The death of the Mad Emperor marked the end of the chaos that had consumed Calelum.

Hundreds of thousands of civilians had been slaughtered in the human sacrifices orchestrated by the Evil Order. Thousands of soldiers from both armies died as they breached the capital’s gates. And with the appearance of the Death King, tens of thousands more perished in the rampage of the unleashed evil spirits.

Stack the corpses, and there would be a mountain. Gather the blood, and one might fill a lake. It was, in every sense, a calamity of the century.

In the end, the allied forces of the Revolutionary Army, the Kingdom of Ferma, and the Holy Church won by severing the heads of Morse and Nex—the two who had brought this catastrophe upon the world. However, what they gained from that victory was nothing but a scorched imperial capital and countless rotting corpses.

The one small relief was that the Ferma army, heavily damaged during their battle against the evil spirits, withdrew from the capital without resistance.

Leon recalled the parting words of Valter, who had returned to his homeland without so much as a farewell to Lyon and the others.

“It was an honor to fight beside the goddess’s chosen. If fate ever grants us the chance to stand shoulder-to-shoulder again, I hope you’ll remember the name Valter.”

Despite his battered state, the veteran knight’s eyes had shone brightly as he spoke to Leon before departing with the rear guard of the Ferma army. There was no competitiveness in those eyes—only awe.

Anyone who had ever heard the legends of Holy King Rodrick would feel the same. The great hero who split the sky with a single swing, overturned the earth with a single step—now, his successor, the wielder of the Holy Sword, stood before him. Particularly notable was the platinum tetrahedron that shattered the Serpent of Apocalypse. Valter doubted he could face such a force even at the cost of his own life.

“Clyde is finished.”

Valter gazed down at the ruined Calelum—once the symbol of the empire’s glory—and murmured. His hatred had not softened into pity; he simply didn’t believe that crushing an already-dying enemy could be called revenge.

“Even if we don’t continue this fight now, Clyde won’t recover its strength for a hundred years. And Ferma—and every nation surrounding it—will ensure it stays that way. Besides... I refuse to raise my blade against comrades whom I had fought alongside, even if it was just once.”

And with that, the old knight departed.

Only a week had passed since the final battle. The Revolutionary Army and the Holy Church remained in the ruined capital. A few days later, once the Holy Iron Inquisitors recovered, they began returning to their assigned territories one by one.

Any ordinary person would’ve been bedridden for months after what they endured, yet they hid every trace of hardship. They truly were steel forged by harsh discipline and unbreakable faith.

“Well, a few seem to be staying behind,” Leon muttered, looking down from the window of his room.

Some were still recovering from their wounds, while others simply had little to return to. Among the Cardinals, Adela remained to manage the Inquisitors.

Looking around, Leon thought, Doesn’t look like there’s anywhere I’d be useful. If I tried to help, I’d probably just get in the way.

He had shown the greatest feats in the battle against the Death King, unleashing spectacular secret techniques visible even from kilometers away. People would recognize him from his appearance alone. And if anyone had overheard the Death King’s ravings, they might even know exactly who he was.

The last thing he wanted was to create needless commotion when everyone was drowning in postwar work.

My body’s feeling better... Maybe I should at least train a little?

—Not yet.

Leon froze mid-step as El-Cid’s firm voice echoed in his mind.

—Thanks to the Stigmata and recovery spells, you feel like you’re healed, but your body and soul are both in tatters. You forcibly raised your rank, used secret techniques far beyond your limit, and even dove straight into Apocalypse. You need at least a month of rest.

Leon had no idea things were that serious, and he nearly choked.

A whole month?! But nothing even hurts...!

—Because it’s not your body that’s the problem. It’s your heart and spirit. That’s the drawback of self-enhancement techniques like Corona. Your muscles survived, sure—but the pathways that your Aura flows through, and the meridian that controls that flow are in terrible shape.

If sheer physical toughness could withstand those burdens, then the beastkin—whose bodies were naturally far more durable than humans’—would be killing dragons with self-enhancement techniques.

However, Aura wasn’t a physical force alone. To reach the realm of Master, one needed a perfect union of body, heart, and spirit.

Overloading the body with Aura meant the backlash hit the spirit and soul as well. Push it too far, and one risked collapse or even irreversible damage.

—Just rest for now. You can revisit the sensation of the Five Star Chariot when you’re healed. Once you’ve entered a realm even once, returning to it isn’t hard.

Techniques used in a trance couldn’t be called truly mastered. Leon knew this, which was why some anxiety tugged at him.

If he mastered the Five Star Chariot, he’d be only two steps away from completing the Grand Chariot. For a martial artist, that made his ambition burn even hotter. Without El-Cid’s warning, he probably would’ve sprinted straight to the training grounds. Sometimes, however, rushing only ruined things.

—If you really can’t sit still, meditate instead. Don’t move your body or Aura. You’ve trained your spirit and body enough. To rise to the next realm, you must fortify your heart.

Strengthen the heart?

—Yeah. The root of an Aura Blade is not muscles or Aura. It is one’s will. Thought. Belief. That is why it can override physics and interfere with higher dimensions.

For example, Cedric’s Ten Thousand Severing Strikes was born from the sheer conviction that his blade could cut anything. It was a belief that should’ve been the babbling of a lunatic, but the extremity of his obsession manifested as an Aura Blade.

