Ivan stared silently at the clubroom blackboard, his expression sunken.

Eugene finished writing and turned around. He had copied the text from the Quest window word for word.

[???-Rank Quest: Dark Clouds over Thilles.]

“Thilles.”

Ivan gave a short groan. This was within his expectations, but also something he had secretly hoped would not happen.

Every nation in the United Kingdoms faced the risk of civil war.

That was Ivan’s tentative conclusion. Perhaps it was only natural. The demons could no longer create any sort of ‘threat’ through their own strength alone.

The Demon King and roughly half the Seven Dragon Generals had died in the war. The remaining generals had barely managed to rally their followers and retreat beyond the borderlands.

They would probably never seek supremacy again until the Hero’s Party faded into the past. They had learned that even those who called themselves gods could die.

In this age, therefore, the Seven Dragon Generals had to beware not only the hero, but one another. Now that their mortality had been exposed, they were far too greedy to peacefully join hands.

Thus, demons alone would not suffice to bring about a crisis that required a ‘Hero’s Party’ once more.

‘Both Krasilof and Droan have faced the threat of civil war.’

Though it had ended rather too quickly, the Droan rebels had attempted to abduct Esidisi. Had they succeeded, war would have broken out between Einar and Krasilof.

If Droan’s Jarls had launched a large-scale rebellion in the meantime, Krasilof would certainly have sought an alliance with them. Einar was far too dangerous an enemy.

Once Einar was dead, Droan would have fractured again. The present kingdom was held together solely by his powerful charisma—a kingdom that would last only his lifetime. It had no future in the next generation.

‘And on Krasilof’s northern front, the dwarves would have risen alongside the necromancers.’

Had everything followed its sequence of scenarios, Krasilof would have fallen within ten years. Just like Droan.

Then was it really far-fetched to assume such events were unfolding simultaneously across the world? Probably not.

‘Preventing the end of the world just before academy graduation is common sense, after all.’

Sadly, by the conventions of the academy genre, protagonists could never simply graduate. From Harry Xtter dropping out in his final year to academy stories becoming a genre of their own, the protagonist’s chances of graduating had converged on less than five percent.

[You have detected a conspiracy circulating among the noble houses of Thilles. The seeds of a long war, sown on the Eastern Front in the past, are now beginning to ignite.]

The Eastern Front. He had never personally served in that theater, but the records described a full-scale war involving heavy infantry that included orcs and tauruses.

Even Thilles’s cavalry, considered superior to any other country’s troops in mobility and striking power, had struggled to halt the demon army’s advance in those days.

Most likely, at least some remnants of that demon army had joined forces with a noble faction plotting civil war. Just as they had in this country.

“Well done.”

Ivan spoke briefly as he rose.

Eugene had refrained from deciding matters on his own, recognized the gravity of the situation, and uncovered a deeper scenario rather than stopping at a mere ‘demon spy.’

All thanks to the boy’s competence. Ivan regarded him with newfound appreciation.

The Status window was certainly more useful than he had expected.

“If this is part of the scenario’s progression, like you said, shouldn’t we take the protagonists along, Boss?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“There’s no need.”

Taking the entire Hero’s Party would mean too many people, too much to manage, and no point.

Lucia’s development far outstripped that of the other members. She had trained as Enrique’s direct disciple. That ruled her out.

She was his most dependable companion for a two-person mission. But in a group engagement like this, Ivan could do everything she could, only better.

Their roles overlapped, so to speak. Inevitable, since both had learned from Enrique.

And Lundis was a dwarf. Whatever the situation in Krasilof, other countries still considered dwarves part of the demon army. Bringing her on an expedition abroad would require state-level support.

“You’ll have to come too.”

“... What?”

“We’ll need the Status window.”

The current Hero’s Party had no priest. Though Eugene could use only a limited range of blessings, his Status window more than compensated for all his shortcomings.

That settled the party’s membership: Isabelle, Elpihera, Oscar, Esidisi, and Eugene.

