Chapter 206: Deepening Dread and the Cage of Memory
An inky black substance enveloped the entire plaza, blotting out even the faintest trace of the midday sun. Not a single ray of light could pierce through the oppressive darkness.
Strangely enough, though there was no light, those within the God of Terror's dominion were still able to see what lay around them.
"No light, but we can still see... Is that thing really the God of Terror? Or just its projection?"
Wang Yu gazed up toward the blackened heavens. There, suspended at the apex of the sky, loomed a vast and twisted shadow. It was emaciated and elongated, its limbs and neck grotesquely short and swollen. Perched atop its unnaturally long neck was a grotesquely disproportionate oval-shaped head, from which thousands of empty, blinking eyes scanned the world below.
Wang Yu released his ripples outward, probing the dark substance that blanketed everything. The feedback surprised him. Though it resembled the warped matter of the void, it bore no true relation to it.
It seemed to be a form of mental energy that had been manifested in reality and was saturated with invasive, predatory fear. That fear burrowed relentlessly into the souls of all caught within its reach, spreading terror like a contagion.
And in turn, the fear birthed by its victims was fed back into the miasma, enriching it. This physicalized mental force—this concept of terror—grew thicker and stronger with every passing second.
Of course, it had no effect on Wang Yu. Nothing that targeted the soul or mind had ever been able to affect him.
"That first wave must've carried the most concentrated burst of terror. The commoners and nobles—they're probably done for. It's pure mental force, not magic, so it's more or less impossible to guard against. No time to worry about that now. I need to find Edward and Charles first."
In mere seconds, Wang Yu formed a plan. He left his cumbersome sniper rifle atop the rooftop, which wouldn't be of any further use, and leapt down.
He had only one goal in mind: to confront the descending God of Terror. So far, the entity hadn't made a further move, but Wang Yu felt a growing sense of unease.
If the ambient concentration of terror kept rising, something disastrous might occur.
"Charles?" Wang Yu landed with a roll, cushioning the impact, and quickly scanned the street—but Charles was nowhere to be seen. He frowned.
The streets were littered with the fallen residents of the capital, all wearing expressions of terror. They were frozen with ghastly looks on their faces, trapped in nightmares, their breaths heavy and labored—so loud that Wang Yu could hear them from meters away thanks to his sharpened senses.
The atmosphere was eerie. Though the God of Terror had descended, the people looked as if they were simply asleep. But Wang Yu knew better.
The faces of the fallen were beginning to twitch. Their teeth clattered against each other, their tremors growing more violent as their fear intensified. When that fear reached a certain threshold, their souls would no longer be able to bear it. To escape the overwhelming terror, their souls would shut down and they would die.
Wang Yu saw no sign of Charles among the fallen. He knew that the demon "One" dwelled within Charles and would likely protect him, so he shifted his target to Edward.
He darted through the plaza, vaulting over barriers and crumbling walls. There was no time to check on the unconscious civilians, strangers whose lives he couldn't afford to save. He wasn't a hero. His concern was for his friends.
Soon, he reached the spot where Edward had been wandering with his female companion.
As he scanned the darkness, he caught sight of a figure standing out starkly amidst the fallen. With a surprised grunt, he rushed toward her.
The catkin was kneeling, tears in her eyes as she tried to rouse Edward, who lay unconscious beside her. Her white feline ears drooped, her face twisted in panic.
"Edward! Edward, wake up—please, wake up!"
Sue's voice rang out loudly in the oppressive silence, as did Wang Yu's approaching footsteps.
Her ears suddenly perked up. She turned sharply, eyes fierce and feral—like a cat with its fur bristling in warning. She grabbed Edward by the collar, ready to flee from the unknown threat.
But when she recognized the figure approaching, her scowl vanished.
"Mr. Wang Yu! Thank goodness! Please—help Edward!"
"I will. How is he? And you—are you alright?"
Wang Yu knelt beside Edward, placing a hand on his chest and sending his ripples through Edward's body.
There were no external injuries. Edward's vitals were stable, but his face was contorted in pain.