Whether it made sense didn’t matter. If the user truly believed it, Aura Blade exceeded reality.

—Your Sun Sword is the same. If you truly hold a “sun” in your heart, its power might grow beyond anything you can imagine. What I’m saying is that a blade wielded by a single human reaching the heat of a star is absolutely possible.

Then, El-Cid silently wondered if he was talking about things way too far in the future and finished his advice.

Leon pondered his words for a moment, then turned away from the training grounds. He may not be able to train, but a walk around the area would at least clear his mind.

And soon, on the staircase landing, he ran into Karen.

“Karen?” Leon called.

“Oh, Mr. Hero! Going out for a bit?” Karen asked.

“Couldn’t sit still. I’m just getting some fresh air. Want to come with me?”

Karen seemed about to accept—her head dipped halfway—but then she abruptly shook it hard.

“I’ll pass today. I feel bad for Elahan, and... there’s something I realized during the last battle. I want to think it over,” Karen declined, sighing as if she regretted it, but she didn’t seem like she was going back on her decision.

Her battle with the Death King had been like a drought-breaking rain—rare, precious, illuminating. She hadn’t played a major role, since ectoplasm had no vital points and its massive volume made it difficult to damage, but she had made a massive breakthrough.

Ectoplasm existed between matter and immateriality, a spirit-body given form. In many ways, its nature resembled a shadow.

If my Pitch-Black Dance could mimic ectoplasm’s properties, maybe I could turn my body into a shadow and change its volume or alter its shape as I wish.

Most people would dismiss that theory before she even finished speaking, but Karen believed it was possible, and that was what mattered. Aura Blade wasn’t achieved through others’ words or conventional logic—it required one to devote themselves entirely to their own belief.

Without even realizing it, Karen had broken through another wall.

“What about Ella?”

When Leon—who had started calling her by her nickname without noticing—asked, Karen pointed in a direction.

“She’s helping out in the city. There are still a ton of wounded left, and they’re doing reconstruction work at the same time, so I guess accidents keep happening.”

“Reconstruction... Are they planning to rebuild the capital?”

“I mean, it’s too good a location to abandon just because of what happened. It’ll probably take a decade to function again as a capital, but...”

Nodding, Leon headed out. The moment he stepped into the city, the quiet around him gave way to more bustling movement, like soldiers running back and forth. They were from the Revolutionary Army, soon to be recognized as Lyon’s official army.

Even though they had lost many comrades, the soldiers’ faces were bright. They had supported the new emperor and won the war; generous rewards were sure to follow.

Assuming peace actually comes... Leon thought, unable to easily join in their smiles.

Valter’s words lingered in his mind. He had been right.

Clyde had accumulated too many grudges for too long. Losing most of their Masters and the entire capital defense force was a karmic debt they couldn’t possibly bear. They might have to surrender half their territory—or more.

Lyon had vowed not to let the nation be destroyed, even if they were reduced to a kingdom. But what would truly happen?

“Well. Not really my problem,” Leon let out a dry laugh.

He was hardly one to worry about others. They had slain two Nine Hell Bishops during this war, but the Archbishop behind them remained. If Nex was right and the Archbishop was a dragon, then his threat alone was ten times greater than all the Bishops combined.

What would he do now, having lost all his pawns? Would he create new ones? Just as he was wondering, El-Cid chimed in.

—The odds are high he’ll start moving himself. Even in my time, he reacted intensely whenever a Hero appeared. The number of Evil Order minions I had to fight skyrocketed, and the petty schemes doubled or tripled. No idea why, but he’s obsessed with Heroes.

And you still never saw him?

—He never confronted me directly. And when I tracked his presence, he was too meticulous—I could never find a trail. Later, I learned all those “schemes” were just him measuring my power. If I’d known, I might’ve pretended to be weak.

What did you do...? Leon trailed off, already fearing the answer.

El-Cid confirmed it in an awkward tone.

—I got annoyed and blew up the entire mountain where his base was hidden. The place was called... Adlan? Atlan? I don’t really remember, but it was something like that.

You mean the Atlan Canyon?

—Oh, yeah. It used to be called the Atlan Mountains before I smashed it.

Leon fell speechless again. He didn’t just obliterate the mountain—he carved the land deep enough to turn it into a canyon?

And that had been a casual strike, done simply because he was annoyed. Not even an all-out attack.

Dumbfounded, Leon muttered, “No wonder the Archbishop hid. I’d be terrified too.”

After that day, the Evil Order vanished from the continent until Holy King Rodrick himself disappeared from the world. The Archbishop must have realized instantly: there was no winning against that monster.

A dragon’s pride, the madness that birthed the Evil Order—none of it mattered before that overwhelming difference in strength. Rodrick, who slew the Demon King like swatting a goblin, was something even a dragon wouldn’t dare challenge. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

However, after seeing Leon’s power, the Archbishop would know that Leon was not Rodrick.

“Oh. Since we’re kind of on the topic,” Leon said, remembering a question he had wanted to ask many times but hadn’t dared to do so until now. “Why did you die? A transcendent being like you should be able to keep living indefinitely. And it’s not like someone killed you, right?”

—Hmm.

“If it’s a touchy question, you don’t have to answer.”

—No, it’s just... unexpected.

El-Cid actually sounded surprised. —Why do you assume I died?

“Huh...?”

Leon, once again, found himself dumbfounded.