepping stone for the future.

“…So heartless.”

Watching him disappear without a proper goodbye, Baltar muttered in annoyance.

So uncaring.

Yet—

“Taking care of the kids… he’s really changed.”

Seeing him tend to the fallen girl and the boy who remained, something unthinkable for his formerly solitary self, filled Baltar with satisfaction.

But it wasn’t just his softened demeanor that he appreciated.

“You’ve grown broader in the shoulders since I last saw you.”

His strength had developed considerably.

It was clear.

He’d grown much stronger than when he was in the Order.

Even among the White Lions, only a handful could match him before, and now they couldn’t compare.

Now, except for Baltar, none of the White Lions could defeat him.

At this point, only members of the legendary Order of the White Dragon, handpicked by the War God himself, could challenge him.

As the former commander of the White Dragon Order, Baltar Grace felt a peculiar satisfaction.

“If only he were a bit more responsible, he’d be worth entrusting something to…”

Though his words carried an ambiguous meaning, Baltar decided not to tie him down.

Letting him roam freely, he continued to grow in ways he hadn’t under daily sparring.

So he let him go.

The boy would find his own path in freedom.

“I look forward to seeing you next time.”

When they met again, how far would he have progressed?

Smiling at the prospect of the young man’s growth, the old knight chuckled.

…However.

“But why doesn’t he take care of this old man?”

Despite seeing to everyone else, Ihan left the elderly mage alone, and Baltar clicked his tongue.

The rascal.

“He doesn’t respect his elders.”

Mistaking the unconscious mage, Ordwal Bernard (28 years old), as someone older than himself, Baltar scolded Ihan’s lack of manners.

He still had a long way to go in character.

Ihan’s load had become considerably lighter.

In Taechang’s case—

– Thank you, for bringing him back safely.

The violet-eyed girl from the previous day’s debate had come rushing to take him in her arms. With affectionate hands, she tended to the boy, making Ihan feel a strange pang of jealousy.

Though the boy had denied it, it seemed their relationship was anything but ordinary.

The same went for Irene Windler.

– I’ll take her with me.

A female knight, presumably from a duke’s family, appeared, and Ihan entrusted Irene to her. Though he found it suspicious…

‘Is she that guy’s sister?’

He saw a resemblance to the annoying guy he’d met the previous day. She was likely his younger sister, and she seemed reliable.

Not to mention, her bloodied state suggested she’d probably taken down dozens of gnolls alone.

That alone was enough reason to trust her.

– Thank you for trusting me, and for taking care of the young lady.

– Never mind that. Tell your brother that next time, I’ll make his face look like a rag.

– I’d welcome that.

…She seemed to have a good personality.

Somehow, he ended up empty-handed, and began searching for a place to rest. At some point—

“…Ah.”

He realized he was standing in front of his own home.

He could’ve laid down anywhere, yet somehow, he’d returned home?

What a fool, even to himself.

“Welcome back, Sir Knight.”

“……”

“Hehe, you’ve done well.”

“When did you…”

“Well, I’ve been waiting all along?”

“……”

There was a woman warmly greeting him.

How long had she been waiting?

Seeing her standing there as if she had been waiting until he arrived, he felt a moment of daze.

Thud.

“Lady Winter?”

“Yes.”

As he called to her, she approached until she was standing right in front of him.

Why was she getting so close?

‘Ah, I must be collapsing.’

Realizing that he was the one falling, Ihan tried to stand back up. But Lady Winter—

Grab.

“Just relax and rest. Lean on me.”

“……”

“Sleep. Sleep is the best medicine.”

“…Quite a wise remark for a maid.”

“Yes?”

“Haha…”

Unable to escape her embrace, Ihan allowed himself to be held.

There was no trace of an overpowering fragrance, just the subtle scent of soap and the warmth of sunlight.

And…

‘Ah, this is comfortable.’

The gentle touch of a mother’s hand.

Overwhelmed by her irresistible warmth, he soon drifted off to sleep.

Completely vulnerable.

“It’s alright. It’s alright.”

But Lady Winter, as if guarding him, gently held his head in her lap and stroked his hair.

As if he had nothing to worry about.

Rustle.

Under a sky where the dark clouds and sunset mingled, a gentle breeze swept through the yard.

“You’ve done well.”

The maid held the knight warmly, ensuring he wouldn’t catch a chill.

Endlessly.