TYND 33

Chapter 33

To the Esteemed Duke Kill,

I applaud your decisiveness and bold actions, which none could dare to imitate. However, I believe it is time to end this deviation.

You, wiser than anyone, must already know who currently holds the reins of this situation. I, myself, have long since left this place.

All that remains is my army.

I am merciful. I have no intention of harming you, who have sincerely devoted yourself to Parnas for so many years.

Surrender now. I will personally grant you absolution in recognition of your accomplishments.

If not, I will have no choice but to strike you down with an iron fist.

You may not know me, but I know you. Should you refuse to yield, you will witness a darkness far deeper than any terrible nightmare.

I sincerely hope you make a choice without regret.

At the end of the letter, written in elegant script, there was no ornate seal or stamp—only a playful doodle of a smiling face.

Kill, who had been calmly reading the letter, finally exploded with rage upon seeing the doodle.

“Are you mocking me?!”

He tore the letter, letting the pieces scatter into the air.

His trembling fists could not be contained. Hitting his own thigh in frustration, he shouted to his soldiers:

“Go! Go immediately! Even if I die here, I will never surrender to that woman!”

Despite Kill’s anger, the soldier bowed without hesitation and left. Their calm composure only reminded him of her, fueling his fury further.

“This insolent woman…!”

Kill tried to steady himself, letting out a huffing breath.

Being swept away by emotions was forbidden, but being cornered to this extent made self-control nearly impossible.

He slowly surveyed his surroundings.

The Parnas army had driven them close to the castle walls but kept a distance, not advancing. Whether for negotiation or waiting for orders, they didn’t seem ready to attack immediately.

He turned back to his own soldiers.

Attempts continued to extinguish the flames along the castle walls using dirt, but the fire wouldn’t go out easily, no matter what they threw. Still, persistence would eventually succeed, and the soldiers trapped inside the palace could be rescued.

It isn’t over until it’s over.

“I said put out the flames! Get the soldiers trapped in the palace out! If it’s just our men, these punks aren’t anything!”

With fire in his eyes, Kill urged his officers forward.

Even in such a dire situation, the officers silently obeyed his commands. Just then, one of them suddenly turned toward the castle.

“Your Grace! Something’s coming over there!”

There was no need to explain. Kill was already looking at the spot the officer indicated. Squinting, he focused on the dot that grew larger as it approached.

“…Rafi?”

It was Rafi. A single blue Rafi was gliding down toward them.

Kill’s mind raced with suspicion. Raising his hand in anger, he shouted:

“Archers!”

The archers quickly notched arrows and aimed at the sky.

Just as the order to attack was about to be given, a familiar deep voice thundered over the soldiers’ heads.

“Duke! If you don’t want to regret it, stop!”

Those who knew the voice stared at Kill in shock. Kill frowned as he recalled the sound he had just heard.

“This voice…”

Walter Heiberg. It had to be the voice of the Grand General.

Holding his breath, Kill looked at the sky, narrowing his eyes to examine the approaching figure. Below Rafi, he finally noticed a black dot.

As it drew closer, its form became clearer. What appeared as one dot was actually two attached figures. One was the Grand General, and the other…

The other…

“…Atlind?”

His son.

The wind tousled his son’s hair, and his single eye beneath it drew all attention. Without a doubt, it was his son.

“…Why?”

The Grand General had his sword at the neck of his son, who was bound in front of him.

Kill’s pupils dilated as his son’s image filled his vision. Frozen, he could only watch helplessly.

The legendary magical sword, which he had longed to see and had only heard about, now pressed against his son’s neck, reflecting a brilliant light—it was not a revelation but a living nightmare.

“…Why?”

Why was his son, who should have been inside the castle, here, appearing with the Grand General?

The question struck like lightning, offering no answers, only sinking into Kill’s mind. His lips trembled, saliva pooling as he struggled for words. Regaining composure, he shouted in desperation:

“Lower the sword! Put it down immediately!”

Riding a wave of panic, he charged toward his son’s location.

Realizing the labored breathing was his own, his vision blurred. Trying to steady himself, Kill shouted with a trembling voice:

“What are you doing? Put my son down immediately!”

Walter tightened his grip on the struggling Atlind, pressing the sword against him.

Atlind’s neck turned blue with veins.

Though the blade was crude and stopped short of cutting, any concentration of force from Walter would instantly sever his son’s neck.

“No! No… Don’t! Please!”

Kill nervously chewed his lips, clenching and unclenching his fists. Walter finally gave a nod, signaling the soldiers to step back.

The officers carefully pulled back the soldiers as Walter looked down, speaking in a heavy voice.

“I’ve heard you refused the request offered by His Majesty. Will you save your son and surrender, or continue to resist at the risk of his death?”

“……”

“You know better than anyone which side is winning. Personally, I don’t mind if you discard the vessel of a loyal subject, but I hope you won’t discard the vessel of a father.”

“……”

“You have lost. Accept it.”

Kill slowly lowered his head.

His clenched fists trembled, and a sound like a sob escaped from his lips, which had once carried sharp words.

Until moments ago, his thoughts had been ruled by emotion, but now they cooled, letting reason dominate. Anger, hatred, and grief dissolved like mist, and reality and compromise filled his mind.

Pride, experience, honor, and territory—all that made Kill, Kill, crumbled.

What remained… What he had to protect finally…

“Save my son…! I will lay down everything… everything.”

With a strained voice, he admitted defeat.

The villa, situated on the mountainside, looked grand in name only. It was old and shabby, as if it might collapse at any moment.

Branches littered the ground, and a broken axe lay discarded. It appeared to be a place where hunters and forest workers came to rest. Whis frowned as he quietly snapped his beak, surveying the area.

Why would the royal secret passage connect to a place like this?

Feeling uneasy, he rubbed his arm. Unlike him, who despised bugs and filth, Lucy lay on the ground with no concern at all.

“Your Majesty has a strong constitution. You can lie in such a dirty place and be fine.”

“Being able to hide is enough. Dirt is no problem. Perhaps you, as a soldier, aren’t used to such things.”

“Being a soldier doesn’t mean one must always deal with filth. But bugs are truly terrible.”

“Oh? Look at this. A cricket.”

“Ah!”

Whis jumped back in alarm. Ignoring him, Lucy caught the cricket by its hind leg and teased him, calling “Ebi, Ebi.”

Whis halted his reflex to kick, snapping his beak instead.

He really couldn’t hit it.

Seeing his genuinely disgusted face, Lucy scratched her cheek and apologized belatedly. Yet she still held the cricket.

“I’m fine, but I suppose it could be scary. Hmm… Seeing it after so long brings back memories.”

“What memories could Your Majesty have with a cricket? It’s not a first love or anything.”

“Have you ever eaten this?”

“Are you insane? Eat that?”

Thinking she was joking, Whis looked at her irritably. But what met his eyes was Lucy’s face, twisted as if she had just swallowed something bitter.

With bitter eyes, Lucy threw the cricket out the open window. Whis, unable to comment, sensed the bleak atmosphere and chose silence.