The war had ended. The expedition had won, and the Demon King of Void had been erased from existence.
"Leo, this will hurt a little," Caron said quietly.
"I'll manage," Leo replied.
Thunk!
Caron drove Guillotine deep into Leo's thigh and exhaled softly. Within Leo's core lingered faint traces of the Demon King's power—worthless now that the Void's ruler had perished, but Caron was never one to leave anything uncertain.
"Guillotine," he murmured.
"It was already fading anyway," Guillotine said.
Whoosh.
Violet light seeped from Leo's body into the blade, then vanished without a trace.
"Seria," Caron called.
"Yes, Caron," Seria answered, placing her hands gently on Leo's wound. Holy power bloomed beneath her palms, mending the torn flesh in an instant.
Caron patted Leo's back firmly and smiled faintly, then said, "It's time to head home."
He slowly turned, surveying what remained of the battlefield. The surviving members of the expedition were embracing one another, their cries echoing through the ruins.
"We did it!"
"The continent has triumphed!"
"The Demon Kings are gone for good!"
There was no divide of race or allegiance now—humans, beastfolk, tiger clan, and mages all shouted together as one.
Their joy was natural, yet as Caron watched, a shadow crossed his expression.
Victory felt hollow. The ache of loss weighed heavier than the glory of triumph.
"...It would've been nice if you were here to celebrate with us," Caron whispered under his breath.
The absence of Halo pressed on his heart like a wound that refused to close. It still didn't feel real seeing his friend crumble into dust before his eyes. It had felt like some cruel, lucid dream.
He wondered if this was how Halo had felt, too, watching a friend choose death for his own path. The memory stabbed through him sharper than any blade.
As Caron lowered his head, trembling, a familiar set of footsteps approached. Then, gently, someone wrapped their arms around him.
"The head of the house protected what he was meant to protect... and departed with honor," a soft, composed voice said.
Caron turned his head. Standing beside him, smiling faintly through the dust and ruin, was Sabina Leston.
"Lady Sabina," Caron said quietly.
"Am I wrong?" Sabina asked. Her tone was different than usual.
Sabina, who had always spoken to Caron without formality, now carried herself with the grace and distance of a noblewoman.
"Perhaps," she continued, "I sensed it from the very first time I saw you."
"...What are you talking about all of a sudden?" Caron asked.
"The moonlight that glimmers from your blade—it resembled a light etched long ago in my memory. My brother must have met his end without regret, for he was able to bid farewell to a friend he had cherished for so very long," Sabina replied.
Caron scratched the back of his neck and let out a quiet, bitter laugh, then asked, "Was I that obvious?"
"If I couldn't recognize the swordsmanship, I'd have no right to be holding a sword," Sabina said gently. "The other elders have already realized as much. To be frank, my brother's demeanor changed drastically before the end."
"It's... complicated to explain," Caron murmured.
"There's no need to explain," Sabina said, reaching out to softly ruffle his hair. "Whatever your past may hold, you are Caron Leston now. Am I wrong?"
Caron chuckled and replied, "Looks like there were only people who pretended to fall for it."
"Then perhaps you should've taken acting lessons," Sabina teased lightly. "Regardless, I'll treat you as Caron Leston now and always, so you should remember that."
Her laughter rang gentle and kind, but her next words trembled with emotion. She asked, "Did my brother... smile at the end?"
Caron met her gaze and nodded slowly, then answered, "He did. Without a doubt."
"Then that's enough," Sabina said softly.
She laughed—a clear, ringing sound that brushed against his ear—and turned to walk away. She moved as if nothing was wrong, her steps light and composed, but Caron noticed it nonetheless.
The corners of her eyes were glistening.
Sabina, who had been walking away, suddenly turned back toward Caron. Her gaze softened, and she spoke in a quiet, almost fragile tone.
"I think growing older means learning to live with loss," Sabina said carefully. "You get used to losing things, piece by piece. That's what it feels like, at least. Do you feel the same?"
"...Not quite yet," Caron replied after a pause.
"Is that so? I'm glad to hear it," Sabina said, smiling warmly. Her lips curved into a radiant, gentle smile.
