Yalta suddenly clutched his chest and covered his mouth.
"Uugh…."
Graham collapsed, sensing death.
"I didn't want to be the one to kill you, Sir Graham. Damn it, I told you to just set the fire…"
Yalta, eyes closed, began muttering to himself while running his hand through his disheveled hair.
Anyone could tell—once that murmuring ended, Yalta would take his own life.
Graham blinked.
He'd heard people see their life flash before their eyes before death, but not him.
Instead, he felt calm.
So when someone suddenly appeared in the air, Graham wasn't even surprised.
It was a boy with salmon-colored hair.
He had seen him a few times from a distance—Grand mage Inariel.
Graham couldn't understand why he had appeared here.
While Yalta kept his eyes closed, Inariel looked down at Graham with a complicated expression, then lightly waved his staff.
A breeze swept in.
And Graham's time stopped.
When he blinked again, he was no longer in his barracks, but collapsed in a rainy forest.
And standing before him, in place of Inariel, was the 3rd Prince of Briol.
"Your Highness…"
He spoke.
He thought his voice wouldn't come out properly, since his chest had been pierced, but fortunately, he could still talk.
The 3rd Prince came closer and knelt on one knee.
"Inariel brought you, Sir Graham. I killed Yalta."
"Ah…"
Graham faintly smiled.
To think he killed Yalta—indeed, the 3rd Prince was no ordinary man.
Even at death's door, Graham felt something like pride in the 3rd Prince.
It was a strange feeling.
Graham didn't know where this emotion came from.
Why did he feel drawn to this prince, and hope for his success?
Was it simply because the 3rd Prince possessed the rare qualities of a true knight?
At that moment, a vision passed across Graham's sight.
Flames surged all around him.
He was walking inside a burning royal palace.
At first, he didn't recognize it, but soon realized—it was Briol.
He had blocked someone fleeing.
Their swords clashed. The opponent looked like he shouldn't be able to move, body covered in wounds, yet fiercely resisted.
The determination in that blade was so overwhelming that even Graham couldn't suppress it easily.
But in the end, he brought the man down.
The man slumped against the wall, then lifted his gaze.
Black hair.
Black eyes.
Impossible to mistake—the symbols of the Briol royal family.
Soon, Graham recognized the blood-soaked face.
'Sir Graham.'
He spoke.
'Won't you let me live?'
In that moment, Graham felt shame.
The man reflected in Graham's eyes, and the image of himself in the man's black pupils, were such stark contrasts. Graham was an unjust invader, and the man before him, a knight fighting to the bitter end.
With a bitter smile, the man said,
'I can't die here.'
Graham opened his mouth, then closed it again.
And he thought—
If he were in the man's position, what would he have said?
He would've simply asked for death.
But this man was willing to beg for his life from the enemy if it meant survival.
To him, duty was not something that could be given up by personal will.
Graham closed his eyes, lost in thought.
He didn't know what punishment awaited him after this, but he was certain it wouldn't be pleasant.
Yet despite that, he didn't want to kill the man.
So he silently stepped aside.
The man looked at him with an unreadable gaze. It seemed he even chuckled faintly.
Then he rose, limping, and walked away.
'Thank you.'
That was the last thing he said.
With the flames rising high behind him, the man left his royal palace in that miserable gait and disappeared somewhere.
That had happened.
When, where, or how—it didn't matter.
Only that the man from that time was now looking down at him with the same eyes.
"Your Highness."
"Sir Graham."
"What you said then—I thought it was just a story."
Before coming to Yoheim, Graham had sought out the 3rd Prince to speak with him.
At that time, the 3rd Prince had suddenly whispered,
'Sir Graham. The truth is, you saved me that day. On the day the palace fell, you were chasing me. But maybe you pitied me—because you hesitated, then let me go. So I suppose you could say you're my savior.'
He thought it was just something the prince made up.
But it had happened—somewhere, at some time.
"I remember now."
The 3rd Prince's eyes widened.
Graham tried to laugh. He wanted to let out a loud, hearty laugh, but his dying body could only produce a faint breath, like the wind.
Trash, pathetic man—that's what the prince had called him.
But every story he told about Graham was wrong.
Not a single one was accurate.
The 3rd Prince didn't know himself at all.
Graham's shoulders trembled as he laughed. Blood trickled from his lips.
"Enough, Sir Graham. Why are you suddenly laughing?"
Graham felt a sense of liberation.
It was like a burden had lifted from his shoulders.
But at the same time, he felt sorry.
The things he had carried wouldn't disappear. They would become an even heavier weight pressing down on the 3rd Prince.
But he believed—the prince could bear it.
"Your Highness. I'll be watching. May you set everything right, just as you desire…"
His consciousness gradually blurred.
Graham, with his final strength, tried to clearly look at the face of Briol's 3rd Prince, Yuri Briol.
Those black eyes, then and now, held no wavering.
Graham felt at peace.
"The best thing I ever did…"
His eyelids grew heavy. Soon, a curtain of darkness swallowed his vision.
In the dark, Graham smiled brightly.
"…was saving you that day."
That was the end.
A model knight—Graham Hartfall.
His heart stopped.
***
Yuri stared in silence at Graham's fallen head.
Somehow, as he stood before death, Graham had recalled a story from a past life.
Whether he truly remembered it, or if his dying brain, losing function, had hallucinated a tale Yuri once told—it was impossible to know.
But it brought comfort.
And it gave Yuri an even greater sense of duty.
Looking down at Graham's peacefully closed eyes, Yuri wiped at his own.
"Inariel-nim."
He called out to Inariel. The Grand mage, who had kept his distance, walked over.
