"... I definitely left it closed."

Late at night, entering his office alone, Joseph saw the slightly open window.

Wondering if he had made such a mistake, he walked over to the windowsill, where white snow was already piling up heavily.

"I should light a fire."

He had only entered the office to handle a brief matter, but faced with the hassle of having to light the fireplace, Joseph let out a small sigh.

"Cough, cough."

As the glowing red match fell and ignited the firewood, the rising soot made Joseph burst into a fit of coughing.

It was a deep cough that made his shoulders heave, but as if accustomed to it, Joseph merely covered his mouth with a handkerchief.

"Hmm?"

Having lit the fireplace, Joseph was finally able to spot an unfamiliar object reflecting the flickering firelight.

Resting on the chilly desk, where the outside air still lingered, was a single pitch-black letter.

The letter was undoubtedly an unfamiliar thing that had not been there during the day.

"... It does not even have a seal."

Seeing the letter, which lacked a proper seal to identify the sender, Joseph put on gloves just in case.

Contrary to his concerns, however, the ownerless letter posed no danger and was merely filled with elegantly written characters.

- Time is not fair to everyone, Joseph.

If there was one distinct feature, it was that the handwriting was quite classical.

Joseph tilted his head as he looked at the old-fashioned handwriting, the sort that might have been popular decades ago.

- Time may be like a calm lake that seems to linger forever to some, but to others, it is like a waterfall that passes by in an instant.

He did not know who it was, but the letter was written by someone well-versed in the scriptures, at the very least.

The anonymous sender's message, quoting the old words of God, was gradually drawing Joseph's attention.

- And for you, it will be even more so, Joseph.

"Cough, cough. Mmm..."

He wanted to concentrate, but the cough welling up from deep inside relentlessly tormented Joseph.

The cold still lingering in the room was poison, and the soot carried by the warmth was also poison.

In a world filled with such poison, Joseph struggled to trace the blackened, dried ink.

- I feel that your time has run out. Perhaps you are well aware of this yourself.

"Hmm?"

Reaching the end of the letter, Joseph soon felt the letter in his hand gradually heating up.

Flustered by the sudden heat, Joseph tried to drop it, but the ownerless black letter refused to leave his hand, as if glued to it.

"... Damn!"

Beneath the black, glowing smoke, a small seal was forming.

The seal gradually taking shape was what Joseph had been chasing for a long time, and it was so blasphemous that it was hard to even look at.

- Joseph Bayezid. A pitiful pebble that has been broken since birth.

Thus, the crest of the wicked one who blasphemed against God was finally drawn.

Seeing the crest, Joseph realized who had sent the black letter he was holding.

- God's will is harsh and unerring, so His will shall soon come for you.

Finishing the letter, Joseph saw the last line and carefully lowered the handkerchief covering his mouth.

The fine handkerchief, embroidered by his mother herself, was filled with bright red, coughed-up blood that was hard to ignore.

- Before this year passes. In the name of death.

"..."

Not due to his own carelessness, nor anyone's curse, but simply his innate lifespan.

The flow of time did not treat everyone equally, but it was exceptionally cruel to Joseph alone.

* * *

["Here he comes!"]

"...!"

The man watching me from over there was smiling.

With snow-white hair fitting for winter, the man lunged at Vlad with the moon-filled night sky as his backdrop.

"Frausen!"

"Have you been well?"

Feeling the immense pressure growing as he approached, Vlad hurriedly unleashed his world.

However, unlike Vlad, the Arnstein mansion seemed to struggle to withstand Frausen's presence.

KABOOM!

The old mansion began to howl from the relentlessly drawn sword strikes.

With a voice loud enough for everyone in Valletta to hear.

Amidst the thick stone dust created by the impact, Vlad desperately searched for a path forward.

["He's an opponent who uses the same swordsmanship as you. You have no chance of winning through a frontal assault!"]

He barely managed to deflect the strike, but Vlad did not panic.

Rather, he simply burned with fighting spirit as he faced Frausen beyond their clashing swords.

"I was looking for you anyway. This works out perfectly."

"For what reason were you looking for me?"

At Frausen's nonchalant response, Vlad's world began to churn.

It was a name he had not forgotten for a single moment, but Frausen, right in front of him, seemed to have already forgotten her very existence.

"... If you have forgotten, I will have to remind you clearly."

