The Grave of My Past Life
It had been nearly three weeks since I began training with the Rune Sentinels, and the day of the operation was now close at hand.
"Tomorrow at dawn, we leave the estate and head for the western region of the empire."
Valen pointed at a map of the continent, outlining the operation in a dry, matter-of-fact tone.
For the record, my seat was directly in front of Valen—the seat of honor.
I hadn't taken it out of sheer ignorance. Between my victory in the bet with Valen and the rumors that Stern had personally gifted me one of the Benheim family's treasured swords, the seat had naturally become mine.
Eavesdropping on the whispers among the soldiers, I gathered they saw me as a rising star favored by the patriarch, or perhaps even a candidate for the next vice-commander—or some such nonsense.
Because of that, I had to endure quite a few stinging glares from the rest of the unit.
"Our destination is the Mist Valley, and our temporary base of operations will be Rodel, a small city located to the west of the valley. We will arrive in Rodel five days prior to the operation to resupply, then enter the valley at dawn on the Day of the Lunar Eclipse."
Valen flipped the briefing board. On the next page was a rough map detailing the geography of the Mist Valley.
It was a familiar sight.
After all, it was the very place where Lunia and I had made our final stand against the Archduke of Demonic Magic in my past life.
"Our target is the black mages. Specifically, we are to capture Markel Sirid von Benheim, one of their key figures. He is a spy within the Benheim family, a black mage who targeted Lady Lunia's life."
The objective of this operation was simple.
Sweep the black mages preparing for a secret meeting in the Mist Valley, and capture Markel alive.
"While capturing Markel Benheim is our top priority, you are authorized to eliminate him if the situation demands it. This is a direct order from the patriarch."
A loud murmur rippled through the room at Valen's words.
No matter how corrupt a black mage Markel was, he was still the patriarch's brother.
Authorizing his execution was proof enough that Stern no longer considered Markel his own flesh and blood.
It made no difference to me. In my memories from before my regression, the black mage Markel had never particularly distinguished himself. To me, he wasn't some high-priority target that absolutely had to be eliminated; he was merely a pebble in my path.
Instead, my focus in this operation lay elsewhere.
...I might run into the Archduke of Demonic Magic.
It was unclear how deeply the Archduke was involved at this point in time.
But considering he had managed to plant black mages inside the Benheim family, there was a high probability he would show his face at this gathering.
Thus, the chances of encountering him during this operation were far from zero.
If he shows up... I must kill him.
I couldn't let him slip away.
At this stage, his tier likely wasn't that high. The 8th tier at best?
In other words, he would be at a level that the Rune Sentinels, led by Stern, could barely manage to handle.
If I could kill the Archduke of Demonic Magic, I had to do it as early as possible.
"Raygan."
Valen's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
The briefing had ended, and the room was filled with the bustling noise of soldiers dispersing. Valen placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it a bit too firmly.
"Were you daydreaming? Your expression was pretty fierce. Not the kind of face a kid should be making."
I touched the corner of my mouth at his words.
I must have indeed been wearing a grim expression.
Sitting at the very front, the other soldiers wouldn't have noticed, but it would have been clear as day to Valen up on the platform.
"Just lost in thought."
"Getting bogged down in idle thoughts before heading to the battlefield is poison. Clear your head. Especially guys like you who fight on instinct."
"I know."
It was similar to what Valen used to tell me back in my resistance days.
When I let out a soft chuckle, Valen grinned back.
"By the way, how are the gloves treating you?"
"They're great. Nice and warm for the early winter. And no, I'm not giving them back even if you ask."
"That's not why I asked, you brat."
Honestly, the only reason I had chosen these gloves was because of my memories of the resistance.
Back then, Valen would boast about his exploits at every drinking session, constantly launching into long-winded lectures about how incredible these gloves were.
Because of that, they were the only thing that came to mind when I had the chance to demand a reward from him.
"They block physical impacts, but more than anything, they're exceptionally good at cutting off magic backlash. Anything below the 5th tier won't even leave a scratch."
"They certainly are impressive. The mana conductivity is excellent, too."
I rubbed the wyvern-leather gloves. Blocking magic up to the 5th tier meant the range of minor tricks I could pull off would expand significantly.
I didn't bother mentioning that to Valen. If he heard the details, he would undoubtedly object.
"Anyway, you'd better earn your keep out there."
Valen put on a stern face, but his eyes betrayed his anticipation.
After all, there would be no greater embarrassment than a rookie failing miserably in actual combat after being handed one of his prized possessions.
"You don't need to worry."
"Always so nonchalant."
I nodded and began packing my things.
Then, a sudden question crossed my mind, and I voiced it.
"By the way, I have a question."
"What is it?"
"You said we depart tomorrow at dawn."
"Hmph. So you were actually listening despite your daydreaming. Is there a problem with that?"
"As far as I know, the Mist Valley is at least a ten-day ride from here, even if we ride without stopping. The math doesn't add up if we want to arrive on time."
Back when I was a mercenary, crossing the continent took about a month at a rough estimate.
So, traveling from Benheim here in the east to the western edge where the Mist Valley lay would take at least ten days, even if we constantly swapped out the finest horses.
I couldn't fathom how they planned to cut that journey down to just three days.
At my question, Valen stopped packing and stared at me. Soon, a smirk played on his lips.
"Well, well. You're more of a country bumpkin than I thought, son-in-law of Benheim."