"He... it's like he's stuck in a nightmare," Sue murmured. "Actually—I think that's exactly what's happening. I just woke up from one myself..."
"A nightmare?"
"Yes. It took me back to one of the darkest times in my life. I was trapped in a loop, reliving it over and over. But I let go of that pain long ago. I left that place behind. I came to this human city, saw so many wonderful things... met people who matter to me. So, in the end, I broke free."
"Were you afraid?"
"Yes... those were the most terrifying days of my life. My every breath was laced with fear. But that's in the past now. There's no need to fear what's already gone."
Wang Yu gazed at Edward's tortured expression, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe. Inside swirled a blue, glowing liquid.
"Whatever nightmare you're stuck in, Sue managed to claw her way out. If you're still trapped, that's just embarrassing. Here—let's give you something strong and see if it helps."
He cast a glance at the catgirl beside him. Who would have thought this seemingly ordinary florist possessed such indomitable will?
He jabbed the syringe into Edward's chest and pressed down.
The luminous potion—named not for any symbolic reason but simply for its faint glow—was a powerful stimulant. It flooded the nervous system, forcing the brain into overdrive. In essence, it was pure, concentrated adrenaline for the mind.
The physical and the spiritual were intimately linked, and the brain governed the soul. Wang Yu hoped this shot would jolt Edward's spirit back to consciousness.
Lifting Edward onto his back, Wang Yu gestured to Sue.
"Let's go. We need to get out of this cursed zone. Even if you've escaped your personal nightmare, the ambient fear here will still erode your soul."
Wang Yu's words snapped her to awareness. Until now, her worry for Edward had drowned out all else. But now—yes, she could feel it. The pounding heart, the growing unease, the creeping dread... all of it spreading silently within.
If she stayed here, she'd be pulled back under, not by old memories, but by the raw essence of terror.
Without any hesitation, she ran after Wang Yu. Together, they headed toward the edge of the god-infested zone.
"Ugh—?" Edward jolted with a groan, then rubbed his temples in confusion. His memory was a blur. It felt like something had slammed his mind with a hammer, like something foreign had been shoved into his thoughts, but he couldn't tell what.
Thwack!
"Ow!"
A wooden practice sword cracked against his forehead, snapping him out of his daze.
"Edward! What the hell are you spacing out for? This is a sparring match! If this were a real battle with barbarians, you'd have just gotten your skull split in half."
The blond youth facing him looked exasperated.
"Ah—sorry. I just suddenly remembered something. I got a bit distracted."
Edward rubbed his aching forehead and looked at the boy before him—a boy who bore a striking resemblance to himself, with the same golden locks.
His name was Walz Leonardo, son of Duke Leon Leonardo of the Northern Territories.
Edward's own father had once served in the Duke's army. He was a seasoned warrior who retired after an injury and took up the role of swordsmanship instructor for the Duke's household.
Edward, who was of a similar age as Walz, had grown up in the manor. The two had become fast friends and often sparred together. Both were exceptionally talented and stood out even among their peers.
"Focus is everything in combat—magician or knight, it makes no difference. Didn't your father teach me that? Forget it. Let's stop here for today. Half-hearted sparring will only slow our progress."
Walz shook his head, tossed aside his wooden sword, and strode off toward the exit of the training grounds.
"Alright." Edward returned his own practice blade to the rack and followed.
"I'm starving. Let's grab something to eat. C'mon, let's head to the kitchen and get Aunt Remy to pile my plate high. Don't listen to our dads' nonsense about ‘discipline' and ‘moderation'—hungry is hungry, got it?"
"Yeah, yeah..."
Edward nodded as he walked alongside Walz, his eyes sweeping over the all-too-familiar surroundings. The world beyond the windows remained eternally white with snow. The thick stone walls of the keep could do little to muffle the ceaseless howling of the wind, and the people here, long since accustomed to the harshness of the North, could fall asleep no matter the clamor.
A strange feeling stirred in his chest. He had always lived here, and yet... why did it feel as if ages had passed since he last set foot in this place? He clenched his fist and murmured to himself, "Edward Wolyn, what's gotten into you? You're not usually one to dwell on such nonsense."
