The sky at dawn was beginning to turn white when Talus was running. His Brenheim Kingdom uniform was stained with mud and dust, his breathing ragged, his bangs damp with sweat. Still, he didn't stop. In his hand were two pieces of paper—Markel Sergi's secret letter and the patrol records he had written down from last week. Calvin was standing in front of the garrison. He had been checking the dawn watch, and he turned around while still holding a map in his hand. A sun-tanned face with deep wrinkles, gold shoulder insignia—the mark of a knight commander. "[serious]Talus. What's with that face?" "[excited]Commander, please read this. Right now." Talus held out the two pieces of paper. Calvin took them with a frown. He opened the secret letter. Then he opened the patrol records. He compared the dates and locations. His eyes fell on the secret letter again. Silence continued. Calvin's jaw moved slightly. His lips closed once. His hand trembled faintly. "On the day when there was supposedly a gathering at the abandoned village of Kassa," Talus said. His voice was controlled, but he spoke with certainty. "I passed through there. There wasn't a single person. It remained a ruin." Calvin said nothing. Only his hand holding the paper trembled in small, rapid movements. The date on the secret letter. The date on the patrol records. The same day. The same place. But—the contents were completely contradictory. The most fundamental contradiction in the false information Markel Sergi had created. "[serious]...Assembly," He spoke low and short. That single word cut through the morning air and echoed across the plaza. The soldiers moved all at once. Calvin gave his order. Thirty knights would surround Markel Sergi's garrison in a reverse encirclement—that was the content of the command. The formation reversed. The sound of hooves, footsteps, the clang of helmets colliding. As they moved in orderly fashion, one young soldier lost his direction and ran straight into the stone wall of the garrison. A dull thud. Calvin looked at the soldier without a word. The soldier's face turned bright red, and he silently ran off in the correct direction. No one laughed. But for just a moment, the tension eased. --- As the light of dawn began to stain the red earth of Toluca, Halden Owen stood before Vincent Lila and Gaya. The blood that had seeped from the wound on his left cheek was already dry. A new scar on the same spot as fifty years ago. An unnamed longsword was in his right hand. His fifty-year companion, which Lila had stolen back last night. Gaya stood beside him. A seventy-year-old woman. Her white hair was tied back, and her wrinkled hand gently touched Lila's shoulder. Lila gripped that hand in return and looked ahead. In her golden eyes were anger and something else—a light like determination. "[gentle]Gaya, please stay behind." "I understand." She answered briefly and quietly. She said nothing more. Halden Owen walked toward the garrison door. Lila followed immediately behind. Footsteps pressed against the red earth. The morning breeze swayed her water-blue hair. Halden Owen pushed the door open. The hinge creaked. The mercenaries inside moved all at once. Fifteen of them. They raised their weapons. Swords, axes, spears—the types varied, but all their eyes were fixed in the same direction. Halden Owen didn't stop walking. One step, two steps. He walked straight toward the center of the room. One of the mercenaries shouted, "Stop!" Halden Owen's feet stopped. A sensation of pressure gathering from deep within his body. Sword aura—a technique that required no incantation or catalyst, honed over fifty years. A realm reached only by those who had perfected training and actual combat. It was said that there were fewer than fifty practitioners of it across the entire continent. He swung his sword horizontally. Dry metallic sounds rang out in succession—ting, ting, ting, ting. So fast they couldn't be counted one by one, yet each one certain. Fifteen times. The weapons in the mercenaries' hands shattered. Blades snapped, hilts cracked, iron fragments rained down on the floor. He hadn't touched the blades themselves. Only pressure—pure pressure from sword aura alone had shattered fifteen weapons simultaneously. Once before, in the borderlands, he had done the same thing to five members of the Iron Fang. That had been a demonstration. A strike with power held in reserve. This time was different. There was someone to protect. That made all the difference. This was his full strength. Lila couldn't move from where she stood. (Again... again, that feeling.) Goosebumps ran from her arms to her neck. She clenched her trembling hands tightly. The mercenaries looked down at the fragments of hilts remaining in their hands. Then, quietly, they both raised their hands. The door at the back of the room opened. Markel Sergi stood there. Deep crimson short hair, a vertical scar on her right cheek, sharp vertical slit red eyes. Those eyes saw the shattered weapons, saw Halden Owen. Her normally composed face had only a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. "[cold]...I see." She spoke quietly, low. "I had heard rumors—so this is what true sword aura is." Her voice was emotionless. It was the voice of someone calculating. Silence fell over the room. Markel Sergi's eyes moved. From Halden Owen to Lila. And her hand reached into her pocket. Lila saw that movement—in that instant— Markel Sergi drew a short dagger and lunged toward Lila. Lila's body reacted. Her