Jonathan clenched his fists, his mind racing through the endless possibilities that could unfold if he followed the Figure's cryptic instructions. The weight of the decision bore down on him—should he choose to ignore it, the world itself could veer toward a catastrophic future. Countless lives might be lost, and entire kingdoms would be consumed by chaos. And yet, the thought of joining a war, of picking up a blade once more, repulsed him. He had no desire to fight, no hunger for bloodshed. He stared intently at the mysterious Figure, who stood a few paces away, cloaked in shadow. A grin played across the Figure's lips—cold, mocking, as though he already knew how the story would end. Time seemed to stretch endlessly in this realm, though Jonathan felt as if an hour had passed. In truth, the Void was a place untouched by the laws of time and space. Here, there was no ticking clock, no rising sun—only the decision that waited to be made.
"So…?"
The Figure finally broke the silence, his voice echoing unnaturally in the emptiness around them.
"Will you aid him—help Berthur Calder lead his kingdom to victory? Or will you turn away… and bear witness to the calamity that follows? Choose wisely, Jonathan…"
There was no doubt in Jonathan's mind—the Figure was toying with him. Every word dripped with amusement, as though the fate of nations was nothing more than a game. Jonathan's jaw tightened as he wrestled with the weight of the choice. Two paths lay before him, both shrouded in uncertainty, but only one could be taken. And in the end, with no other alternative, he bowed to the inevitability of destiny.
"Fine,"
He said, his voice steady but heavy with resignation.
"I'll help Berthur Calder. But tell me this—what would have happened if I refused?"
The Figure burst into laughter, the sound sharp and unsettling, echoing through the Void like a blade drawn in silence.
"A wise choice, my dear pawn."
The Figure said with a sneer.
"But if you truly wish to know… then wait. Wait until the victory is claimed. Only then will you see what might have been."
Everything returned to normal. Jonathan snapped back to reality. He glanced around and found himself still in the same spot—his modest room, unchanged. But when he turned to look out the window, he noticed something different: the sky was bright and radiant, sunlight cascading across the rooftops, and birds soared gracefully through the air, their cheerful chirping adding life to the morning. He had overslept.
With a soft groan, Jonathan slowly rose from the bed, feeling surprisingly refreshed. Despite the strange vividness of his sleep, it had done wonders. The exhaustion that had weighed down his limbs for days seemed to have evaporated. He stretched his arms high, a satisfying chorus of cracks echoing from his joints. The sensation of his body loosening up was oddly pleasant. Grabbing a towel, he made his way to the bathroom for a quick wash. The cool water invigorated him, rinsing away the last traces of drowsiness. When he emerged, a light scent of clean soap lingered around him, subtle but pleasing. After dressing in his usual attire, he strapped his sword across his back—a practiced motion, almost ritualistic—and left the room. With a metallic click, the door locked behind him. He descended the stairs toward the cafeteria, stomach already growling in anticipation of breakfast. The cafeteria was bustling with activity. Adventurers and residents sat at tables in casual conversation, laughter and chatter weaving through the air. Jonathan's eyes scanned the room and landed on a familiar scene—Mary, once again, surrounded by a group of persistent men.
They were attempting to flirt, each trying harder than the last to win her attention. But Jonathan knew Mary well. She had little patience for shallow advances and usually ignored people unless they shared her interests or intellect. He sighed, already expecting how this would unfold. Before he could intervene, Mary abruptly stood and slammed her hand on the table, the loud smack cutting through the noise of the cafeteria like a blade. Her eyes flared with annoyance, and her voice rang clear.
"Enough! Leave me alone! Stop trying to flirt with me!"
The group of men froze, caught off guard. The fierce glare she cast in their direction sent them scrambling back in awkward retreat, muttering apologies under their breath as they disappeared into the crowd. The room fell into a brief silence before gradually returning to its usual rhythm. Mary growled under her breath and slumped back into her seat with a long sigh. She picked up her book and tried to refocus, clearly frustrated by the unwanted attention. Jonathan, now free from needing to "rescue" her, made his way to her table and sat across from her.
She looked up, eyes narrowing into a pout.
"Jonathan, why didn't you help me?"
She asked, folding her arms.
"Don't think I didn't notice you just standing there… watching me suffer in the middle of all that."
