The various knightly orders of the many countries gathered on the fortress wall, including the Lionheart family. Although they had been summoned rather suddenly, no one was dissatisfied with the decision. A black mist was slowly rolling in toward them from the far side of the snowfield. The fog remained unaffected by the snowstorm and slowly eroded the white, similar to how dusk pushed back the light. The fog came closer and closer, gradually turning the snowfield into the night, despite the sun still residing high in the sky.
Eugene, or rather Hamel, knew exactly what the fog was, and he knew the identity of the fog’s herald as well. The man was on the back of a horse, colored black like the darkness, and he held a black flag inscribed with a crimson reverse pentagram. Despite the freezing cold, the man only wore a tidy, black uniform, and his hair was neatly combed back and undisturbed even in the strong wind.
“Incarceration’s Blade,” muttered Kristina while standing next to Eugene.
The unwelcome guest wasn’t showing any signs of hostility, and although he was approaching the fortress, he wasn’t putting on a display of his presence either. As such, none among the gathered knights had lost consciousness.
Even so, the priests of Yuras held each other’s hands and busily recited their prayers, and though the light they emitted did not push back the approaching darkness, it reinforced the surroundings to prevent the darkness from encroaching any further. At the center of the light stood Pope Aeuryus, supervising the miracle while feeling the throbbing of the stigmata. Raphael Martinez, the Commander of the Blood Cross Knights, also rested his hand on the pommel of the greatsword on his back.
“Gavid Lindman,” Eugene quietly muttered the name.
It was a name he could never forget, just like Noir Giabella. But the presence he felt now was much more terrible and greater than what Eugene had experienced during his encounter with Noir Giabella in the snowfield. It couldn’t be helped since Noir Giabella had been using the body of a low-ranking incubus as a medium while Gavid was here in person. Gavid Lindman had been the strongest demon under the reign of the Demon King of Incarceration three hundred years ago, and he was currently approaching the fortress.
“He’s not alone either,” said Gilead with a frown. He also stood near Eugene. The fog following behind Gavid was the descendant of a legend from three hundred years ago.
‘The Black Fog.’
It was a nightmare that once existed in the territory of the Demon King of Incarceration. Numerous knightly orders set path for the Demon Castle of Incarceration, all for the honor of conquering it, but all other than Vermouth’s party had been wiped out on the outskirts of the territory, and the Black Fog had been responsible for carrying out the massacres.
However, the infamous Black Fog had been exterminated three hundred years ago, a feat achieved by the Great Vermouth and his comrades at the forefront. Eugene remembered the day as if it were yesterday. In Pandemonium, the territory of the Demon King of Incarceration, Hamel had wielded his blade without rest by Vermouth’s side. It had been impossible to determine whether it was day or night in the crimson plain, and Molon had opened the way even while bathing in his own blood. Sienna had unleashed her magic with desperate screams, and Anise had illuminated the darkness while vomiting blood.
Numerous knights had followed behind them. The knights, who survived many encounters with death and harbored great hatred for the demons, rushed into the fog while putting their lives on the line. They had only recognized the battle’s end when they realized their surroundings were no longer dark. The nightmarish Black Fog was no longer lingering in their vicinity, and the legend of the Black Fog, known as the Nightmare of Pandemonium, was put to rest that day.
However, what Eugene saw now was the Black Fog, the same as three hundred years ago.
‘…About a hundred of them.’
Eugene peered through the fog while squinting. There were about a hundred demonfolks dressed in black uniforms like Gavid and riding horses. The Black Fog of the current generation was a group of demon knights trained personally by Gavid after the war. As promised, Helmuth never invaded other nations nor demonstrated their military prowess since the war. As a result, it was impossible to know how the Black Fog compared to the other knightly orders on the continent.
This was the first encounter with the Black Fog for the continent’s knights, but none of them had the desire to compete with the knights in the fog. It was mostly due to the presence of Gavid Lindman, who stood at the forefront of the fog. He still showed no hostility or killing intent, and he wasn’t showing off his presence either. Even so, the knights of the fortress could not remove their eyes from Gavid. Indeed, the Black Fog was the descendant of a legend, but Gavid Lindman was a legend itself. Even without having to unsheathe his sword, the presence he exuded proved him well deserving of his title as the Blade of Incarceration.