"Hey, what's wrong with you today?" Walz's voice suddenly broke through his thoughts, right before a fist slammed into Edward's chest hard enough to knock the breath from him. An arm immediately slung over his shoulder.
"You've been out of it since earlier—did smacking into that tree this morning rattle your brains or something? What are you daydreaming about, huh? This isn't like you."
Scowling, Walz gave him a once-over and clicked his tongue.
"Must not've slept well. What'd you do last night, huh? Off playing with cats again? Come on, Edward, get it together. I'm going to be a duke one day, a true protector of this land and its people. You're gonna be my right hand, aren't you? My trusty second. Can't have my second-in-command spacing out like this, can I?"
As Walz pointed proudly at himself, beaming with self-satisfaction, he looked nothing like the son of a duke and everything like a cheeky brat. And yet, the scene sparked a strange déjà vu in Edward—familiar, but out of reach.
He rubbed his chest. That really hurt. He felt as if it shouldn't have...
"Cha—" He found himself on the verge of saying a name, but only the first syllable made it out. The rest vanished like smoke, along with the reason he'd wanted to say it in the first place.
"Cha—what? Never mind. It's clear your brain's still clouded over. Follow me. Let's get some food in you. Maybe your brain'll kick back into gear."
Walz sighed and dragged him forward. He had no idea what was wrong with his usually laid-back companion. Today, Edward seemed like a different person altogether.
"Yeah... just follow him. That's how it usually is, isn't it?" Edward muttered, shaking his head to scatter the haze clouding his thoughts. He was only seven or eight—what complicated thoughts could someone his age even have?
Walz, meanwhile, continued to prattle on excitedly about the Northern territories, about his father, Duke Leon Leonardo's legendary feats, and the friendship between their two families.
"Do you know what the most important duty of a noble is? Hmm?" He arched his brow and threw a wink over his shoulder.
Edward hesitated. "To protec—"
"Ha! You don't know. That's not the answer a proper noble should give. Let me enlighten you."
Without waiting for Edward to finish, Walz launched into his monologue with the passion of someone unveiling a grand truth.
"A noble's duty is to protect their people and the land we live on. Sure, nobles are usually strong—like your father and mine, both grand knights—but strength isn't the whole picture.
"It's our common folk who grow our food, make our clothes, even provide the resources we use to train. We don't build houses—they do. The castle? They built it. There's more, but you get the idea."
He waved his arms as he spoke, completely in his element. "So, yeah, our people are really important. Sure, some are annoying or unreasonable—you can ignore those—but the rest? We've gotta protect them, make sure they live decent lives."
"We enjoy privileges they don't," he added solemnly, "so it's only right we carry burdens they cannot."
As he spoke, Walz became more than a mere boastful child. Beneath his excitement lay quiet sincerity.
"What a noble ideal..." Edward thought, watching his friend. "So this is the legacy of the Lionheart. As for me... I don't need all that. Just being his follower, his aide—it's not so bad."
He felt a flicker of admiration—tinged with envy, certainly—but more than that, a deep, abiding sense of affirmation.
"I'd never bear the weight he carries. But to stand behind someone like him, to offer what help I can—that's enough..."
"Hey! Why're you grinning like an idiot? Were you even listening? Summarize what I just said!"
Walz halted and stared at him, clearly unimpressed.
"Me?" Edward pointed at himself, a little flustered.
"Yes, you! Don't tell me all that went in one ear and out the other."
Walz ran a hand through his blond hair in exasperation. "You usually play along way better than this."
"Uh... ‘With great power comes great responsibility?'" Edward said cautiously, recalling a strange phrase from somewhere he couldn't place.
Walz blinked, then nodded slowly. "Hmm... that's actually not bad. Makes sense. But if anyone tries to dump responsibility on me without giving me the power to match, I'm definitely punching them. So it's gotta be: the greater the power, the greater the responsibility. Yep, that's it. Not bad, Edward."
Clapping him on the shoulder hard, Walz grinned, pleased to see his friend showing signs of life.
