Just like a neglected sword rusts away, unattended emotions also erode and dull over time. Seiyad, who only ever reacted for the sake of a set goal, had become numb to all other feelings. Only at the end of his wretched life did he finally come face-to-face with regret, but no other worn-out emotions resurfaced easily.
That was why actions meant to earn others’ goodwill remained a vague concept to Seiyad. Becoming an object of fear or contempt came as naturally as breathing, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had received any other kind of emotion. Only Aster had ever willingly accepted this side of him.
Just the thought of Aster tangled his insides. The hand swinging the sword froze mid-air. Alone at the center of the training field, he planted the blade into the dirt and paused to catch his breath. His body, which had burned hot just moments ago, slowly began to cool. A cold wind swept in from the forest, tousling his ash-gray hair.
Until the moment he died, Aster had been the only kindness left in the world for Seiyad.
Aster alone had listened to both Seiyad and his mother, whom no one else had ever believed. He was the one person who understood Seiyad’s fury, who stood by him for the sake of his cause, a savior who gave him his unwavering support—and the sole purifier who brought him peace.
After days spent slaying countless Nir’a or clearing the corpses of those killed by monsters, Aster had always become his refuge. He would let Seiyad embrace him without reserve, gently stroke his back, and the resonance that flowed between them would ease Seiyad’s pain.
But the Aster he encountered after coming back now forced Seiyad to question everything. In the past, he had believed Aster’s “punishments” to be justified. But now, something about them unsettled him. If Aster had truly considered Seiyad a crucial asset, he wouldn’t have risked compromising their battles by withholding purification.
Was it even true that Aster ever truly needed him?
At the Crown Prince’s side, Seiyad had been inevitably dragged into the succession struggle. Aster’s faction wanted to weaken Tither’s grip on state affairs, while the Shildras faction, led by Ressas, sought to enhance Tither’s influence.
Seiyad, who cared nothing for the succession battle and only wished to cleanse the disgrace of his family, had done whatever Aster asked. Nothing else in the world held any meaning for him. For Aster’s sake, he joined in acts that eroded Tither’s authority—despite being a Tither himself.
He took part in Nir’a subjugation missions led by the Royal Knights without Tither’s support, operating from the shadows to enable their kills. From that point on, people began to claim that even humans alone—without Tither’s power—could prevail.
In contrast, whenever rioters or bandits needed to be subdued, Seiyad would personally appear. Those who witnessed his battles even once spread tales of the “Devil of Solias,” and his fearsome reputation echoed across the entire kingdom.
By stoking people’s fears and demonstrating just how dangerous Tither’s powers could be, by the time Seiyad neared death, anti-Tither sentiment in the kingdom had reached an all-time high.
Even so, it didn’t matter. He had fulfilled the duty given to him, and in doing so, had brought joy to Aster.
Or so he believed—until the end of his life, when he realized he had sullied his own family more than anyone else. His family’s honor was never restored, and the investigation into the truth about his mother was never completed. Even if his rampage had been unpredictable, Aster surely understood the consequences of Seiyad’s actions. Only Seiyad had remained in the dark.
He could see it now, though he hadn’t been able to before—Aster had never intended to give him what he truly wanted.
The moment Aster abandoned him at the brink of death overlapped with the scene from the night before, when he halted the purification and issued the expulsion order. A heavy sense of doubt rose in Seiyad’s chest, leaving a hollow space behind.
It was that same feeling again—that empty, aching void he had felt as he was dying.
At some point, his fingertips had grown numb from the cold. Staring blankly at his hand gripping the sword, Seiyad quietly swallowed a sigh.
Regardless of the past, what mattered now was preventing another rampage. Whether or not Ressas would be of any help remained uncertain. Even if his power was as formidable as that of Raman, the Founder, there was no guarantee he could stop it. It was all just Seiyad’s conjecture.
On top of that, something about the current situation felt eerily different from the past. If this level of battle already brought about such severe side effects—hallucinations and all—the time of his next rampage might arrive sooner than expected.
No.
Just imagining it sent a chill down his spine. He couldn’t let something like that happen again. That many people mustn’t die. That, above all, must never be repeated.
If the time came when it truly seemed unstoppable…
In that painful train of thought, Seiyad steadied his breath and reclaimed his reason. He was fully aware now that he could rampage—unlike before. That alone made the situation different. There had to be a way to stop it. And if danger ever reared its head again, then, at that moment, he would kill himself. Simple.
If his life meant the death of many, then the right thing to do was to stop himself before that happened. It was the most efficient way—one with minimal collateral damage.
Seiyad slowly traced through the path of his life. His only remaining family had long since left him to live elsewhere, and no one on the face of the earth held affection for him. He, too, had no one he wished to protect. There was no reason for him to exist in this world.
If anything tugged at his heart, it was the thought that no one would be left to guard the northern forest.
I need a safeguard. A way to protect this place even without the lord of the north.
Seiyad began contemplating contingency plans in case he failed to prevent the rampage. First, he had to ensure the survival of the two Dukes. If they lived—unlike in the past—they could help fill the void left by his absence, at least in part.
Next was the forest. The Forest of Night had to be eliminated.
