The sky was dazzlingly clear—an impeccable day for heroes to return to the heavens. Perhaps it was thanks to the World Tree's power.
"The darkness that once engulfed the continent has now vanished," Revelio said, his voice echoing across the plaza as he continued his speech from the grand podium.
There was an unmistakable air of majesty around him. The forsaken prince who had once despised the imperial bloodline now stood proudly as its emperor.
"Countless lives were lost," Revelio declared, his golden eyes sweeping over the silent crowd. "But at last, the continent has been freed from the Demon Kings. There are no more threats from beyond our lands."
Before him, figures dressed in dark ceremonial robes listened in reverent silence.
"Yet even if the external dangers have ended," Revelio went on, his tone sharpening, "many perils still linger across our continent."
Power surged in his voice as he declared, "The great heroes left us the legacy of peace. But new dangers are already rising—dangers that could shatter that legacy if we falter."
This was no simple memorial service. It was a council that would determine the shape of the world to come. Every word that fell from Revelio's lips could alter the fate of the continent itself.
He knew that well—and so, his eyes gleamed as he pressed on.
"Through this campaign, we have learned something precious," Revelio added. "That we can become one—beyond borders, beyond races. We have witnessed with our own eyes what unity can accomplish."
For a moment, his passion almost made him look like a naïve idealist. But his gaze was anything but soft—it was cold, precise, and calculating.
"We must never forget the lesson bought with so much blood. If anyone dares to threaten the heroes' legacy, I will be the first to rise and fight. There must be no more wars, no more suffering on this land," Revelio declared.
Peace was a word more unreal than any dream.
"Let us open the age of peace together," Revelio said solemnly. "A world where none starve, and none suffer. Let us build that world with our own hands."
Some would no doubt scoff—calling it the foolish idealism of a young emperor. But Revelio stepped down from the podium with his head held high, unashamed.
Watching him, Caron let out a faint chuckle and said, "I never thought our emperor would turn out to be such a lover of peace."
Revelio laughed softly in return, then said, "Peace must come."
"Why?" Caron asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Because that's how our empire will becomethe sole ruling power of the world," Revelio answered.
Once his feet touched the ground, the idealist emperor was gone—replaced by a shrewd realist.
"Peace? Sure, it's nice," Revelio added with a smirk. "But it's just a convenient banner. Under peace, we get to lead the world and crush anyone who defies the order we create, all under the name of justice."
Caron chuckled dryly and said, "That's quite an imperial brand of peace."
"At least fewer people will die," Revelio replied. "Everyone can live their lives, chanting about peace while working hard to sustain it."
He mentioned forming a new international organization—something he called the Continental Alliance.
Revelio was a remarkably quick-witted emperor. Caron let out a quiet murmur of admiration as he watched his friend switch masks in an instant.
"You've become quite the politician," Caron said, half in admiration.
Revelio shrugged lightly and asked, "Wasn't that what you wanted?"
"I only said I hoped no one would starve to death anymore," Caron replied with a faint smile.
"And I simply gave your wish a little structure," Revelio said, tapping his temple. "Wrapped it up nicely. 'Peace'—doesn't it sound prettier that way? If everyone can live well and eat their fill, then that's true peace, isn't it?"
The walls that once divided humans and other races had finally fallen. From now on, they would work together to shape the continent's future.
There would surely be discord at first. After all, they would have to talk—and reach out—to those they once hated.
"Still, isn't this the least I can do to atone?" Revelio murmured in a bitter tone.
"What sin could Your Majesty possibly have committed?" Caron asked.
"The sin of being descendants who failed to stop the First Emperor. You understand that feeling, don't you?" Revelio replied.
"You really do have an unnecessary sense of responsibility," Caron muttered.
While the two spoke, the Pope of the Holy Kingdom stepped onto the platform. One by one, other leaders followed—the elven regent, the dwarven king, the chieftain of the beastkin. Each stood at the podium to lend their voice in support of the new age of peace that Revelio had proclaimed.
As thunderous applause rolled through the air, Caron allowed himself a faint grin. He asked, "Your Majesty, you know what my specialty is, right?"
"Agitation, falsification, and rebellion," Revelio replied dryly.
