A desolate, blizzard-ridden land.

In the midst of this icy wilderness, four lost knights walked along a snow-covered railway path, expressions of exhaustion and despair etched across their faces. They were part of a detachment deployed under orders from the Duke, only to become separated and stranded in this hostile expanse of the Empire.

The group’s leader, a young captain barely two years into his rank, struggled to maintain his composure. Though he had enough experience to read the battlefield, his skills fell short in leading his fellow knights through such extreme conditions.

“Damn it all! Where are we supposed to go?” he muttered through gritted teeth, glancing back at his team.

The knights behind him were drawn, weakened by hunger, fear, and cold, barely clinging to the hope of survival. No one reached out to help if one of them stumbled; each one silently pushed forward, following their captain with resigned steps. If the captain faltered now, the others would surely lose hope and succumb to despair.

Yet every path seemed to promise death. If they strayed, they could encounter hostile Cans, or worse, Entities. A particularly large snowflake struck the captain’s nose, a tiny blow that carried with it a wave of crushing sadness.

What had he done to deserve this? He had only sought to protect his people, motivated by duty. And this… this was his reward?

He was just about ready to sink to his knees and give up when one of his team pointed ahead. “Captain! I see a light over there!”

The captain’s heart pounded. Could it be the flickering torch of a Can? If so, they were in serious trouble.

He nearly ordered a retreat when he noticed something odd—the light wasn’t moving. It stayed fixed in one spot, unwavering.

The captain paused, signaling his men to wait as he cautiously approached the source of the light. “Stay here.”

“Captain!”

“Quiet,” he hissed, his heart a strange mix of fear and fragile hope. He didn’t want his men to suffer a brutal death on his account.

As he neared the light, his eyes widened. It was a cold cavern, an unnatural rift in the landscape. It felt as though this place connected to another realm, unnaturally merging two separate spaces.

It looked foreboding, yet somehow better than the bleak, deathly landscape surrounding them.

“Everyone, inside! Follow me!” he shouted. His team moved with newfound energy, desperate for any reprieve from the cold.

But as soon as he stepped inside, the captain regretted his decision.

The sight before him stopped him cold. He turned and shouted, “Retreat! Get out, all of you!”

But his team was too entranced by the warmth to process his sudden reversal, and before any of them could react, they’d already entered. The portal shut behind them.

Now they understood why their captain had screamed for them to turn back.

Carnage. It was pure carnage.

Severed heads and limbs littered the ground. Corpses lay strewn about in every direction, sliced open in ways that suggested monstrous brutality.

Already weakened by exhaustion, the knights collapsed where they stood, paralyzed with horror. They wanted nothing more than to leave, but it was too late.

And then came the footsteps—heavy and deliberate, yet chillingly swift.

The captain knew, instinctively, that hiding would be useless. Whoever owned those footsteps would find them no matter what.

He opened his mouth to shout, to tell his men to run, but—

He was dead before he could finish.

The remaining knights stared, frozen, as their captain’s lifeless body hit the ground. They understood: they would be next.

The creature glared at them, breathing heavily, its eyes filled with an inhuman rage.

As the monster advanced, the chamber echoed with the knights’ last, desperate screams.

The last knight, trying to crawl away, glimpsed a final sight—of a man with scaled skin gripping twin axes, each blade gleaming with a deadly, metallic sheen.

At the Knights’ Headquarters.

After finally escaping Hunter’s relentless pursuit, I headed straight for the headquarters.

Reflecting on the Saint’s recommended readings, only one truth stood out: power comes from endurance.

The more I experienced, the stronger I would grow.

The Entities grew not by avoiding pain, but by enduring it. To them, what made a human faint barely tickled.

This meant that absorbing the commander’s pain was not something I needed to delay—it was what I needed to do to grow stronger.

With that in mind, I’d come to the headquarters.

"Excuse me, Vice Commander—"

"…."

“Maybe I should come back later?”

“Hold on! Don’t make this weird!”

This time, I found Marenne on the floor again, tangled up with the Commander.

Ah. They really had no sense of timing.

The Commander, oblivious, simply stared blankly.

“Commander, could you stand up, please?”

“Right. I was just about to,” the Commander replied calmly, as though nothing had happened, and returned to her place.

The Vice Commander shot her a baffled look before following suit, returning to his seat with a sigh and massaging his temples.

“…You have an uncanny sense of timing, Tanton.”

“I’m sure it would have been better if I’d come a bit later. That way, you two could have—”

“Ahem!”

The Vice Commander cleared his throat loudly, cutting me off.

Odd. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted?

The Vice Commander’s forehead glistened with a nervous sweat, his face filled with embarrassment.

"Anyway," he finally said, changing the subject as if desperate to escape further commentary.

"To what do we owe this visit?"

“Ah, well, it’s about the topic we discussed earlier.”

Realizing this was a serious matter, he composed himself and met my gaze.

“Have you discovered anything?”

“I think it might be beneficial to try absorbing the Commander’s pain first.”

"Hmm."

He seemed hesitant, perhaps fearing that something more serious than fainting could happen. But I had grown stronger since last time. I was ready.

“It’ll be fine, Vice Commander. I’ve grown quite a bit since the last time I tried.”

"Still, if something happens to you, I’m not sure that’s a fair exchange."

"Oh, come on, what could go wrong?"

He sighed deeply.

“I sometimes think you push yourself far too hard.”

“Still, I think it’s worth trying this time.”

“...Well, with how determined you are, I suppose I can’t stop you.”

The Vice Commander closed his eyes, signaling his assent.

The Commander, listening to our conversation, watched us with a vacant expression. In the Vice Commander’s dream, the Commander had appeared as a confident, seasoned leader. This version, however, showed how essential knowledge and experience were.

"Excuse me, Commander," I said, preparing myself.

“Very well,” she responded calmly, exuding an air of tranquility.

Over her head, I saw the deep red aura of suffering—a much denser shade than what I’d absorbed from the White Mask. Just looking at it filled me with dread.

But if this suffering would make me stronger, I had to endure it. I extended my hand toward the aura, and instead of observing its effects, I absorbed it directly.

Pain crept in immediately, a thick, overwhelming sensation that I couldn’t shake off.

“Urgh…!”

White-hot pressure seized my mind. Wait—this wasn’t right.

"Tanton!"

My body didn’t feel like it would collapse this time, thanks to the conditioning from the White Mask’s pain. But the mind-numbing sensation was unbearable.

“Stay with us!”

Yes, this feeling—it was similar to…

A searing hangover.

“Bluh…!”

“Not here, Tanton!”