Since the king himself supported the plan, this was the ideal time to completely eradicate the forest that posed a threat to the north. Only then could his disappearance be dealt with safely.
It was close to impossible—but no one had dared attempt it until now. There was no way to know without trying.
With his thoughts organized, he headed for the stables. To ensure the two Dukes made it out of the forest alive, he needed to first grasp its structure himself. Yesterday had taught him all too well how hopeless it was to try changing the future with mere foreknowledge.
And this wasn’t the only matter that needed resolving. Whether to stop the rampage or to destroy the forest, every plan—no matter the outcome—required Ressas. He had to soften, even just a little, Ressas’s deep-seated suspicion toward him.
The problem was that there wasn’t much time left to change Ressas’s mind. If Seiyad didn’t manage to restore their relationship even a little within the next two months, approaching him at all would become nearly impossible.
The reason was Zion Shildras.
When Ressas awakened and was immediately thrust into the heart of the succession battle, Zion was right there by his side. Even if Seiyad restrained his fury toward the House of Shildras, it was clear that the Shildras family wouldn’t allow Seiyad to get close to Ressas.
After all, the prince’s awakening had come about because of the Shildras family.
After taking part in the Ritual of Invocation and returning to the capital, Ressas had spent the winter in the south at the invitation of the Shildras family—more precisely, Zion Shildras. As the new lord, Zion had summoned the prince as soon as he was done handling official matters.
Hoping to console Ressas, who had just lost his loyal knight Anka, Zion offered him a retreat in the warm southern lands. Compared to the north, winters in the south were brief, with long hours of sunlight that weakened the Nir’a. It was a region where one could endure the harsh season without much trouble, so no one had expected danger.
But what had happened in the north repeated itself in the south. That winter, unexpected incidents arose in every forest. It was the year the king’s call to reassemble the investigation teams gained serious traction.
Near the end of the season, a high-tier Nir’a—rare in the south—appeared, and Zion Shildras was gravely injured. He had tried to deal with the powerful Nir’a alone without the aid of other Tithers. Though the wounds themselves were treatable, he had overexerted his power, and the resulting wave left his insides in a ruined state. It was in the midst of this life-threatening ordeal that Ressas awakened.
Because of the nature of his power’s origin, Ressas and Zion’s relationship quickly became the most romantic tale in the kingdom. That winter gave birth to ballads favored by wandering bards. It was also the turning point that caused Aster—who until then had only undermined Ressas with scornful jabs—to shift his stance.
Time was running out. Within two months, Seiyad had to soften Ressas’s wariness. But no plan came to mind. Handling people was far from his area of expertise. Complex webs of political interests were something Seiyad found outright repulsive.
Frustrated, he entered the stables. The pungent stench of animals and the acrid odor of manure somewhat alleviated the pressure in his chest. He had always enjoyed the time spent caring for beasts. The fact that Luna—the horse he’d received as a gift the year he came of age—was still alive also brightened his mood a little.
“Haha, look at you eat. Guess no one could say you’re not like your master—you even eat the same way.”
But there was an unexpected guest in what should’ve been a quiet stable. At the sound of a familiar voice, Seiyad narrowed his eyes. Slipping in without a sound, he found Quilly—currently under disciplinary confinement.
“You remember too, don’t you, Luna? How His Grace loves sweets more than anyone would guess. When he was little, he used to eat all the apples I gave him with such delight…”
Quilly was feeding Luna slices of apple. The typically picky mare—who wouldn’t even spare a glance at most people—was happily munching the fruit offered by someone she clearly recognized. A bright-red piece disappeared into her white muzzle in a flash.
“What are you doing here?”
Just as Quilly was about to offer another piece, Seiyad revealed himself, having watched the whole scene. Quilly jolted with a sharp yelp, startled by the voice from behind, and quickly turned around. Luna, still chewing, fixed her gaze on Seiyad.
“Your Grace!”
Apparently forgetting he was under disciplinary punishment, Quilly looked not the least bit guilty—in fact, his face lit up with delight.
“How did you know what was in this Quilly’s heart and appear here like fate itself?”
Seiyad’s expression stiffened at the exaggerated theatrics. Had Quilly always been this erratic? He remembered him being a bit dramatic in his youth, but that had stopped after he came of age and became his house’s head. Seiyad had never seen him act like this since.
“Aren’t you supposed to be under confinement?”
“Ugh, so my father tattled on me already! But I didn’t do anything wrong, you know? It’s unjust to be punished for doing the right thing. This is righteous rebellion.”
Arms crossed, Seiyad studied Quilly’s smug expression. That oddly proud look—just like what he’d seen from Kellaran—was new, unfamiliar, and vaguely unsettling.
“I fail to see what you did so well to look that pleased with yourself.”
“I just added another example to prove my loyalty to Your Grace!”
When Seiyad said nothing, just stared, Quilly shifted his gaze sheepishly. Fidgeting with his long silver hair, he eventually continued.
“Everyone’s been spouting nonsense about what happened yesterday, totally clueless that Your Grace actually saved our lives. Talking about being cursed, whining like fools. So I corrected them, of course.”
