In the days following the battle, a fragile calm descended over the Royal Kingdom. The surface fires were extinguished, the rubble was gradually cleared from the central avenues, and the lingering stench of abyssal mana slowly faded into the cool autumnal breeze.
Deep within the quiet, sunlit ward of the Royal Medical Center, Lily remained unconscious in a soft canopy bed. She wasn't wounded, but the sheer, overwhelming strain of channeling her infinite informational mana to cast Eyes Sealing had left her spirit completely drained. Hegemon refused to leave her side. He sat in a high-backed wooden chair beside her bed, watching her peaceful breathing with a quiet, unyielding patience.
His own condition was far from ideal. The fracture in his right knee—already severe from Relay's brutal heel—had worsened significantly during the frantic infiltration. He ought to have been resting, immobilized on bedsheets, but his absolute insistence on leading the rescue team had taken a heavy toll on his flesh and bone. The doctors had encased his leg in a thick, spell-bound iron brace, warning him that further strain could permanently cripple his stride. Yet, to the royal knights, the medical staff, and Count Rosali's remaining guards, Hegemon was no longer merely a meticulous chief butler. He was the silent architect who had saved tens of thousands of lives. Every soldier who passed his doorway bowed their head in profound respect.
As the late afternoon sun cast warm golden rays across the polished floorboards, the heavy door creaked open. Kenji stepped inside, his Holy Sword resting securely at his hip, his golden aura subdued and tranquil.
"She hasn't stirred yet?" Kenji asked softly, stepping up to the foot of the bed.
"No," Hegemon rasped quietly, his dark eyes never leaving Lily's face. "Her mind is simply resting. She will wake when she is ready."
Kenji pulled up a stool and sat down, leaning his forearms on his knees as he studied the pale, bandaged butler. "You should be sleeping yourself, Hegemon. The healers said your leg nearly shattered entirely during the retreat."
Hegemon let out a soft, barely audible breath. He slowly turned his head to look at the Hero, his bloodshot eyes carrying a strange, contemplative weight.
"Kenji," Hegemon spoke, his voice dropping into a quiet, philosophical tone. "If a group of three were to set out on a long, uncertain journey across the continent... what role do you see yourself playing?"
Kenji blinked, caught off guard by the sudden, abstract nature of the question. He looked at the shining hilt of the Holy Sword, then back at Hegemon's steady gaze.
"I would be the vanguard," Kenji answered without hesitation, a small, resolute smile gracing his lips. "I would stand at the front, take the brunt of the blows, and shield everyone behind me from the storm."
Hegemon stared at him for a long moment. Then, a faint, genuine smile—devoid of any butler facade or calculated malice—touched the corners of his lips. A soft, breathless chuckle escaped his chest.
"I see..." Hegemon murmured quietly.
Without offering another word, Hegemon closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cushion of his chair. Within seconds, his steady, rhythmic breathing filled the quiet room as he finally surrendered to the deep, overwhelming exhaustion he had fought off for days.
Kenji sat in silence, scratching his head with a bewildered expression. "What kind of question was that supposed to be...?" he whispered to himself, completely puzzled by the butler's strange parting thought. But seeing Hegemon sleeping so deeply beside Lily, the Hero merely smiled, stood up, and quietly guarded the doorway in silence.