Chapter 38

Chapter 38

The One Who Returned from Death

While the Council of the Seven Holy Seats was underway, Cassian was alone in the training grounds, devoting himself to physical conditioning.

He desperately wanted to pick up a sword, but decided to stop for the time being.

Leonid had warned him that continuing to swing one around however he pleased would only engrain bad habits into his body.

“Huu...”

Cassian dropped to the ground after finishing his pull-ups and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Following Leonid's advice, he had even gone to Saintess Beatrice and begged her to teach him swordsmanship, but all he'd received was a cold rejection.

It was disappointing.

But even that was something he had to endure.

Considering what he had done, he had no right to complain.

If he kept working hard and showed her how he was changing, perhaps the Saintess would forgive him someday.

That was all he could vaguely hope for.

“Damn, man. Training again?”

While Cassian was taking a short break to cool down, Leonid approached and greeted him.

Cassian wasn't particularly sociable, but Leonid had been so relentlessly friendly that the two had become fairly familiar by now.

“You shouldn't skip physical training even for a single day, Leonid.”

“True enough. Too bad hardly anyone actually lives by that.”

At some point, they'd even started speaking casually to each other.

(Though Leonid had always spoken casually in the first place.)

In truth, Cassian was older than Leonid.

And the position of ‘Hero candidate’ was by no means lower than Vice-Captain, so there was little reason for Cassian to insist on formal speech.

If anything, Leonid should've been the one speaking respectfully.

But Leonid had been the one to suggest dropping formalities first.

No one had even asked him, yet perhaps out of some guilty conscience, he'd tried to justify it with bizarre logic.

“If you become the Hero later, I'll have to speak politely to you for the rest of my life, right? Shouldn't I get all the casual speech I can out of my system now?”

After hearing that, Cassian understood a little better why Leonid got beaten by the Saintess so often.

Given her personality, there was no way she'd simply ignore someone constantly acting that cheeky.

“Since you're here, does that mean the Council ended?”

“Yeah. I just got back after escorting the old man. He had something else to do, though, so he took Griffith and headed back out.”

Sis Beatrice had something to discuss with the chairman, so the two of them returned to the Western Palace.

No.

Strictly speaking, it hadn't been just the two of them.

Some unfamiliar knight from the Justitia Order had followed along behind like a piece of gum stuck to their heels.

Remembering the existence of that blond knight he'd temporarily forgotten, Leonid looked at Cassian.

“Ah, by the way, man. Do you know any Holy Knights from the Justitia Order?”

“Justitia? I don't think I know anyone there.”

Cassian thought hard, but he had no connection to Justitia.

What possible relationship could a mere mercenary have with one of the Seven Great Holy Orders?

On top of that, after entering the middle reaches of the Demon Realm, he'd spent several years living in a hazy state as though wandering through a dream.

Whatever few connections he'd once had were probably gone by now.

“Oh, perfect timing. He's coming over now. I told him we'd call when he could come inside, but damn, he's impatient. Walking into another Order's residence without permission? What's gotten into those stiff-necked Justitia bastards?”

Leonid clicked his tongue and complained.

Cassian followed his gaze.

A knight with blond hair and blue eyes was slowly walking toward them.

Empty blue eyes stared directly at Cassian.

And in that instant, Cassian's breath caught in his throat.

“Hey, blondie. You got some blood feud with our Order's Hero candidate or something?”

Cassian had been choking, suddenly unable to breathe.

But the moment Leonid stepped between them, he could finally draw air again.

His breathing was still ragged, and his legs trembled so violently that he felt ready to collapse at any moment.

Still, he barely remained standing.

What was that?

What the hell had just been done to him?

Cassian breathed harshly, forcing his lungs back under control.

“Hey, Cassian? Did you do something unforgivable to that guy?”

“I've never seen him before, so that can't be... No, I suppose I can't be certain.”

Cassian had been about to deny Leonid's whisper when he remembered that he'd spent several years under something resembling brainwashing.

He retained vague fragments of memory from those years, but nothing detailed.

So there was no way to know exactly what horrible things he might have done.

“Blondie? I don't know what happened between you two, but how about putting away the bloodlust and talking this—”

“Move.”

The blond knight cut Leonid off while slowly drawing his sword.