Oscar could fill Yuri’s role, and Elpihera could fill Oswald’s. Besides, Oscar would be essential for this mission.

With the rough plan settled, Ivan gathered his things and rose.

“Gather the others and finish preparing to deploy.”

“What about you, Boss?”

“I have a report to make.”

This scenario lay beyond his jurisdiction. Thilles was not even a potential enemy, but an ally, which presented problems for operating freely.

A serious diplomatic incident could easily erupt. Even the Extermination Unit needed prior authorization in circumstances like these.

Fortunately, that should not be too difficult. Elizaveta trusted him as much as he trusted her.

* * *

After reading the report to the end, Elizaveta sank deep into her chair and sighed. Only after pressing her fingers against her brow for a moment did she speak quietly.

“I will not grant my assent.”

“... Your Highness.”

“I am not returning it for revision, Vanka. I will not grant my assent.”

She opened her eyes as she delivered that firm conclusion. Their perpetually sharp, upswept corners looked fiercer than ever today.

“I will dispose of this report. Do not submit it again.”

“Your Highness.”

“Am I still your liege?”

“... Yes, Your Highness.”

“And will I remain so?”

“Forever, Your Highness.”

“Then obey.”

Her voice was sharp, allowing no further argument.

Yet Ivan, bowed low before her, still did not rise. As always.

He was a man who always accomplished what he set his mind to, who always carried out the orders he received. He had lived that way, a single-minded man who knew no other way.

And she loved that man. In this ever-changing world, in this bitterly cold country, he alone had always remained where he had stood at the beginning.

That was why Elizaveta could not cast him aside. Even when he misunderstood her wishes and carried out operations as he pleased, she did not blame him. She knew that, from his perspective, it was all for her.

Only loyalty. Only duty. Only the nation.

That was the life he had lived, and he would walk that path even if only death awaited him at its end. Indeed, he had raised no protest even when ordered to fight and die. He had simply marched onward.

Thus, of all people in the world, she could not hate him. She could neither dismiss nor mistreat him. Her debt to him was greater than this nation’s.

But how was she to persuade this obstinate man? If she sent him away now, he would plainly rush out and take matters into his own hands again.

“Ivan. Raise your head.”

“...”

At the weariness that finally entered her voice, Ivan quietly raised his head. In the sumptuous interior of the university president’s office, with the setting sun spilling down beyond the window behind her, Elizaveta looked down at him with an exhausted face.

“It is too dangerous.”

“There has never been a time when it was not.”

“But in those days, you did not go forth alone.”

Rebels and demons stirring in a foreign country. Why should Krasilof deal with them? Did that country have no capable people? No army corps? Was Thilles not a great power with two members of the Hero’s Party?

There was no need to say any of that. Elizaveta never said things like ‘Lovely weather today, isn’t it?’ There was no point in sharing the obvious. Ivan would already have considered every question she had, and prepared his rebuttals.

None of this would persuade him.

“I... I... There was only one thing I ever asked of you. To stay by my side. That alone.”

“Your Highness.”

“Enough. Hear me out.”

She dispensed with honorifics. She had no intention of standing on ceremony.

Elizaveta stepped lightly over to stand before him. In the darkening room, her silver hair flowed ashen gray. Like the remnants of something burned away, stark and tragic.

She stood quietly, looking down at him.

“When your will aligned with mine, I was happy. When it differed, I was delighted. Your actions have frustrated me at times, but your resolve has never lost its luster. That is who you are to me.”

“Your Highness.”

“And so I smiled even when you defied my wishes. No, I welcomed it. Unchallenged power inevitably corrupts. I could take comfort in knowing that at least one person in this country did not bend to my will.”

Her hair fell softly over Ivan’s head.

Blocking the room’s lights, it cast a long shadow.

“You are proof that I have not ruled unchecked, that I remain faithful to this country, that I did not covet power solely to satisfy my own desires. That is what you mean to me. A subject who will not do as I wish, who opposes me, yet will remain on my side forever.”

