The next day.
Gray clouds blanketed the sky, as if even the sun itself was in mourning.
In a square at the edge of Valeralc, the state funeral of King Regalo was held in solemn silence.
Though it was past noon, the heavy clouds veiled the light, and the world sank into gloom so deep it hardly felt like day.
Before the pure white coffin stood the king's portrait, stern and dignified, surrounded by countless flowers.
The face in the portrait remained carved into the people's hearts.
The mourners, clad in black, stood in heavy silence, their sorrow soaking them like rain.
Many wept openly, their sobs drifting away with the wind.
Even the soldiers could not hold back their tears.
The proudest among them wept the heaviest.
Captain Saizo, and even the usually listless Kumashis, shed tears in silence.
The three Marshals stood before the coffin without a word.
Their backs alone told of the pain of losing their king.
For the first time, Endi understood—how much this king had been the very foundation of the nation.
All of Nakatam seemed cast under a single, heavy shadow.
Solemnly, the coffin was lowered into the earth.
A great cross-shaped gravestone was raised, and then the rain began to fall.
Cold rain—
as though the heavens themselves grieved the king's death.
"The overture of ruin has begun."
The silence was pierced by the voice of Darmaine.
He, too, stood in mourning garb at the funeral.
At his words, the former Old Doal soldiers in the Nakatam ranks snapped their heads toward him, glaring with sharp hostility.
"The king is gone, the prince is missing, traitors among us—and we couldn't stop any of it. The Yudra are two steps ahead at every turn. From here on, Nakatam will only crumble. This country's finished."
He lit a cigarette, his words dripping with scorn.
But one soldier swiftly snatched it away.
"Don't you dare! King Regalo welcomed us—men who should've been executed—into this land. He gave us a chance to live again! How can you talk of ruin now? Yudra or not, we should stand and fight together!"
Others turned sharp gazes on Darmaine as well.
"What's this…? You bastards wanna go?"
Darmaine raised his fist—when suddenly, a killing intent lashed across the square.
Esta.
Feeling it, Darmaine lowered his fist with a curse and turned his gaze aside.
Moene and Jessica looked on with exasperation, though inside, they still carried the raw pain of the king's loss.
The kingdom lay under silence, as if dragged into the depths of darkness.
⸻
When the funeral ended, the rain finally ceased.
In a chamber of the palace, the three Marshals gathered.
Moschino's eyes burned with fury, his presence volatile.
"Calm down, Moschino."
"Shut up! King Regalo was murdered, Prince Rose is missing, Margiela shows up only to betray us for the Yudra—how the hell am I supposed to calm down!?"
His rage shook the room.
"You're not the only one! We're all boiling inside, but holding it down! A great war is coming, and we're this nation's strongest force. If we lose our heads, then what good are we!? Get a hold of yourself, damn fool!"
Ponaparto's shout silenced Moschino.
He bit his lip, still seething.
"Fufufu… exactly. Now's no time for infighting. So… what's our move?"
Valentino asked, calm but piercing.
"The Yudra. We wipe them out."
The Moschino who had roared moments before now smiled with chilling innocence.
That smile brimmed with madness, sending a shiver down Ponaparto's spine.
⸻
Meanwhile, Endi sat alone in his narrow lodging.
On the floor, lost in thought, he stared into the distance of his mind.
Through the window came a thin beam of light, breaking the cloudy sky.
Staring at it, Endi slowly rose to his feet.
"All right. I've decided."
His voice was quiet, yet resolute.
In his eyes, beyond the clouds, lay the fate he had chosen to fight for.