SOTBW - 141

As soon as the new sun rose, the Romsoa knights heard the news that Maximón had slaughtered one of the soldiers guarding the mansion.

No one knew why the soldier had died. It was as if those who had witnessed the soldier’s death had been cursed, or as if they had seen something they shouldn’t have, and they all kept their mouths shut.

Joshua, who was in charge of the mansion’s security, interrogated the surviving soldiers several times, but in the end, he couldn’t find out what had happened. The knights couldn’t help but feel tense upon hearing the news that a soldier had died.

Starting today, the Romsoa knights would also finish their three-day rest and head out to the field. Returning to the field meant going back to the owl-like life of alternating between day and night, as well as repeating training that pushed their bodies to the limit until they were on the verge of vomiting.

Maximón didn’t particularly favor or discriminate against anyone during training. However, depending on what had happened that day, the intensity could be slightly (?) more severe. Based on their past experiences, the knights were certain that the training that would resume today would be anything but ordinary.

Those who had been drinking heavily until dawn gathered at the training ground, suppressing their nausea with superhuman effort. Maximón was already standing on the podium, waiting for them. With his arms crossed, his gaze as he looked down at the knights was anything but ordinary.

The knights, curious about what had happened at the mansion last night, kept glancing at Najane out of the corner of their eyes. But considering that a soldier guarding the mansion had died, Najane seemed quite composed. His expression was calm, as if he didn’t know what had happened last night, and he even looked energetic, as if he had slept well.

Then, Jacob deliberately cleared his throat. The knights flinched and stared straight ahead. Maximón, who had been scanning the tense knights, opened his mouth in his usual cold tone.

“The wounded soldiers who retreated to the rear of the Noctis Fortress are scheduled to return to each knight order by this evening. About a thousand will be returning to Romsoa. We need to inspect the legion in advance to ensure that the soldiers returning to the front lines don’t make mistakes during combat, and we need to pay extra attention to the distribution of sedatives to prevent soldiers who were isolated as drug addicts from making the same mistakes.”

After finishing his speech, Maximón stared at Najane. His gaze lingered for a brief moment before turning back to the knights.

Belshua noticed it faster than anyone else and realized that there had been a significant change in the relationship between Maximón and Najane. The other knights, distracted by the ominous rumors circulating in the order since morning, didn’t seem to have any idea what had happened between the two.

However, a few knights noticed the emerald brooch on Najane’s left chest and made meaningful expressions.

In the Kingdom of Bastronia, there is a culture where men give women jewelry that matches the color of their eyes as a confession of love. Maximón’s eyes are a deep, dark green that is incomparable to anything else, but if one had to find a similar gemstone, it would be an emerald.

It seems he finally succeeded in confessing.

The quick-witted knights, realizing that the soldier’s death that had made them tense since morning was actually no big deal, relaxed.

It would be a lie to say they weren’t curious about what had happened at the mansion that led to the death of a soldier guarding the walls, but for them, it was far more important to get through this training without any issues than to satisfy their minor curiosity.

“Training will continue until lunch. After that, you are free to rest, but do not leave the knight order. That’s all.”

As soon as Maximón finished speaking, the knights dispersed to their respective positions. Jacob, holding a lottery box, mingled among the knights. Those who drew the same number would train in a sparring format.

Najane, watching the knights swarm around Jacob, turned his head toward where Maximón was standing. When their eyes met, Maximón faintly smiled.

The knights, who had been moving slowly, froze stiffly upon seeing Maximón’s smile, as if they had faced Seriths unprepared.

They rubbed their eyes in disbelief, wondering if they had seen correctly, but quickly understood when they saw his gaze directed at Najane. The knights had no desire to get between the two, so they quickly made themselves scarce.

Maximón stepped down from the podium and gently took Najane’s hand. The moment he intertwined his fingers with Najane’s, the knights who had been noisily drawing lots suddenly fell silent. In the strange silence, Najane, puzzled, turned to look at them, and the knights, startled like birds hit by arrows, began to chatter unnaturally.

Only then did Najane realize that he had been holding hands with Maximón too casually and tried to pull away. But Maximón, as if saying “no way,” tightly held onto Najane’s hand. He looked like a child throwing a tantrum.

Flustered, Najane blinked. Instead of saying that they shouldn’t do this here, he stared at Maximón, who looked back at him with a shameless expression, as if asking what the problem was.

“Commander, people are watching...”

When Najane whispered, embarrassed, Maximón glared at the knights who were doing their best to focus on the lottery.

“Who’s watching?”

“Well...”

“No one’s watching.”

Maximón completely ignored the knights and walked away with Najane.

The knights watched Maximón and Najane walking hand in hand, then let out sighs of relief and patted their chests.

“...Did you see that?”

One knight muttered as if to himself, addressing his comrades.

“I saw it.”

“Me too.”

“How could anyone pretend not to notice?”

Maximón was quite a distance away from the group of knights, but they whispered among themselves in hushed tones, as if they thought he might overhear.

Belshua, without joining the conversation, picked up a practice sword. He inspected the blunt blade with an indifferent expression, then turned his emotionless gaze toward the training dummies the young soldiers had set up.

The knights huddled together and continued to chatter. Jacob tried to remind them to focus on training, but it was no use.

“That... the brooch... it means what we think it means, right?”

“Brooch? She wore a brooch? What kind of brooch?”

