The Count likely summoned a specter in the end, as Encrid noticed that a musty smell lingered on his body.
"Hot water and a bath, please. No need for any attendants."
As soon as Encrid returned to the palace, he bathed, ate, and slept.
Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon were no different.
It was only after a deep sleep that they woke.
A healer approached them in the meantime, offering to treat everyone's wounds, but all of them refused.
"I know my own body best."
Rem said this and turned away.
"It's the punishment I deserve."
Audin was no different.
Ragna waved his hand, declining, and Jaxon acted as if he wasn't hurt at all.
The healer, muttering that this was the first time they had dealt with such stubborn patients, turned to leave.
Just as they were walking away, the healer bowed their head towards Encrid.
"Thank you."
It was an unexpected remark. However, the healer's demeanor was entirely serious.
Encrid hadn't fully grasped what he had done yet.
It had been too exhausting a campaign to reflect.
Just because the battle was over didn't mean there was nothing left to do. Preparing for war was a greater task than the war itself, and even greater was the cleanup afterward.
There was a saying: a General who fights well can win battles, but a General who prepares well can win a war. And a General who cleans up well after a battle can truly win the war.
That's how important it was to manage the aftermath of combat.
It was the same now.
The handling of the remaining Count's forces was still an issue, fallen equipment needed to be retrieved, and the camp had to be packed up.
Once all that was done, the march awaited them.
They still had to return to the palace, after all.
Even though there was joy in victory, the fact that they had accomplished this in just three days was remarkable.
If anything, Marcus's efforts stood out, not on the battlefield, but in managing all these aspects.
He had handled everything flawlessly.
And it was also thanks to Krang's refusal to give unnecessary victory speeches.
"I think it's time everyone gets some rest. Is it really more important to listen to the speech of some guy who just stood in the back and watched? You'd be better off using that time to wrap a bandage around a wounded soldier's arm."
Indeed, Krang openly tended to the wounded without hiding his face, to the point that few even recognized him as the Prince and the future King.
After all, not many soldiers actually knew what Krang looked like.
Even though he had the talent to boost the morale and enthusiasm of soldiers through speeches, he believed that wasn't what was important right now.
Krang was the kind of person who backed up his words with actions.
It wasn't until after the battlefield was tidied up that Encrid and the others returned.
As the healer gave their thanks, Encrid, lost in thought, asked:
"Do you know me?"
"My son went to the battlefield."
The healer said, limping slightly.
"If it weren't for my leg, I would have gone too."
The healer turned their body as they spoke. It wasn't a thank you for saving their son.
Their son had already died.
No matter what was said, no words could bring back the dead, and the healer's heart was torn apart.
Still, there was at least a small comfort.
If this battle had ended in defeat, their son's death would have been meaningless. That was the only solace they could find.
Everyone else was wrapped in the joy of victory. The triumph of the civil war, survival from an impossible battle, the joy of those who lived.
All of these things filled the palace and the Capital.
Rumors of a coronation ceremony were spreading. Artisans were gathering, claiming they were going to build a monument to commemorate the coronation in the heart of the Capital. Soon, festivals would be held, and once everything was in order, banquets would be held day after day to celebrate the victories and assign rewards.
Yet, there were still those who had lost family and loved ones.
'May you rest in peace.'
The healer silently said this to his son as they left. Encrid watched the healer's back before heading to his bed.
The whisper that the son who went to the battlefield had died lingered in his ears.
Even Esther was so exhausted that she didn't leave Encrid's side, having transformed into a panther.
After a good night's sleep, Encrid awoke and practiced The Isolation Technique as usual to loosen up his body.
Even though there was talk of rewards being given, everything around them had to be settled first.
That would take at least ten days.
Encrid continued with his usual routine.
He visited Odd-Eye, feeding him a mix of meat and vegetables instead of hay, and also met with Andrew and the trainees.
The number of trainees had gone from five to four.
"Where's the other one?"
"Because he lost his leg. Even with Divine Power, a severed leg doesn't grow back."
One of the trainees had lost a leg. That's how fierce the battle was. While Encrid was cutting through the waves of specter horde, the soldiers weren't standing idle either.
Encrid nodded.
These were people who had chosen to step forward of their own will. He respected that choice.
"He said he wishes he could be like Frog."
Andrew also spoke matter-of-factly.
Neither Encrid nor Andrew had lived easy lives that could be shaken by just one event.
"Never again."
Andrew spoke, gazing into the air, his voice steady. After letting out a single word, Andrew continued, almost as if making a vow to himself.
