A little before dawn, Kain Gardos opened his eyes. To be precise, it would be more accurate to say he hadn't slept. Ever since that night when he'd wept on the stone pavement, he'd been leaning against the wall with his hand gripping his sword's hilt the entire time. The royal crest—that small engraving visible through a gap in the leather—had been burned into his mind and wouldn't leave. (What have I been carrying for 20 years?) In the darkened room where the lamp had gone out, Kain continued asking himself quietly. There was no answer. There couldn't be one. Night gave way to morning. Hornberg Village's mornings brought fog. Cold air flowed down from Mount Graunhorn, wrapping the entire village in a thin white haze. Through that fog, a single horse came galloping in. Kain noticed it from the inn's window. The horse's legs were fast. It ran with the gait of someone who knew the road. Not a tourist, not a merchant hauling goods. A purposeful run. When he opened the inn's entrance, a man dressed as a traveler stood there. A plain brown cloak, a worn bag. The appearance of an ordinary traveling merchant. But the way his sword hung at his waist was different. It was a habit ingrained in the body of someone trained in combat. The man looked at Kain. His eyes quickly scanned the surroundings. No one was there. Once he'd confirmed that, he opened the inside of his cloak. A small crest was there. The royal palace crest. "[whispers]Let us change locations" In a dilapidated barn at the village's edge, Kain and the messenger faced each other. The man didn't introduce himself. He had no intention of doing so. He pulled out a piece of parchment from his bag and handed it to Kain. "[serious]I come with His Majesty's orders. Lord Kain Gardos—first, please show me that sword" Kain silently offered his sword. The messenger examined the base of the leather wrapping. He stared at the engraving that moonlight had revealed, now in the morning light. He nodded. "[serious]There is no doubt. That sword was arranged 20 years ago by the then-Crown Prince—His Majesty King Aldric III" Kain's hand stopped. "His Highness objected to your exile at the time. However, the power of the faction was too great. It could not be overturned politically. Therefore—as a measure of apology, he secretly arranged for a royal sword, disguised as an unnamed blade, to be delivered to you, Lord Kain" Wind entered through gaps in the barn's wooden walls. The smell of dried hay drifted in. Kain looked at his sword's hilt. The leather wrapping he'd touched thousands of times over 20 years. He'd thought it was nothing special, just a sword that had become familiar to his hand. He'd always thought that. "[serious]Furthermore—regarding the withdrawal order that arrived yesterday" The messenger spread out a bundle of parchment. He handed it to Kain. "A legitimate royal order requires the Vice-Signature of the King and an issue number from the Document Management Bureau. This withdrawal order—it lacks the Vice-Signature. The format of the issue number is one no longer in use. It uses a format that was abolished more than five years ago" Kain looked at the papers. Something was indeed missing. His eyes, trained as a knight, read that "missing part." "[serious]It's a false order planted by Hausen Drechsel using connections from the Silverlam era. We have all the evidence documents" It was the same method as 20 years ago. Forgery. Document manipulation. Political maneuvering through connections. That man hadn't changed a thing. Only the stage had shifted from the royal court to a bandit's fortress, but what he did remained exactly the same. Kain's hand trembled. Just slightly. But it definitely trembled. "[serious]The hostage has one day left. His Majesty has entrusted the decision to you, Lord Kain—" "I understand" He said only that, briefly. The messenger started to stand. Kain asked one question. "[cold]For 20 years—did His Majesty know?" The messenger paused for a moment. "[serious]He was aware the entire time. Even the appointment as temporary instructor at Blazeforce was to give you an opportunity for honor restoration" Kain said nothing. "...20 years, then" Those words were neither anger nor gratitude. They were simply the voice of someone confirming a fact. Like something being poured into an empty vessel after everything had been drained. No tears came. He'd used them all up last night. Only his eyes were different. Not the resignation of last night. Something far quieter and far heavier dwelled there. The messenger left. Kain gripped his sword's hilt firmly, just once. He stood up. --- The inn's large room filled with everyone from Blazeforce. 23 people. Including those still recovering from serious injuries, all of them. The room was cramped. Some sat on the floor, some stood against the walls, some huddled near the entrance—everyone wore slightly exhausted expressions. The air carried the sense that yesterday's withdrawal order had settled everything. Kain stood at the front. Holding the evidence documents, he spoke to everyone. "[serious]Pass these around" The documents moved from hand to hand among the team members. Everyone leaned in to read. Some tilted their heads, some narrowed their eyes. Gradually, the room's atmosphere shifted. "[serious]The withdrawal order is fake. Drechsel used the same method as 20 years ago to orchestrate political maneuvering" The team members exchanged glances. Silence continued. Kain stood in that silence and looked around at everyone's faces once. Then he opened his mouth. To speak of something he'd never told the entire group before. "[serious]I entered Silverlam at 18. I was assigned to the Fourth Company" His voice was quiet, emotion suppressed. The lazy tone of a slovenly ossan had vanished. "We conducted four large-scale monster hunts near Graunhorn. Each time, I filled the gaps in the chain of command and produced results. All