Its original light began to leak from Vlad's closed left eye.

Seeing his own sword slowly being pushed back along with that light, Frausen formed a smile of amusement.

"Justia."

"Who?"

"The name of the knight you killed that day."

GRIND!

"Justia of San Rosino."

There was a canary who had cried for me in that fog-filled city.

Having survived because of her death, I was someone bound by duty to carry out her unfinished revenge.

"Today, I will take Justia's blood price from you."

Uttering the vow, Vlad's gaze had come to resemble that of a dragon.

A uniqueness possessed solely by me, not you.

The dragon's uniqueness, awakened alongside the weeping sword, began to flow with Vlad's blood.

"Right. Let's see you try."

"...!"

CRACK!

Unbelievable speed following unbelievable physical strength.

Having struck Frausen purely with strength, Vlad darted forward in a single bound toward the man who was sent flying far away.

"... You are fast!"

As if his earlier declaration was no lie, Vlad's sword began to completely fill Frausen's vision.

They were the afterimages of the Dragon Slaying Sword rushing in from every conceivable angle.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Wherever the sword touched, walls exploded, and wherever he stepped, the floors shattered.

The golden lightning flashing in the middle of the hallway looked, from the outside, like the lingering aftermath of a massive explosion.

Within the raging storm of swords, Frausen's figure wavered precariously.

"Haaah!"

Even amidst the relentless onslaught of attacks, Vlad was subtly calculating the distance to make his leap.

For confronting the swordsman who founded the secret of the one-strike sure-kill, a moment of true unpredictability was required.

"Today, I will exact Justia's blood price!"

Pushing the staggering Frausen far away, Vlad contracted every muscle in his body in a split second.

For a sure-kill strike that not even you could predict.

Thus, in Vlad's widened eyes, a straight golden horizon was already drawn.

KRRRK!

No one could stop the rising sun.

Unable to withstand the surging sword pressure, the cracking fissures in the hallway all raced toward Frausen.

"... Vlad, Vlad. You are a fascinating one every time I see you."

Vlad's world was rushing at him with ferocious momentum, but the expression of Frausen, who was facing it, held not a hint of panic.

"But I truly do not remember this knight named Justia."

KABOOOOM!

Finally, the strike Vlad unleashed reached Frausen.

Vlad's strike, as fast as light and heavier than the rising sun.

However, even that radiant strike merely quieted its breath before the colorless knight.

VWOOOM-VWOOOM-

Still, it was not as though Vlad's strike was completely worthless.

Because the Dragon Slaying Sword, which had pierced right through Frausen's chest, was revealing exactly what the beating heart inside him truly was.

Feeling the two fragments reacting because they originated from the same source, Vlad ended up making an expression of sheer astonishment.

"... A dragon's fragment?"

He had said he returned to kill dragons.

But what he harbored inside him now was a dragon's fragment.

Vlad was rendered completely speechless by Frausen's entirely contradictory nature.

* * *

CRAAASH!

A violent shockwave pierced through the mansion.

Under a vibration massive enough to send stone dust showering down, Bishop Pierre, who had been running down the hallway, was mercilessly sent tumbling.

"... Not a single thing has gone right since I met that bastard."

Quietly venting his frustration, Bishop Pierre hoisted the sprawled-out Radu onto his back and barely managed to stagger to his feet.

"Damn it."

However, the righteous gate he sought to enter was narrow, and his intended goal was far too distant.

Seeing the headless knights approaching from the far end of the hallway, Bishop Pierre had no choice but to pull out a small ceremonial staff from his robes.

"... I had a feeling I would die like this someday."

Just as a soldier dies on the battlefield, a priest is destined to die under God's will.

Having envisioned this end countless times, Bishop Pierre was able to remain calm, and to do what he must until the very last moment, he began to chant His words.

"Even though I walk alone through the dark valley..."

The vibrations echoing through the mansion were thunderous, signaling that someone was still fighting.

But the headless knights right in front of him simply emanated an eerie ghost fire from their helmets as they slowly walked toward Bishop Pierre and Radu.

"The only thing I can lean upon is what You bestow..."

CLATTER!

Suddenly, an undignified sound began to ring out from behind Bishop Pierre as he chanted the will of God.

That sound, which bordered on adorable, was entirely unsuited to the tense atmosphere of the hallway.