Her disappointment was plain, her glare sharp but tinged with hurt. Jonathan scratched the back of his head awkwardly, searching for words. He hadn't meant to upset her—he simply knew she could handle herself. Still, it was clear she didn't see it that way.
"I'm sorry, Mary,"
He offered, but she turned her head away dramatically, lips pursed, still pouting. His apology hadn't worked. She was clearly not ready to forgive him just yet, he sighed. This could be a problem. Traveling together required cooperation, and if Mary continued to hold a grudge, the journey ahead might suffer. Then, an idea struck him. Jonathan remembered that his recent trades had earned him a good sum of money—more than Mary currently carried. Perhaps a gesture of goodwill would soften her mood. With a flick of his wrist, he activated his Dimensional Storage. A shimmering glow appeared briefly before he pulled out a medium-sized pouch heavy with gold coins. Without a word, he placed it on the table and slid it toward her. Mary's eyes flicked to the pouch. Her curiosity piqued, she opened it—and the glint of gold within caught her full attention. The transformation in her demeanor was immediate. Her scowl faded, replaced by a smile that was equal parts amused and pleased.
"Well,"
She said, slipping the pouch into her pocket with a satisfied nod.
"Apology accepted."
Jonathan gave a half-smile, relieved. Crises averted—for now. Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Terienst, the atmosphere remained unchanged—peaceful, orderly, and prosperous. Yet, beneath the calm surface, gears of war had begun to turn. On the cobblestone roads of the capital, several battalions of knights marched in perfect unison, their armor gleaming under the sun. The rhythmic clatter of boots echoed through the streets as they made their way toward the city gates, preparing to depart on a mission of conquest. Within the grand halls of the royal castle, a tense war council was underway. Seated around a massive round table were the kingdom's highest authorities—King Berthur Calder, stern and contemplative, surrounded by his generals and ministers. Maps were spread out before them, covered in annotations and strategic markings. The air was thick with intensity, as voices rose in heated debate.
"We should divide the battalions into twenty units."
One general declared, slamming a fist on the table.
"Surround the Carvosh Kingdom from all sides. With proper coordination, our victory rate will increase dramatically!"
"Nonsense!"
Another general countered sharply.
"Splitting the army that thin will compromise our defense lines. Carvosh has superior numbers—they'll crush our units one by one before we can regroup!"
Disagreements flared as each commander put forth their strategy, their voices clashing like swords on a battlefield. The stakes were high. Deep beneath the Carvosh territory lay vast reserves of untouched natural resources—wealth that could shift the balance of power and transform Terienst's economy if harnessed properly. After hours of deliberation, one of the senior generals rose with a bold plan.
"Instead of twenty units, divide our forces into five. Form them into a 'U' formation, trapping the enemy forces within. Once encircled, we strike from all sides."
A hush fell across the room as he continued,
"While the main assault is underway, a second division will remain behind and encircle the Carvosh capital. Using Level-5 fireball magic, we target and destroy all key arsenals and military facilities—crippling their ability to retaliate. Once weakened, we storm their defenses and push through to the heart of their kingdom. With this, we ensure total domination."
A pause. Then murmurs of agreement. The plan was daring, but it held potential for overwhelming success. All eyes turned to King Berthur Calder, awaiting his decision. The king rose slowly, his gaze steely.
"Very well. I authorize this strategy. You have your orders—execute them without fail."
The council stood in unison, fists clenched over hearts.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
The meeting was dismissed, and the generals departed swiftly, joining the battalions en route to the frontlines. Back in the quiet village, Jonathan and Mary had just finished their breakfast at the inn. The cafeteria had returned to its usual lively chatter, but a nearby conversation caught Jonathan's ear.
"Did you hear the news? There's going to be an all-out war between Terienst and Carvosh."
"I bet Terienst will win. Their army may be smaller, but they're better trained and better equipped."
"Yeah, I agree. Carvosh has the numbers, but Terienst has the strength."
Jonathan frowned. So it had already begun. Suddenly, the inn's entrance burst open with a gust of cold air. An armored knight stood in the doorway, his presence commanding and stern. In his left hand, he carried a sealed parchment. The once casual atmosphere instantly grew tense. The knight marched across the room, every step echoing ominously. He stopped directly in front of Jonathan and extended the parchment.