the war achievements were reported to superiors under the name of my superior officer—Hausen Drechsel. At first, I didn't mind. I thought that was how things worked" No one interrupted. "After the fifth one, I submitted a report directly to my superiors. I wrote down everything—who did what. Three days later, I was marked for exile on charges of insubordination and false reporting. There were five witnesses. All of them were Drechsel's subordinates" Irina's hands clenched on her lap. Slowly, but with enough force to turn white. Noar looked at the floor. He seemed to want to say something but couldn't. "The company commander at the time sided with Drechsel. Not a single team member who knew me testified. It was the power of factions" Kain paused for a moment. "For 20 years, I lived as an adventurer—but I've been dragging that with me the whole time" It was matter-of-fact. He didn't shout. No tears came. He simply told everyone the facts. After finishing, he stated briefly: "[serious]I'm going. I won't let the hostages die. I'm not asking anyone to come with me" He closed his mouth. The room fell silent. Only the sound of the lamp's flame flickering could be heard. The first to move was Irina. She stood up. Her aquamarine hair flowed from her shoulders. Her golden eyes looked straight at Kain. "[serious]I was planning to go from the beginning" There was no hesitation. Not a millimeter of it. Without pause, a hand rose from the corner of the room. "[excited]I'm going too! I've memorized all the routes!" Kain turned to look. Noar was puffing out his chest. His black hair with red streaks was disheveled, sweat glistening on his forehead. "...Probably!" "[sarcastic]Did you just say 'probably'?" A team member sitting nearby muttered with an exasperated expression. "[surprised]Say 'ninety-nine percent certain' instead, please" Noar corrected himself: "Right, I'm ninety-nine percent certain!" The tense atmosphere loosened for just a moment. Someone laughed quietly. But then it happened. One person stood. Seeing that, another stood. Then another. Quietly, one by one. Those against the walls, those sitting on the floor, even those still recovering from serious injuries—they all stood in turn. All 23 people were standing. Kain looked around at everyone's faces once. He said nothing. He simply nodded. That was all. A silent response heavier than words, the slovenly ossan's way of hiding embarrassment. Irina's lips curved slightly. She quickly returned to a serious expression before Kain could notice. But Noar saw it. He quietly looked forward without saying anything. --- The sun set. They traveled the dark mountain road toward Valgrim Fortress. The moon was out. The clouds were thin, and its light reached them. The trees of Graunhorn became black shadows pressing in from both sides. Blazeforce's 23 members moved silently along the well-trodden mountain path. Kain walked at the front. His sword hung at his waist, his right hand in leather gloves touching the hilt—a habit he did without thinking, and one he was aware of. When they reached the fortress's front, the air changed. A stone fortress wall floated in the moonlight. An abandoned fortress—originally built 80 years ago as a border monitoring post, abandoned 40 years ago, now occupied by Balmcrow. Torch flames flickered on the crumbling stone walls above. They were placed at regular intervals. Soldier silhouettes lined the fortress walls. He counted. 30, 40, 50—close to 80. Balmcrow's entire fighting force. "[whispers]They've come" Noar whispered. Kain silenced him with a gesture. At that moment, a single figure appeared on the fortress wall's edge. Moonlight illuminated its outline. Height: 186 centimeters. Heavy armor dully reflected the moonlight. A muscular, massive frame. A deep old scar running vertically down his left cheek—Hausen Drechsel, the leader commanding the Balmcrow bandit group, revealed himself for the first time. A low voice echoed across the mountain night. "[cold]You came, you cur. How many more times will you lose?" It was casual. You could tell he was smiling even from this distance. Kain heard that voice for the first time in 20 years. His jaw tightened for just a moment. His teeth clenched slightly. That was all. (Different from last night) To his right was Irina. Behind him were Noar and the other team members. 23 sets of footsteps remained on the mountain path. The one thing—just one thing—that was different from that night 20 years ago when he'd been exiled alone. Kain drew his single-handed sword. "[serious]This time, I'm taking it back" On the fortress wall above, Drechsel's smile faded as he raised his hand. "[cold]Interesting. Come at me" At that moment, Irina beside him drew her sword. "[serious]I'm coming with you" Brief. That was all. Kain replied with "Yeah." Their gazes crossed for just an instant. Kain looked away toward the front. Irina did the same. The words were only those two sentences, but that was enough. Everything that had accumulated since that night when he'd murmured "I was driven out" on the first day was contained in those two words. --- They divided the strategy into three groups. Kain issued instructions quickly. "[serious]Noar, take seven people and circle around to the fortress's rear. The old supply route from the fourth story—the mountain path Balmcrow forgot to seal. Infiltrate from there" "[excited]Understood!" "[serious]Irina, lead that group toward the underground dungeon. Secure the five hostages. Trust Noar" "[serious]Understood" "The remaining 15 come with me. We hit the front directly. It's a diversion to draw Drechsel's attention" The team members nodded silently. Noar confirmed his seven people and took the lead. "[excited]Alright, let's go. ...This should be the right way" All seven people's faces clouded simultaneously. "[serious]Please say 'this is the right way,' not 'this should be the right way'" Irina co