"Alright, we're here. The kitchen!" he announced gleefully. "I wonder what's cooking today. I want some pheasant, but that's rare around here..."
He was halfway through the doorway, eyes on Edward, when he walked straight into someone.
"Ow—! S-Sir Wolyn?! What... what are you doing here?!"
Walz looked up and froze. He bore the guilty expression of a mouse being caught stealing red-handed by a cat.
Sir Wolyn, Edward's father, was a broad-shouldered man with only one arm. Though he wasn't especially tall, he radiated strength. His reputation as the Grand Duke's sword instructor was hard-earned, his skill beyond question.
At the moment, he didn't seem angry, just exasperated. He gave Walz a light knock on the head, eliciting a pained yelp.
"Always sneaking into the kitchens. You never listen to my lessons and now you're corrupting my son, too. Hmph. But since you're my former commander's boy, I'll let it slide. No need for titles—just call me teacher."
"Yes, sir—teacher, I mean! Uh, what brings you here? You're looking for Edward, right? He's right there." Walz pointed guiltily behind him, where Edward stood expressionless.
"I'm here for both of you," Sir Worrin said. "The Duke is out on business, but there's an important banquet with the barbarians tonight. You're both expected to attend, so I'll escort you myself. Got it?"
He gave them a once-over. "This is a formal affair. Clean up. You both look like chimney sweeps. No raiding the kitchen—there'll be plenty to eat at the banquet."
"Really?!" Walz perked up instantly. Unfortunately, that earned him a swat to the forehead.
Edward couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. Watching Walz get smacked never got old.
"The banquet..." Edward repeated inwardly. But even as he followed his father and Walz, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Something was off. Something bad was coming.
But there was no sign, no reason for the fear. He chalked it up to the strange mood that had been haunting him all day.
Evening fell. The grand dining hall of the Ducal Palace shimmered with golden light. Edward and Walz sat together on one side of the long table.
The main seat remained empty—the Duke's, left vacant in his absence.
To one side sat the Duchess; to the other, Edward's father, the most trusted of the Duke's retainers.
The feast was already laid out in sumptuous detail—rich dishes, rare cuts of magical beasts whose meat was usually reserved for cultivation, not indulgence. The scent alone was intoxicating.
"I'm starving... When are the guests getting here?" Walz rubbed his hands together eagerly. No one was allowed to eat before the guests arrived—not unless they wanted to get whipped with their teacher's fighting spirit.
But Edward, for all the splendor before him, found no appetite.
That unshakable sense of terror had returned—something was coming. Something terrible.
"You okay?" Walz noticed. "All this food and you're not even excited. You're not thinking about the time you puked after eating raw monster liver again, are you?"
"I... I just have a bad feeling," Edward murmured, his eyes drifting to the banquet hall's entrance.
Standing there was the captain of the guard, a man Edward trusted deeply. The one responsible for the Duke's security. He was a powerful man unmatched in detection, whom no spy or infiltrator could get past.
"What's there to worry about?" Walz said, waving a hand. "The security here is ironclad. And even if something does happen, I'm here, aren't I?"
Edward nodded, but the fear in his chest didn't lessen. He forced himself to look away from the captain and focus on the table.
"You—" Walz began to speak again, but the arrival of the guests silenced him. He immediately straightened in his seat, posture perfect, face composed. Edward followed suit.
The guests were a party of knights, likely hailing from the territory of another noble house. At their head was a towering man with long hair, clad in heavy armor that concealed his face and most of his body. Even in this formal setting, his armored state revealed a keen vigilance and the poised demeanor of one ever-ready for battle.
Once they all took their seats, Edward's father exchanged pleasantries with the man at the forefront. "Sir Joseph, how fares your liege these days? Have the barbarians troubled your lands of late?"
"They have not," came the deep reply from the grand knight Joseph. The voice alone sent a shiver down Edward's spine. An inexplicable sense of dread seized him. He feared this man—but why?
His father seemed to sense nothing amiss. The conversation between the two men flowed with polite ease. When Joseph at last picked up his knife and fork, speared a piece of roast meat, and brought it to his mouth, that action signaled the beginning of the feast.