"Mr. Jonathan,"
The knight said in a deep voice,
"I am a royal messenger from the Kingdom of Terienst. His Majesty instructed me to deliver this to you."
Before Jonathan could reply, the knight turned and strode out of the inn, mounted his horse, and galloped off without a backward glance. It was remarkable—Terienst was days away, yet the knight had somehow made the journey swiftly. Perhaps through magic, or some power beyond ordinary means. Jonathan stared at the parchment in his hands. Slowly, he broke the seal and read. As expected, it was exactly as The Figure had foretold—a royal request for his aid in the coming war. The message wasn't a surprise, but it served as a stark reminder: the future was already unfolding just as The Figure had warned. Still, Jonathan's distrust of that enigmatic presence made him hesitate. He rolled the parchment tightly and placed it into his Dimensional Storage. Turning to Mary, he spoke with calm urgency.
"We need to go back to Terienst."
"What?"
She blinked.
"Why? That's the opposite direction of our destination!"
"I received a summons from the king himself. They want my help in the war."
Mary stared at him, stunned. She hadn't expected Terienst to fall into open conflict—much less that Jonathan would be dragged into it.
"You're… going to join a war?"
She said, uncertain. War was dangerous. Deadly. And she wanted no part of it. Jonathan sighed.
"I don't want to either. But this—this decision—was one of the fateful choices The Figure spoke about. I have to do this. If I don't… the consequences might be greater than we realize."
He held out his hand to her.
"Come with me. If we end this war quickly, we can continue our journey. I won't force you. But without you, I might not be able to make it through this."
Mary hesitated. Her heart told her to run the other way—but her instincts told her that staying at Jonathan's side was the only path to achieving her own goals. After a long pause, she sighed and took his hand.
"…Fine. But I better not regret this."
Jonathan smiled faintly and helped her to her feet. He walked to the counter and placed a gold coin down to pay for their meals. The young woman at the counter gasped—this was her first time ever seeing such a rare coin. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"I-Is this real gold…?"
Jonathan gave a simple nod before turning and heading for the door, with Mary at his side.
Outside, the wind carried the scent of destiny—and the distant whispers of war.
"A-a gold coin?! B-but sir… th-these meals only cost twenty bronze coins! One silver coin would've been more than enough!"
The young woman behind the counter stammered, her hands trembling as she stared at the golden coin lying before her. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Never in her life had she encountered someone who paid for a modest meal with such an extravagant sum. In this remote village—far removed from the heart of the kingdom—gold coins were rare, almost mythical. Most residents scraped by on bronze, occasionally silver. Nobles never visited, and even merchants who passed through weren't this generous.
"It's alright,"
Jonathan replied calmly, offering her a reassuring smile.
"Consider the rest a tip."
The girl was visibly overwhelmed by his gesture, torn between gratitude and guilt. She understood the sheer value of that coin—enough to feed a family for months. Though she wanted to refuse it, Jonathan remained firm, insisting she keep it. Eventually, she bowed her head deeply in thanks. Moved by his kindness, she called over the other staff and even the inn's owner. One by one, they gathered behind the counter and bowed in unison, a rare and heartfelt expression of gratitude that hushed the room. The patrons, including Mary, watched in stunned silence.
Once the farewells were exchanged and the staff waved them off with sincere smiles, Jonathan and Mary returned to their wagon. Jonathan untied the reins from the wooden hitching post, climbed onto the driver's bench, and took hold of the reins. Mary entered the wagon's cabin from the back. With a gentle flick, the wagon began to move—its path set toward the distant Terienst Kingdom once more. Within the towering walls of Terienst's royal palace, King Berthur Calder sat on his ornate throne. The atmosphere in the war room had been tense for hours as noblemen and generals debated battle strategies. Their confidence was palpable—many believed victory was guaranteed. Yet Berthur remained cautious. While Terienst's forces were elite, they were outnumbered. Carvosh's standing army dwarfed theirs in sheer size. But Berthur was counting on something—or rather, someone—that would change the tide. Jonathan. The king knew that once Jonathan arrived and lent his strength, their chance of victory would skyrocket. Until then, all they could do was prepare. Elsewhere in the castle, Millia lay on her bed, clutching a pillow tightly to her chest. Her heart fluttered with anticipation as she thought of Jonathan's return. Her cheeks burned red as she whispered his name aloud, burying her face into the soft fabric of her pillow.