"What do you mean?"
"Did you think Benheim was some ordinary family that rides mere horses into battle?"
Valen chuckled and clapped me on the shoulder.
"Just watch tomorrow. I'll knock some of that provincialism out of you."
I only understood the reason behind his laughter at dawn the next day.
"Whoa..."
I only realized the truth after seeing the three carriages lined up in front of the estate's main gate.
No, they weren't horse-drawn carriages. They were mana carriages.
Winged, horse-like magical beasts were harnessed to them.
"They're Pegasi."
"It's my first time seeing them."
"Of course it is. They're mythical beasts, after all."
So we're literally flying there.
It was a mode of transportation I had never even heard of, neither during my mercenary days nor my time in the resistance.
"How about that? Quite an eye-opener, isn't it?"
"Carriages pulled by Pegasi... Do we have many of these?"
"No. They're rare treasures that only the imperial family and a few great noble houses can use. Since we're flying through imperial airspace, securing the necessary permits beforehand is incredibly tedious. That's half the reason why the preparation for this operation took so long."
"I see..."
It made sense why I had no memory of them.
As soon as the war broke out, any aerial transport owned by the imperial family and the noble houses would have been requisitioned immediately, or targeted and destroyed first by the Archduke of Demonic Magic.
The reason they went to such lengths to secure them now was likely to strike swiftly and wipe out the enemy before any information could leak.
"Get in. Don't dawdle. Everyone's waiting."
"Yes, sir."
At Valen's urging, I climbed into the carriage.
Immediately after, with a loud command, the carriage soared into the sky. The ride was surprisingly smooth. It seemed the carriage itself was inscribed with stabilizing magic.
"How is it, country boy? How does it feel to fly?"
"Not too bad."
"What a boring, old-man reaction. Show some excitement fitting for your age."
I gave a noncommittal shrug and looked out the window.
The continent unfolded beneath the clouds.
Watching the Benheim estate rapidly shrink into the distance, I clicked my tongue in awe.
I fully realized that reaching the western part of the continent in three days wasn't some absurd pipe dream.
But the most impressive part wasn't just the flight itself.
"There's a checkpoint down there."
Below the carriage, a massive gate spanning the imperial territory came into view.
Checkpoints were scattered all over the empire.
During my mercenary days, I had to bribe guards or waste half a day just to pass through a single gate.
But our carriage didn't even bother to lower its altitude.
"Is it fine not to descend?"
"Ignore them. The patriarch has already taken care of the transit permits."
Just as Valen said, the sentries at the gate were actually saluting toward the sky.
"While the grunts on the ground crawl through the mud to get inspected, we can sip tea above the clouds and pass right through. Buying time with raw power—this is the prestige of Benheim."
Valen chuckled, resting his chin on his hand.
"With enough power... you can even buy time, huh..."
In that sense, Lunia had truly been a fitting final heir of Benheim.
"I suppose so."
I offered a simple remark.
The sheer influence of the Benheim family was felt even after we arrived at our destination, the small city of Rodel.
"Our esteemed guests may stay here. Please let us know at any time if you experience any discomfort."
The city council had gone so far as to lend us an entire massive mansion.
Unpacking my things in the luxurious drawing room, I recalled the days when staying in a city meant sleeping on straw in some cheap tavern.
What a world of difference.
I finally understood once more why Lunia had detested camping out in the wild.
Since this level of luxury had been her daily life, a military barracks crawling with bugs must have felt like hell itself.
"The Day of the Lunar Eclipse is five days from now. Since we are here in absolute secrecy, you must not reveal your identities to the townspeople. If rumors spread that Benheim mages have arrived, the rats in the valley might catch wind of it and flee."
Valen warned us with a stern expression.
"Refrain from acting individually, and do not wear your robes when going outside. Disguise yourselves thoroughly as ordinary travelers."
The soldiers nodded and dispersed to their respective rooms.
Under the pretext of washing off the fatigue of the journey, I tossed my luggage into my room and headed alone to the mansion's watchtower.
It was a high vantage point that offered a panoramic view of the city.
Rodel wasn't as massive as the Benheim estate, but being nestled halfway into a sheer canyon gave it a unique charm.
"..."
Taking a deep breath, the cold air stung my lungs.
In the distance, a steep canyon shrouded in thick, white fog came into view.
The Mist Valley.
The place where I had died in my past life.
The grave where I had resisted until the very end alongside Lunia, only to eventually fall.
I had returned to that very spot.
And with the exact same sword I had held right before my death.
"How ironic."
I wasn't one to get sentimental, but a wave of complex emotions washed over me.
Though I have returned to my grave...
The one who will be buried this time won't be me. It will be you, Archduke of Demonic Magic.
It was then, as I gripped the railing tightly and renewed my resolve.
"...What is that?"
A flag hanging in the streets on the outskirts of the city caught my eye.
My brow furrowed.
The crest emblazoned on the flag was all too familiar.
"The Black Fang... Mercenary Group?"
A white fang on a black background.
The third-rate mercenary group led by Gerkin.
It was the crest of the very mercenary group I had belonged to in my youth, the one I had personally dismantled six months ago.
Why were those bastards, who should have been doing odd jobs in the eastern part of the continent, all the way out here in the west?
And right under the nose of the Mist Valley, where the black mages' gathering was to take place, no less.
"...Something is off."
I needed to investigate.