Chapter 28…
“It’s Acracion.”
“So that’s the order that was supposedly hastily formed…?”
Veladion Fortress—the headquarters of the Empire–Principality Alliance Defense Army.
There, countless soldiers who had gathered rushed toward the main gate to catch a glimpse of the knights arriving.
“Huh, isn’t he still a child?”
“So the rumors were true.”
“I thought it was impossible, but… is that boy really the commander of that knight order?”
“Watch your mouth. Unless you want to die without anyone ever knowing. Do you realize how many here owe their lives to him?”
“They say he’s the son of the ‘Sword of the Empire.’”
“I’ve heard that too. It’s probably true. Otherwise, there’s no way he could be the commander of a knight order at his age.”
“I heard he’s a genius the world will never see again—Acracion’s knights unanimously accepted him.”
“Genius or not, can a child that young really command knights?”
“I clearly warned you—never utter words that insult him. Anyone who disrespects him will never be forgiven.”
Most of the murmurs were about Dante.
Some whispered the truth.
Some repeated rumors.
Some spoke out of envy.
Others in reverence.
All sorts of mixed emotions filled their eyes as they looked at Dante, riding at the very front.
‘How bothersome.’
It was a gaze he had grown used to.
Ever since becoming part of Acracion, every return to Veladion was like this.
But the discomfort never lessened.
If it were up to him, he’d rather stay posted at the outposts like the other knights, never coming back here…
‘But I can’t do that.’
There was only one reason he bore this discomfort and always returned to Veladion.
Because someone was desperately waiting for him here.
Every time he returned, barefoot, running out to greet him with prayers for his safe return.
“Young master!”
Yes—her.
Far away, amidst the noise of thousands of soldiers, Eina’s relieved cry rang out.
“As always, she greets you the same way.”
Milleon, noticing her as well, smiled faintly.
“Though it looks like she’s grown rather thin.”
Elaine, too, smiled in joy but then frowned in worry at Eina’s gaunt cheeks.
“Even when ordered to eat properly, she never listens.”
Dante pressed his fingers to his brow with a troubled sigh.
“This time, you must succeed in persuading her.”
“…Do you think that’s possible?”
“Won’t it be difficult?”
“We’ve all bet on your failure, after all.”
Zionhac chimed into the conversation with Milleon and Elaine.
“What do you mean?”
Dante tilted his head. Zionhac grinned.
“Of course we placed a wager. Seven for your failure, three for your success. Overwhelming odds against you.”
Zionhac drew a sharp line between business and leisure.
On missions or in battle, he always addressed Dante as commander. But outside of that, he treated him casually, often just calling his name.
At first, Milleon and Elaine had warned him countless times to stop, but he never listened.
In the end… well, they simply gave up, as they did now.
“What did you wager?”
“Why? Interested too?”
He chuckled lightly—so lightly you’d doubt if he were really a knight.
But Dante knew very well just how skilled Zionhac was.
If Dante hadn’t come to the Principality, the commander of Acracion would surely have been him.
That was how exceptional his ability was—though his personality was lighter than a feather.
“But here’s the thing—the person at the center of the wager can’t participate. You understand that, right?”
Taking Dante’s curiosity as an invitation, Zionhac sidled closer, pressing on.
“Anyway, I bet on your success. So don’t let me down. This time, you must succeed.”
Dante didn’t like the gambling, but on the point of success, he agreed.
‘This time, without fail—’
He would send Eina back to the Empire.
He had tried every time he returned over the last three years.
But the battlefield had always been in worse condition than expected.
If he miscalculated, even Veladion itself could be in danger.
He had wanted to send her away before that happened, but…
“Youuung maasteeer!”
Looking at Eina waving her hands from afar, his resolve weakened again.
Every time she wept, begging him not to abandon her, Dante was left speechless.
If Dante had one weakness—despite being strong enough to slay a Behemoth with a single stroke—it was Eina.
“Haa…”
A sigh slipped from his lips as he tugged gently on the reins before a building.
Despite days of near-abusive marching, his horse was miraculously unharmed.
“You’ve done well.”
He patted its neck and dismounted.
“Everyone, dismount.”
Clatter—!
At Dante’s command, Acracion moved as one, dismounting and forming ranks.
Even Zionhac, who had been teasing moments ago, did the same.