The banquet soon bustled with the sounds of clinking silverware, lively chatter, and bursts of laughter. Walz, seated beside Edward, devoured his meal with ravenous enthusiasm, his cheerful gluttony offering Edward a small measure of comfort. That uneasy feeling in his chest began to ease, if only slightly.
"What a marvelous spread... Brings back memories—wait, why would I say that?" Edward frowned at the oddity of his own thoughts, staring down at his plate. Something still felt off about today, though he couldn't place it.
"And this must be the Grand Duke's son. A fine young lad, clearly already having begun his knightly training," Joseph remarked, his gaze falling on the voraciously eating Walz.
"But of course," Edward's father replied with evident pride, "The cub of a lion is a lion still. Though young, he bears the Grand Duke's bloodline."
Unlike when speaking in private with Grand Duke Leon, Edward's father made no attempt to mock or temper Walz's reputation in front of guests. He offered praise, and sincere praise at that.
"Mm-hmm!" Walz nodded enthusiastically, cheeks bulging with food, doing his best to confirm his teacher's words through vigorous gestures.
"Hahaha! What a spirited child—quite unlike Grand Duke Leon himself, but I daresay his future won't be any less impressive. After all, he is destined to be a future duke of the realm."
Laughter echoed from Joseph as he spoke.
"As we all hope," Edward's father replied, his voice measured but agreeable.
"Well then, I believe I must offer a token of goodwill—" Joseph's tone turned genial as if preparing to present a gift or gesture of friendship.
But then—Clang! A shrill metallic sound rang out. Joseph reached beneath his cloak and drew a gleaming longsword with blinding speed. Without any hesitation, he brought it down upon Edward's father with a burst of fighting spirit.
"You—!"
Eyes widening in shock, Edward's father moved purely on instinct. Years of military discipline and ever-present vigilance saved his life in that moment. A dagger, concealed within his sleeve, met the sword just in time to parry the fatal strike. A moment slower, and his head would have been severed from his shoulders.
Joseph said nothing, offering no explanation. Instead, he followed up immediately with a second strike. This one-armed knight was, aside from the guard captain, the greatest threat present.
The other guests, who moments ago had been seated and feasting, suddenly drew their weapons and slammed them onto the table. In perfect unison, they turned their blades against the retinue of the Grand Duke's household.
The ambush was swift and utterly unexpected. Many members of the ducal household had no time to react, their bodies pierced by swords or crossbow bolts in the blink of an eye. They fell like puppets with their strings cut, lifeless upon the floor of the banquet hall.
Edward stood frozen, his mind blank. Everything had unfolded too quickly. That ominous feeling he'd had—was this what it had been trying to warn him of?
But why? Why this sudden betrayal?
"Idiot! Don't just sit there—get down!"
A powerful shove hit Edward's shoulder. Walz's voice rang out beside him. The next thing Edward knew, he was shoved beneath the table, his head hitting the ground hard. Pain shot through him, but it helped him shake off the fog of confusion.
"Hurry! Crawl in—there's a hidden hatch under here. I don't know what's going on, but it's way beyond what we can handle!"
Walz dragged Edward toward a concealed mechanism beneath the table. A small hatch sprang open, revealing a narrow tunnel. The boys slipped inside, pulling the wooden panel shut above them.
Back in the hall, the battle raged on. Blood pooled across the marble floor. Many of the Grand Duke's longtime retainers, including the faithful old steward, lay dead.
The survivors, rallying as best they could, had drawn their weapons and now stood against the traitorous guests.
"What is the meaning of this?" Edward's father demanded, shielding the grand duchess behind him as he squared off with Joseph.
Joseph still gave no reply. Sword in hand, he circled the one-armed knight with steady, deliberate steps, seeking his moment to strike.
Edward's father narrowed his eyes, watching him closely. Despite his loss of an arm, more than ever, he could not afford to falter.
Once the guard captain arrived, these traitors would stand no chance. He couldn't see Edward or Walz in his peripheral vision—they must have made it into the hidden passage. Good. All he had to do now was hold the line.
