Wilhelm's End

For a moment, I thought I must have misheard him.

A successor?

The idea that the Knight King Wilhelm had left behind a successor was news to me — the first I'd ever heard of it.

A fraud, then.

Marquis Weiser steadied his startled heart. Looking back, how many swindlers had there been who claimed to be the Knight King's previous incarnation, his reincarnation, his disciple? After the Great Expedition failed, some of them had even swaggered into a handful of cities and openly seized positions for themselves as "the Knight King's disciple."

And this one wasn't even claiming to be a mere disciple. A successor?

It was absurd.

That calm, unbothered demeanor of his would crack the moment his life hung by a thread. Marquis Weiser lowered his hand.

The knights, reading their lord's command, had just begun to take a step forward when—

"House Weiser owes the Knight King a Star. In exchange for that debt, Marquis Weiser — what did you swear to the Knight King?"

"……Stop."

The knights, who had been radiating a murderous killing intent, froze mid-stride.

Marquis Weiser's eyes were shaking violently.

He did owe the Knight King a debt. In return for the Knight King's help in allowing his only daughter, the Pure White Knight Serengeti, to reach Transcendence, he had sworn an oath.

But no one knew that fact. Not even Serengeti herself, the very person it concerned. It was a truth known only to the Knight King and Marquis Weiser.

Then the man who called himself the Knight King's successor spoke again.

"If you've forgotten, allow me to remind you."

Someone swallowed hard — a dry, audible gulp.

"…I showed sufficient sincerity."

Marquis Weiser answered.

I laughed out loud.

"Since when did loyalty become shorthand for 'sufficient sincerity'?"

Marquis Weiser had sworn loyalty to the Knight King Wilhelm. Loyalty was the utmost devotion that rose from the heart — the heart itself. You couldn't just paper over that with something as cheap as "I showed sincerity" and move on.

"You who were once called the 'Honorable Weiser' — have you truly become nothing more than a fattened pig?"

The knight Weiser had become a marquis of the Balan Kingdom through that honor and that skill. He had been a man who understood honor well enough to become the master of the Knight's Garden, where knights gathered.

Marquis Weiser ground his teeth.

"Five hundred knights are dead, and Serengeti has been reduced to a wreck. What more am I supposed to lose?"

"Even so, it still falls short of the value of a Star."

The true worth of a Star was something even an entire great city like this one could not cover. There were two hundred forty-four such great cities across the continent of Pangenia.

But there were only thirty-two Stars.

Scarcity alone was one thing — but the value, the symbolism, and the transcendent nature of a Goddess's remains were beyond any comparison.

"Still, I'm not an unreasonable man. I only wish to hear of my master's final moments."

"You mean to meet Serengeti?"

"Yes."

I wanted nothing else. I wasn't even asking him to hand over the city — and yet Marquis Weiser's expression remained locked tight, refusing to ease.

"If you are the Knight King's successor, show me proof."

"Proof?"

"Swordsmanship. Or a skill you inherited……"

I had already told him a truth only the two of them knew, but words alone were not enough for him to believe everything.

The Knight King's swordsmanship, or a skill.

I straightened my posture and nodded without hesitation.

"That shouldn't be difficult."

It was difficult.

…What the hell was I supposed to do?

Across the training grounds stood a regular knight in silver armor, his expression murderous. He held his sword as if he fully intended to split me clean in half.

He was the strongest knight left in this territory — relatively speaking. Every truly powerful knight had been ground to dust in the Great Expedition. That was why they had loaded this mere Level 7 knight with every treasure they still had.

A Blessed Executioner's Blade, Blessed Silver Armor of the White Knight, even a Blessed Royal Ring?

He was, quite literally, a blessed knight. To attach the "Blessed" prefix to equipment, a high-ranking priest had to take a blessed talisman and work miracles through endless effort and prayer. And he was wearing that kind of gear head to toe — for someone like me, stuck at Level 3, he was a genuinely overwhelming opponent.

"You don't look like much. Don't blame me if I kill you by accident."

The knight spun his gleaming Executioner's Blade in lazy circles. The man running his mouth right now had no idea I was the Knight King's successor. This duel was being held under Marquis Weiser's gag order.

"……Do as you like."

Marquis Weiser was deadly serious. Confirming whether I truly was the successor was a matter of the utmost importance to him. The Great Expedition had drained the city of both money and talent, and he was in the middle of a collapse. But if the Knight King's successor lent a hand, this city might yet be spared from ruin… or so he was probably thinking.

"So this is that Executioner's Blade I've only ever heard about!"

…He was thrilled, apparently.

The phrasing was somehow familiar, but that was how he talked about blessed treasures. And if a man like that was the strongest knight left in this city, it was clear the place's fate was already sealed.

I slowly drew my dual swords.

"What are those crude blades? And dual swords, no less?"

The knight snorted with open contempt. To the eye, the two swords I'd drawn looked genuinely pathetic — no different from the common weapons piled near the entrance of any blacksmith's shop. More than that, dual wielding was the kind of showy nonsense only pretentious amateurs went for. No proper swordsman ever fought with two blades at once.

But these two swords were anything but common.

Two Apex Iron Swords.