"Bishop! Now!"

"... Marbles?"

Bishop Pierre, who had been deeply engrossed in his prayer, ended up letting out a dumbfounded voice at the sight before him.

Because colorful marbles were spilling out into the middle of the hallway.

At this sight so utterly mismatched with the current situation, both Bishop Pierre and the headless knights froze in bewilderment.

"Hurry, hurry!"

Hearing the familiar voice from behind, Bishop Pierre hurriedly turned his head.

A single tail was poking out, hiding between the pillars.

The sight of someone who wields mystery was entirely displeasing, but at least right now, his voice could not have been more welcome.

"...!"

Seeing Bishop Pierre running in the opposite direction, leaving the marbles behind, the headless knights began to charge, but their steps slipped away futilely.

CLATTER-BANG!

Because as Nibelun snapped his fingers, the marbles heavily scattered across the hallway began to dart about as if alive.

Like a small wave made of marbles, the erratic movement caused their lost footsteps to slip wildly.

"It's magic!"

"Everyone, be on guard!"

They were tiny marbles, but they were so incredibly slick that even the slightest touch to a foot made them lose their balance.

The problem was that the marbles were increasingly rolling toward the headless knights.

"Well done!"

"Let's get out of here quickly!"

Bishop Pierre and Nibelun rejoiced as they watched the headless knights tumbling about, but their expressions completely stiffened at the sight before them when they turned around.

It was because the opposite side of the hallway they had turned to was now also filled with the headless ones.

"Do you have any more marbles?"

"... They may look like that, but they aren't easy to get. I have to win them from kids by playing marbles."

"What kind of bullshit is that!"

Clicking his tongue at Nibelun for spouting such bullshit despite being a cat, Bishop Pierre gently set down the supported Radu.

Then, holding out his ceremonial staff, he began to earnestly chant the scriptures this time for real.

"Next one, something else..."

"Let me focus. Please!"

Seeing Nibelun rummaging through his backpack, the eyes of the headless ones began to glow eerily.

Giving time to a mage who wields mystery was no different from a taboo for a swordsman.

"Strike!"

Seeing the headless knights sprinting down the hallway, Nibelun's hands became frantic.

However, despite his urgent rummaging, the item he was looking for was nowhere to be found, and the charging knights were only getting closer.

SMASH!

Suddenly, with a loud noise, wooden splinters blocked the rushing knights.

They were the splinters created when the door to the room Joseph had stayed in burst open.

"Sandor!"

"Sir Marcus!"

They were different names, but they referred to the same person.

The man, who was both Sandor and Marcus, wielding a rapier in one hand and a main-gauche in the other, mercilessly began thrusting into the headless knights.

"... I will open a path."

The thin, short blades the man wielded poked at the gaps in their armor, locking down the headless ones.

At that swordsmanship, which bordered on the divine, Bishop Pierre and Nibelun simply gaped, forgetting the urgent situation.

"Leave Sir Radu behind as well. I will take responsibility for him."

"... But!"

"He is not what is important right now."

Blocking the headless ones with his entire body, Marcus pointed out the window with his rapier-wielding hand.

"Because the most important person right now is Vlad."

Having finished a series of actions in Joseph's room, Marcus now had to complete his final remaining mission.

And the final mission he had to carry out was related neither to Radu nor Joseph, but to Vlad.

An end just like the beginning

The brighter the moonlight in the sky above, the darker the shadows beneath it became.

It was the shadow cast by the headless knights, who continued to scale and cross the walls even now.

The headless ones, who had been huddled like the dead for decades, rejoiced that they could finally reveal themselves beneath an unholy banner.

"Arnstein should be a fitting place to herald our beginning."

The woman dressed in black mourning clothes stood with her back to the moon.

Everyone in Arnstein was watching the woman, who looked like a black droplet rising against the blue moon.

"Finally, everyone is looking at me."

The black woman, Lamashtu, had long waited for a moment like this.

The moment when everyone in the world would look at her.

Even when innocent children burned to death and grieving parents wailed, the world had deliberately turned away; she wanted to gather those very gazes, just like now.

"How wonderful it would have been if everyone had done this sooner."

Lamashtu, the fallen saint who chose fierce resistance against the world instead of obedience to God.

She knew full well that in order to paint over this rigidly hardened world, a color more intense than any other was required.