"Jonathan… I want to see you again."
Though embarrassed, her longing was genuine. She had waited for this moment and wanted to be ready when he arrived. Far from the castle, Jonathan and Mary traveled across familiar landscapes—lush green fields and flower-filled meadows. The journey was long, spanning thirteen to fifteen hours in total. As they entered the dangerous forest, Jonathan activated his skill, Scan of the World, detecting several Level A+ monsters five kilometers away.
He considered engaging them but decided to conserve his strength. Then he remembered: the Constant Sword. Drawing the weapon, he raised it high and willed it to repel nearby monsters. The sword responded instantly, releasing an immense aura that instilled terror in all creatures nearby. Satisfied, he sheathed the blade. Hours passed. As evening fell, their horse began to tire. Jonathan halted the wagon and scanned the area—no threats in sight. He checked their food supply, still plentiful, then glanced into the cabin. Mary was already asleep, a book resting on her forehead, her breaths slow and even. A yawn escaped Jonathan's lips. Not wanting to disturb her, he decided to sleep outside. He leaned back against the wagon, eyes turned skyward. His vision blurred as exhaustion overtook him, and soon he drifted into a deep sleep. At dawn, Mary stirred. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and stretched. Jonathan was gone from the cabin. Stepping outside, she spotted him asleep against the wagon, a small bird perched on his head, chirping cheerfully. She giggled at the sight. Approaching him quietly, she crouched down and poked his cheek gently. Then again. He didn't stir. She pouted, then pinched his nose—nothing. Finally, she pinched his cheeks hard.
"Ow—! M-Mary! Why'd you pinch me?!"
She stood up, arms crossed under her chest, lips pursed.
"Hmph! I tried to wake you gently, but you wouldn't budge. So I had to pinch you harder!"
Jonathan groaned and stood, stretching before apologizing. Knowing her temper, he considered offering another pouch of gold, but instead he just smiled sheepishly. She eventually softened and told him to cook breakfast. He nodded. Soon, they sat inside the wagon enjoying a simple morning meal. Afterward, he fed the horse to restore its strength before they continued their journey. Meanwhile, Millia awoke and leapt from bed, bubbling with excitement. She rushed to shower, eager to prepare for Jonathan's arrival. After freshening up, she stood before her wardrobe and chose a dress: a luminous purple gown adorned with tiny, glowing stars. It shimmered like the night sky, perfect to catch his eye. Fully dressed, she admired her reflection. A beautiful young woman with a radiant smile gazed back. Her heart raced—she was determined to win his attention.
Three hours later, Jonathan and Mary finally reached the gates of Terienst. Two knights on horseback greeted them and offered an escort to the castle. Jonathan nodded, and they led the way. In the castle, Millia stood at her window, taking in the sunny view of the city. Her gaze fell on a wagon approaching with two mounted knights. Her heart skipped a beat. It was him—Jonathan! She gasped and quickly turned away, rushing to the main entrance. At the gates, Berthur Calder stood flanked by his generals. Millia arrived moments later, cheeks flushed with excitement. As Jonathan's wagon rolled to a stop, he spotted her beside the king, waving with a radiant smile. He returned the wave, prompting her to blush even deeper. Jonathan dismounted. Mary exited from the back and joined him as they approached the castle. Mary, curious about the people waiting, turned to Jonathan and asked:
"Hey Jonathan… is that the king you made the deal with?"
Mary pointed subtly toward the regal figure standing at the castle entrance, flanked by knights and advisors. Jonathan nodded.
"Yes, that's King Berthur Calder. He's the one who requested my help to win the war."
"I see…"
Mary murmured.
"Looks like I really don't have much choice but to follow you into all this."
As they reached the foot of the castle steps, Jonathan and Mary bowed respectfully before the king. Jonathan then took a step forward to formally announce their arrival.
"Your Majesty, I've come as promised to assist you in the upcoming war. And this,"
He gestured to Mary beside him,
"Is a trusted companion of mine—Mary Carter. She's a mage of exceptional talent. A master in her own right."
Berthur raised an intrigued eyebrow, then smiled warmly.
"Is that so? We're honored to have another capable hand. Welcome, Mary."