He could already hear footsteps approaching...
"We've struck a bargain with the barbarians," Joseph suddenly spoke, his voice heavy with treason. "We deliver the Grand Duke, and they help us secede from Aleisterre. We'll take half the northern lands for ourselves. The duke you serve... may already be dead where we ambushed him."
Edward's father felt his heart seize. The implications of Joseph's words were staggering.
That moment of distraction was all Joseph needed. He lunged.
And yet Edward's father caught the thrust mid-air with a clean parry, his one arm steady and unwavering. No emotion could cloud his judgment in battle, not now.
His cold gaze locked onto Joseph. He would uncover the truth of this betrayal—but only after cutting him down with the guard captain's aid.
The sickening sound of steel piercing flesh—a sharp twist, shredding organs.
Shock overtook Edward's father's eyes. He turned to see the guard captain behind him, head bowed low, withdrawing his bloodied blade from his back. The one he had trusted most, a traitor...
"You..." he choked, blood bubbling from his lips. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"I'm sorry..." the captain began. But he never finished.
A blinding flash of steel sliced across his throat. The captain clutched his neck, blood gushing between his fingers. He staggered, spine severed, and collapsed, his head already lolling lifeless.
Edward's father stood motionless for a moment, then crumpled beside the man who had betrayed him. He too, was dead, his eyes still open in disbelief.
Potential: Dirge of Death. The closer he came to death, the stronger he became.
That final burst of strength had allowed Edward's father to step into the transcendent realm of a legend and take the traitor with him before he collapsed himself.
Joseph spared them a final glance, void of emotion, before resuming the massacre. The grand duchess, the servants—all slaughtered. The banquet hall ran red.
"Where is the Grand Duke's son?" Joseph demanded, scanning the room.
"Sir, there's got to be a hidden compartment somewhere," one of the knights replied. "They never left—we'll find it. Tear the place apart."
"Do so!"
The sounds of destruction echoed above the hidden chamber. Walls were smashed, furniture overturned, and pieces of the grand hall shattered as the intruders sought for Walz's hiding place.
"Damn it... You were right. How did you know this was going to happen? I should've believed you. I'm sorry!" Walz huddled close to Edward, his voice a whisper of terror.
"I don't know... I don't know..." Edward clutched his head, whispering over and over again. "I don't know..."
Terror consumed him. His father was dead—he knew it. The enemy was hunting them now. If the search had begun, there was no one left to protect them. Even his mighty father... gone.
They were going to die. This fragile hiding place wouldn't save them. The fear was too vast, too suffocating. Edward couldn't think. He could only tremble.
The noises above grew louder. The search had circled back to the banquet table—they were tearing into the ground now.
The earth quaked. A heavy strike. The wall behind them shuddered. Tears slipped from Edward's tightly shut eyes. It was over.
"Damn it... This is my fault. If I had listened—! Their target is me. If I go out there, maybe they'll spare you."
Suddenly, hands gripped Edward's shoulders. Walz's voice came from the darkness beside him, quiet but resolute. Edward's eyes flew open in shock. He couldn't see Walz's face, but the meaning behind his words was unmistakable.
Walz was afraid too. His hands trembled as they pressed down on Edward's, his fear evident. And yet, he hadn't frozen like Edward had. He hadn't curled up, waiting helplessly for death to claim him.
"But..."
"No ‘but.' I'm a noble. You're under my command. That means it's my duty to protect you. Understand? Stay put. Don't move. You hear me? I'm not dying for nothing, damn it! Why the hell am I still shaking? I'm a future grand duke. Even if the future looks bleak now, how can I afford to be afraid?"
Walz cut Edward off with a growl. Edward heard a sharp slap—Walz had struck himself, trying to still his trembling in both voice and limb alike.
At that decisive juncture, time froze. It unspooled like an immortal moment. Edward's mind was suddenly crystal-clear, filled with visions of what had come to pass...
"That's enough... I'm going. Stay hidden. That's an order!" With that final command, Walz opened the hidden hatch without hesitation and slipped out. The door closed behind him.
