The castle gate shook. With a groan, the sound of old wood and stone creaking echoed through the night-shrouded mountain. Kain Gardos pressed forward against the enemy before him while signaling his team members with his free hand. The coordination was flawless. Without needing orders, each member independently identified gaps in their formation and filled them. A month ago, Blaze Force—the Third Knight Order of the Forsena Kingdom, with a roster of only 23 members against a full complement of 60—had been such a ragtag group that swinging swords would result in them hitting each other. Now, they had become a proper fighting unit. (They've grown, you pieces of junk.) Kain's lips curved slightly even in the midst of battle. "Push forward!!" The castle gate shattered. --- At the same time, behind the fortress. In the darkness where even the moon was hidden by clouds, Noar Lant climbed a slope resembling a beast trail with seven team members. It was nearly silent. The protruding rocks, the positions of crumbled stone steps, the locations of shallow puddles—Lant's feet never once faltered. The team members behind him followed in complete silence. On the night Lant first scouted this mountain path, he was the man who said things like "probably ninety-nine percent." That same man now walked through the darkness as a perfect guide. No one spoke of it, but that fact had properly reached everyone's heart. The exit of the supply route came into view. Lant raised his hand to stop everyone. Two sentries stood in the torchlight before the exit. Lant whispered, "I'll go," and took a step forward. In that instant. A small stone at his feet rolled away. It struck the wall with a soft clink. The two sentries exchanged glances. They tilted their heads, studying each other intently. A moment of silence. In that gap, two team members behind moved without a sound and subdued both sentries in an instant. Lant turned back with a relieved expression. He looked like he'd been pulled by the shoulder of a nearby member, which had resulted in perfect timing. "[sad]I really messed that up..." He said it quietly, looking dejected. "[serious]We proceed," Irina turned forward with a single statement. No hesitation. She quickly directed her feet toward the stone steps leading underground. Lant chased after her with a small run, saying "Y-yes!" --- The dungeon was deeper than expected. Irina advanced through the stone corridor where torchlight didn't reach, guided only by her lantern's glow. Cold air crept up from below. The smell of moss, earth, and something metallic hung in the air. A door appeared. An old iron door with a padlock. Irina pulled wire from her supplies and picked the lock—she never thought training exercises would prove useful in actual combat. With a click, the lock came free. She pulled the door open. Darkness. Cold. Small shadows huddled in the depths. "[gentle]We are from the Forsena Knight Order. We've come to help," She called out. For a while, nothing moved. Then, slowly, one person lifted their face. A young woman. Thin light filtered across her dirty face, and her eyes trembled as they blinked. "[crying]Knight... you really came for us?" Her voice was thin. Something stirred quietly deep within Irina's chest. When she heard this story in Hornberg Village, she had blamed herself, thinking that if she'd acted sooner—that pain transformed slightly in this very moment. "[gentle]I'll cut your bonds. Can everyone stand?" Speaking to all five, she cut their ropes one by one with her knife. Some were trembling. Some couldn't move their legs properly. Yet all five were alive. Irina finished confirming and turned toward Lant. She nodded briefly. Lant nodded back with a serious expression. Then his face became emotional, and he started to open his mouth. "[serious]We're leaving," She said it first. Lant hurriedly said "Ah, yes!" and returned to the front. At the base of the stone steps, Lant looked up. Toward the fortress's highest level. Through the stone walls, the faint sound of clashing swords reached him. (Instructor...) For just a moment he thought that, then Lant took a deep breath. "[excited]All hostages are safe!! Irina protected them all!!" He shouted with all his might, his voice echoing off the fortress stone. The sound traveled upward from the underground, threading through the gaps in the stone—a single-minded wish for it to reach. --- Fortress's highest level. The moment Kain kicked down the door, Hausen Drechsel moved in the back of the room. A large frame of 186 centimeters. Short black hair streaked with white. A deep vertical scar running down his left cheek. Red eyes glowing coldly. In his hands, a heavy two-handed greatsword requiring both hands—a non-standard piece from the Silverram era. "[cold]You're late, Kain," His voice was emotionless. Kain took his stance without a word. The first strike came. Heavy. Incredibly heavy. His arm went numb from the impact. Drechsel's heavy sword technique was unchanged from twenty years ago—no, it had been refined. This twenty years, Drechsel had continued fighting. That was proof. The second strike. Kain stepped back half a pace and deflected. The third strike hit the floor, cracking the stone. "[cold]All your war achievements became mine. Do you remember?" Drechsel spoke while fighting. Not shouting. Not yelling. Simply stating facts in a matter-of-fact tone. "Four subjugations along the border. You filled every gap in the chain of command. All of it reached my superiors under my name. It became the stepping stone for my promotion," Kain didn't answer. "Your honor, your place—I stole it all. And you became a defeated dog barking in taverns for twenty years," The fourth strike came. Kain's single-handed longsword nearly got knocked aside. The weight difference transmitted directly through his arm. Those words echoed in his ears. Defeated dog. Twenty years. An old man