The military nation exploits its citizens, allowing them just enough to survive with a bit of luxury but no more, not even daring to dream of it. By pushing its people through such harsh and oppressive methods, the military nation has managed to amass a vast amount of material wealth.

But gold hoarded in vaults is no better than stone. This immense machinery that treats humans like cogs and generates overwhelming wealth—what is it working so tirelessly toward?

“One question about the military nation. Where did all that accumulated wealth go? The answer’s right here!” I said, patting the Cataphract.

The military’s strategic weapon, the Cataphract. Enclosed in high-cost alloy that provides overwhelming defense, this moving fortress also boasts mobility with its simple yet innovative design. Recognized as a Level 4 strategic asset alongside battle suits and military supplies, the Cataphract is the essence of the military nation. It carries weight and strength far surpassing that of any ordinary warhorse. Even a famous steed couldn’t match the Cataphract in power.

Tir scanned the surroundings and muttered, “I’ve seen something similar. The tyrant of the Golden Nation rode around in a luxurious carriage like this. I heard that constructing just one required the labor of an entire castle, yet she possessed dozens.”

“The Cataphract may not be as luxurious, but it’s far more functional, so the cost is probably similar. And there are more of them, as they’re not intended for a single person,” I replied.

“They squeezed their people’s blood to create this extravagant machine. Hmm. No wonder the nation is falling apart.”

Hilde, stung by the comment about draining blood from citizens, protested indignantly.

“This Cataphract isn’t mine!”

“It may not be yours, but as a general, you can use it as you please, can’t you?” Tir countered.

“No, I can’t! The Cataphract is a strategic asset of the military nation, and no one, not even me, a Six-Star General, can use it freely!”

It was true. The military nation is one where even the ruling class, the generals, are denied luxury. Their official accommodations are far less comfortable than my modestly decorated room. While a general could theoretically save up their salary for luxuries, the need to save up just for that reveals how far removed they are from typical notions of wealth.

But to Tir, who was both a state and a noble by herself, it was difficult to separate the ruling class from the state itself.

“But when you requested it, they provided it without delay.”

“That’s because they received authorization from above!”

“You’re just repeating yourself. If you can use it with permission, isn’t it effectively yours?”

“The difference is huge! The fact that I need authorization means it’s not mine. Besides, if I, as the head of Public Security, requested something so extravagant, it would be rejected as unnecessary! Moving just a few people with the Cataphract—this is a special case! You’re the ones enjoying a privilege I’ve never experienced!”

Hilde stomped around, trying to convey just how unfair this was. Swept up in her theatrics, Tir waved his hand dismissively.

“Enough, I understand. But stop jumping around; the carriage is shaking.”

“Really?! As if a delicate girl like me could make this heavy hunk of metal shake just by stomping! That’s too much!”

She looked like a mischievous kid talking back to an old lady next door. Given that her “neighbor” was the progenitor of vampires, she seemed oddly reckless, but surprisingly, Tir tolerated her behavior.

“Fine, fine. My mistake.”

“Well, look at them. Like father, like daughter, they’re both quite the handful. I should appease her for now. It’s best to get close to any allies of Hui,” Tir mused inwardly.

Did he actually believe Hilde was my daughter? This vampire was oddly trusting of human words. Just because Hilde said she was my daughter, he took it at face value? Didn’t he sense anything off?

Well, I get it. It’s like how humans don’t question their livestock. Vampires might regard humans as food first and foremost. Even if he was tricked, he probably figured he could always eat them if needed.

But one day, he might get a rude awakening. Or maybe he already has. But what can you do? Lessons learned from scars last the longest. I’m the kind of king who even preserves the right to get hurt.

“…Wait a moment, Tirkanjaka. Do you actually believe that nonsense?”

But the Regressor was quick to deny Tir his right to experience such hurt. Folding his arms, he pointed out the flaw in Tir’s reasoning.

“I don’t know why Hilde is calling Hui ‘Father,’ but it doesn’t make any sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense?”

“Hilde is said to have been working covertly since the military nation was first established. If she was active twenty-five years ago, that would make her at least forty, even if we assume she started young.”

He delivered his deduction with the sharpness of a detective, although it was such a basic observation that even a child could make it. Still, Tir hadn’t considered it.

“Oh, right… I often struggle to grasp the concept of age…” he thought, realizing it wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed but rather that it had seemed trivial. To a twelve-century-old girl, decades were probably inconsequential.

“Hilde only looks that way because she uses her shapeshifting ability, but she’s actually much older! And yet she calls someone young enough to be her son ‘Father.’ Don’t you find that ridiculous?”

Wow, harsh words. Even if it’s true, couldn’t he show a little empathy? His words were so cutting that even Tir, standing nearby, seemed slightly hurt.

“Wow.”

Hilde, who had just been called “old lady” to her face, briefly dropped her cheerful mask and glared at the Regressor with a stony expression.

“You’re quite ruthless. Cruel, even. With that pretty face, I finally understand why no woman wants you.”

“I don’t need popularity! In fact, I’d reject it!”

“Phew. It’s my own fault for letting such cheap provocations get to me. That’s why I need to wear a mask. When I’m not ‘me,’ I can just brush off whatever nonsense people say.”

Hilde quickly composed herself, muttering self-assurances to calm her irritation.