"Well then," Caron said with mock solemnity, "if the day ever comes when you stray from the right path, I'll have no choice but to make a patriotic decision. I hope you'll understand."
"Why don't you just be emperor instead?" Revelio suggested.
Caron groaned and replied, "Why do you always try to push the annoying jobs onto me?"
As they bantered, the moment finally came—Caron's turn to speak.
"Did you prepare a speech?" Revelio asked.
"Not a chance," Caron replied with a smirk. "I'll just say whatever comes to mind and get off the stage."
He gave Revelio a casual wave and strode up to the podium.
The moment he stood before the crowd, countless eyes fell upon him. Floating above were magical artifacts glittering like stars—recording and broadcasting the joint funeral live across the entire continent.
What perfect weather for this, Caron thought. He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. The sunlight was bright, but not scorching. It was just right.
"Everyone before me has already said such good things, so, honestly, I don't have much left to add," Caron began, his tone light.
It was neither heroic nor dignified—hardly the speech of a savior. But then, Caron smiled wickedly. This was the moment he had been waiting for.
It was a pity that Halo wasn't here to see it. Still, his words would be heard across the continent—that was enough.
"I think I'll take a break," Caron declared boldly. "I'll put down my sword for a while. I'll travel the continent, eat well, drink plenty, and enjoy life. Why? Because frankly, I'm tired of swinging this damn sword."
His playful tone echoed through the plaza, drawing laughter from parts of the crowd.
"The truth is," Caron continued, "I'm not the kind of hero or warrior you think I am. I'm just a lunatic who does whatever he feels like, a thug who used to rob bad guys blind. Maybe that's why everyone close to me calls me a mad dog. And you know what? I like that name."
The story of Caron Leston—the man consumed by revenge—ended here. Now, a new life awaited him. A life without bloodshed, without war, without grief. And a lazy, carefree life that his friend had bought for him with his own sacrifice.
Caron's blue eyes gleamed in the sunlight as he said, "After this funeral, you probably won't see me standing up here again. But I want you to remember one thing."
His tone slipped into that of a street delinquent, not a noble hero. There was no trace of a duke's descendant or a savior of the continent. Yet his voice carried unshakable weight.
"In the Ducal Family of Leston," Caron began, "there lives a mad dog. If anyone makes the wrong choice, that leash will come off."
It was a warning, a promise that anyone who tried to destroy the new order would be torn apart without mercy.
A shadow crossed the faces of several leaders at his words, but Caron didn't care.
"No, wait," Caron said, leaning forward with a grin. "Let me be blunt. If I hear that some bastard is plotting something shady, I'll track them down, break their arms and legs, and keep stabbing until they beg for mercy. And that's if I'm feeling nice—otherwise, I might just fillet the bastard alive—"
A crude curse slipped from his mouth. Gasps rippled through the crowd—some horrified, others barely containing their laughter.
Standing to the side, the acting head of House Leston, Dales Leston, pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. He muttered, "How does he never change?"
"Well... He's Caron," Leo said awkwardly beside him. "Hang in there, Uncle Dales."
"Hang in there? You'll have it worse than me soon enough," Dales sighed. "Save your pity, Leo. You'll need it for yourself."
"U-Uncle Dales..." Leo trailed off.
While the acting head sighed and the heir-to-be despaired, the unleashed mad dog barked on joyfully.
"So anyway," Caron shouted, "Do your jobs right, all of you! If you don't, I'll personally show up and wreck your damn houses! I don't care if you're royalty or nobility! I couldn't care less! Ahh, now that feels good! Everyone got that—wait, what the—why isn't the amplifier working? Don't tell me this is a broadcast malfunction! Who the hell dispelled the magic? Who was it?!"
Unable to bear his tirade any longer, the Magic Tower Master had personally cut off the amplification spell.
At the same moment, the host of the ceremony—Commander Zerath of the Oceanwolf Knight Order—swiftly stepped forward and announced, "We will now begin a moment of silence for the heroes. All rise."
...And thus ended what could only be called the most chaotic funeral in history.
***
The funeral soon came to an end.
After some discussion, the leaders agreed to establish a joint memorial hall for the next two months, allowing mourners from all across the continent to pay their respects.