To acquire such a color, she had not hesitated to paint over her pure soul with pitch-black darkness.

KABOOM!

Thus, her world was drawn tonight.

Watching the Arnstein mansion collapsing in front of her, Lamashtu began to smile brightly.

"What is the matter? It is not as if this is your first time seeing a dragon's fragment."

THUMP!

The sword wept, but the man was smiling.

With an ill-fitting dragon's fragment lodged in his heart.

Looking at the completely faded Frausen smiling, Vlad felt sorrow before he felt a sense of the grotesque.

"... No. This is wrong."

All this time, I have been chasing after your traces.

Yet from this man, who had become nothing but tatters, it seemed there was not a single trace left of the glorious Swordmaster that Vlad had anticipated.

"Are you not a Swordmaster?"

Tonight was too deep.

It was so dark and thick that everything he saw seemed weirdly distorted.

Beneath the dark night sky, where Joseph, whom he had trusted, and the Swordmaster he had followed all seemed to have lost their true colors, Vlad had no choice but to raise his sword once again.

"... A young possibility, the place one ought to be, and a rightful price."

There were the young children slipping into an unbreakable slumber in the city of Moshiam.

And the women shedding black tears, suffocating to death in the fog-filled village.

"These were all the codes you said to uphold."

He was not an entity Vlad admired simply because he stood high above.

Vlad could look up to him because he had been right.

But the one standing before him now was insulting the achievements he had made and the codes Vlad had followed all this time, making Vlad feel as if all his past struggles were being repudiated.

"... So what the hell are you doing here now?"

Viewed up close, the world he had admired was entirely rotted and festering.

Only now fully facing Frausen's stench to the core, Vlad felt an unbearable sense of disgust.

"This is not a Swordmaster."

Gritting his teeth, Vlad raised his sword toward Frausen.

A person who could paint a world with a brush called a sword was called a Swordmaster.

And right now, Vlad took up his brush to erase the ugly world before him from reality.

"I will erase you here today."

A golden horizon began to extend from Vlad's eyes.

The line, flowing along with his will, coursed down his sword and stretched directly toward Frausen, though his eyes, reddened by rage, could not be helped.

"The Swordmaster's Code. It has been a long time since I heard that."

"Shut your mouth!"

KABOOOOM!

Vlad's world began to be drawn out toward Frausen, who mocked the path he had followed.

Pushed all the way to the wall by a heavy strike completely different from before, Frausen let out a groan that sounded genuinely troubled.

It was because among the dragons and knights of this era he had fought thus far, no one had pushed Frausen this hard.

"There was a time when I tried to uphold that too."

"Then why did you change!"

The two clashing swords were pushing against each other.

Their visible color was the same silver, but because the wills they harbored were different, the swords had no choice but to repel one another.

"... By nature, humans are beings that inevitably change. You young, clumsy knight."

The taut balance of the swords slowly began to be pushed back toward Vlad.

It was due to the sheer weight borne by Frausen, who had chased dreams but ultimately succumbed to understanding reality.

Quijano had said to raise one's sword for young possibilities.

"No matter how young the possibility, one must also know how to sacrifice it for the greater good."

Quijano had said that if one is where they ought to be, they should do what they must.

"Even if one is where they ought to be, there are times when one must close their eyes."

And to always accept only a rightful price.

Vlad still remembered the weight of the rightful price that Godin had dropped on his head.

"And sometimes, there are times when you have to be greedier than a rightful price."

"Bullshit! You son of a bitch!"

However, his honorable codes were gradually being erased from the Swordmaster's lips.

The young knight who had followed his path was slowly being wounded by the words spat out by the old Emperor who had succumbed to reality.

"A fake like you has no right to say such things!"

As if unable to tolerate the words spat out by a mere corpse any longer, Vlad's gaze grew even redder as he looked down at Frausen.

Much like a dragon's gaze that casually defines whoever its opponent is.

With the Swordmaster's dazzling technique toying with the clumsy physical strength of a dragon, Vlad's heart, already blazing with rage, began to pound even more violently.

["No! Vlad! Do not cross over into the dragon's world!"]

Quijano, whom he had cherished inside himself, was shouting no, but Vlad's gaze, growing increasingly deep blue, was rejecting all the worlds currently trying to sway him.