“Hmm.”
The horse leading the fog stopped, and Gavid looked up at the fort from its saddle. The Black Fog had reached a place not far from the fortress before anyone knew it. Gavid stared at the knights on the wall for a while, then descended from his horse with a faint smile. After taking a few steps forward, he lowered the flag from his shoulder and planted it on the ground.
The crimson reverse pentagram popped against the black background. This was the symbol that the Demon King of Incarceration had used since three hundred years ago, and now the symbol of the Helmuth Empire. After putting down the flag for everyone in the fortress to see, Gavid politely lowered his head.
“I apologize for visiting without asking for permission or giving prior notice. However, I hope this won’t cause too much anger. After all, it was you who did not invite Helmuth to this event,” said Gavid.
The purpose of the Knight March was to raise caution against the Demon Kings of Helmuth. Naturally, an invitation had not been sent out to Helmuth. But who could have imagined that the Incarceration’s Blade would barge into Fort Lehain and that too with the Black Fog in tow?
“Will you open the gates?” said Gavid.
He did not seem to care much for the silence of the kings. He still emitted a calm energy, but his words contained immeasurable weight, threatening to crush the entire fortress. Some of the weaker knights on the wall felt their heartbeat pause for a moment after hearing his words.
“We cannot.” The first to answer was Aeuryus, the Pope of Yuras. He glared at Gavid while maintaining the light around him. “You are the Blade of Incarceration, a Duke of Helmuth. You are an uninvited guest at this banquet. The Light that protects this place rejects you and that Black Fog.”
“Pope Aeuryus. Unfortunately, unlike you, I cannot hear the voice of the Light. However, if the Light really does reject me, and if it isn’t because I am a demon but because of the presence of the Black Fog, I am more than willing to withdraw the fog,” replied Gavid.
“That’s….”
“Don’t tell me you are planning to refuse us unconditionally, simply because I and the knights behind me are demonfolks? If that is the case, I find it very lamentable. After all, it was three hundred years ago that the Believers of Light argued the demonfolks as being enemies unconditionally,” continued Gavid.
“I think he’s already said that you are an uninvited guest.” The one who spoke up this time was Straut the Second, Emperor of Kiehl. He placed his hands on the railings of the wall with a frown. “Duke Lindman. Your visit is both sudden and disrespectful. For you, having lived three hundred years, or rather, even longer, we must seem like children. After all, our lives are short, not even a hundred years. That’s a given. However, the one you serve, the Demon King of Incarceration, has said this in the past. He, who lived a long time and reigns as the king of the demonfolks, is equal as a leader to the kings who reigned for less than a hundred years.”
“A personal letter sent out one hundred and eighty years ago to the friendly nations of Helmuth. I am quite familiar with the contents of that letter. The personal letters were delivered to each nation and contained the mercy and respect of His Majesty Incarceration,” answered Gavid with a pause.
“I am glad to know that you are familiar with it, Duke Lindman. So, we have no reason to agree to your request and open the door when you weren’t invited. Unless you are here by the will of the Demon King of Incarceration?” said Straut the Second.
“That’s not it. I am here of my own will,” said Gavid.
“I see. Then… are you saying that you do not respect me, the Emperor of Kiehl, as well as the other kings, unlike the Demon King of Incarceration?” asked Straut the Second.
“Respect, is it?” said Gavid with a grin. “I never thought I would hear that word come out of your mouth. Yes, it’s just as you said. His Majesty, the Demon King, showed respect to you all. But what about you?” asked Gavid.
“…..”
“I know why all of you are here and why this event, the Knight March, is being held. All of this may not be considered a problem for His Majesty, but I have a different opinion as his loyal subject. This can very well develop into a problem,” continued Gavid.
“What is it that you want to say?” asked Straut the Second.
