A Thousand-Year Vow

Raon followed Wendy toward the reception room. The steps ahead of him wavered faintly, as if she were drunk.

It must be hard on her.

No matter how firmly she had steeled her will, she had watched her own family die. Mentally, she had to be running on fumes. That she was still on her feet at all was remarkable.

"Humans don't change so easily, yet that one is a little different."

Wrath smacked his lips, as though a jelly-soft human had hardened into stone.

The core of her was always solid.

Wendy was the only warrior in this house who had inherited the will of her ancestors. While everyone else had idled and feasted, she had trained her sword alone and risen to Master. She had been a promising shoot from the very beginning.

That core just put out a sprout, thanks to this war.

Fighting the undead had tempered not only her martial arts but her spirit. She had even overcome the pressure her family had used to bind her. The iron chain called family that had cinched around Wendy had snapped, and now she would be able to climb far higher.

"Please, sit here."

Wendy opened the reception room door and gestured him inside. Raon followed.

Wigen's work, I take it.

There were few signs of actual use, yet the room was packed with luxury goods meant purely for showing off. It looked even more lavish than the reception hall of Zieghart's Lord's Manor.

"Thank you."

The moment Raon sank into the plush sofa, Wendy Ariane bowed her head.

"Lady Wendy?"

"I never could have cut them down on my own. Thank you—truly—for making that decision first."

Wendy bit down on her lip, her shoulders trembling.

"As commander of this war, it was something I had to do. Please don't do this."

Raon shook his head. The execution of the executives had not been for Wendy's sake alone. It had been necessary to save this house.

Those men did things no head of a family should ever do.

Once word spread that Wigen and the executives had fled, morale on the walls had plunged to the bottom—and the undead, waiting for exactly that opening, had surged in. The precise defense had cracked, and the first deaths had followed.

Living as Raon Zieghart had taught him what a family was, and what those who stood above others had to carry in their hearts. That was why genuine fury had risen in him toward Wigen and the executives who had abandoned their house and run.

This was my job to begin with.

He had been ready to turn over the entire continent to take their heads. It was not something for which he deserved Wendy's gratitude.

Raon looked at Wendy, who still had not lifted her head, and let out a low sigh.

"Are you all right, Lady Wendy?"

"If I said I was, that would be a lie."

Wendy raised her head. The pupils that had been tossing like a rough sea slowly settled.

"But I know it was necessary to save this house."

She said it had been something that had to be done, and bit down on her lip again.

She understands. Of course she does.

If Wigen and the executives had lived, they would have driven a wedge between the kind-hearted Wendy and the others and split the house apart. To save a broken House Arian, their influence had to be erased and an entirely new foundation laid. The footprints of the previous generation were gone now. It would be difficult at first—but Arian would be able to soar far higher than before.

"Clearing away the shadow of the old executives won't be easy. As head of the house, you'll have to work at it from every angle."

"I will do everything I can."

Wendy bowed, asking him to trust her.

"That's enough of the thanks. You can stop now…"

"This isn't only about today."

She went on without lifting her head.

"If you had not been here, Lord Raon, this war would have ended at the very beginning. Thank you for fighting with us to the end—and for staking your life to do it."

Wendy said she had wanted to thank him since the moment the fighting stopped, and she did not straighten her bent waist.

If I don't accept this, she's going to stay like that for the rest of her life.

He knew how stubborn she was. He smiled and nodded.

"All right. I'll accept your thanks. Please stand up."

Raon nodded, but Wendy did not rise. Instead, like a condemned prisoner, she dropped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor.

"Lady Wendy?"

"Has she finally lost her mind?"

She had not fainted. Her breathing was rough, but the presence she gave off was so clean it raised the hair on his arms.

"I have something I must say to you, Lord Raon."

"Stand up first, and then…"

"No. I have to do this from this position."

Wendy lifted her brow a fraction, then pressed her forehead to the floor again.

"I wish to serve you as my lord. Please allow me to follow you."

She raised her voice, saying she wanted not only herself but this entire house to follow him as their lord.

"I beg your pardon?"

Raon stared at Wendy, his eyes going round.

What is she talking about?

House Arian was already a vassal house of Zieghart. For her to suddenly say she wanted to serve him as her lord made no sense.

"What are you saying right now…"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Raon Zieghart. I want to follow you."

"Arian is already a vassal house of Zieghart, is it not?"

"It is."

"Then why would you follow me…"

Wendy lifted her head a little. A light of utter sincerity bloomed in her eyes.

"Because even within Zieghart, I want to support my benefactor."

She had said benefactor without warning, but he knew at once whom she meant.

"Me?"

"Yes. Being a vassal house does not mean we blindly follow the whole of Zieghart. Every vassal house has a faction it supports. House Arian wants to walk with our benefactor—and with the Light Wind Squad."

