Chapter 777

Chapter 777

Want to come with us? (2)

Torvalt was lost in thought.

This incident would become the basis for maintaining a steady bond with the Julien Mercenary Corps.

Though they had chosen different paths, that much was enough. He had things he needed to do here.

‘Then why?’

Why was he suddenly overwhelmed with such a hollow feeling?

It felt as if… he had made the wrong choice.

As if the place he once held in the Julien Mercenary Corps no longer existed. As if he had become nothing more than a fleeting acquaintance to them.

No, in truth, that was accurate. Their first meeting wasn’t particularly pleasant, and he hadn’t really shared any meaningful connection with them.

So the certainty he felt must have been nothing more than an absurd illusion. He had simply been drawn to the idea of staying with the Julien Mercenary Corps.

That was all. That was the natural thing.

How long had he known them, really, to be so confident that he could become one of them?

Even so…

The tangled sense of unease and unfamiliar emotions wouldn’t go away, leaving him flustered.

‘N-no… I… I…’

Just what had gone wrong?

Nothing had gone wrong. Nothing had gone wrong, and yet the fact that he felt this way was what confused him so deeply.

Torvalt tried hard to chase down the source of this emotion. He wondered how to even express it.

If he had to put it into words…

‘…It’s misaligned?’

It felt like his choice had altered the fate that should have unfolded.

No matter how he looked at it, that seemed the closest explanation.

‘Seriously? Just from that?’

Torvalt even began to seriously question whether he had lost his mind.

Why was he feeling this way about people he wasn’t even that close to?

‘Did I really make the wrong choice?’

He hadn’t originally planned to stay in Valskrum.

If he hadn’t lost Gramdyr, he wouldn’t have come back here in the first place.

He had intended to head to another region entirely after saving up some travel money.

But then came the Salvation Church’s invasion, and he ended up witnessing the Julien Mercenary Corps in battle.

He had also seen his father fight at the same time.

If not for the Julien Mercenary Corps… his father would have died.

But because of them, he was able to witness his father’s battle and that changed his mind.

Torvalt stared blankly at Ghislain.

‘So that’s…’

He could say that it was because of the man in front of him that his decision had changed.

And because of that, he was now experiencing this strange emotion.

Seeing Torvalt suddenly go blank, Ghislain asked,

“What’s with you? Why the serious look? What’s going through your head?”

"Ah, no. It's nothing."

Torvalt shook his head vigorously.

All these emotions and feelings were nothing more than delusions. How could he possibly explain something that had only been playing out in his head?

Thinking he had made the wrong choice was a stretch. It could just be a sense of loss from a change in the future he had originally envisioned.

Yeah, that had to be it.

There was no reason to be this emotionally invested over people he had only just met.

So Torvalt shrugged with a smile.

“I was just worrying about how I should train from now on.”

The answer came with a loud laugh from Grondal.

“Puhahahah! Don’t worry! I’ll make up for all the training you’ve missed so far!”

A guy like Grondal wasn’t the type to lead someone with a light hand. In short, he meant to push him until he dropped.

Torvalt shook his head. He had agreed to it, but knowing his father’s personality, he couldn’t help but be anxious about the future.

He might die before even becoming strong.

Grondal gave Ghislain a friendly elbow to the side and laughed.

“Ever since the Julien Mercenary Corps came, it feels like only good things have been happening.”

“Ha… haha, is that so?”

“Of course! We stopped the Salvation Church’s invasion, saved a bunch of dwarves, and my own kid finally got his head on straight! All thanks to the Julien Mercenary Corps!”

Ghislain gave a small chuckle and shook his head.

As bold and simple as he was, Grondal was quick to let things go. That was a trait Ghislain found agreeable.

Soon after, Grondal put on a generous expression and declared,

“Alright, I’ll give you Gramdyr as a gift!”

“…I’ll gratefully accept it.”

“It’s a royal treasure of our kingdom, so make sure you always think whether your cause is just before drawing that sword.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two smiled at each other. Having faced a powerful enemy together, they shared a strong bond.

Of course, what they felt in their hearts was a little different from an ordinary bond.

‘Hah, I really need to settle things with this bastard. His technique seems better than mine. But I’ve got him beat in strength and stamina.’

‘If I had my original body, I would’ve won. In a one-on-one, I’d take him down every time.’

They continued to smile at each other. Both wanted to clash again, one more time.

But now wasn’t the time. If they did, it would have to be after they fully recovered and things had settled down.

Who knew when that would be.

Soon, Grondal loudly declared to everyone present,

“Prepare the finest weaponry for the Julien Mercenary Corps! We will repay those who helped us!”