“She was wearing an emerald brooch, you idiot. Are your eyes just for decoration?”

“The Commander must have marked his territory. Like, ‘This is mine, don’t touch it.’”

It was a crude but accurate description.

The knights fell silent in unison. Everyone knew that Maximón had a special regard for Najane. Some had been uneasy about her due to the curse she carried, but after Daniel had sternly reprimanded anyone who showed such prejudice, no one dared to express it openly.

After all, Najane Schnicks was also a knight of the Romsoa Order. Even those who didn’t particularly like her acknowledged that, as a comrade who fought alongside them, she deserved at least basic respect. Besides, even if Maximón and Najane were in a relationship, it wasn’t as if some massive problem would come crashing down on them like a tidal wave.

Should we congratulate them, or pretend we don’t know?

The knights were deeply troubled by the fact that their comrade was now romantically involved with Maximón Elgort.

“So, how did that soldier die, anyway?”

“He was guarding the mansion, right? Then it must have something to do with Najane.”

“I think so too. The soldier probably did something to piss her off, and then... well, you know.”

“But I heard his dick got cut off and that’s how he died.”

The other knights were startled by this remark.

“What?”

“What got cut off?”

“The servants found his severed dick stuck on the tip of a sword in the mansion’s backyard...”

At this, the knights instinctively clenched their thighs.

“...Ugh, damn. Just imagining it makes my crotch hurt.”

They clicked their tongues at the tragic end of the nameless soldier.

“What does Najane even see in the Commander...”

At that moment, the sound of a training dummy collapsing echoed nearby. It was one of the dummies the young soldiers had set up for knights who couldn’t find a sparring partner. It had been cleanly sliced in two.

The startled knights looked at Belshua with wide eyes, wondering how he had managed to cut it like that. But Belshua ignored their gazes and turned his back.

Jacob, puzzled by Belshua’s cold demeanor, quickly clapped his hands.

“Everyone, get to training! Pair up and get to your positions!”

As Jacob urged them on, the knights reluctantly began their training. Belshua finished his warm-up and sparred with the knight who had drawn the same lot as him.

Belshua’s sword strikes were sharp and relentless. The knight was momentarily flustered by the fierce attacks targeting his weaknesses, but soon regained his composure and calmly parried Belshua’s strikes. This allowed Belshua to swing his sword with full force, holding nothing back.

With each clash of the practice swords, Belshua’s face twisted in frustration.

Every time Najane and Maximón grew closer as lovers, he felt angry and suffocated. He was annoyed at himself for not being able to be bolder, even though he had seen this coming. He was tired of being in a position where he could only watch Najane from behind.

He knew it was a good thing. Maximón and Najane should have become like that much sooner. Ever since Belshua joined the Romsoa Order, he had been waiting for the two to become lovers.

So, he should be happy. He shouldn’t forget his place and feel jealous as Maximón and Najane’s feelings deepened.

Najane was just Najane—not the Emaydis Bastronia that Belshua knew. He had to acknowledge and accept that fact. The more he thought of Najane as Emaydis, the more it tormented him.

Clenching his teeth, Belshua swung his sword upward at the knight. The knight, whose grip had loosened, waved his practice sword as if asking for a short break and stepped back.

Belshua gasped for breath and wiped the sweat from his chin with his hand.

He thought he had let go of everything after watching Emaydis die and be reborn, but...

Belshua let his arms hang limply and looked up at the cold sky.

‘If the reincarnated Emaydis kills Sainth, the world can start anew. But if Emaydis dies before that, this world will perish. Look at this land, Mahilen. It’s a place where monsters once lingered, and now it’s dried up to its core. It’s impossible to restore this desolate place to its former lushness.’

Belshua lowered his gaze to the frozen ground and recalled Mackanon’s words. The memory of that man, whom he had forgotten for quite some time after finding the Soul Compass, resurfaced.

With a troubled expression, Belshua tilted his head back and let out a long sigh.

‘Thousands of years from now, we’ll have to fight these monsters without magic or miracles. There’s still some magic left in the world, but it’s barely enough to sustain it. The monsters freed from their seals will devour this world in an instant, sucking the life force of living beings instead of magic. Forests and lands will turn into deserts, cities will become ruins, and nothing will remain.’

Catching his breath, Belshua steadied his stance.

‘That’s why the Dragon Lord and I sent Emaydis to the boundary of reincarnation, separating her soul and will. Someone has to sustain this world, even after it loses its magic.’

Belshua suppressed his sorrow and forced an even colder expression onto his face.

‘Emaydis’ will, to put it grandly, is the guardian of the boundary of reincarnation… To be honest, she’s a sacrificial lamb bearing the pain of the world.’

With a shout, Belshua charged at the knight.

‘You and Kieron created something truly absurd. I was the only one who broke the taboo in this world, and that was enough… It’s pitiful what Sainth and Versha have become as monsters.’

At that moment, the knight forcefully knocked Belshua’s sword aside. Belshua, having lost his grip on the practice sword, looked down at his throbbing palm.

Belshua removed his glove and stared at his red, swollen hand before running his fingers through his hair.

“Hey, are you okay?”

The knight set down his sword and asked. Belshua nodded instead of answering.

“I got lost in thought for a moment. Sorry.”

After apologizing, Belshua picked up his practice sword again. Losing his grip had helped clear his mind.

With his usual expression back, Belshua resumed training as if nothing had happened.