Chapter 227: Victory and Disappearance
"Edward Wolyn banished the God of Terror as the God of Light's physical vessel? Then it's settled—the war with Selwyn is truly over, isn't it?"
Garcia rode astride a galloping steed, gripping a magitech transmitter in his hand. He was in communication with the Nightblades' headquarters. He was surprised and gratified; quiet joy bloomed in his heart.
"Yes, it's over," came the weary, relieved voice on the other end. "The other kingdoms watching from the shadows at our borders have withdrawn upon receiving the news. The Four Dukes gave them no opportunity to send spies into the kingdom. The war is over. As for what comes next... that can wait. We've earned our rest."
All of Aleisterre was drained—in mind, body, and soul. But now, with the divine miracle of the God of Light having obliterated the God of Terror, the war had truly ended.
The aftermath could wait. None of them were made of iron, and even the soul needed rest.
"If there's something you want to do, go on," the voice continued. "You have a close friend from the cursebinding spire, right? Take some time off. Just make sure you're back in fourteen days—we'll be honoring our fallen comrades then."
The speaker's tone lightened for a moment, then grew solemn again at the mention of the memorial day.
"Understood. I won't miss out on offering my respects to those who marched into certain death."
Garcia raised a hand in salute toward the distant capital, though only the voice from the device bore witness to it.
"That's all from us. Leave the matters in the city to us. All of you who marched to Selwyn may return to wherever you'd like. Congratulations on the victory. Over and out."
Garcia slipped the communications device back into his pack and looked toward his travel companions: members of the cursebinding spire and other elite forces, all rushing toward the capital alongside him.
He hadn't masked his voice during the conversation, and the others had overheard. One by one, their horses slowed as they drew nearer to him, smiles gradually appearing on their faces.
"We've won."
It was a simple statement—yet those three words alone were enough to uplift the soul. There was no great cheering, no wild celebration—just a collective exhalation in which joy took root quietly.
"Looks like you're all on leave for now," Garcia added. "We aren't needed to help clean up the capital. Go wherever you wish."
A bit of chatter followed. The soldiers of Aleisterre began to bid their farewells to Garcia. Some intended to return to their hometowns within the kingdom, while others were heading off to tie up loose ends elsewhere.
"So, got any destination in mind? If not, come with me to Villa Mayene. I want to check on my sister."
Garcia felt a jab at his shoulder as Lilya Svein's voice drifted into his ear with her usual roguish charm.
She made it sound like a suggestion, but anyone who knew the Witch of Blazes knew that there was no room for refusal in her tone.
"Sure," Garcia replied without protest. "But don't you cursebinders have to return to your spire for a post-mission debriefing? Won't that be a problem?"
Thwack!
Lilya thwacked him on the head and shot him a look of exasperation.
"The God of Terror's been annihilated, you idiot! All its fragments were drawn to it when it manifested—and were obliterated in the process. We cursebinders are temporarily unemployed. Whether we return doesn't matter.
"Chances are, those slow-witted old geezers won't even figure out what to do next until pieces of that god reappear across the continent. Until then, I'm free—completely free. I can do whatever I like."
Thumping her volumptuous chest with pride, she spoke with unmistakable glee. Then, without hesitation, she climbed up onto Garcia's horse and settled behind him.
"Let's go! I still need to visit my dear niece Avia. She must miss her aunt terribly. I wonder how strong she is now—she's the most gifted soul I've ever met.
"Oh, and that knight of hers—Wang Yu, was it? How's he doing? Is he worthy of her yet?"
Lilya chattered away behind Garcia, clearly in high spirits. She'd suddenly remembered Avia and Wang Yu—both of whom could more or less be called her apprentices.
"They're both exceptional," Garcia replied simply.
"Not bad."
Far off, at the Nightblades' headquarters, Charles poked Edward's face with mild irritation as he lay unconscious in an infirmary bed.
"When's this guy going to wake up?"
"There's nothing wrong with his body or soul," said Nurse Jenny, clipboard in hand as she examined Edward's condition. "The divine light protected him. All his wounds, spiritual and physical, have been fully healed. If he isn't waking, it's probably just a matter of exhaustion—not of the soul, but of the spirit. Let him sleep."
Jennie had returned early from the frontlines after the conclusion of the war. She now stood beside the bed, offering her assessment of Edward's condition.
Charles was crouched on the bed poking Edward. Sue, beside him, was smacking him repeatedly with her tail.
As a specialist from the border rehabilitation institute, Jenny was an authority on spiritual trauma. Her pronouncements were all but fact.
"Is that so... It does put me in a tough spot."
Charles scratched his head, clearly troubled. He had wanted to inform the Nightblades that their captain had perished in an act of vengeance, taking his nemesis down with him.