“Whoa, scary. And what exactly are you planning to do with that sword if I move? Judging by the mood, you sure didn't come here asking for a spar.”

“That man must die here.”

“Wow. The way you hate him, you'd get along great with our Saintess. Sorry, though. I can't exactly stand aside and let our Order's Hero candidate die.”

Leonid drew his own sword.

His attitude remained casual, but cold sweat ran down his back.

At a glance, the blond knight was stronger than him.

And those eyes...

They definitely didn't belong to someone who could be reasoned with.

“...I see. Then I have no choice.”

The blond knight vanished from sight the instant those words left his mouth.

Leonid instinctively raised his sword at an angle.

CLANG-!

The two blades collided, sending a sharp metallic ring through the air.

One exchange.

Just one.

Yet Leonid knew immediately.

He was outmatched.

Leonid gritted his teeth.

Every Holy Knight had gone out.

The old man had left again, saying he needed to discuss something with the other Archbishops.

Sis wasn't here either.

And of all places, this was the Western Palace, the most isolated corner of Septimoa's citadel.

‘I'm so fucking screwed...!’

He looks about my age.

So how the hell is he radiating bloodlust this vicious?

From those deranged eyes, he's definitely one of those justice-crazed Justitia bastards...

But even they shouldn't be insane enough to go this far!

One mistake and two corpses might be found in the Western Palace today.

Praying someone would notice the situation and come help, Leonid gritted his teeth and began blocking the vicious barrage of sword strikes crashing down on him.

Kael.

Hero of the Justitia Order.

A once-in-a-generation genius who had risen to the title of Hero at the young age of twenty.

‘No. I'm no once-in-a-generation genius.’

Kael coldly rejected that flowery description in his mind.

Outwardly, he might look like a young man who had only just turned twenty.

But inside him lived the worn-out soul of a defeated soldier who had led humanity's final resistance and fought demons to his last breath before dying.

There was only one reason such an impossible thing had happened.

‘Regression.’

A miracle triggered at the moment of death.

Or perhaps a divine power.

After the Great Demon of Pride severed his head and he opened his eyes again, Kael was nineteen.

He had returned to the spring of the year he first took the Hero trial.

At first, he'd thought it was the final flash of memories before death.

As it continued, he suspected it might be some demonic illusion.

But it was far too vivid.

Once he realized it was neither dream nor illusion, he'd even entertained the absurd thought that perhaps he had somehow experienced a prophetic dream—a power supposedly granted only to Saintesses.

It didn't matter what had caused it.

The important part was that he'd returned.

‘I'm fortunate to have another chance, but I can't afford to celebrate.’

He refused to fall into the complacent thought that if he failed, he could simply return to the past again.

There was no guarantee a miraculous regression like this could happen twice.

Worse, he didn't even know the conditions that had triggered it.

The only plausible condition he could guess was his own death.

But risking his life merely to confirm that would be far too dangerous.

...If he was wrong, he'd become nothing more than an irresponsible failure who had fled carrying humanity's last hope, only to die gambling his life on a baseless theory.

So it was right to think of this as his one and only chance.

But the demons were horrifyingly strong.

If he fought them right now, forget the Great Demons of the Seven Deadly Sins.

He couldn't even guarantee victory against their legion commanders.

Still, Kael possessed one decisive weapon.

‘I know the future. A future far more accurate than even a Saintess's prophetic dreams.’

But he could never fight those demons with his strength alone.

Why had the mighty Empire collapsed so helplessly?

He needed to find the starting point.

And at that starting point stood one man's name.

‘Cassian.’

When Kael recorded his memories, he had circled that name so violently the quill nearly tore through the parchment.

A traitor to humanity who, despite bearing the title of Hero, became a demon's pawn.

The man who turned the Eris Order into a demonic forward base and shattered four of the Seven Great Holy Orders.

‘Not this time. First, Cassian. I'll eliminate you before anyone else.’

Kael thought that as he drew a long line through Cassian's name.

‘But how?’

He knew absolutely nothing about what Cassian had done before becoming a Hero.

Should he search for information?

Or storm into the Eris Order, find Cassian, and cut off his head?

Both were impossible while he was still merely a Hero candidate.

So before anything else, Kael decided to leave the position of Hero candidate behind and become a full Hero.

