The silence following the gunshot didn't last. It was broken by the heavy thud of a body hitting the mud.

  It wasn't Marius Vallen. It was Alaric.

  Seconds after the execution, the "Calamity" simply shut down. Whether it was his mind finally snapping under the weight of a decade of hatred, or his mana core collapsing from the heavy use of confirma, Alaric swayed and fell face-first into the dirt, lying motionless beside his enemy.

  The circle of thousands of soldiers stared. Confusion rippled through the ranks.

  "Is he... dead?" one soldier whispered. "A trick," another hissed. "It has to be a trick. He’s a demon."

  They hesitated, the lingering aura of bloodlust still clinging to the air like a poisonous fog. But as the seconds ticked by and the "Demon" didn't rise, the fear began to curdle into opportunity.

  "He's down!" a sergeant shouted from the back. "He’s human! Look at him! He’s unconscious!"

  The spell broke.

  "If we let him live, Shersia will win!" another screamed. "Kill him now! Revenge for the General!"

  A roar went up. The front line, emboldened by Alaric's vulnerability, drew their weapons and began to close the circle, stepping over the corpses of the Elite Guard.

  BOOM!

  Suddenly, the ground erupted in white clouds. Smoke bombs, dozens of them detonated simultaneously around Alaric’s body, creating a wall of blinding, choking gray fog.

  "Sorcery!" the soldiers cried, halting in their tracks, terrified that Alaric might have awakened.

  But it wasn't Alaric.

  From the chaos, a squad of black-armored knights emerged. They were Thorne’s elite infiltrators, the backup team the Duke had sent when Alaric ran off. They moved with silenty.

  "Secure the package!" the squad leader ordered.

  Two knights grabbed Alaric’s unconscious body, hoisting him between them. The squad launched grappling hooks and wind spells, retreating instantly into the thick treeline before the smoke could clear. By the time the Buckland soldiers charged the center, the "Calamity" was gone.

  Lucia’s POV

  The war had shifted on its axis.

  It had been three days since the assault on the Southern Flank. The numbers were staggering: 20,000 Buckland soldiers dead or incapacitated from the artillery barrage and the subsequent rout.

  Without their leadership, Marius Vallen dead and his officers assassinated, the Southern Flank had collapsed into a leaderless mob. When Duke Thorne’s army stormed their position, they didn't fight and just broke.

  The ripple effect was immediate. The Buckland High Command, terrified by the "Unknown Demon" and the loss of their southern army, had ordered a full retreat. Even the Northern Flank, which had successfully invaded Duke Larethin’s territory, was pulling back to regroup.

  But inside the main command tent of the Shersian Army, the mood was tense.

  Lucia stood quietly in the corner as the most powerful men in the kingdom gathered around the war table.

  King Eryndor sat at the head. Beside him was Crown Prince Lucian, looking displeased. Around the table sat the great lords: Duke Thorne, Duke Larethin, Duke Osborne, Marquis Valcrest, and Count Alther.

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  "A historic victory," King Eryndor said, nodding at Thorne. "To crush a flank of fifty thousand with such speed... Duke Thorne, your strategy was impeccable."

  "I cannot take the credit, Your Majesty," Thorne said, his voice flat. "The plan and the execution of the enemy commander were the work of my Ward, Alaric."

  Lucia saw Duke Larethin scowl. Prince Lucian tapped his finger on the table, clearly annoyed that a "commoner" was receiving such high praise.

  "Regardless of who killed whom," Prince Lucian said coldly, "the question is what we do now. They are retreating."

  "We let them go," Osborne argued. "We have defended our land. The war is over."

  "No," Thorne interjected. "If we stop now, they will return in a year. We must push."

  The debate raged, but ultimately, the King sided with aggression.

  "We will push into the Buckland-occupied territory," King Eryndor decreed. "We will liberate the lands of the former Horsin Kingdom and integrate them. We need a buffer zone to ensure they cannot threaten our borders again."

  The orders were given for the army would march.

  Lucia slipped away from the politics. Her war was fighting a different enemy inside a small, dimly lit tent.

  Alaric lay on the bed, his face flushed with a burning fever. He hadn't spoken since they brought him back. He pushed everyone away….healers, servants, even her.

  Lucia sat by his side, wringing out a cold towel. She wiped the sweat from his forehead, her heart breaking.

  "Alaric," she whispered. "Please... eat something."

  He turned his head away. His eyes were open, but they were empty. The fire that had driven him for eight years was gone, leaving only ash. He had gotten his revenge, but it hadn't fixed him. It was killing him from the inside.

  Lucia felt helpless. She was a genius healer, a Saintess, but she couldn't heal a soul that didn't want to be saved.

  The tent flap opened.

  Duke Thorne entered. He was still in his armor,looking stern and imposing. He looked at Alaric, then at his daughter’s tear-streaked face.

  Thorne sighed. He wasn't fond of Alaric, especially given his relationship with Lucia but he respected the boy. And seeing his daughter this broken angered him.

  "Lucia," Thorne said gently. "Leave us."

  "But Father, he…."

  "Go," Thorne commanded, softer this time. "I need to speak to him. Man to man. Not as a Duke to a Ward."

  Lucia hesitated, then nodded, stepping out into the evening air.

  Thorne pulled up a stool. The sound made Alaric stir.

  Realizing it was the Duke, Alaric forced himself to sit up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head hanging low, hiding his face behind his messy dark brown hair. He looked like a ghost.

  Thorne didn't offer pity. He spoke plainly.

  "My father died in the line of duty," Thorne began, staring at the tent wall. "I never knew who killed him. I never got to hunt them down. I couldn't take revenge."

  Alaric remained silent.

  "But that didn't stop me," Thorne continued, looking at Alaric. "It only made my pride grow. I dedicated my life to the country he died protecting. I knew that I was the only shield my family had left."

  Thorne leaned forward.

  "I know you feel empty, Alaric. You spent your life chasing a ghost. You caught him. And now you realize the ghost didn't have anything to give you."

  Alaric’s grip on the bedsheet tightened.

  "But look at yourself," Thorne said sharply. "You are dying in this bed. Why? Because you have no goal?"

  "I..." Alaric’s voice was a rasp.

  "Do you not have a new family?" Thorne asked, his voice rising. "What about the people at the orphanage? What about your friends at the Academy? What about Lucia?"

  Alaric flinched at her name.

  "You were fighting this war to achieve nobility for her, weren't you?" Thorne pressed. "Will you let them die like your parents did? I am sure your mother and father are at peace knowing you survived. But do you think they want their son to die slowly in a tent, wasting the life they saved?"

  Thorne paused, his voice softening with genuine grief.

  "And what about Selzer?"

  Alaric’s head snapped up.

  "Selzer praised you more than anyone," Thorne said, his eyes misty. "He believed in you. He died for this mission. If you rot here, you insult his sacrifice."

  Alaric didn't speak. He looked down at his hands , the hands that had killed Marius. But as Thorne spoke of Lucia, of the orphanage, of Selzer... the emptiness began to crack.

  He remembered the promise to Lucia. He remembered Lia,Rin,Mira,Elaine and father cheering for him when he left.

  Thorne watched him closely. He saw it. A spark. A tiny, fragile flicker of light returning to the boy's dead eyes.

  Thorne stood up, satisfied.

  "Get some rest, Knight. We march at dawn."

  Thorne walked out of the tent.

  Outside, Lucia was pacing anxiously. She rushed to him.

  "Father? What happened? Is he..."

  Thorne looked at her and let out a rare, hearty laugh. He patted her on the shoulder.

  "He will be alright," Thorne said, smiling. "He just needed to remember he still has a job to do."