Her pale fingers trailed down his cheek and came to rest at his chin.

“So please, obey me this once. It is dangerous. Everything that happens in this country is now in my hands. Whatever you do, I can take responsibility and cover for you. If you march toward death, I can support you with every ounce of power the Lord has granted me. But beyond this country, you are nothing more than a lone soldier.”

“Your Highness. I do not overestimate my abilities.”

“But you are certain of them. I, too, trust your abilities. I know what you can do, and how far you can go. That is precisely why I worry all the more.”

He would trust himself just as much as she trusted him. He would plainly drive himself to the very limit of his precisely measured capabilities.

What would remain after he abused his body to complete the operation? Who could help him? Here, Elizaveta could bring all her political capital to bear and send a total of three army corps marching. In Thilles, she could not.

There would be no way to retrieve him if he fell and bring him home. Yet it was obvious that he would become embroiled in just such an incident.

If this were an ordinary matter, something Thilles could resolve on its own, Ivan would never have planned to intervene in direct opposition to her wishes.

Because she understood him so well, she had all the more reason not to let him go.

How perilous must a battlefield be for this man to decide, ‘It will be dangerous without me,’ in a country where members of the Hero’s Party were still active?

“Rise.”

“...”

Ivan rose without answering. Elizaveta’s gaze slowly followed him upward. He stood a full handspan taller than she did. Broad shoulders and solid muscle formed a reassuring silhouette, its shadow enveloping her like an embrace.

Vivid blue eyes looked straight down at her.

“Remove your upper garments.”

“...”

Still he did not answer. He had been given an order, so he would obey. His manner revealed nothing else. With soft rustles, his hands slipped off his coat and shirt.

There was no sexual tension whatsoever. He was a man who treated his own flesh as another piece of weaponry, and she was his liege, ordering him to show her that body.

His torso stood revealed beneath the mana lamps: not a trace of fat, with hard muscle, sinews, and veins clearly defined.

“You have more scars I haven’t seen before.”

“I received them during the last operation.”

His body was like a sheet of drawing paper disfigured by countless scars, densely covered as though a child had scribbled all over it. Old, faded, yet deep, the scars ran thickly together like cracks in a broken windowpane.

Open wounds, through-and-through wounds, slashes, lacerations, burns, abrasions, stab wounds. Every kind of mark a human body could suffer.

They were a history of struggle in themselves, decorations earned through his years of service. A few of the distorted scars among them were of a kind even she had never seen before.

Deep burns over his heart. Shaped like fingers.

“Were you struck in the heart?”

“I burned it myself.”

“Was that battle truly necessary?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“You felt no pain?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“No anguish, no sadness, no fear?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Elizaveta laid a hand on his chest and smiled mournfully.

“I am sad. I am anguished, I am afraid, and I am in pain. Ivan... Your body is human. It will crack, break, and fall apart if used too roughly. It is an ordinary person’s body.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And even knowing that, you must do this?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

His answer was always the same. Yes, Your Highness.

Yet in every answer, Elizaveta could understand what this inarticulate man meant.

I know that mine is an ordinary person’s body.

I know that I will die someday.

But there are things I must do even knowing that.

So please, Your Highness. Grant me your assent.

In none of those answers was there any promise to return safely. As always.

“Ivan.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Call me as you used to. As you did back then.”

“...”

Ivan kept his mouth shut, offering no answer. Elizaveta gazed up into his eyes for a moment, then lowered her head again.

Soon, a low voice reached her ears.

“Elise. Trust me.”

“Sir Ivan Petrovich...”

She buried her face in his chest and trembled for a moment.

After several seconds of silence, she pushed him away with shaking hands and turned her back.

“I grant my assent to your wishes.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Go. And return.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Ivan silently dressed, bowed deeply, and left.

The moisture on his chest soon dried. As it always had.