And immediately after the ceremony concluded, a summit chaired by Emperor Revelio himself began.
Although Caron hadn't bothered to attend the summit in person, he heard that the meeting had been productive.
Immediately after the summit concluded, the media outlets of each nation began reporting on it simultaneously.
"An Unprecedented Decision! Leaders Unanimously Approve the Formation of the 'Continental Union!'"
"'The Decus Declaration' Promises Peace Across the Continent—Will It Truly Come?"
The Decus Declaration was a document that contained numerous pledges—military disarmament, trade agreements, and most notably, the complete abolition of slavery.
The empire, in exchange for assuming the role of chair nation, had distributed a generous share of political and economic privileges among the other powers.
With that, the Orias Empire officially rose to stand as the supreme power of the continent—leader of the largest alliance in history. And when one considered the immense profits to come from trade with the other races and nations, it was clear: This was no losing deal.
A new age had dawned.
While countless people across the continent dreamed of the bright era ahead, within the imperial palace of the empire...
Smaaack!
A sharp sound split the air.
"Argh!"
"Who told you to act like a lunatic at an official ceremony, huh?" Leon shouted, glaring furiously. "Do you have any idea how much trouble His Majesty went through cleaning up your mess afterward?"
"Nice hit, Leon!" Leo cheered.
The golden generation of the Ducal Family of Leston had gathered for drinks—though, oddly enough, Leon herself was sipping tea instead of her usual liquor.
"Honestly, I should muzzle you next time," Leon scolded Caron.
"I'm your cousin. Don't you think that's a little harsh?" Caron asked, rubbing his sore cheek.
"I heard the whole duchy's in chaos because of you," Leon continued coldly. "Did you see my father's hair lately? Half of it's gone white already."
"That's just because of his age—hey, wait! You can't hit people with a bottle! Especially one filled with mana! I'll die for real!" Caron shouted, panicking.
He pretended to be delicate as he took a sip of his drink.
When Caron's cup emptied, Leo smoothly refilled it and leaned closer.
"By the way," he said slyly, "didn't you say the World Tree gave you a gift earlier?"
"Don't even start," Caron growled. "The more I think about it, the madder I get."
"What happened?" Leo asked, intrigued.
"She said she'd give me a present, so of course I got my hopes up. But then she goes, 'I already gave it to you,' and disappears! Can you believe that? So I told her, fine, I'll take care of it myself. Hey, Leo, let's visit the Southern Great Forest sometime."
"...Why the Southern Great Forest all of a sudden?" Leo asked.
Caron grinned, then answered, "To travel. And while we're there, we'll rob the place blind—dew, branches, whatever we can grab."
Caron hadn't expected the World Tree to pull a fast one. Surely a gift should have been something he could see right away. And yet, here it was, suddenly playing hard to get.
Caron clenched his fist and nodded resolutely. "No way I'm letting that slide for free."
"Do you really... have to do that?" Leo asked nervously.
"Watch me," Caron said. "I'm going to make sure I get every single gift I'm owed."
Originally, he'd planned to drink alone in a quiet corner, but Leon had called everyone together, saying she had something important to share.
Caron glanced at her suspiciously and asked, "You called this whole gathering, but you're the only one not drinking. Why is that?"
"I can't drink," Leon replied flatly.
"Why? Are you sick or something?" Caron asked.
Leon let out a long sigh, then continued, "I called you all because there's something I need to tell you quietly. Hugo, you cannot tell Father or Mother about this. Got it?"
"Why are you acting so serious all of a sudden?" Hugo asked, puzzled.
"Just listen," Leon said.
Leon took a deep breath, then said in a calm, low voice, "I'm pregnant."
The raucous laughter and clinking of glasses stopped instantly. Silence fell over the room like a heavy curtain.
Leo and Hugo's mouths hung open, and Caron's reaction wasn't much different. He stared at her, eyes wide.
"Leon... say that again," Caron said.
"You heard me just fine," Leon said without flinching.
"So... you're saying..." Caron trailed off.
"I'm saying," Leon interrupted, "that I had a thing with His Majesty."
That was an accident. A very big one.