She would follow Zieghart, she said, but within it, she wanted to stand with the Light Wind Squad.

"Why would you think that?"

"During the war, I watched my benefactor and the Light Wind Squad from closer than anyone. You ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠protected one another's individuality—and when you fought together, you were like a storm."

Wendy went on with a smile that had crumpled slightly, as if from envy.

"I want Arian to become a house that cherishes one another the way the Light Wind Squad does, while still making room for each person's life. That is why I want to stand with them. And…"

The hand she raised with care pointed at Raon.

"The one who contributed most to making the Light Wind Squad what it is, and who still leads it, is my benefactor. That is why I wish to serve you as my lord."

Wendy bowed her head again, saying she wanted to run this house the way the Light Wind Squad did—where each of them would stake their life for the others.

"Mm…"

Raon looked at Wendy and touched his lip.

What do I do with this.

If she had spoken of talent, or of some magnificent martial art, he would have refused. But Wendy had spoken of the Light Wind Squad's bonds. In her envy of the way they protected one another's individuality and stood together, he could feel her sincerity.

"I'm only the vice-captain of a single squad."

"That squad is the Light Wind Squad. I am certain it will become the strongest military force in Zieghart."

"I'm not even of the direct line."

"Do you think I care about something like blood?"

"Hah…"

Raon let out a breath.

I don't know why people keep wanting to follow me lately.

From Mark Goetten to Wendy Ariane, everywhere he went someone asked to follow him. It was a little overwhelming.

"This King agrees. That brat is still far from sufficient—what could they possibly see in him to follow?"

Wrath clicked his tongue, clearly displeased.

"Hmm? Wait. Is that girl not a family head?"

She is.

"Excellent! Accept her, then immediately order her to offer up ten servings of this land's specialty dishes each—gah!"

Raon smacked the rambling Wrath away with the back of his hand.

It's a burden, no question. But…

It didn't feel bad. Perhaps it was because of his previous life, spent entirely alone. Honestly, a heat was rising in his chest.

"All right."

Raon nodded. Wendy dropped to one knee and set her fist over her left breast.

At Wendy's vow, the image rose unbidden of Zieghart's ancestor and Arian's ancestor completing a perfect combined technique together. He had fought beside Wendy just as they had then, and her oath settled deep in his chest.

The echo of history is one thing—but she herself will be a great help.

Wendy Ariane had risen to Mid-rank Master through this war. Because she had built her martial arts on a foundation of fundamentals, she had every chance of climbing even higher.

"I accept your vow."

Raon smiled gently and took Wendy by the shoulder.

"As Lord Raon's vassal, Wendy Ariane will follow you even if you say you will destroy the continent!"

Wendy bowed her head once more, her face overflowing with emotion.

"…There will be no destroying the continent."

Raon shook his head, wiping the sweat that had run down to his temple. Continental annihilation, from the very first breath—a chill ran down his spine.

"Instead of annihilation, I'll give you your first order."

"I receive your command."

She dropped to one knee as she had for the vow, and set her hand over her left breast.

"Even if it kills me, I will see this order through!"

Wendy nodded as if that much were obvious.

"And please stand up already. You've been bowing so long you're going to end up with a hunched neck."

"Yes!"

Only then did Wendy rise and sit on the sofa across from him.

"Ah. Come to think of it…"

Raon clicked his tongue. Now that things had settled a little, Dorian's words from earlier came back to him.

"I heard a guest brought in the executives. Who was it?"

"Ah—you haven't heard?"

Wendy's eyes went round, as if she could not believe he still didn't know.

"It was the Sword Demon."

"The Sword Demon—you don't mean…"

"Yes. The Sword Demon, head of the Five Great Swordsmen."

The Sword Demon who stood at the peak of the Five Great Swordsmen was a supreme power, said to be able to contend even with the Continental Ten Heavens. That a man with no affiliation, who held a neutral position, had gone out of his way to capture the executives left Raon's mouth hanging open.

"Where is he now?"

Wendy pointed toward the Land of Death.

"He went to the Land of Death, where we finished the war with the Light Wind Squad."

"Fwaaah…"

Rimer yawned so wide his mouth nearly split, and rubbed his eyes.

"How long are you going to keep sightseeing? I'm dying of sleepiness here. Let's wrap this up."

He waved a hand at the back of a tall, powerfully built old man with white hair.

"Hrm…"

The white-haired old man, who had been studying the traces of battle, rose. The red sword hanging at his waist trembled faintly.

"You're telling me these traces were truly made by that child they call the White Sword Dragon?"

The old man turned. He was a warrior of striking presence—sharp eyes that did not match his snow-white hair, and a pair of massively broad shoulders.

"I already told you that. How many times do I have to say it?"

Rimer waved a hand, looking thoroughly put upon.

"To think a twenty-year-old warrior produced these traces… it's absurd."

The old man studied the marks carved into the earth and muttered that a monster had appeared.

