Chapter 192

Chapter 192

Ivan has nightmares every night. Although there were days without dreams, there were never days without nightmares. He has lived this way for 30 years.

According to his experiences, the subject of the nightmares has changed every time. A representative nightmare from his childhood would be the dream of dying in this primitive world in a pathetic old age.

Ending his life frozen with cold, starving, and without experiencing any culture from his homeland, collapsing as a miserable peasant.

If that was the form of early nightmares, during his military service, it was different.

Dying comrades, the burning Prichenkaya, demons revealing their red eyes and wielding blades deep inside the coniferous forest.

Under the broken flag of Krasilov, wandering while holding onto burnt corpses on the devastated and burning soil of this country, he often dreamed.

And when his long military service ended, his nightmares became fixated on one scene.

“Lieutenant Colonel, live long. Come as late as possible. If you come quickly, there will be an insurrection.”

The hot blood warming the back of his neck.

The woman’s body weighing lighter and lighter on his back.

In the pouring rain, her cold, long hair clung to his cheek.

The last breath scattered chillingly in his ear.

“Please.”

Ivan grabbed the sleeve of the responsible priest and collapsed. He begged to treat the wound that wouldn’t heal no matter how much healing potion was poured.

The priest closed the lifeless eyes of the woman he carried on his back and made the sign of the cross over her.

He vividly remembers still.

He hasn’t forgotten even for a single moment.

Every night, the emotions of that time writhed in his old scars and constricted his heart.

“Sergei, Nikolai, Polina, Anna, Valeria, Alina, Leonid, Visali, Sasha, Anatoly, Yuliya, Victoria, Kserinya, Yelchina, Roman, Artem...”

He remembers the faces, families, personalities, voices, hobbies, and favorite things of everyone who perished before Abiditas.

Every night, he crumbles as he ponders all the comrades who died.

As a dedication of flowers for the deceased, he takes in and feeds the war orphans.

Instead, as he carries apologies for the dead, even when leaning on the sofa for a moment of dozing off to supplement the minimum sleep.

“Lieutenant Colonel.”

In the dark night, when he opens his eyes covered in cold sweat, the faces he always sees are.

Reflections of silhouettes visible in the night window, the faces reflected in a mirror reflecting the swaying curtains.

“Live long.”

They are not blaming him.

They always smile at him, just repeating the same words.

“Chernovika.”

She liked roses.

It was thanks to Kim Sun-woo’s small courage that he found out. That strong woman, who used to smile even when her abdomen was torn by Taurus, shed tears for the first time when she received roses from Kim Sun-woo.

So Ivan whispered as he sat back on the sofa, sharpening his axe during the remainder of the night.

“Sergei, Nikolai, Polina, Anna...”

Even if wounds heal, scars do not disappear.

People may fade away, but memories do not vanish.

Even when all motivation is lost and twilight falls, this emotion—this alone will never fade away.

“Alexander...”

He remembers the young man’s red smile as he stamped the order.

– Skug... Skak...

With a sharpness that could split the dust resting on the day into two, he continued mechanically pushing and dryly whispering.

“She liked roses.”

Not anymore.

Krasilov is on the brink of civil war, and there is no system left to endure the next war. The economy of this country is extremely poor, winter is threatening, and it has just begun rehabilitation.

Princess Elizaveta is fighting a tough battle. If he assassinates the crown prince, the military government will move immediately. Then, can a princess, who has merely grasped the counterintelligence command, really revive the kingdom?

If another civil war breaks out, this nation will inevitably perish. And that would be an insult to all the heroes who died for the future of this country.

The great king and countless comrades who gave themselves without reserve would not want that.

He endures. He has endured. Is not endurance one of the things he is most confident in?

Suk, suk. Skug. In the deep night, pushing the sharpening stone against the axe blade, Ivan whispered the names of his comrades.

That time has passed for about four years.

There were days when he did not dream, but there has never been a day without dreams that were not nightmares.

—

EP 31. Remembers.

“Hmm.”

“May I ask you to take care of my daughter? She has also contributed to this matter, and in such an ambiguous situation, her influence cannot be negligible. Now that child is alone.”

No one can prepare meals for her either, so just make sure my daughter doesn’t go hungry.

Veolgrin was gradually fading away. Ivan watched that sight and tightly closed his eyes while nodding.

“I will do so.”

“Help Patricia.”

“Understood.”

“I’m sorry. I have asked many things. There are things I couldn’t accomplish, but now that time is short, there’s nothing that can be done.”

“Hmm.”

A calm conversation continued.

Ivan nodded in response every time, pretending as if it didn’t matter at all.

Seeing that, Veolgrin moved his nearly vanished lips and smiled warmly.

“Really, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“The things you have to do... will be more difficult than what you have done. I should have helped you more... I’ve always ended up owing you since those days.”

“It’s my duty.”

“Haha... Hahaha... Is it your duty? You are an outsider from another world. Truly, many will owe you a debt.”

Veolgrin asked quietly.

“No one will understand your dedication.”

“It’s alright.”

“Your achievements will scatter without any honor.”

“I’m used to it.”

“At the end of this journey, you will never be able to close your eyes peacefully.”

“I see.”

The observatory asked him one last time.

“Even so, will you keep moving forward? Is that possible?”

“I’ve tried.”

At Ivan’s response, Veolgrin let out a hollow laugh and washed his face with cold water.

He nodded and looked up at the sky.

“Really... thank you, Ivan. I’m feeling a bit tired now. I wish we could have spent more time together. I’m sorry.”

“...Rest....”

Ivan, who had been closing his eyes, replied with a cracked voice.

“Rest easy.”

My long-time friend.

When he raised his head again, the man was gone without a trace.

Only the clear sky was visible, and on the toppled spire of the Eternal Palace, he was the only one left.

Slowly counting to five while sitting with his head down, Ivan, however, straightened up and stood up.

He gripped tightly onto a half-broken longsword with an unknown master.

*

Mana returned.

The elves heading towards the Eternal Palace slowly adjusted their posture, gazing at the scattering shadows of the Evil God.

Twelve societies were gathering at Ydranhill. Since all elves were essentially political beings, the time of arrival at Ydranhill did not vary greatly.

Hundreds of ships crowded the waters near Ydranhill, and the airborne warships began to rise again, gliding through the sky.

Holding high the emblems and standards of their societies, the members of the Privy Council began to assemble at the port.

Now, there are no gods. The milestone has stopped, and winter has ended, giving way to spring.

The meaning of the milestone ceasing, which had promised eternal prosperity, was clear.

It meant that the elves could now engage in a ‘civil war’ against each other.

Since all forces constraining their prosperity had been forcibly removed.

War was merely an extension of politics.

The next throne, the Privy Council that would gather again, and the numerous vested interests held by the dead are to be acquired through such ‘radical’ politics.

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