The dwarves all nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

At the sudden announcement of the gift, the mercenaries beamed with joy.

It made sense—dwarven-made weapons held exceptionally high value.

And this time, the king of the dwarves himself had promised them. These weren't the usual dwarven goods circulated on the market. These were the finest weapons, in a class of their own.

“First, assess the damage! Once everything is in order, we will hold a victory celebration! We will give proper honor to the warriors who defended this land with their blood!”

In dwarven culture, a victory feast was a tribute to warriors. No matter what, it had to be held.

All the dwarves threw themselves into cleaning up the battlefield and tending to the damage.

The Julien Mercenary Corps was no exception. Though few in number, their diverse skills proved to be a great help.

After the post-battle efforts ended, the Julien Mercenary Corps received a grand reward.

These included finely crafted weapons the dwarves had poured their hearts into and precious gemstones that could be used as travel funds.

In accordance with Ghislain’s philosophy, most of the weapons focused on mobility—primarily breastplates and armaments but also included numerous practical items such as leather gear and cloaks.

And at the victory feast, Julien and Deneb—now awake—finally made their appearance.

The moment Deneb appeared, all the dwarves erupted in cheers.

“It’s the Saintess!”

“She’s the goddess’s blessing upon us dwarves!”

“Now that the Saintess has emerged, this Great War will end in our victory too!”

Everyone cheered with uncontainable joy.

Of course, Deneb, having never experienced such overwhelming hospitality in her life, continued blushing with embarrassment.

Julien watched her and smiled softly.

‘…Deneb.’

To think she had truly become the Saintess. To think she was really using the goddess’s power.

It was hard to believe, and yet he was so proud of her.

Now, the words of Ghislain and Astion no longer felt like wild fantasy, but like a truly possible future.

With her awakening, Deneb could now spread her ideals to the world.

She had always wanted to use divine power to help the world. For someone like her, the power of the Saintess was nothing short of a blessing.

But deep in Julien’s heart, worry began to take root.

‘…Sacrifice.’

Ghislain had clearly said the Saintess sacrificed herself to seal the Demonic Abyss. And knowing Deneb’s nature, she just might make that choice.

He couldn’t allow that to happen. That meant he had to grow even stronger.

‘I’ll protect you.’

Julien reaffirmed his resolve.

He would never let Deneb be lost.

* * *

To Ereneth, this victory feast was a strange and wondrous experience.

It was her first time at such a festival, but the unfamiliarity soon turned into delight.

Though dwarves were known to have poor relations with elves, they treated Ereneth with respect.

After all, they were comrades who had risked their lives together to defend Valskrum.

That was why Ereneth could be treated with honor as a warrior here.

She quietly observed the others from a spot slightly removed from the center of the celebration.

‘…This is fun.’

These were emotions she could never have felt, scenes she could never have seen, in the bland and dry world of the elves.

The journey that had brought her from the elven forest to this place had given her so much.

And the journey ahead would be the same.

Ereneth closed her eyes and smiled.

This adventure with the Julien Mercenary Corps was so very enjoyable.

Compared to the lifespan of an elf, a human life was but a fleeting moment. But that fleeting moment felt all the more precious because of it.

She wished for this adventure with the Julien Mercenary Corps to last a very long time.

This fleeting moment…

May it last like eternity.

* * *

Crack!

“Guh-huhk…”

A man in a worn and tattered black robe collapsed.

Standing before the fallen figure was the Great Chieftain of the Elves, Ereneth, her eyes cold and unyielding.

“Disgusting bastards.”

The man she had killed was a priest of the Salvation Church.

Having lost the war, the remnants had scattered and fled across the continent, and she had hunted them down and killed them.

She and the elves who followed her were relentlessly tracking down the remaining forces of the Salvation Church.

Ereneth looked around.

Dozens of corpses lay scattered on the ground—all had fallen by her hand.

Far more remnants of the Salvation Church remained than expected.

Though they had been defeated by the Grand Duke of Fenris, these were agents who had operated covertly across the entire continent. Having taken root in nearly every kingdom, their numbers were anything but small.

Now, everyone knew how dangerous the Salvation Church truly was.

That was why the kingdoms continued to pursue and hunt them without rest. But like cockroaches, too many of them remained in hiding.

Ereneth muttered wearily.

“Can’t let a single one live.”

She had thought that everything would be over once the Demonic Abyss was sealed.

Even if the Adversary returned, she believed that alone, it could be stopped.

But things had not gone as she had expected.

The Salvation Church had survived with tenacity, and in the end, had triggered another great conflict.