"You despicable invaders! I'll—gah!" Walz's furious roar echoed back into the compartment, followed a moment later by the dull, wet sound of steel sinking into flesh. A body crumpled to the floor.
"No... no... no..." Edward shook his head in disbelief, unable to accept what had just happened, unable to accept that his closest friend had died for his sake.
"What have I done... how did it come to this? Why can't I move? It wasn't supposed to be like this..."
Terror swallowed him whole—terror at the death of his dearest friend, terror at the days of solitude that would follow, terror at being found and killed.
The next morning, covered in wounds and with eyes that had lost their usual leonine might, the Grand Duke Leon stood in the bloodsoaked banquet hall, surrounded by the corpses of his comrades. He opened the hidden compartment. Inside, he found Edward, still curled up, drowning in fear.
The grand duke pulled him to his feet. "From this day forward, you shall be my son. You will inherit everything I leave behind. You will become the next grand duke. Don't disappoint me—son."
No! It shouldn't have happened this way! If he were given another chance, if he were still the coward who could do nothing, he would never be able to forgive himself.
And then, to top it off, he'd probably be mocked again by that annoying guy—Charles, whoever he was—someone suspiciously like Walz in both behavior and soul.
"I'm going out there too!" A steady hand gripped Walz's shoulder just as he reached for the compartment door.
"You can't help. It's meaningless if you go!" Walz tried to pry Edward's hand off, but he couldn't. Somehow, Edward's strength was suddenly overwhelming.
"No matter what, I would rather be the one who howls in defiance at the brink of despair than the one who cowers and weeps." Edward's voice rang with quiet resolve.
"...Alright, that's the spirit. Bold, like me. But—sorry."
Walz blinked, then gave Edward a lopsided grin. Without warning, he slammed his forehead into Edward's.
Edward's head was against the wall. Such a strike would've knocked him out cold—but this time, Edward caught him. He had anticipated it.
"Not this time..." He spoke with calm determination. Before Walz could respond, Edward shoved the hatch open and climbed out.
What awaited him outside was... not what he expected. There was no banquet hall drenched in blood. No invaders. No death. Only a broken, chaotic world, a place brimming with flickering, surreal visions.
"...What?" Edward stood still, bewildered. Then, he realized something else: his height was off. When had he grown so tall?
The memories long buried by the power of the God of Terror returned in a rush.
He turned his head—Walz was crawling out from the hidden compartment.
"Well, would you look at that—tall as a tree. Are you a legend yet? No? Tch, that's kinda embarrassing." Walz grinned up at him.
"Sorry... I'm still just a regular knight." Edward scratched his head sheepishly.
"Bit behind, huh? But you're alive—that's what matters. Rare chance, seeing me again—got anything to say?" Walz smirked, hands in his pockets.
"I met someone. A lot like you, just as unreliable and full of nonsense. What would you think of that?" Edward chuckled, thinking of that maddening, familiar soul.
"That's great. You think I'd mind you making a new friend? No way! The future Grand Duke Lionheart's gotta have at least two trusty lieutenants—wait, no—two good brothers, right? Just don't let this one die like I did. Even if I'm the one who knocked you out... stop thinking you're a coward. Got it? You've earned your place. You deserve it."
"Thanks... then, goodbye." Edward smiled, reaching out with his hand.
"Goodbye." With a peaceful smile, Walz clasped Edward's hand tightly.
As their palms met, the prison of memories built by the God of Terror shattered into dust.
"You awake?" came Wang Yu's voice. He was already carrying Edward on his back and running fast.
"Yeah... I remember now. I wasn't paralyzed by fear back then. I just didn't dodge the headbutt." Edward leapt off Wang Yu's back with ease.
"Uh... well, anyway, glad you're back. Time to get to work. If we don't act—the royal family, the Nightblades, us—this whole capital's going down."
Wang Yu didn't know what Edward had just experienced. But from the look in his eyes, he could tell something important had changed. He looked lighter, as if he had finally relieved himself of a heavy burden.
But up above, their true challenge loomed. The massive shadow of the God of Terror was spreading across the sky, its divine kingdom stretching ever outward.