"Did you get to say goodbye?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"What do you plan to do with the body?"
"Sir Graham…"
Yuri stood up.
"…will remain here."
"Leave him here?"
"Yes."
Then Yuri drew the sword at Graham's waist and stabbed it into Yalta's face.
"Like this."
If it became known that he had killed Yalta, Yuri's name would be added to the list of the ten strongest.
And that would cause the Empire to view Briol as a threat.
Not yet.
"Yalta went mad and set a fire, rampaging wildly, and Sir Graham died trying to stop him. Let's say that's what happened."
"Alright."
Inariel nodded.
"That's a good idea."
Inariel twirled his staff.
Then, little by little, the traces of the fierce battle between Yalta and Yuri began to change. Even the corpses of Yalta and Graham subtly transformed.
Now, it looked as if the two had fought each other.
"I guess I can't call you a kid anymore. You killed one of the Ten Strong."
"I was never a kid to begin with."
Yuri looked up at the sky.
"When will the rain stop?"
"Who knows…"
Inariel also looked up. Thick, dark clouds shrouded the sky.
"Graham was someone I held in high regard."
"Who wouldn't?"
"Then let the heavens weep a little longer, for his sake."
Yuri let out a faint chuckle.
"Yes, I suppose so."
The two began walking together out of the forest.
Suddenly, Yuri placed his arm over Inariel's shoulder.
Their height difference made it just right for leaning on him.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm just exhausted. Please, be understanding."
Yuri's entire body was in ruins, having pushed beyond his limits.
Inariel furrowed his brow.
"You should feel honored."
"I do. Oh, right."
"What is it?"
"I need to go get the Slime Mask…"
"Then go."
"I'm too tired to move a step…"
"…"
"It'd be nice if someone brought it to me…"
"Tsk…"
***
Several days passed since the fiery destruction of the forest was quelled by the rain.
With their commander gone, the Imperial Army remained uncertain and idle—until, eventually, they charged blindly into the forest.
With no path left behind them, the Imperial forces fought recklessly.
The Aloy Brigade counterattacked efficiently, using the terrain to their advantage, but the Imperial Army ignored the losses and kept advancing through the woods.
A brutal battle unfolded.
Countless casualties mounted.
Among them were new heroes born from Yoheim.
"Hopper, Hopper!"
"Count Seconeer, I'm done for…"
"You can't go like this!"
"I'm sorry…"
Jose's acting was atrocious, but Count Seconeer was a terribly gullible man.
"I will fight to the very end for Yoheim. Even in death, I'll watch over Yoheim. My lord."
"Hopper!"
Hopper stumbled forward, feigning injury, then suddenly charged at the enemy.
"Yaaahhh!"
As his body vanished among the mass of Imperial troops, Count Seconeer wept.
"Hopper…"
Similar scenes were playing out across the battlefield.
Of the three sworn brothers, the first to fall into danger was Lowe, the man with the majestic beard.
He had infiltrated deep into enemy lines, swinging his crescent blade to stop the Imperial troops from setting fires, but was eventually struck down by their swords.
The Imperial soldiers surrounded him.
Javid, seeing this, rushed into enemy lines after him.
"Brother Lowe!"
Standing by his side, Javid swung his scimitar furiously.
But the numbers overwhelmed him too.
It was a dire crisis.
"We have to save those two!"
"Form a rescue party—send them now!"
"Captain!"
Just as the militia tried to recklessly advance in hopes of rescuing the two—
A voice rang out, commanding them.
"Everyone, stand your ground!"
It was Yubi, the eldest of the three sworn brothers.
He spoke.
"Going in will only lead to a meaningless death!"
"C-Captain!"
"Stay calm! Discipline is our lifeblood. They broke formation—now they must face the consequences themselves."
His voice suppressed emotion.
For Yubi, who valued brotherhood as life itself, to speak this way stirred something deep in the militia's hearts.
"But still—"
Yubi raised his twin swords and continued.
"I am different."
"Captain!"
"I, Yubi, swore an oath to the gods with my two brothers in a sweet potato field—though we were born on different days, we would die together on the same day! So this is an order! From this point forward, the militia will follow the commands of Sir Gonte!"
"Captain!"
"No matter what happens to me and my brothers—do not come after us."
"That's…!"
"This is my final order. Survive. I was happy to fight beside you all, my comrades."
With those final words, Yubi charged into enemy lines to save his brothers.
His twin swords danced.
"For Yoheim!"
With burning patriotism and unbreakable brotherhood, he vanished into the enemy lines.
"Ahh…"
Soon, flames erupted from the formation where the three were fighting.
The three of them fought to the end amidst the fire, ultimately becoming part of the blaze that consumed the Imperial Army.
A heroic death.
Hopper, Yubi, Lowe, Javid.
The four who had appeared like comets to save Yoheim, now returned to the heavens just as suddenly as they came.
But their sacrifice was not in vain.
In the place they had fallen, the flower of patriotism bloomed.
"We will never forgive them!"
"Do not let their final moments be in vain!"
"Exterminate every last Imperial soldier!"
"Charge!"
The forces of Yoheim were no longer weak. Witnessing the sacrifice of their comrades, they were reborn as a brave and united army, bound by camaraderie and patriotism.
Fueled by fury, the army of Yoheim pushed back the Imperial Army.
And the next day—
Shocking news spread across the continent.
—The Imperial Army had been defeated.
—Yalta went mad and rampaged, and while Graham tried to stop him, both perished—leaving one spot vacant among the Ten Strong.
—Hopper and the three sworn brothers died heroic deaths for Yoheim.
—In the heart of Yoheim's royal capital, statues were erected in honor of the four heroes.
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