Mary gave a respectful nod, bowing slightly. Berthur then extended his hand toward Jonathan, who took it firmly. They exchanged a strong handshake, a symbol of mutual respect. Mary followed suit, shaking the king's hand in turn. Just as the formalities were wrapping up, Millia stepped forward hesitantly. Her cheeks were already tinged pink, and she nervously twirled the edge of her dress between her fingers.
"H-Hey… Jonathan…"
She said softly, almost a whisper.
"We meet again. It's been a long time since we last saw each other…"
Her eyes flickered up to his face, but quickly darted away, too shy to hold his gaze.
Jonathan smiled kindly.
"Yeah, it's been a while. You look beautiful in that dress."
His compliment landed like a thunderclap. Millia's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and she instinctively looked down, trying to hide her reaction. Mary, observing from the side, noticed Millia's visible fluster and smiled slightly to herself. She could tell the princess was deeply smitten with Jonathan—but as always, Jonathan seemed oblivious. Berthur broke the moment with a nod.
"Jonathan. Mary. Come, we must make haste. The commanders are awaiting our arrival."
"Of course, Your Majesty,"
Jonathan replied. Mary nodded politely, and the three of them began moving toward the castle's inner courtyard. Millia remained behind. As the youngest daughter of King Berthur Calder, she was not permitted to take part in the war, much to her frustration. Though she longed to stand beside Jonathan, her role was limited by her age and royal duties. As they departed, she waved softly.
"Goodbye, Jonathan… Please visit me when you can."
"I promise."
Jonathan replied, glancing back with a gentle smile. As they walked through the castle's main hall toward the travel stables, the atmosphere suddenly shifted. An advisor whispered hurried news to Berthur. The enemy forces were on the move. The Terienst battalions stationed at the front were at risk—if reinforcements didn't arrive soon, they could be overrun. Even with the fastest horses, the journey would take nearly eighteen hours. Berthur and his generals exchanged worried glances. There wasn't enough time. But then—Mary stepped forward.
"If I may, Your Majesty."
She said confidently, raising her hand.
"I can teleport us directly to the camp."
The room fell into stunned silence.
"Teleportation?"
One general asked skeptically.
"That's forbidden arcana. It's nearly impossible to master. Only high mages from the Tower have ever—"
"I've mastered it,"
Mary interrupted calmly.
"Though rare and dangerous, I've used it before. I can take all of us there instantly."
The disbelief remained evident on the nobles' faces, but Jonathan stepped in.
"She's telling the truth. I've seen her use it. We can trust her."
Berthur studied Mary closely, then gave a slow nod.
"Very well. Proceed."
Mary stepped into the open courtyard, raised her hands, and began chanting in a forgotten tongue. The air vibrated with power. Glowing runes formed beneath their feet—intricate, ancient symbols representing time, space, and dimensional alignment. A dome of brilliant energy formed around the group. Before anyone could utter another word, the world twisted—space folded—and in the blink of an eye, they vanished. When their vision cleared, they stood on the wide, open plains outside the main war camp of the Terienst army. Rows of tents stretched into the distance, and a massive central command tent loomed nearby.
"W-woah…" Berthur muttered, regaining his balance. "T-this is my first time being teleported…"
He shook his head, regaining his composure.
"Impressive. You've certainly earned your title, Miss Carter."
He led the group toward the command tent. Inside, the generals saluted immediately and provided a situation update.
"All battalions are in formation and awaiting your final orders, sire."
"Good. Prepare the invasion plan."
Berthur ordered. Outside the command center, Jonathan and Mary stood observing the massive army assembling. From their vantage point, they could see the troops forming perfect lines—columns on both the left and right wings. Jonathan activated Scan of the World, and on the horizon, he detected similar enemy formations preparing to clash. Turning to Mary, he asked,
"Are you ready?"
Mary gave a confident smile.
"More than ready."
Jonathan unsheathed the Constant Sword. As it cleared its scabbard, the blade began to glow—a radiant, blue light like the weapon of a hero out of legend. Mary, standing beside him, began channeling mana through her staff, preparing to unleash devastating magic upon the battlefield. Back inside the command center, Berthur and his generals reviewed contingency plans in case their initial assault failed. But now, with Jonathan and Mary by their side, the tide of war was about to shift.
-To be Continued...