Conveniently, he was already in the middle of the Hero trial.

Becoming a Hero wouldn't be difficult.

Perhaps the nineteen-year-old version of himself would've struggled.

But for his current self, carrying the experience of countless brushes with death, the Hero trial was trivial.

And perhaps heaven itself had helped him.

Through information obtained in secret, he learned that Hero candidate Cassian had recently arrived at the Eris Order.

That meant the Eris Order probably hadn't fallen yet.

He had a chance to correct everything from the beginning.

Of course, based on what Clarice had told him, the information he received might have been wrong.

She said Saintess Beatrice's body was covered in scars and that she screamed reflexively whenever a man approached her.

But if she was attending the Council, then it couldn't have progressed beyond recovery yet.

At the very least, she still had enough sanity to walk around outside.

After reaching the holy city of Septimoa, Kael ignored outside affairs and reviewed his plans.

Then, on the day of the Council, he encountered members of the Eris Order.

While people from Eris and Justitia exchanged greetings, he stood one step back and watched them.

His gaze was fixed on Beatrice standing across from him.

‘...Unlike what Clarice said, she doesn't seem particularly abnormal yet.’

He didn't know what was happening inside her mind, but outwardly, Beatrice still appeared perfectly normal.

‘...Was she originally like that?’

The Beatrice Kael remembered had been completely broken.

‘It's not too late yet.’

Seeing Beatrice still apparently unharmed only hardened Kael's resolve.

He could not allow someone capable of smiling so confidently and brightly to be reduced to that miserable state.

Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Cassian—who in his memories had always clung to her like a shadow—was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, the man beside her was a knight with red hair and green eyes.

‘His name was... Leonid, I think?’

A knight who, after being freed from demonic bondage, spent the rest of his life seeking atonement at the lowest battlefields, endlessly drenched in demon blood.

‘...This man still seems normal too.’

This was his chance.

Kael had already planned to kill Cassian here.

But seeing the Eris Order's people with his own eyes made that determination even stronger.

After the Saintess and Archbishop entered the Council, Kael approached Leonid.

“I heard the Eris Order's Hero candidate came to the capital with you. Is that true?”

“...It is, but who are you?”

“I'm an old friend of Cassian's. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to meet him.”

Calling Cassian a friend made his stomach twist.

Still, Kael barely managed to say it in an even tone.

“Oh? Damn. That guy actually has friends like you?”

“Yes.”

“...Well, I guess. You both look gloomy enough to suit each other.”

Leonid scratched at his ear and added, “Then just come back to the Western Palace with me after the meeting. Sound good?”

And now, returning to the present...

“Huu... Sorry. Someone as skilled as you couldn't be subdued without injury.”

Kael spoke while catching his breath, looking at Leonid collapsed on the ground covered in blood.

“Why aren't you running?”

Kael turned away from Leonid and looked at Cassian.

Subduing Leonid had taken a fair amount of time.

Yet Cassian hadn't fled.

Instead, he had drawn his sword with trembling hands.

“I can't abandon a comrade and run.”

“...Hearing those words from your mouth is disgusting.”

Kael growled the words, then immediately charged and swung his sword.

Clang-

Cassian's sword flew from his hand, spun through the air, and buried itself in the ground.

Pathetic.

Truly pathetic.

Half the Holy Empire had fallen because of someone like this?

Kael raised his sword.

The man before him possessed eyes so upright that it was difficult to believe he was a demon's pawn.

Perhaps right now, he truly hadn't committed a single crime.

Perhaps Kael was about to murder an innocent man.

The thought made bile rise in his throat.

‘I won't apologize. I'll wash away the sins your future self will commit with your blood in the present.’

But he did not hesitate.

He could pay the price for every sin he committed after everything was over.

With his own life.

He swung the blade toward Cassian's neck.

Apparently realizing he couldn't dodge, Cassian squeezed his eyes shut with a resigned expression.

And then...

CLANG-!

What reached Kael's fingertips wasn't the chilling sensation of steel cutting through flesh.

It was the cold, solid resistance of metal, strong enough to make his wrist go numb.

“...!”

Kael stared at the silver spear that had blocked his blade.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

A voice colder than ice.

The Silver Saintess stood there.