At Frausen's words completely disregarding the convictions he had believed in and followed up to now, Vlad began to pour out the crimson rage he had been holding back.

["Vlad!"]

"HRAAAAAH!"

Along with those emotions that he could no longer control.

Vlad's tightly clenched fist was already gripping the weeping sword.

Becoming ominous alongside the light emitted by its master, the Dragon Slaying Sword was glowing so deeply blue that it even seemed to forget its own origins of being forged from the stars.

"I will trample you so that you can never utter another word!"

The name of the knight whose elongated fangs were sharp and whose blue eyes turned a piercing azure was Vlad Dragulia.

Tilted by rage, Vlad's world had come to resemble the father he had never even seen.

"... You are a dragon."

The other side of Vlad, warped by his anger, was his innate dragon's world.

Having finally discovered the trace of a dragon in Vlad's multifaceted world, Frausen did not hide a bitter expression, as if to say, 'Have you changed as well?'

"And I am a Dragon Slayer."

There was a dragon rushing down the hallway.

However, the world reflected behind that dragon was not the radiant golden light from earlier, but an ominous, bloody crimson.

Toward an ominous world no longer worthy of respect, Frausen raised his sword.

SQUELCH!

The sword of the Dragon Slayer, which cleaved the most perfect dragon, ultimately smashing and tearing apart the ominous dragon's world.

Thus, pinned on the end of the sword that was finally thrust forward, a young, trembling dragon was caught.

"Ghh..."

The silver knight was a sword I might have once held, but now it had pierced right through me.

Sticking out from Vlad's back, the silver knight faintly trembled toward the exceptionally bright moon that had risen today, remembering the young knight it had seen at the World Tree.

"It was good until just a moment ago. Vlad Aureo."

The blood spilling from his mouth splattered onto Frausen's face.

But why was it that Frausen's heart grew cold, even when the blood of a dragon was right in front of him?

"But not in the form of a dragon. You cannot stop me with that."

"... Ghh."

SHRRRK!

The sensation of it being pulled out was even more gruesome than when it went in.

Feeling the coldness of the sword with his entire body, Vlad unconsciously broke into spasms.

"I will make sure to remember the name Justia. It was worth that much, at least."

The world inverted along with the withdrawing sword.

The ground he stood on drew near, while the sky at his back grew distant.

THUD.

Tumbling past the completely shattered second-floor wall and falling to the ground, Vlad's eyes were filled with the bright, clear moon he had not seen until moments ago.

And also the figure of a man approaching me, eclipsing that moon.

"... Lord Joseph."

His tightly clenched hand still held the sword as if he still wanted to try, but the gaze of Joseph, who he now faced, was incredibly cold.

It was truly inevitable that the strength would slowly drain from Vlad's hand upon seeing that gaze.

"... It isn't true, right?"

Black hair and black eyes.

The eyes that had always looked at me with his back to a bright window were right there.

Those black eyes had always seemed like they would never change, but today they looked so unfamiliar that he could not bear it.

"Tell me it isn't true... Please!"

The ground he lay on was cold, but the sight that met his eyes was even colder.

Vlad spoke to Joseph, who was looking down at him, with a desperate plea, but the only answer he received was the cold wind blowing from the winter.

Toward Joseph looking down at him in a completely inverted world, Vlad ultimately let out a small sob.

"With this, there is nothing more for you to repay me. Vlad."

Despite Vlad's earnest plea, Joseph's figure was gradually fading into the distance.

Following the black woman seen over there, and toward the black carriage she had brought.

With every step Joseph took into the pitch-black carriage that looked like a coffin, a world Vlad had built was brutally shattered.

That world was the one created by Joseph, who had reached out his hand to me on a winter's day when I was wandering with only an unadorned sword.

"Huuu..."

Whether it was due to the blood draining from him or Joseph's gaze looking down on him, Vlad slowly began to curl up his body from the piercing cold.

"Uwaaaah!"

Joseph was disappearing into his gradually fading vision.

Vlad was loudly screaming for him to look here, not there, but Joseph's turned back remained firm, without the slightest waver.

"No, huuu... Cough. It isn't true."

Tonight was cold, and the settling moonlight was heavy.

Just like the winter when they first met.

Blurred by the tears falling mixed with his blood, Joseph's back was gradually becoming hazy.