feet moved before her mind could. She shifted her center of gravity. Changed the direction of her right foot's toes, took half a step to the left—that first move that had been corrected so many times before the bonfire in the abandoned village of Kassa. The movement that had been drilled into her body since that day when Halden Owen had pointed at her feet and said, "Not there, here." Her body slipped just barely outside the arc of Markel Sergi's arm. At the same time, she swept her right wrist. Markel Sergi's dagger slipped from her hand and fell toward the floor—in that instant, the flat of Halden Owen's sword struck it from the side. The dagger bounced off the wall with a dry sound and fell. Silence. Lila looked at her own hand. The sensation of the sweep remained in her wrist. (I did it...?) No, that wasn't right. "Did it" wasn't the right way to think about it. Her body had moved on its own. Before she could think, her feet, her hands had moved. She turned around, and Halden Owen was there. Their eyes met. With his usual blunt expression, he gave a quiet nod. That was all. It carried the weight of a thousand words. Lila couldn't say anything. Her face grew hot, and she hurriedly looked ahead. Markel Sergi was on her knees on the floor. Her breathing was ragged. There was no dagger in her hand. All the mercenaries kept their hands raised without moving. Footsteps echoed from outside—the orderly footsteps of the knight order. The door opened, and Calvin entered at the head. Soldiers followed behind. Knights surrounded Markel Sergi and pulled her arms behind her back. Markel Sergi looked up. Her eyes met Halden Owen's. "[cold]...Impossible. Defeated by a single old man." For the first time, something like emotion mixed into her voice. Not regret, but something like bewilderment. Halden Owen sheathed his sword. A click sounded. "[serious]Even an old man is blessed with good disciples." He said only that, quietly. Markel Sergi said nothing in return. Only her lips moved slightly once. Then she was silently led away by the knights. --- Cheers echoed from outside. The residents of Toluca had gathered in front of the garrison door. When they saw Markel Sergi being brought out, voices rose. Children's voices, adults' voices, elderly voices mixed together, filling the morning of Toluca. Lila ran out. "Gaya!" Gaya opened both arms. Lila rushed into them. The old woman's thin arms pulled Lila's head close. "[crying]...Thank goodness. Thank goodness." Her raspy voice trembled. Tears ran down her cheeks. Lila was crying too. Everything she had held back since returning to Toluca came pouring out all at once. Everything she had held back since the night Gaya was taken hostage. She pressed her face against Gaya's shoulder and cried, trying not to make a sound. At that moment, a brown goat came ambling out of the garrison. That goat. The one that had been licking Volkan's sword sheath. The one that had headbutted Lila in EP4. Toluca's stray goat. It had gotten in from somewhere and, showing no concern, charged straight at one of the knights' hind legs. Thud. The knight fell forward spectacularly. His helmet rolled away. A child among the residents let out a laugh: "Ahahaha!" That laughter spread. Lila and Gaya's crying mixed with the child's laughter, creating a strange harmony in the morning of Toluca. Halden Owen watched the scene from a distance. A year had passed since his wife Elis died. His chest had felt hollow ever since. Not to protect something or someone, but simply to die as a swordsman—that was why he had come out. But now Lila and Gaya were embracing and crying. The residents were laughing. A goat was pouncing on a knight. In the hollow place deep in his chest, a small warmth seemed to have returned. A warmth that was tiny and humble, yet undeniably real. --- Calvin came before Halden Owen. He knelt down. His sword hand trembled in small, rapid movements. "[crying]I nearly drew my sword against my teacher... this shame will never leave me." His voice was muffled. He couldn't raise his face. Halden Owen placed his hand on Calvin's shoulder. "[gentle]You were only following the king's orders. As a disciple, your actions were without shame." Calvin looked up. His eyes stopped on the scar on his teacher's left cheek. The mark of dried blood—a new scar on the exact same spot as the old wound from fifty years ago. Calvin couldn't say anything. "[serious]I will not return to the capital." Calvin closed his eyes. "There is still an unresolved opponent in Grandveld. And Lila's sword training is far from complete." Sensing that he couldn't stop his teacher, Calvin nodded deeply. He said nothing more. --- That night. The plaza of Toluca was quiet. A bonfire burned in one place. In the distance, insects chirped. Halden Owen and Lila stood side by side, looking at the ridge of the northern wasteland. The sky was clear. Many stars shone. Lila opened her mouth. "[serious]Teacher, what exactly is Volkan?" Halden Owen was silent for a while. He looked at the northern stars. "[serious]I don't know. But that man came to test me—not to kill me." Lila heard that and thought for a moment. "[surprised]So... he'll come again?" "[serious]He will come." Just one word. Lila looked at the northern ridge. It was dark, and she could see nothing. Only stars shone beyond the wasteland. Beyond that ridge lay Volkan. The ruined fortress of Caldras lay there. In the depths of Grandveld, the remnants of the Zeldgan War slept. The journey was not yet over.