It wasn't a promise directed at Encrid, but a vow to himself.
"I won't watch my people get hurt again."
Encrid nodded.
The trainee who had lost his leg was said to have become a candidate for a butler.
He didn't seem particularly down about it.
"Once I get used to it, I think I'll manage with a prosthetic. I figure it's better than being dead."
He was a tough-minded fellow.
Encrid patted him on the shoulder once and turned away.
"Thanks, thanks for saving me."
"You saved yourself by fighting well."
Encrid answered the trainee's thanks in a calm tone. It was sincere. He believed that anyone who saved their own life with their own hands deserved credit. The trainee had a fiance, too.
Encrid had seen her in passing, and she was a spirited woman.
"Missing a leg? Well, I'll just take care of us, then!"
She was a strong woman.
Krang was so busy that Encrid hadn't even caught a glimpse of him. Marcus, too, was nowhere to be seen.
A few days later, Asia came by, but Encrid wasn't in any condition to spar seriously.
When he cautiously mentioned this,
"Is fighting the only thing you think of?"
Asia responded, looking almost exasperated.
Encrid changed the subject.
"Is everything quiet at the palace?"
"What do you think? I've filled it with my own people, so there's no one to make any complaints. A few foolish nobles are still around, but they'll deal with that. What's more urgent is preparing for the coronation. They're going on about how it needs to be the grandest ceremony ever, spewing nonsense like that."
The Krang that Encrid knew was a broad-minded and great person. But people change. Had he not seen people change before?
He had seen mercenaries who were willing to risk their lives for a friend end up stabbing that same comrade in the back for a single gold coin.
He had seen a father throw his adopted son to monsters just to survive.
That man had been good at first, but changed when the situation became dire.
They say after twenty days surrounded by monsters, anyone could break.
Encrid had challenged that man to a duel.
He lost, but he killed him. That had happened.
So Krang could change, too.
A grand coronation.
That time had come. They had won, the victory had been declared, and with the triumph of the civil war, Krang had become the rightful heir to the throne.
Encrid found himself thinking he wanted to return to the Border Guard.
The sky was dark. It looked like it might rain again.
"How's your body holding up?"
Asia asked.
"Decent enough. I'm not in shape to bet half my life on it, but I think I could manage a light spar."
A proper spar was out of the question, but a light contest of wits seemed manageable. It was probably best to rest, but right now, he felt like moving his body more.
Asia nodded and pulled out a wooden sword.
"You said a light spar, right?"
Encrid remarked when he saw it, causing Asia to tilt her head in confusion.
Wasn't it just a wooden sword?
"A light spar."
Encrid pulled out a longsword he had picked up to replace his broken silver one. He had spent two days sharpening it.
"How is this light?"
Asia spoke as she pointed her sword, while Rem, Ragna, Audin, Jaxon, and Pel watched.
Pel had introduced himself immediately after the battle, jumping right into the group.
"I'm Pel, the Shepherd of the Wilderness."
With light brown hair, slightly taller than Krais, and a well-trained body and posture.
"I saw your performance on the battlefield."
Everyone gave him a look as if to say, 'So what?' But Pel had a thick skin.
Shepherds are generally known for being bold, and among the Shepherds of the Wilderness, Pel was the one who insisted on using a sword.
"Let me observe."
He said confidently. Encrid recognized Pel and was slightly surprised, but nodded indifferently.
To be honest, he found it interesting.
'That shepherd from back then.'
His stance had changed since before. Even the aura he exuded had shifted, a sign that his skills had improved.
As Pel continued to watch, the light sparring match came to an end.
Having already seen him fight on the battlefield,
"Amazing."
Pel honestly thought there wasn't anyone with greater talent than himself.
Back then, he had sought Encrid out for a duel in the middle of the night and, even though he had lost, believed he had since caught up.
But now, Encrid's sword was even stronger and sharper than it had been.
Incomparable to back then.
Encrid had grown far more than Pel had since their last encounter.
Above all, just watching that man's sword made his blood boil. Though naturally combative, this was something different.
He wanted to fight him so badly that his hand hovered near his sword.
"...When will your body fully recover?"
Pel asked.
"You're last in line, kid."
"Heh, brother, you've got to wait your turn. There's no order when meeting the Lord, but there's an order here."
"Go drink some more goat's milk."
"..."
"Pass me first, then talk."
The order was Rem, Audin, Ragna, Jaxon, and Dunbachel. Teresa was busy observing every movement Encrid made.
