Prologue: The Lingering Ring
Rough stone road. Men in black mourning garb trudged along, bearing a wooden coffin on their shoulders.
"They're coming."
Survivors from the tail end of the warstorm. Their faces were gaunt, backs shoved forward by the heavy wind.
Inside the coffin they carried lay a great swordsman who had stood against the Transcendent invasion.
Yet for all its glory, this homecoming drew no welcomers save me.
I would have been there too, once upon a time. But not this time.
The woman in that coffin was my wife.
"……."
I greeted them in silence. They spotted me and dipped their heads in respect.
"We see the Silent Sword."
Silent Sword. A moniker earned for wielding the pen as my blade.
"We learned so much thanks to you."
"Your books were a lifeline for the frontline soldiers too."
"Coming from knights like you, that's embarrassing."
A wry smile tugged at my lips. A man who couldn't swing a sword—what could I do but theorize and commit it to paper?
"Set her down here."
To the men nearing the gates of the modest castle behind me, I spoke with a bitter smile.
"No one's here to greet you. No point going in; you won't like what you see."
They nodded, faces tight with emotion, and lowered the coffin with exquisite care.
"You got somewhere to go?"
"……."
No answer. But that was no surprise.
"Who among us does?"
"Fare well."
They bowed to me and departed. We'd likely never cross paths again.
I could only be grateful for this final act of loyalty, hauling the coffin all the way here.
The burial spot I'd prepared was a small clearing near the castle. Not far by distance, but with the sun dipping low and rising anew, it had taken an eternity.
"Sorry. As you know, one leg's no good."
Dragging the coffin with my cane had stretched the minutes into hours.
I positioned it right beside the pre-dug pit. Beads of sweat rolled down my cheek, catching the dawn light like pearls. One gathered at my jawline and fell onto the wood; I chuckled softly and brushed the coffin.
"The most precious gem I can offer."
Creak.
I eased the lid open. Artificial roses adorned the interior.
A beautiful woman lay nestled among them, hands clasped, eyes peacefully shut.
Lianna Helmont. Eldest daughter of the great Helmont house.
The peerless swordswoman who felled countless villains and carved through Transcendents.
The woman I'd truly loved. My wife.
"Ten whole years, and you're still exquisite."
A hollow laugh escaped me. Word was she'd spent ages on the battlefield, yet she looked fresh from a grand ballroom.
A thick rose scent wafted out—magic had preserved her, no doubt.
"I imagined we'd have so much to unpack after all this time. But seeing you... nothing comes to mind."
The corpse before me felt awkward; I gazed blankly at the rising sun instead.
"Curious why I fled?"
Five years of marriage. I'd chosen escape at the end.
The reason? Simple.
Helmont blood persecuting a commoner like me. And Lianna, disappointed enough to look the other way.
"I resented you deeply. Did you resent me?"
Ten years later, here we were.
"Or did you laugh it off, relieved?"
Ours had ended too awkwardly for 'reunion'.
"Nothing more pointless than unanswerable questions."
Still, if I had to pick one burning query...
"You—"
Till the bitter end. Swinging that massive greatsword.
Even with her dying breath.
"—were you ever truly a great Helmont?"
A woman who'd lived wholly for Helmont.
The cruel wife who'd abandoned her husband.
"Heh. Hahaha."
Laughter bubbled up. Our bond was long dead. This felt like slamming the door shut for good.
"In this moment, you smiled too, didn't you?"
Farewell to the woman whose smiles bloomed like roses.
She'd cast off all regrets long ago; I just wanted to punctuate it.
"Rest well."
As I gently unclasped her hands, a strange texture met my fingers.
Calluses from years of sword grips cradled something humble: a ring.
On her left ring finger.
The sole dowry from a commoner like me—every last coin I'd scraped together, yet scorned as shabby.
Our wedding ring. Still there on Lianna's finger.
"……."
Speechless, I stared.
"You."
A sigh laced my bitter smile.
"Always one to unsettle me, right to the end."
"Hm?"
The right leg that throbbed every morning felt fine. The cane by the bed was out of reach, even swinging my arm.
My late-thirties body, once creaky, now moved smooth as oiled gears.
"Where...?"
His room. Precisely, the one from Helmont ten years past.
Separate quarters from his wife, naturally—he'd used the guest room.
It had stung back then, like they were drawing a line: not family.
He glanced at the mirror. Isaac stared back.
Isaac from ten years ago. Smooth skin, neatly tied black ponytail.
The handsome face folks praised endlessly.
And legs that worked. The decade-long disability, gone.
"A dream?"
It felt just like one.
But harder to swallow: he'd returned to Helmont in the past.
Clank, creak.
"Brother-in-law!?"
The door swung open. In strode a man with Helmont-red hair and sharp features.
Tall and striking: Helmont's third son, Alois Helmont.
"Alois?"
Just as memory served. The one man in Helmont almost kind to him.
"What're you doing? Sis has been waiting!"
"Sis—you mean Lianna?"
"What's with you today? Yesterday you busted your ass prepping the anniversary stuff with me!"
Anniversary? Prepped with Alois?
The words clicked into place.
'Our fourth wedding anniversary?'
One year shy of his flight from Helmont.
"I helped out, so she'll love it this time. You worked hard too, bro."
Right. That's how it went.
Isaac let out a hollow laugh at Alois.
His final push to salvage the crumbling marriage.
And.
'The trap that dragged me into the pit.'
From that day, Lianna—his wife—and all of Helmont stopped expecting anything from Isaac.
'The day my leg shattered in the "accident."'
A body unfit for the sword, earning him Silent Sword.
And now.
The very culprit who'd stolen his leg.
"Haa! Brooo! Pleeease! Hurry up! Sis is gonna lose it for real!"
Was prodding him along.