They were like a single unsheathed blade.
“Let’s go.”
As Dante strode forward, twelve knights followed behind.
Nearby soldiers stepped aside, making way.
A boy commander with twelve knights at his back—it was a scene fit for a fairy tale.
But no one laughed.
For they were Acracion, the strongest knight order of the Principality.
“Welcome back.”
To greet Dante and the knights stood none other than Isabella.
Her smile was as beautiful as ever, though fatigue shadowed it.
“You’ve worked hard again. I heard you dealt with the Drake tribe and even killed a Behemoth on the way back?”
“Unfortunately, we suffered heavy losses.”
Dante bowed his head slightly as he replied.
Hearing him speak first of casualties instead of his own feats, Isabella smiled softly.
“I heard the same.”
It was the same report she had heard countless times over the last three years.
Which outpost, which knight order, which unit.
How many had died, how many survived, how many were unable to fight on.
Reports like these came dozens of times a day.
By now, she should have grown numb. Yet every time, her heart ached.
The fact that she could do nothing for those who had fallen weighed heavily on her.
“The annihilated 99th Outpost, and others as well, will soon receive reinforcements.”
“…Do we still have troops to spare?”
It was an obvious question. The Principality had no reserves left.
If not for the Empire’s constant reinforcements, they wouldn’t have lasted this long.
And now—more reinforcements?
“His Majesty himself has issued an edict. Large-scale reinforcements will be sent before winter ends.”
Dante nearly laughed in disbelief.
So far, the Empire had sent nearly 400,000 troops here.
Even for the continent’s greatest superpower, such support wasn’t easy.
The drain on manpower alone was staggering, not to mention the political risks.
And weren’t there kingdoms constantly eyeing the Empire’s throne?
To send more troops now seemed almost impossible.
“Your thoughts still show on your face. You don’t even try to hide them, do you?”
Isabella read his expression and smiled bitterly.
“Don’t worry too much. This time, the reinforcements aren’t from the Imperial family—they’re from the nobles.”
“The nobles?”
That was unexpected.
“They finally realized the battlefield is dire. If we fall, they’ll be in grave danger too. Took them long enough.”
“…Quick on the uptake, aren’t they.”
He let out a dry chuckle.
Should he call it gratifying? Or mock them?
“In any case, thanks to this, we can put out the worst of the fires. Ah, and it’s not just soldiers coming.”
“Don’t tell me—”
“The mage corps you’ve long wished for will arrive as well. Not many, but enough to turn the tide.”
And several knight orders, too.
At that, Dante’s face lit up.
More soldiers were always good. That went without saying.
But more important than soldiers were knights and mages.
Ordinary soldiers couldn’t deal with monsters like Behemoths.
For that, knights and mages were indispensable.
The fact that such overwhelming power was coming as support—it was joyous news.
“You’re pleased?”
“Yes.”
The stronger their side became, the fewer would have to die.
What could be better?
But Isabella’s expression wasn’t wholly cheerful.
“I wonder when this war will ever end.”
A quiet murmur.
Dante swallowed a sigh.
‘In my past life, it lasted five years.’
Especially the final year—it was brutal.
Most of the Principality’s lost lands had been lost then.
Though they had eventually managed to hold the line, it had been far too late.
‘If only I can change that future…’
Dante knew how this war ended.
Not in exact detail—it was too long ago. But he remembered the broad strokes.
‘Until now, I lacked the strength to change its course.’
But now—it was different.
Or rather, it would be different.
One step.
If he could just take one more step forward, he might end this war with his own hands.
That step wouldn’t be easy.
But recently, he had begun to glimpse the path.
With the right opportunity, he could move forward.
“It won’t take long. We’ll end it soon.”
Dante spoke with conviction and reassurance to Isabella.
“I hope it’s as you say.”
She smiled wearily.
The war against the monsters wasn’t fought only by knights and soldiers.
The one who spent the most energy, who roamed the farthest, was Isabella herself.
She repeatedly left the Principality’s borders to slay Behemoth-class monsters, only returning to Veladion when utterly exhausted.
Looking at her, Dante spoke again with a firm expression.
“It won’t be long. I—and Acracion—will make sure of it.”
It was both a vow to himself and a declaration of what he would accomplish.