"Well then, I have plenty of work to do in my brother's stead," she said briskly, straightening her shoulders. "We'll take care of cleaning up the battlefield, so please, take some rest. This will be the last time I treat you as Cain. From now on, you'd better be ready."
With those words, Sabina turned and slipped back into the crowd of surviving expedition members.
Caron watched her go for a long while before letting out a small, bitter laugh. He murmured, "Must've been hard pretending not to know."
"Maybe you should actually take acting lessons when we get home. Even I thought your performance was terrible," Guillotine added.
Perhaps everyone had already known and simply chosen to look the other way. Looking back, there had been so many small cracks, so many signs he hadn't hidden well.
Caron chuckled under his breath, and at that moment, Leo—still bandaged from Seria's healing—approached with a puzzled look.
"What do you mean, 'pretending not to know'? Did you lie again?" Leo asked.
Smack!
Caron's hand came down hard on Leo's back.
"You don't need to worry about that, Leo," he said. "By the way, Grandfather left a will. Do you want to hear it?"
At the mention of a will, Leo's expression instantly turned grave. He asked, "...What kind of will? Shouldn't you be saying that in front of the elders?"
"They'll find out soon enough," Caron replied casually.
"Alright, let's hear it then. I'm ready," Leo said.
He tried to sound composed, but the sadness was still there. Accepting the loss of someone he respected more than anyone else wasn't easy.
Caron looked at him for a moment, then said softly, "Congratulations."
"...What?" Leo asked.
"You're the next head of the Ducal Family of Leston," Caron said.
"W–What?" Leo asked.
"That's how it turned out," Caron said with a grin.
Of course, Halo hadn't left behind such a will—but Caron continued without hesitation, his smile bright and teasing. "I talked with Grandfather a lot before he passed. We agreed that you'd be the one to lead next. He was planning to announce it himself right after the war ended, but... Well, you know how things went. Anyway, you're officially the new head of the Ducal Family of Leston."
"Y–You're insane! You m-made that up, didn't you?" Leo stuttered.
"Are you insulting Grandfather's dying words right now?" Caron shot back.
"That's not what I meant—!" Leo replied in a panic.
"Then congratulations, Duke," Caron said cheerfully.
"Hey, you lunatic! What about Uncle Dales—no, my father?!" Leo asked.
"I'll convince them," Caron said simply.
"Heyyy!" Leo roared, clutching his head.
The surroundings suddenly grew noisy. Hearing Caron's words, his other comrades began to chime in one by one.
"So Leo's the new Duke of the Ducal Family of Leston, huh?"
"Poor man."
"Tsk tsk. If it were me, I'd bite my tongue right now."
"Stay strong, Lord Leo."
"Why are you all ganging up on me?!" Leo shouted in protest, drawing more laughter.
The air filled with warmth and relief—the sound of life returning after too much death.
Caron let their laughter wash over him and looked up at the sky. He thought Halo would've wanted it this way.
'Keep watching. I'll make sure to dishonor your legacy properly this time. Don't get jealous—you painted my name in gold back when you went chasing revenge, remember?'
Caron exhaled, letting the ache in his chest ease just a little.
Halo had died smiling, so Caron decided to smile as he let him go.
...Farewell, he thought.
And with that, he said goodbye to his friend. There was still too much left to do to let grief bury him just yet.
***
Though the war had ended, there were still problems left.
Caron stepped forward, facing the surviving demons. The Army of Liberation he'd led had suffered devastating losses, yet their numbers still filled the horizon. Demons and demonic monsters—creatures born of dark mana—stood before him, tense and silent.
To them, Caron was still the absolute. Even without Void's power and bereft of most of his authority, they didn't dare bare their fangs against him.
They had seen history with their own eyes—the clash of Void's power against Void's power, the desperate struggle between Demon Kings fighting for survival. None of them had witnessed the battle directly, but the overwhelming energy that had shaken the world had told them enough.
"Quite a lot of you survived," Caron said, his calm voice rippling through the ranks. He regarded them with an expression that was oddly at ease, then added, "As you all know, every Demon King has been annihilated."