living on nothing but alcohol and food. An adventurer at the end of the line who took any job. A temporary instructor for Blaze Force—even that was a story the king had secretly arranged as a chance for redemption. Kain's feet stopped for just a moment. Drechsel's blade moved. It cut shallowly across Kain's left shoulder. A thin wound, but sharp, burning pain shot through him. In that instant. A voice reached him from below the stone wall. "[excited]Instructor!! All hostages are safe!! Irina protected them all!!" Lant's voice. His full voice. Clear enough to reach through the stone wall—his absolute maximum effort. Kain's eyes changed. Drechsel's gaze wavered for a moment. He reacted to the unexpected voice. That 0.5-second gap. Kain repositioned his sword. He spoke quietly. "[serious]You stole my honor. My war achievements. My place," He stepped forward. "[serious]But Drechsel," He pointed his sword forward. A single-handed longsword worn smooth by twenty years of use—85 centimeters of blade, leather wrapping peeling away, no special magical effects. Just a sword completely familiar to this hand. "[cold]There's one thing you couldn't steal," He lunged. The elite sword technique drilled into him in Silverram's Fourth Company—form, footwork, weight transfer. Combined with twenty years of gritty, real-world combat experience honed in the life-and-death struggles of a back-alley adventurer. All of it was poured into this single strike. "[cold]My sword," It wasn't a metallic clash. Drechsel's greatsword shattered from the base. The broken blade crashed to the floor with a high-pitched sound and rolled away. Drechsel dropped to one knee. His large frame slowly crumpled, settling onto one knee. Only the broken hilt remained in his hand. His red eyes stared at his own hand in disbelief. "[whispers]Just... an adventurer... dropout... like this...?" His voice was hoarse. Kain pointed his sword at the scattered fragments on the floor. He didn't press the advantage. "[sarcastic]Just an adventurer dropout. What of it?" He didn't shout. He didn't yell. He simply stated it as fact. That calm voice made Drechsel's face—for the first time—twist with fear. --- Drechsel was bound, Blaze Force suppressed enemies throughout the fortress, and Balmcrow was annihilated. Of the eighty members, more than half surrendered, and the rest fled into the mountains. Valgrim Fortress—the abandoned stronghold at the midpoint of Graunholm that Balmcrow had used as a base for three years—had dawn light filtering through its crumbling stone walls. Five hostages emerged from the fortress's main gate, accompanied by Irina. The moment Lant saw them, "[crying]Thank goodness...! Really, thank goodness...!" his eyes turned red. Just as he was about to break into tears, he stepped off the stone steps. He fell spectacularly, with an enormous sound. "[surprised]Are you alright?!" One of the hostages instinctively rushed over. Lant stood up with a red face. The seventeen-year-old joker ended up being worried over by the people he'd rescued, and said "[sarcastic]I-I'm fine! It was just the stone! The stone's fault!" while turning red up to his ears. Kain, watching from a distance, let out a small sigh. When they returned to Hornberg Village the next morning, villagers lined both sides of the road. An elderly woman was crying. A mother holding her child couldn't move. Village Chief Toma Gelt, his white hair flowing in the wind, walked to the front of Blaze Force. Toma said nothing. He simply gripped Kain's hand tightly with both of his. That was all. Kain scratched his head. Looking embarrassed, he turned his gaze away. Even after brushing with death and returning, being thanked by people made him uncomfortable—that kind of old man never changed. In the escort carriage, the bound Drechsel didn't speak a word. The broken greatsword hilt was loaded as cargo. The man who had used court politics to drive Kain out twenty years ago now sat bound in a swaying carriage. It was a complete reversal of positions from twenty years prior. --- The return to the royal capital Lusentia came days later. Twenty-four members of Blaze Force (plus Lant) walked down the main avenue of the South District—where knight order garrisons clustered. Passing citizens stopped to watch. The gate guards of Silverram Headquarters followed them with curious eyes. The royal hall was quiet and vast. King Oldric III stood not at his throne but in the center of the hall, waiting. Sixty-two years old, white-streaked hair and deep wrinkles. The current king of Forsena Kingdom nodded slightly when he saw Kain. A solemn ceremony began. The king read documents aloud. The official reversal of Kain's false charges from twenty years ago. The full extent of Drechsel's perjury and political machinations. A declaration of reform regarding corruption within Silverram. Throughout, Kain maintained a subtly uncomfortable expression. (These formal occasions really aren't my thing...) An old man uncomfortable with ceremonial settings stood stiffly like a nobleman in formal dress—objectively, it was somewhat amusing. Irina beside him noticed and confirmed with a sideways glance. The king spoke the conclusion. "—And thus, Third Knight Order Blaze Force. I formally appoint Kain Gardos as commander," In that instant. Kain reflexively opened his mouth. "[sarcastic]What a pain—" Silently, Irina's elbow drove into Kain's ribs. Kain swallowed a "guh" sound and straightened his posture. After a beat, he reluctantly said before the king: "[serious]...I humbly accept," The shoulders of the team members behind him all trembled at once. Lant pressed his mouth shut, desperately keeping his gaze forward. Irina remained perfectly composed, facing forward. --- Back at the old barracks, someone had arranged barrels of alcohol and venison stew. Dag Herzen, the proprietor of the Dancing Barrel—the tavern in the West District where