Jaxon shot a glance at him but remained silent.
"...Alright, let's do that."
Pel couldn't argue anymore. Everyone throwing comments at him wasn't easy to dismiss.
He couldn't even gauge Dunbachel's strength as a warrior-beast.
Would he lose? The thought never crossed his mind.
The best food is always saved for last. Beating them all down and then facing Encrid wouldn't be bad either.
Pel believed in his own talent.
He thought that in six months at most, he would catch up to all of them.
Everyone falls into delusions sometimes.
After his sparring match with Asia, Encrid felt his body still creaking here and there.
Though he had recovered quickly, he wasn't in perfect condition yet.
Five days later, when his body had mostly healed, a summons came from the palace.
"You must attend."
The summons came directly from Marquis Octo.
"Aren't you busy? You came all the way here just to summon me?"
The Marquis was astonished that the man before him did not realize his own importance.
"Become aware of your position."
Encrid had now become someone even the Marquis could not casually order around.
If you had to name just one hero responsible for the victory in the civil war, who would it be?
Anyone would say the name Encrid.
More than just a hero who saved the nation, he was now known as the Demon Slayer.
The King himself called him a friend, and he had proven himself more skilled than anyone in the Knights' orders.
And what about his subordinates?
'Every one of them has impressive skills.'
Ordinarily, such capable individuals would belong to a Knightly order, wouldn't they?
But they were all connected through Encrid.
The politically astute Marquis Octo knew instinctively.
If they lost Encrid, they'd lose all of them.
He also knew that some nobles had tried to approach them discreetly.
Naturally, they had all failed.
"And now you want me to take your gold and start swinging an axe? Do you even know what my nickname is? Go look it up before you come back."
Rem, the Noble Slayer.
He boldly declared that he was a man capable of beheading nobles, sending chills down the spines of every aristocrat.
He was a madman.
Jaxon was completely unreachable.
Audin brushed it off with a smile, claiming he was simply following the teachings of the Gods.
Ragna elegantly ignored every summons.
At least Rem and Audin had agreed to meet.
"But why is no one summoning me?"
Dunbachel voiced a small question, though no one gave her an answer.
It wasn't that Marquis Octo didn't want to, but,
'There's no need to risk leaving a bad impression by meddling.'
The Marquis was wise.
Encrid, for his part, didn't pay much attention to it.
"A coronation will be held."
The Marquis said, to which Encrid merely nodded.
Had his friend changed after all?
The friend who once dreamed of something greater than the throne, who looked toward a distant future—was he now intoxicated by the crown and the throne?
The image of the healer who had lost his son came to mind for no reason.
Five days later, Encrid stood not in the palace banquet hall but at the platform built in the heart of the Capital. A small tower had been constructed on the platform.
Krang stood upon it, smiling.
He had much to do.
The coronation, distributing honors, future plans, the fallout from the Count's actions, the chimeras, and the unrest in the Demon Realm—none of these were matters that could be ignored. Yet, the first thing Krang chose to do was this.
He had a tower built with the names of people—fallen soldiers—inscribed on it.
Even discovering all the names must have been a tremendous task.
There were surely those who disliked the event itself.
But still, it was done.
"Would you speak before me?"
A spell-enhanced object, used for amplifying voices, was placed before the memorial.
Krang called Encrid to speak.
Encrid climbed the platform.
Standing before the amplification object, he tried to choose his words but then gave up.
The healer had lost his son.
Did what his son did have no meaning?
That's something only time would tell. No one knows the future.
But Encrid hoped that, to the son himself, it had meant something.
"To the people."
Encrid uttered one word, pausing to take a breath before continuing.
"To friendship, to family, to loved ones, to those who died to protect those behind them."
Some in the crowd shed tears, while others smiled.
Krang then stepped forward.
"I honor those who died in my place."
He began to recite the names inscribed on the memorial.
"Vin, Loktine, Laksan..."
The memorial reading was long.
At the end of it, Krang calmly declared that he had become the new King.
"In accordance with the righteous will and purpose, I declare myself the new King of Naurillia. I am Kdianath Rangdias Naurill."
The Queen, without saying a word, placed the crown upon his head.
Applause rang out. There were no cheers.
What could one call this?
A memorial coronation.
Thus, Krang honored the fallen as he received his crown.
From the beginning of the event, the rain had been falling steadily.
Krang was drenched by it. Just like on the battlefield, it seemed to rain often.
The pouring rain enveloped the shoulders of those who had lost family, loved ones, and friends.
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