The demons and demonic monsters' numbers were still formidable, but their power had waned beyond comparison. The dark mana was already dispersing. From the moment the Demon Kings—the very centers that held everything together—disappeared, the dark mana was no longer a threatening force.
With time, the demons would regain their original forms. Just like those who never awakened their dark mana. The ones they'd once called "slaves."
They would all end up that way. And the demons knew that bitter truth all too well.
"Are you afraid of losing your dark mana?" Caron asked.
Judas, the demon duke who had loyally served him, stepped forward and bowed deeply, then answered, "We are not afraid, my lord."
Caron exhaled softly and continued, "The sins you've committed are beyond measure. Helping the expedition doesn't wash away those deeds. There are still countless people across the continent who've lost their families and friends to your kind."
He paused, his gaze hardening before he continued, "But you've shed a lot of blood. If it weren't for you, someone from the expedition would have died, and another scar would've been carved into our history. So... I'll keep my promise."
Caron had promised them mercy, but it wasn't true absolution—only a reprieve from death.
"From this day forth, this land will be your prison. You will not leave the Demon Realm. You will remain here until the day you die," he declared.
He had pondered this for a long time—what to do with the demons once the war was over. The Demon Realm was vast beyond reason, large enough to be considered an entirely separate continent, more than sufficient to accommodate the demons.
"Start all over here," Caron said.
He wondered where the demons, stripped of their dark mana, would go now. That wasn't for him to decide. It was their burden, their path to choose.
Without dark mana, they were little different from humans. The dark mana that had consumed the Demon Realm had perished along with the Realm of Void.
Caron continued in a solemn tone, "Rebuild your civilization. Repay the debt you owe to the races of the continent. That's the only path left open to you."
He was giving them one last chance.
"This isn't forgiveness," he said coldly. "It's a stay of judgment."
The memories of Rael Leston resurfaced in his mind. These demons were, in the end, his kin. If Rael had been here, he would have granted them a chance as well.
This wasn't pity. It was justice tempered by restraint.
"Don't resent me for this later," Caron added.
Sooner or later, countless people from the continent would come here—scholars, adventurers, kings—drawn by the remnants of the Arcane Civilization buried in the Demon Realm: Relics, technologies, secrets.
He couldn't guarantee how they would treat the demons. But his voice remained steady as he said, "They might come to hate you. They might even humiliate you. In fact, that's far more likely. But you must accept it. It's part of the price you have to pay."
When he returned to the continent, it could cause controversy. Perhaps people would ask why they hadn't wiped out the demons for good, and why they hadn't demanded a price in blood.
Thunk!
Caron drove Guillotine into the ground before him, then looked around at the demonkin.
"If I hear even a whisper of trouble, I'll come back myself and sever your heads. So live properly. Walk alongside those you once despised. Carry the burdens you once forced upon others. And never stand above anyone again," he warned.
At those words, Judas was the first to kneel. One by one, the rest of the demons followed, bowing their heads low before him.
"We accept your decree," Judas said.
"We accept your decree," the others echoed.
Not one voice rose in protest.
Thus, they bowed to the last Demon King—and Caron nodded, his expression unreadable.
Halo, the great one, had fallen, and the expedition was over.
Whoosh.
Caron let out a light breath as he felt his core rapidly recovering. It was a core that should have been destroyed. There was no doubt that Halo had used the power of Void to repair it right before his death.
...You foolish bastard, Caron thought. Even on the brink of death, Halo had managed such a miracle.
He already understood why Halo had done that.
When I return, the second war will begin, Caron thought grimly.
The war was over, but another kind of war was waiting. One over the spoils of victory, the fractured alliances, and the power left behind.
He drew in a slow breath. In his mind's eye, he could almost see Halo again—grinning that reckless grin from the other side.
And while Caron was still addressing the demons, a familiar voice called from behind him, "Lord Caron."
"Ah, Sir Zerath," Caron replied.
Zerath hesitated before saying, "...I believe you'll need to come with me. Something's happened."
As if on cue, just when Caron thought the chaos had ended, another problem had arisen.