Tither’s life began in the forest and ended there as well. From the moment they were born, they were raised hearing that they must watch over the forest, and spent their childhood listening to tales of shadow monsters incomprehensible to ordinary people. Even after passing on their title and their child maturing into the next generation’s Tither, the duty never left them. That responsibility followed them all the way to death.
And yet, despite living such a life, he had never really stopped to contemplate the forest itself. Staring at the radiant trees stretching before his eyes and the grass and flowers blooming beneath them, it was hard to believe this place was considered a massive wall imprisoning the kingdom. It was just that peaceful, just that serene.
He had once heard a story. Among the many fairy tales and songs for the Tithers, there were some that suggested the forest wasn’t just a terrifying place. It said the forest was the night’s veil laid over humanity by the moon, a sanctuary protecting people from the Devil. Since even Tithers weren’t born without fear, it was one of the tales parents told to comfort children afraid of the forest. But in the end, he had believed it was just a made-up story.
However, once the existence of the Devil emerged as a reality, Seiyad decided to give new meaning to the legends he knew. If the tales he’d heard were true—if the forest really did protect humans from the Devil—then that aligned perfectly with Bridehit’s assertion that the Devil was not truly dead.
So then, is there truly no way to kill the Devil? If the sun and moon refer to gods, why hadn’t they killed it? Was it because they couldn’t? Or because they chose not to? What exactly is the Devil? And how, precisely, is Aster connected to it?
While Seiyad brooded in silence, the Tithers walking ahead remained equally quiet. Only the knights following behind Aster whispered among themselves, occasionally spewing insults at the House of Shildras. Their murmurs were loud enough that they might as well have spoken aloud—Zion’s clenched fists each time the whispers resumed made his efforts at restraint visibly clear.
Still, Seiyad made no attempt to mediate this uncomfortable situation. He hadn’t pulled Zion out of the rabbit hunt out of pity or forgiveness—he needed him, plain and simple. Seiyad was used to cold, ruthless atmospheres. Enduring this kind of tension wasn’t difficult for him.
“Oppa, is the forest always this quiet when it’s not winter?”
Cecilia, who had been on edge and nervously scanning their surroundings, came closer and asked. After what they had encountered just yesterday, she was clearly anxious something similar might happen again. Seiyad shared that concern, but the forest had remained silent for hours. Perhaps many Nir’a had died that day—there wasn’t even a trace of dormant Nir’a.
“Usually, yes.”
At the break in the long silence, Nova glanced back at them. Perhaps frustrated, Stella cautiously joined the conversation.
“I still don’t really understand the forest’s core. If the core is the remnant of the Devil’s seal, wouldn’t destroying it actually release the Devil instead?”
Bridehit also turned to look. Only Zion, standing awkwardly in the middle, didn’t seem to focus his gaze anywhere in particular. For someone who had exuded such confidence just a day ago, his current timidity was strange.
That’s how human downfall always is—instantaneous. For a once-revered Tither to fall to a status lower than the Devil’s, it’s easier than one might think.
“Even I don’t know the exact theory. But the power of the Tither exists to combat the Devil, so the idea is that only when a Tither destroys a core does the Devil’s residue vanish. You’ll feel it for yourself when you see it.”
That’s exactly how it had felt last winter. Like some sinister force curled inside a crimson orb had been extinguished. You could instinctively sense that something unclean had been wiped away.
Now that the subject had come up, Seiyad scanned the distance. The tree encasing a core was usually far larger than the surrounding ones, so spotting it wouldn’t be difficult. The only problem was the large number of Nir’a typically gathered around it.
They had walked for quite a while, and it seemed they had arrived right on time. Seiyad spotted a massive tree with little trouble.
“So if we destroy the core, does the forest just disappear on its own?”
Nova, who had remained silent likely due to discomfort after the conflict with Zion, directed the question at Seiyad. Her intentional effort to speak to him directly made Seiyad keenly aware of the burden of guilt and debt they all carried. Though none of them could bring themselves to address the matter of his mother directly, it was obvious they were thinking about it. Seiyad had a knack for recognizing this particular breed of negative emotion.
“No. Once the core is gone, humans dismantle the forest from that boundary onward. The timber becomes valuable resources, and anything extra is purchased by the Saklani Trading Company and distributed throughout the kingdom.”
Internal strife among the Tithers was not something Seiyad particularly wished to see escalate further, so he simply let such matters slide. His plain answer seemed to brighten Nova’s expression a little. She looked pleased that he had replied at all. Cecilia, however, did not seem impressed.