“Kings of the continent. Do you desire to go to war with Helmuth?” said Gavid.
Boom.
Gavid raised the flag before planting it into the ground once more.
“This event itself is a disturbing thing that shows absolute disrespect towards Helmuth and to His Majesty the Demon King of Incarceration. As I claim myself to be his blade, I only came here to examine if there exists any hostility towards His Majesty. Do I need any other reason?” said Gavid.
“Uhahaha!” Aman, the Beast King of Ruhr, burst into laughter. “Hostility! How laughable. Look here, Duke Lindman. It is we who are concerned about the hostility of Helmuth and the Demon King of Incarceration. We gathered here to prepare for a future that we fear. Do we want to go to war with Helmuth? Let us ask you instead, Duke Lindman. Does Helmuth want a war, just like three hundred years ago?”
“I do not know the intentions of His Majesty,” answered Gavid.
“Then what about you? Do you want a war between humans and demonfolks, just like three hundred years ago?” asked Aman.
“My wishes do not matter. My allegiance is to His Majesty the Demon King, and I only obey his will. Beast King, I think you have a big misunderstanding.” Gavid shook his head with a smile. “Certainly, it was completely rude of me to come here uninvited. I am aware of that. However, His Majesty did not command me to act, and I came here of my own accord. Then what about the fact that you do not respect Helmuth and His Majesty? What about the fact that you might be preparing for a war with Helmuth?”
Gavid paused for a moment. His gaze headed somewhere else as he continued. “None of that is my business. If you want a war, you can start a war. That is why I am calling it a misunderstanding. I am not here to punish you as His Majesty’s blade for not showing respect.”
“What do you mean?” asked Aman.
“If another war breaks out, His Majesty the Demon King will be truly sad that the promise of three hundred years ago has been broken. As his faithful servant, I do not wish for the sorrow of my lord. So I dare to interpret the will of my lord and act as an envoy of peace. The reason I want to participate in this event, the reason I ask you to open this door, is that I wish to connect with the heroes here as a knight representing Helmuth and the commander of the Black Fog,” answered Gavid.
“Connect?”
“Many heroes are gathered in front of me now. I would like to praise each and every one by name, but I won’t go the length, seeing as it looks like it won’t be taken kindly,” said Gavid with a smile before saluting with a small bow of his head.
However, the moment he bowed his head, Eugene heard a murmur nearby: “It’s fine with me, so tell me.” It was… Carmen. She gleamed with anticipation while staring at Gavid’s neat, glossy hair. “The Silver Lion of Lionheart. Give some praise for Carmen Lionheart.”
Eugene could somewhat understand. He had lived in the same era as Gavid and almost died at his hands, so he had no favorable impression of Gavid at all. But it was different for Carmen. For her, Gavid Lindman, the Blade of Incarceration, was a legend and powerhouse from three hundred years ago. So Eugene managed to convince himself that it was reasonable for her to want an evaluation from him.
“Among the many heroes,” continued Gavid after raising his head. Was it possible that he had heard Carmen’s voice? It was definitely possible. Although the distance between Gavid and the wall was quite large, if he so wished, he would be able to hear even the footsteps of an ant climbing the wall.
“Descendant of the Great Vermouth,” said Gavid.
Carmen’s lips twitched, and she prepared a reaction while waiting for his following words. She definitely couldn’t laugh like a fool. Carmen did not admire Gavid Lindman, though she felt awe towards his transcendent power. She felt a sense of competition, as well as hostility. Still, wouldn’t it be nice to be recognized by such a powerful existence?
“Eugene Lionheart.”
When the name was called, Carmen jerked her head around at Eugene with a betrayed expression. She had pondered the possibility but had never imagined it would come to fruition. Eugene stared at Gavid with a grimace.
“Rumors about you have spread all the way to Helmuth. According to the world, this young man is the second coming of the Great Vermouth, as well as the heir to Sienna the Wise,” continued Gavid.
Eugene felt countless eyes turning towards him as he waited for Gavid’s next words. Naturally, Eugene did not feel any joy at being acknowledged by Gavid.
