The drawbridge slid down smoothly. It had barely been an hour since the Cleanup Unit began their infiltration, and the inner castle gates were already disabled.

It was only natural. While the Cleanup Unit’s official purpose was to assassinate high-value targets from the demon army, Elizaveta, as Alexander’s confidante, had an internal motive of ‘counter-revolution’.

As long as Alexander’s legitimacy remained intact, Elizaveta had to seize power through a counter-revolution. While the Counterintelligence Command eventually wrapped things up, it meant that a military occupation of Frechenkaya was indeed part of the Cleanup Unit’s training process.

“Apprentice.”

Enrique looked at Ivan with a serious face. At this moment, crossing the drawbridge and entering the inner castle, Ivan’s expression was becoming increasingly cold.

Around them, skeletal soldiers were clashing with the resurrected knights of the Royal Guards.

The faces of the Royal Guards were still recognizable, and the Cleanup Unit members were people Ivan had trained one by one.

Every fallen soldier fighting now was a ‘comrade’ whose name, life, personality, and achievements he could recall just by glancing at them.

Those comrades raised their spears against each other. It was a battlefield filled not with screams, but with sounds of blasts.

A member fell, crushed by a massive mace. The knight who took down the member was shortly thereafter decapitated by another member who silently appeared behind him.

Ivan moved forward in silent rage without a destination.

As the youngest member of the Royal Guards, they were all seniors who deserved his respect. They were the ones who had rushed ahead on the last charge of the late king, even in the face of certain death.

He had heard that none among them had died after the late king.

All members of the Royal Guards from that time had volunteered to die ahead of their lord during the king’s charge. Their struggles had saved the lives of hundreds of thousands of people.

Their eternal rest should have been in a better state. Their remains must not be defiled by the sorcery of vampires.

Their honor was…

“Apprentice.”

Ivan heard Enrique’s voice. He turned to her with bloodshot eyes.

Startled for a moment by his look, she soon sighed and shook her head.

“Just relax a little. I know it’s hard, but… remember what you learned.”

Do not let emotions cloud your judgment even in revenge against your enemies.

It’s not that revenge itself is without value. Revenge calls forth greater fear the more brutal it is. When a single member falls, they must inflict tenfold damage. So that enemies feel fear before they attack their comrades.

Thus, revenge from the Cleanup Unit must be operational, not emotional. It should be the most efficient, effective “shock operation.”

And from a mentor’s standpoint.

No, rather than that, from the sinner’s perspective, Enrique could not help but feel immense sorrow and guilt regarding Ivan’s anger.

If their target was her, then this situation, in the end—

“Enough.”

Ivan placed a hand to his eyes and took a deep breath. When he lowered his hand, his expression was like it usually was.

He reached out and brushed Enrique’s hair. As she trembled from the unfamiliar situation, Ivan patted her shoulder and spoke.

“It’s not your fault, Enrique.”

“Apprentice…”

“If there’s blame to be assigned, it lies with them, and if there are debts to be collected, it must be from them. I have never blamed you, nor will I. Do not be hard on yourself.”

If you trust me, then trust my judgment.

Enrique lowered her head at Ivan’s words. Her hand gripping Ivan’s sleeve trembled slightly. He patted the back of her hand a couple of times before moving forward again.

The Royal Tomb was nearby.

It was the path opened by the Cleanup Unit. They merely opened the way to the tomb; they did not enter it themselves.

Clang.

One member signaled with a snap of his jaw. ‘Survivor’, and ‘Rescue’.

To put it another way, something like, ‘It must be the living who save us.’

As if making a funny joke, the member snapped his jaw and shook his head. He soon drew his weapon and turned away.

Let the dead take on the cumbersome roles; the living must move forward.

Ivan nodded silently and stepped ahead.

*

[The lone spider has entered the tomb!]

[Where’s the master? Where is the master?]

[He hasn’t regained consciousness yet. We need to buy time!]

[Enrique is with you. How are you going to stop them?]

As the vampire observing the situation through the eyes of the dead fell into confusion, another one stepped up and quietly knelt.

The burial chamber imitated the form of the court, like a minister presenting a petition to a lord.

[Great King, the rebels have invaded the capital.]

Upon hearing this, the man sitting on the throne lifted his head.

[Is the fault of my subjects so great and deep…?]

As the vampire humbly bowed, the man gently shook his head.

“It is my ineptitude. Withdraw the soldiers and deal with the rebels. I shall take the heads of the traitors myself.”

The vampire quietly bowed his head and retreated. Other vampires beside him laughed at the scene.

[No matter how much it is Enrique, she cannot face all of us. If the lone spider can be dealt with, that’ll do.]

[Shh. Once that old man regains his senses, things will get complicated. For now, stay low.]

[Understood. Got it.]

The vampires giggled quietly and stood behind the king. They maintained a respectful posture like guards protecting the king.

*

The doors of the court opened gently.

Ivan paused as he saw the man sitting far away on the throne.

Except for the violet light spilling from him, the last figure of the late king he remembered was right there. He sat, vibrant as if he were still alive, looking down at Ivan.