But after consulting with the devil "One," they had decided to keep that information tightly contained.
According to what they'd learned from Marquis Engel, the royal family wasn't completely hostile toward the Nightblades—but they certainly had designs on the organization.
No one in the court had expected Hugin to succeed in his revenge with Charles' help. The royal family had already suffered losses in the form of the Chronostasis Hourglass, the rare curio Charles now possessed. Charles planned to exploit this advantage to lay traps of his own.
Yes, the Nightblades were formed by those who shared ideals and camaraderie. But just as Wang Yu could never guarantee that traitors wouldn't appear within the growing Church of Nightfall, neither could Charles do the same for the Nightblades.
"Whatever. Everyone here is trustworthy enough." He stood up and took a long breath as the grin finally faded from his face. "There's a rather unpleasant truth I need to share with all of you. As for Edward, I can't afford to wait for him to wake up."
Charles' tone turned grave. The others, seeing the change in his demeanor, looked toward the man who had been grinning nonstop ever since the God of Terror vanished.
"I'll excuse myself, then..."
Jenny, ever perceptive, moved toward the door without being prompted. Whatever Charles was about to say, she clearly sensed it might be something not meant for her ears.
"No need for that—uh, Professor? Where have you been? We've been trying to contact you all this time."
Charles had just taken a step forward, about to stop Nurse Jenny, who already had her hand on the doorknob, when the door swung open from the other side. Standing there was none other than Sieg, and holding his hand was his younger sister, Noelle.
"Yes... that's what I came to talk to you about. And—also to say goodbye."
Nodding politely to the startled Nurse Jenny, Sieg entered the room and gently closed the door behind him. With a deft motion, he activated the magical circuits engraved upon his body and placed a soundproofing ward upon the door.
"What?"
Charles narrowed his eyes at the spell. A vague sense of unease stirred in his chest. Whatever Sieg was about to say, Charles suspected it tied into both the strange behavior of the royal family and what he himself had intended to reveal.
Sieg swept his gaze over those gathered. Aside from the somewhat-informed Ms. Jenny, the others were all familiar faces and trusted allies. Among them were several squad leaders from the Nightblades, including Gilbert.
In a calm tone, without embellishment, Sieg recounted his experience of being imprisoned in the Rudolf estate. He spoke plainly without exaggeration or personal flourish. As he told his story, a heavy tension slowly descended upon the room.
None present were slow-witted. They had long since harbored doubts about the royal family's unusual conduct during recent events. But Sieg's testimony brought what had been whispered beneath the surface out into the open.
"That's the gist of it. I cannot—will not—allow this kingdom to hold the people I cherish as leverage over me. So... though it pains me to part ways with you all, I've decided to leave this kingdom and seek a future beyond its borders."
In the silence that followed, Sieg's quiet voice sounded almost wistful. Yet the determination in it was unmistakable.
"I had thought the royal family's actions targeted only a few individuals... but now it seems they bear undisguised hostility toward all Nightblades. This message must be delivered to everyone. As for what course to take, what choices to make—that, I leave to each of you."
Charles spoke with a seriousness unlike any he'd shown before. He had believed that the turbulence would settle with the end of the war, but it now seemed as if the storm were only beginning.
All eyes turned to him. In return, Charles recounted what he had experienced alongside Hugin. As he spoke, the faces of those present began to twist in fury.
Sieg clenched his fists tight. The grinding of his bones made the others wince. He had seen his sister threatened with his own eyes. And now, to learn that his friend had died for vengeance—and that the royal family had orchestrated it all?
"Hugin... that stubborn fool. He never wanted to burden us with his troubles. Always thought he had to carry everything alone. If only he'd told us—shared his plans and what he went through—then maybe, just maybe..."
Sieg's voice trailed off into heavy silence. Everyone in the room nodded in agreement.
"...Hm? The Prayer Network's back!"
Charles was just about to speak when a faint whisper echoed in his mind. The Prayer Network, with which they could communicate by the grace of the Lady of the Night, had returned.
"Charles? Is Wang Yu with you? I haven't been able to reach him." Avia's voice rang out in his mind, laced with worry.
"Wang Yu?"
Charles froze. They had forgotten about him.
Perhaps it was because Wang Yu had always seemed so reliable and capable. Deep down, they all believed that he didn't need their concern, that he would handle his tasks alone and return unscathed... even if sometimes he came back bloodied and bruised.
But only now did they realize that Wang Yu had been missing for quite some time. Even Sieg, who had been unreachable for a while, had eventually gotten word to them once the God of Terror had been annihilated.
But Wang Yu—why, he was simply gone.