“Are you also not the master of Altair, the Holy Sword of Light? You are the first to be recognized since Vermouth. What that represents…. Haha, I’m sure he knows better than anyone else. The Hero who succeeds Vermouth,” said Gavid.
“He was acknowledged by the Holy Sword?”
Questioning words could be heard from all over the place as soon as Gavid finished speaking. Only a few people in the Lionheart clan knew that Eugene was the master of the Holy Sword, and a few others, including the Pope of Yuras and Raphael.
“And Kristina Rogeris. This is the first time I am seeing her in person, but… what a curiously accurate resemblance to Anise the Faithful. It’s enough to make me believe that she is the reincarnation of the one who caused all those ridiculous miracles, the Saint of Light,” continued Gavid. Kristina’s face turned pale at his comment.
He continued with a smile. “It seems Yuras wanted to keep it a secret for now, but I can almost feel it in my bones. I have to acknowledge that Kristina Rogeris is the Saint of Light. There were many Saints before Anise the Faithful, but I thought only Anise deserved to call herself the Saint. But now it seems I have to change my mind. Kristina Rogeris, you are definitely a Saint, just like Anise.”
What Gavid spoke of were facts Eugene had heard earlier from Balzac Ludbeth, the Head of the Black Tower. The Dukes of Helmuth knew that Eugene was the master of the Holy Sword. Moreover, as Gavid said, he had faced Anise directly in the past. Demonfolks were especially susceptible to divine power, which would allow him to gauge Kristina against Anise.
“I am very interested in the Hero and the Saint among the many heroes here but don’t get me wrong. I am not here to harm those young people just because they are the Hero and the Saint. However, as I look back to three hundred years ago… I only wonder if I can foster a friendship that I could not with your predecessors,” said Gavid.
‘That little bastard,’ Eugene cursed mentally.
Eugene gritted his teeth while glaring at Gavid. He felt the need to shove his fist into Gavid’s blabbering mouth. Anise also uttered harsh curses, unbefitting her status inside Kristina’s mind.
“So please, heroes, kings. Open the gate. Give me an opportunity to interact with you and make relationships with you,” said Gavid while taking a step forward. Although his words made it seem like a request, the fog behind him wriggled as if it would force the gates open.
The kings shared a gaze in response. Although no one directly expressed their opinion, everyone’s gazes were firm. Even if they were only putting on a show with the Knight March, they could not allow the Blade of Incarceration into the fortress.
“The gate—” said Aman, as the representative of the kings and the master of the fortress.
“Open it.”
But he was never allowed to finish. A deafening voice dwarfed his words. It was hard to believe that the voice belonged to a human. Eugene jumped in surprise and turned in the direction of the voice. It wasn’t just him, either. Everyone on the wall turned their heads in shock, and the same was true for Gavid. However, he wasn’t just surprised but appalled.
The voice came from the direction of Lehainjar, the mountain of the blizzard. A man was walking towards the fortress on the snowfield leading to Lehainjar. At first glance, the man was far enough to be considered only a tiny dot. Although the man was giant, he wasn’t ridiculously big like an actual giant. But somehow, the man quickly narrowed the distance to the fortress with his steps, as if his steps were like a giant’s. His black hair fluttered in the blizzard.
The man was without any weapons, but it didn’t seem necessary. His body, which looked sturdy and robust to be considered extreme, was his weapon and armor.
“Molon of Terror,” muttered Gavid.
He was in complete shock and disbelief as he muttered the symbol of terror for the demonfolks of three hundred years ago. Molon was among the five inhuman existences who had allowed Gavid to sense death.
It was the name of the man who always took the lead on battlefields where numerous demonfolks were slaughtered, a man who always opened the path even when he was slathered in blood and his limbs were sliced off.
It was the name of the man who pierced through the center of the battle to turn the tide, the man who was more like an undead than actual undead, the man who did not know fear and drove pain and terror into the hearts of demons.
It was Molon the Brave.
The founder of Ruhr had returned from his seclusion.