Despite the Demonic Abyss being sealed, they opened new rifts and even summoned monsters trapped in dimensional cracks.

At this rate, all the effort that went into sealing the Demonic Abyss would be meaningless.

While the situation was better than it had been a thousand years ago, if humanity let its guard down, they would suffer once more.

‘I won’t allow that.’

It had been a hard-won war, full of sacrifice and struggle. That tragedy must never be repeated.

At least, one thing brought some solace—the emergence of the exceptional Grand Duke of Fenris, who had utterly crushed the Salvation Church’s main forces.

He was strong enough to stand alongside the heroes of a thousand years ago.

Not just his strength, but also his boldness and decisiveness, his unyielding firmness that spared not even a shred of mercy, and his exceptional strategic and tactical prowess.

It was truly fortunate that such a remarkable figure existed in this era. Even a thousand years ago, someone of his caliber had been rare.

The only discomfort came from his persistent attempts to uncover something from her.

‘It’s meaningless, Grand Duke of Fenris.’

What use was there in digging into the past?

What had happened, had already passed. It was over.

They had won the war a thousand years ago. The Demonic Abyss had been sealed, and humanity had regained peace.

That alone was what mattered.

The same held true for this era.

‘As long as we kill every last remnant.’

Only then would it truly be over.

The Salvation Church would never rise again, and humanity would live in eternal peace.

‘The elves and dwarves would be liberated too.’

Thanks to the Grand Duke of Fenris, who now held the greatest power on the continent, even that objective was progressing step by step.

Everything was flowing as it should. As long as the Grand Duke didn’t let himself be distracted by unnecessary thoughts.

The answer was already clear—there was no need to burden oneself with alternative ideas.

The eradication of the Salvation Church.

That was the best and only way to save the world.

Flap.

Ereneth pulled the hood of her robe over her head to conceal her face.

She scattered spirits in every direction as she continued her hunt for the Salvation Church's remnants.

Wandering was not difficult. She had roamed the continent before with her friends.

‘Yes, we did.’

The Julien Mercenary Corps.

That was where she had met her friends. She had joined the corps and fought alongside them.

They had been mere novices then, but they overcame countless trials and grew until they stood at the very center of the Great War.

One could say that the war of a thousand years ago had been won thanks to the Julien Mercenary Corps, and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

Ereneth took great pride in having been a member of the Julien Mercenary Corps.

She walked with her eyes closed.

The faces of her departed friends flashed through her mind.

Faces she missed dearly and longed to see again.

For the first time in a long while, she recalled each of them one by one.

Then, suddenly, Ereneth came to a stop.

‘Astion…’

The great 9th-circle mage.

A genius who had led everyone and enabled the Julien Mercenary Corps to grow.

With his rather cute appearance, he had been popular among women, but in truth, he himself had shown little interest in them.

It was understandable. Astion had far too much to do.

There had also been rumors that his mind was unstable due to being Possessed.

Ereneth still didn’t know whether that was true, but Astion had always been weary and on edge, his fatigue ever apparent.

It was said that his most distinguishing feature was the dark circles under his eyes.

Oddly enough, that had also earned him a certain popularity for his “decadent charm.”

In any case, as she recalled Astion, Ereneth felt something was off.

‘Why?’

She had remembered her friends’ faces countless times over the years. So why was she now fixated on Astion alone?

With a frown, Ereneth touched her temple.

‘Again…’

A headache, just like before, began to creep in.

To think someone who had reached a realm beyond the Transcendence would suffer from headaches—it was still an unexplainable phenomenon.

She needed to find the cause. Considering this happened while thinking of Astion, there had to be a connection.

‘Astion… Astion…’

Ereneth tried to recall memories from the past.

But something was strange this time too. The memories, once vivid, now felt a little blurred.

Still, she refused to give up and kept trying to remember.

‘Astion…’

Was there something she had forgotten? Or was there another reason?

Enduring the headache, she kept forcing herself to recall the times she’d spent with Astion.

Then suddenly, a question emerged in her mind.

‘Astion… is that really his name?’

Astion was Astion. That’s how she had always addressed him.

Yet a strange sense of unfamiliarity crept in.

‘How… did I call Astion?’

Did he have another name? Had she called him by a nickname?

Why… all of a sudden…

Why did his name now feel so foreign?

Even though he was a friend she had spent so many long years with.

‘Astion…!’

Thud.

Suddenly, it felt as if something in her mind had broken open and dropped away.

Ereneth’s eyes flew wide.

Then, in a voice trembling with disbelief, the words fell from her lips.

“…Ghislain.”