“None of you have the courage to bring it up directly, and now you’re using this chance to break the ice? It’s not a good look. You too, Stella-unni.”
At Cecilia’s pointed remark, Nova parted her lips as if to respond. The already frigid atmosphere grew even more biting, prompting Seiyad to step in and restrain his sister.
“Cecil, now’s not the time.”
“Isn’t this exactly the time to lay old grudges to rest so we can actually fight together? Everyone here—including me—didn’t believe you, Oppa. And now that you’ve been proven right, not a single one of us has apologized for our misplaced faith or for doubting our comrade. Is it really that hard to admit we were wrong and sincerely apologize?”
Cecilia swept her cold gaze across the knights and Tithers alike before finally directing her words at Zion’s back.
“We’re all old enough to know that refusing to admit you’re wrong doesn’t magically make you right, aren’t we? I’m not saying this because I want an apology. The only person who deserves an apology and comfort here is Duke Axid. Even as his family, I feel ashamed and sorry toward him every single day. Yet the rest of you can’t even muster a single word and just act like nothing happened?”
In that moment, Seiyad locked eyes with Stella. Seeing the same expression of shame her mother used to wear, Seiyad felt something deep inside him begin to stir. But before the weight in his chest could be disturbed any further, the tree they had been searching for finally came into view.
“We’ll talk later. For now, the core takes priority. Everyone, on alert—prepare for a Nir’a attack. There are always Nir’a guarding the core.”
Seiyad issued swift commands. He too scanned the area, searching for any sign of Nir’a, but strangely, there was nothing near the tree.
“Your Grace, look at the tree—look!”
It was Bridehit, speaking in a voice thick with shock. Following the direction of his gesture and raising his eyes toward the tree, Seiyad saw it—a massive sphere embedded in the center of the trunk. It resembled an egg encased in a membrane, wrapped in the tissues of the tree. But it wasn’t the red color Seiyad remembered.
“The core… it’s empty!”
Bridehit cried out in horror. As his exclamation suggested, there was no other way to describe it. The core, with its semi-transparent shell, glowed with an empty hue—completely hollow.
“The reason we were able to reach this place so easily, without encountering a single Nir’a… it’s because there’s nothing left to guard. There’s no longer anything to protect. Your Grace, this is… this is irrefutable evidence. I don’t know how they extracted the Devil’s power from it, but…”
With a tormented and distressed expression, Bridehit shut his eyes tightly and spoke with bitter self-reproach.
“It’s my fault too. I should’ve realized sooner that Sirkan was heading down a twisted path!”
“How can you say that?!”
Zion burst out in a pained voice. Breaking his silence, he pointed desperately at the tree, trying to explain it somehow.
“Isn’t it possible that cores differ from forest to forest? Your Grace hasn’t seen every single forest, has he? Just as each forest has its own characteristics, maybe the cores do too. Besides, my father—what possible reason could he have had to do something like this?!”
Zion’s hand, which had been wildly gesturing at the core, soon reached for his waist. Drawing his slender sword, he aimed it at the core.
“Can’t we just destroy that? Then go deeper and destroy the rest of the cores in the forest. If the Devil vanishes in the end, what’s the problem?”
“Get a hold of yourself, Duke of Shildras. No—Zion, please, listen to the words of an old man who’s watched over you for a long time. The crime your father committed… it was a betrayal that drove his own comrades to a gruesome death, and one that could condemn this entire nation to the same fate. That kind of attitude will solve nothing.”
Bridehit’s voice, once brimming with anger, gradually faded into weariness. With a tormented gesture, he ran a hand down his face and turned to look at Seiyad. Then, with the weight of sincere pain and regret, he offered an apology.
“I am truly sorry, Your Grace. I was a fool, blind to the truth. Just as you once said, I should’ve trusted Serena—should’ve listened to her words as a comrade. I… I was afraid of conflict. I feared greater division, feared we would splinter apart, so I acted like a coward. I’m sincerely sorry.”
Tears welled up in the eyes of the wrinkled middle-aged man. Nova, seeing her father in such anguish, opened her mouth as if to speak, not knowing what to do—but before she could, the knights of Aster interjected. Their commander, Adena, stepped between them, speaking slowly.
“Then Duke Bridehit, you acknowledge this as clear and undeniable evidence. And it seems His Grace agrees as well.”