Weapons obtained as the transcendent reward for Main Quest 3. Without hesitation, I had chosen two identical Apex Iron Swords.

They're for switching.

One advantage of the Hidden Trait Weapon Master was that it let you handle every weapon at a considerable level of proficiency. To push that trait to its absolute limit, you needed weapons you could switch between. They weren't Michela's blades, so I wouldn't get the Heaven-Earth-Man effect — but for imitating the Knight King, these two swords were perfect.

Apex, True, Annihilation, Severing.

Weapons bearing any of these four titles held power that could never be measured by ordinary standards. Because Transcendence had been applied to such a plain weapon, the raw stats were a little disappointing — but every other effect was on a level beyond comparison.

Proficiency correction. It doesn't look like much, but nothing is more broken than this.

The moment I gripped both Apex Iron Swords, related text floated up before my eyes.

The Hidden Trait Weapon Master started weapon proficiency at Lv.5. On top of that, the Hidden Trait Manual Dexterity granted +1 to all proficiencies. That alone put me at a base of Lv.6. Two Apex Iron Swords and the Apex effect added another 2 Lv, bringing me to 10.

Whatever it was — once something crossed Lv.10, a pebble became a tower and a droplet became an ocean.

Still not enough.

Even so, it was still insufficient to call myself the Knight King's true heir. This alone couldn't recreate the Knight King's distinctive presence. It wasn't even the dirt under his fingernails.

What did I need to do? How could I make them acknowledge me as the Knight King's successor?

It was in that very moment.

"……"

When a person faces something that exceeds their understanding — something they simply cannot comprehend — they become a fool. They fall into a state where staring blankly is all they can do.

Everyone gathered in the training grounds was like that now. Marquis Weiser. Hudson. Isabella. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠And even the knight facing him.

What… what is this?

The knight stared up at the ceiling of the training grounds. Wearing his blessed treasures, he had been brimming with confidence. Defeat had seemed impossible. His opponent was a pretentious dual-sword user — a nobody playacting as a swordsman with two crude iron blades.

But the moment the dual swords came out and the fight began, everything flipped.

Before the battle started, the man had been full of openings. The moment it began, the path ahead turned into a blank wall. The knight's mind went white — he couldn't even decide where to thrust or how to attack.

And when he came back to himself, he was staring at the ceiling, just like this.

What just happened?

He couldn't understand it. It wasn't that the sword had been too fast to see. If anything, it had been slow enough that he should have been able to cut it down easily.

The subtle principle of slowness?

No such thing existed. He should have blocked it — and yet he couldn't.

A presence that overwhelmed the entire battlefield. Something formless that shouldn't have existed. In that instant, the man had become the sky itself.

"……Ah."

Marquis Weiser let out a small gasp. Only then did he realize he had stopped breathing.

That is the Knight King's swordsmanship.

The blade the man before him had unleashed was connected to the Knight ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠King's own. That presence that transcended cognition and made opposition utterly impossible. The only human who could do something like that was the Knight King Wilhelm.

Something infinitely slow, yet impossible to stop. Something that, even with both eyes open, you could never take in as a whole. It was like magic — but the Knight King had always called it his swordsmanship.

If someone could unfold that absolute domain no one had ever understood…

Ahh……

Marquis Weiser trembled.

The supreme Knight King. The strongest of humanity. The one once called humanity's last hope. The man they had believed dead… had returned.

A woman lay in the bedchamber, eyes open but unfocused. There was not a trace of life about her — and this was the Pure White Knight Serengeti. Alive, yet no different from the dead.

"She was brought back like this, tied to a horse. We summoned the Saintess, but the curse was so powerful even she said there was nothing to be done."

Marquis Weiser spoke heavily. Behind him, Hudson looked at Serengeti, fighting to hold back the tears that kept welling up.

The Demon King's curse.

She was under the Demon King's curse — a curse that bound its victim forever inside a dream, forcing them to live through endless nightmares. The Demon King's curse could not be broken by anything. Not even a Saintess or a Holy Emperor could touch it.

But I had to wake her. Only then could I hear of my own end.

Serengeti……

My closest confidant. The knight who, alongside five hundred others, had followed me most faithfully. Even their deaths had left me with no real feeling — because to me, it had all just been a game.

But looking at Serengeti now, a strange emotion stirred. It was longing. Had I been seduced by a sense of reality so vivid I could no longer call it a game?

No. It was time to admit it.

This is not a game.

This place was not a world inside a game. It was another reality.

"We tried every means we had to wake Serengeti. The finest elixirs, renowned healers — none of it worked."

That was one of the reasons the city's finances had been shattered. Marquis Weiser had exhausted every option, and still Serengeti had not returned.

"…But now I must protect this territory as well. In a month, Serengeti will no longer be here. Duke Saien has agreed to take the child in. As far as I'm concerned… there is no other way."

"……!"

Hudson's trembling grew worse. Horror flooded his eyes. Duke Saien was one of the kingdom's highest-ranking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nobles — a man who had long coveted Serengeti.

Marquis Weiser spoke bitterly.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't be of any help."

"It's fine."

And it truly was fine.

I brought my hand over her head.

Then—

Hwaaaaa—!

A swarm of stars circled around her and was absorbed.

Slowly…

Focus began to return to Serengeti's eyes.