“I really didn’t want to share this, as it’s top secret, but your slander has gone too far. Shay, do you think ‘Emder’ is a guardian angel of the military nation? That ‘Zikrhund’ is a faceless assassin?”

“…Isn’t that right?”

“Wrong. ‘Zikrhund’ isn’t ‘me,’ and ‘Emder’ isn’t an angel.”

Seemingly provoked enough to spill secrets, Hilde began to reveal knowledge only she possessed.

“The three heroes the military brought over—‘Zikrhund,’ ‘Emder,’ and ‘Maximilien.’ Zikrhund, the unknown assassin, and Emder, the protector of the military? It’s nonsense. When rebuilding a nation from ashes, who would believe in a formless guardian?”

“Wait, so you’re saying…”

“Yes. Zikrhund and Emder are both real people. They may no longer be with the military, but the nation prefers everyone to believe they still exist. That’s why I’ve been assigned to play the role of ‘Zikrhund’!”

She kept one final thought to herself: Perhaps, they’re leaving positions open for their eventual return.

The Saintess’s personal guards, the Holy Sword Order. When Yuel was excommunicated, she relinquished all authority and possessions as a saint, but the Holy Sword remained with her. Not even the Holy See could take that away.

The Saintess acts as an intermediary of the divine and a prophetess. Whether excommunicated or in hiding, every step the Saintess takes is ordained by the Heavenly Spirit. Two of the most faithful among the Holy Sword Order left with her and followed her to the military nation.

Those two were Emder and Zikrhund. Though, it’s said they left shortly after Yuel secluded herself with a man’s corpse.

I can only guess why they left. If the Saintess I served showed such unsightly behavior, I would’ve lost all respect for her as well.

Not the most pleasant story for someone like me, who was dragged here without knowing the full story.

“Who are they, then?”

The Regressor was all ears, eager to extract every piece of information from Hilde’s words.

Tch. For a Regressor, he really knows so little. Even after all the effort I put into prying into his memories, I still can’t fully trust them. And if he had once been closely associated with the Holy See, how could he not know about these secrets? It’s not like every member of the Holy See collectively agreed to withhold this information.

Maybe it’s best to stop here. If I say any more, our poor Saintess might face even more trouble.

Having asserted her control over the conversation, Hilde clammed up. Smiling coyly at the Regressor’s probing questions, she raised a finger to her lips and tilted her head.

“I don’t feel like telling you~.”

“What?!”

“Since you insist on calling me an old lady, I’m not inclined to talk further. Hmph!”

Hilde turned her head with a pout, acting so childishly that the Regressor couldn’t help but look bewildered.

“Are you sulking? You’re not a kid.”

“If being called an old lady is the alternative, I’d rather act childish.”

“Fine! I take it back! You don’t have to be so petty.”

“Take it back? Can you retract spoken words? Words are like blades; once unsheathed, they can’t just be put away. Only genuine apologies can mend the wound.”

In other words, she wanted an apology. Seeing Hilde’s obstinance, the Regressor let out a resigned sigh.

Fine. It’s worth swallowing my pride to get this information! Besides, I may have been a bit harsh…

After weighing his options, the Regressor gave a half-hearted nod, muttering an insincere apology.

“Sorry. I was… insensitive.”

“Well, it feels forced, but I’ll accept it. Just be more careful next time.”

“Fine, fine.”

“Yes, Shay. You must learn to be more mindful of your words.”

“Got it… Wait, Tirkanjaka? Why are you accepting the apology?”

Now having apologized to both of them, the Regressor pressed for more information.

“So, where are the real Emder and Zikrhund?”

“I don’t know!”

“What?”

Hilde answered with an innocent smile.

“How would I know where my predecessor went or what they’re doing now? I was only summoned to fill their role. Don’t forget—I only inherited Zikrhund’s position!”

“Hey! That doesn’t change anything!”

The Regressor jabbed a finger in Hilde’s direction, frustrated.

“Either way, you’re still older than Hui!”

“Heheh. Caught me.”

“‘Caught me’?! What was the point of denying it all this time?!”

“I didn’t want to be treated like an old lady in front of Father!”

“If Hui were really your father, he’d have had to give birth to you before he was born! Does that make any sense?”

Of course, it doesn’t make sense.

Finally, after all this roundabout reasoning, he’s figured out this paradox. I didn’t expect the Regressor to realize it before Tir did…

But… it’s not impossible if Hui is that person.

Huh?

Wait, what did I just read in his mind?

It explains everything—his mysterious powers, even the lengths he went to restore my heart, the heart that once stopped beating. Only I would know of this ancient pulse… But if Hui is the King of Humans, representing all humanity, it would make sense that he could.

Tir believes things so readily, not out of foolishness or naivety, but because, like an old house welcoming new guests, he has lowered his defenses. That’s why he trusted every word I uttered in the Abyss and accepted every bit of lore the Regressor told him. He even believed Hilde when she called me “Father.”

And remember, the monster that smelled like rusted iron once asked Hui, ‘Are you the King of Humans?’

Maybe that’s why, even though he doesn’t show it, Tir has been harboring the memory of Maximilien calling me the “King of Humans.” Just waiting for a moment like this.

But…

If that’s true, then it makes sense that Hilde would call Hui her father. If he were born before Hui… he would have been born to the previous King of Humans!

Why are you accepting it in such a convoluted way?!