"Master. Is this really so impressive?"

The red-haired young man who had introduced himself as the Sword Demon's disciple came up beside him.

"Look at these traces."

The Sword Demon pointed to the thin sword scars left where three pillars had been driven into the ground.

"A single strike. No—with two swords, he carved out more than thirty sword paths in a single instant. There is still some immaturity, but the power dwelling in those forms is not something even a Grandmaster could easily block."

He made his disciple understand just how dangerous the swordsmanship Raon had unfolded truly was.

Rimer looked at the old man and clicked his tongue.

He can read that? As expected of the one they call the strongest of the Five Great Swordsmen.

The Land of Death had been buried beneath a swamp, so the ground was soft, and almost no sword traces remained. In a place where it was hard even to tell whether a mark had been left by a crawling insect or a blade, the fact that this man had picked out Raon's sword forms was proof enough that his skill was anything but ordinary.

I'd heard the Sword Demon could be compared even to the Continental Ten Heavens. That clearly wasn't a lie.

He had no idea how high the man's martial realm actually was. The Five Great Swordsmen were said to fall short of the Continental Ten Heavens—but that sword of the Sword Demon's felt as if it could reach them.

How a wanderer got this strong is a mystery in itself.

The Sword Demon had never said so with his own mouth, but he was a neutral party who belonged to no faction. That he had grown this powerful from a position no different from a mercenary or a wandering swordsman was astonishing.

And yet…

Rimer ran his gaze down the Sword Demon's face and build, and his eyes narrowed.

That old geezer. Why does he feel so familiar?

This was the first time they had actually met, but strangely, it felt as if he had seen him somewhere before.

Weird… ah, forget it. Too much work.

Rimer started to chase the reason for that familiarity, then got lazy and shook his head.

Must've seen him at a gambling den or something.

After finishing his conversation with Wendy, Raon returned to his quarters.

He still needed to thank Milland and the supporting forces from the other factions, but it was late, so he decided to call on them tomorrow.

And she's still at it.

Runaan was still sprawled face-down on the bed, asleep. A soft, puppy-like snore rumbled from her.

So she didn't sleep here because of me after all.

Judging by the fact that she still hadn't woken, she had simply wanted to sleep here herself. Raon gave a short laugh and sat down at the table.

"When in the blazes is This King going to eat?! This King's stomach lining is about to stick to his back!"

Your belly's still plenty round. You're fine.

Raon stretched Wrath's plump, squishy belly fat and snorted.

"Do not touch This King! A mere human, daring to lay hands upon This King's jade body?!"

What are you, a cat?

The creature who had sat still even when his head was smacked was throwing a fit because someone had touched his stomach. It felt exactly like dealing with a cat.

Let me check this, then we'll eat. Wait a moment.

"Check? What could there possibly be left to…"

This.

Raon flicked Wrath on the head and called up the messages he had not yet seen.

"Th-this!"

Wrath took one look at the rising messages, clutched the back of his sandwich-plump neck, and collapsed.

Raon shoved the face-down Wrath off the table and read.

Apparently, killing Manghongwi and cutting down the sphere of death energy had been judged an impossible feat. Every stat had jumped by twenty points in a single stroke. His soul's rank had risen as well; the mental pain and fatigue felt distinctly lighter.

But the messages were far from finished.

The second wave of messages concerned his traits. After six days of fighting, a Death Energy Resistance trait had been created to help him endure death energy, and every trait he had used in this war had gone up in rank. The rise in Divinity Born from Darkness was the most satisfying of all.

And that isn't everything.

They had not come up as messages, but his mastery of the Ring of Fire, the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames, and Glacia had risen sharply as well, and the realm of his swordsmanship had grown with them. A smile came unbidden at results that had outstripped even his own enlightenment.

"I-it's over now… th-there's more?"

Wrath, who had been staggering back to his feet, saw the additional message and his mouth fell open.

A title, this time. A new one had appeared for the first time in a long while, since The One Who Survived.

"Damn it all! Why won't it end?!"

Wrath's lips trembled as he stared at the newly risen title.

The One Who Leads the War to Victory.

A title given to those who open the path to victory in a war that cannot be won. All stats +5, and when fighting alongside comrades, everyone's focus and physical abilities rose slightly.

"Huh?"

Everyone's focus and physical abilities?

That meant it would raise not only his own power, but the Light Wind Squad's as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠well when they fought together.

So it boosts morale.

In a group battle, morale was everything. The higher it ran, the more a warrior could draw out strength beyond their actual ability—and this title seemed to have the effect of forcibly hauling that morale upward.

"I-it's over now, yes?"

Wrath staggered back up.

"Then hurry up and ea—"

Just as the creature was about to beg for food at last, another message rose.

Wrath saw that message and finally collapsed, foaming at the mouth.

"Sloth. You gullible bastard…"