Ivan walked silently to the center of the court, and then slowly knelt.

“Your Majesty.”

He looked up at him with eyes filled with hope. Just like the Cleanup Unit did, perhaps.

Yes, carefully, with a heart hoping for a miracle.

Was this not the moment he had eagerly awaited? If they were to meet again, it would be after a long while, he had thought.

After completing all missions, when he could finally discard even the last lingering attachment.

If heaven truly exists, and if he were to be worthy to enter, then surely it would be then that they would reunite.

Ever since he had heard of the late king’s demise, he had pondered what words he should utter at this moment. It had become one of his rare hobbies. What should he say when they meet again?

Should he recount the solitary hours he endured? Perhaps the king would have gently comforted him then.

Should he boastfully mention the achievements he had accomplished? He could well have smiled and praised him.

Or, should he complain about the choice that sent him from the Royal Guard to the Cleanup Unit?

Or perhaps. Or perhaps.

Just endless gratitude. For raising the son of a peasant, a mere conscript. For giving that mere conscript, a young boy, the opportunity to stand shoulder to shoulder with various heroes and knights.

What words should he utter? What should he say when that day arrives?

He had spent countless nights pondering such thoughts. All his dreams had been nightmares, so in order to maintain his condition before bed, he had to imagine pleasant scenarios.

So now, in this moment.

“Your Majesty. Do you… remember me?”

He hoped for a miracle.

Just like the Cleanup Unit, he wished to break free from the magical imprisonment and look at him, smiling as he had that day.

He knew the circumstances were different. Here, the vampires had cast their full might of sorcery upon his king.

And moreover, he was just a mere soldier. Even having stood at the king’s side, compared to the numerous knights in the Royal Guard, he remained just a boy soldier.

The king had too many to govern to still remember him after death.

So, if he said he didn’t expect it, it would be a lie.

“I do not remember the face of a traitor.”

Fourteen years have already passed. To hear the king’s voice after all that time would also be a lie if he said he wasn’t disappointed.

Ivan suppressed his disappointment and slowly rose. His trembling hand turned cold.

As he got up, the king also rose from the throne. A massive greatsword was slowly raised in his hand.

He could sense the party approaching. Enrique stood by him with concern, and behind him, those who had been silently following drew closer.

“Sir, we also…”

“I won’t permit it.”

He blocked Ecdysis, who attempted to approach, with the haft of his axe. Ecdysis, stunned, stammered backward.

“Apprentice. A resurrected soldier brought back with that much mana… You can’t handle it alone. We must strike together.”

“Enrique.”

“Calm down. I know you’re very angry. But that is not ‘the late king’. Most of his bodily composition is replaced by spells, and the remaining spirit is just a puppet tailored for battle. He does not move with muscles or nerves as you remember the old king. Picture him as the king before aging. So…”

The peak of Conqueror Ivan.

In his prime, when he had merely led three thousand cavalrymen and had tripled the territory of this country.

‘The strongest man’ Ivan. One must not be fooled by the face of the old man. ‘That’ would possess both the experience of Ivan in his later years and the battle prowess of Ivan in his prime.

Einar, Jill Ber, Maximilian. If it’s not the three of them, they couldn’t confront it head-on. Even during the formation of the Hero Party, this was mentioned. If the king were twenty years younger, the composition of the party would have changed.

It had been a joke, but at least now, it was no longer a joke. It was merely a dry fact. They were now akin to commanding a member of the Hero Party…

Ivan, who had been waiting quietly for Enrique to finish speaking, said in a low voice.

“Enrique, I feel the same way.”

“…What?”

“From the first battle until now, today has always been my strongest moment. Enrique. Now is my prime.”

He took a step ahead and drew his axe.

“And I am not angry right now, Enrique.”

He gazed squarely at the late king, who looked down at him, alive and moving.

No child in this world can ever stand toe to toe with their parents once they mature. Human life is too short; by the time they have fully grown, their parents’ time is already nearing its end.

This is how generations flow. The successor can never confidently say they have surpassed the predecessor.

But now, at least today, if he could prove himself with everything he had.

The conclusions he arrived at during all his imagined scenarios had always been the same.

If they were to meet again someday, if he could reunite in heaven someday.

Then he would face him boldly and say, “I have grown like this.” Since there would be no frailty in heaven, he would approach the late king, glowing in his prime, and smile, saying directly to him.

“My son has grown up.”

“Have you discussed enough?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Will you step forward alone?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The old king’s stern face softened for a moment. He smiled contentedly and stepped down from the throne.

“Your spirit is admirable. If you desire this place, prove your worth with your strength.”

“I do not seek that place.”

Ivan also walked forward with a faint smile.

“I have come here seeking your acknowledgment.”

“It will not be easy.”

“You have always set high standards for me. Yes, I remember.”

Clang.

With the axe raised, forward.

Now, with arms no longer thin, and a face that had grown uncomfortable with smiling.

Recalling the milk and dried ham he used to give him to keep his slender body nourished.

Ivan steps forward.

Ivan stands in their way.