The Duchy of Klein also sent troops.
With his forces now further reinforced, Yuri marched toward Liberta.
The continent sensed it.
This march might be the final journey of the prince of Briol, whose heroic record had been etched into history.
If he won, his name would be remembered for generations; if he lost, he would be just another among the countless righteous who perished at the hands of the Empire.
Some mocked it, saying it was a meaningless act.
Others, inspired by his silent march, offered cheers or joined the long column of those following him.
Finally, Yuri and the anti-imperial alliance he had formed arrived at the capital of Liberta.
The king of Liberta came out in person and, from a distance, knelt on one knee to show respect.
But Yuri had no intention of stopping the march just because the king had come out.
He merely returned the greeting with a slight nod of his head and continued on, advancing silently like a pilgrim on the road toward the Empire.
Outside the city, Liberta’s army waited to join Yuri.
In the front row, Yuri recognized a familiar face and let out a laugh.
“Wow, Sven Gain, my friend!”
“We meet again, my esteemed lord.”
“You look serious.”
“The occasion calls for it.”
Hearing the prince of Briol call Sven “friend,” people murmured in surprise.
Lately, Sven had gained notoriety, but it was not known that he was close to Yuri Briol.
Of course, only they knew that their relationship had begun with a fight.
Yuri smiled at the memory.
“Do you remember the first time we met?”
“How could I forget.”
“And now we’re going to fight together. Life is unpredictable, don’t you think?”
“Without a doubt.”
“I kept my promise from back then—I didn’t tell anyone.”
Even Sven, who maintained a serious expression, ended up smiling.
“I appreciate it very much.”
“Right?”
Before meeting Yuri, Sven had been an arrogant man who abused his position, criticized other countries behind their backs, and rarely acknowledged anyone better than himself.
But that had changed.
He had changed.
On horseback, Yuri leaned toward Sven and extended his hand.
“Let’s do well this time too.”
“Yes.”
After a brief handshake, Yuri smiled and returned to the head of the march.
Wolf Gain, watching the scene with satisfaction, spoke.
“Sir Eto.”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you pleased?”
“I am.”
“Someday my son will take your place.”
“First I must take yours, Sir Wolf.”
“You’ve already surpassed me.”
“Skill with the sword is not the only virtue of a knight. Compared to you, I still fall short.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. Someday I’ll be a knight like you.”
“Then become a father.”
“Father…?”
“That will make you a better knight—no, a better human being.”
A horn sounded, and Liberta’s army joined Yuri’s march.
Wolf shouted.
“Liberta shares Briol’s fate! We will fight to the end! March!”
The anti-imperial alliance born in Briol grew like a snowball.
***
Yuri Briol, bearer of the Sword of the Tyrant King, crossed the Confederation of Small Kingdoms and reached Brusen.
The reaction in Brusen was much more enthusiastic than in other countries, which merely bowed—there they waved flags and cheered with shouts. The march became noisy.
All the acquaintances he had made along his journey had gathered.
The king of Brusen did not remain still—he ran directly to Yuri and handed him something.
“Here, drink before you go.”
It was wine.
“Don’t tell me…”
“Sabonne Mucara. From the best year.”
It was a typical product of the Alas region, located between the Holy Kingdom and Brusen.
Not long ago, that had sparked a war between the two, which was resolved thanks to Yuri’s intervention.
Yuri smiled.
“What an honor to gift me something like this.”
“For you, it doesn’t hurt to give it.”
The king of Brusen smiled broadly.
“Drink now. Ah, no need to dismount.”
“Understood.”
On horseback, Yuri, and standing beside him, the king of Brusen, filled their cups with red wine.
“A toast to your victory.”
“I think you just wanted to drink with me, didn’t you?”
“Quiet, they’re listening.”
Both laughed and drank.
“Impressive…”
“Right?”
“I have no words.”
“Me neither. That’s why I’m not going to give you a pep talk—it’s hard to put into words. In this wine is my support, so please, save the continent.”
“Understood.”
“By the way…” said the king.
“I haven’t opened the best wine. I’m saving it for your victory.”
“And if I lose?”
“I’ll drink it in your honor. If you lose, I won’t live much longer either.”
“Hahaha…”
Yuri smiled and extended his cup.
“One more, please.”
“Alright.”
The king poured again. After several rounds, Yuri this time held the wine in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing.
“I definitely have to win.”
“Right?”
“Yes.”
Returning the empty cup, Yuri said.
“I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
The king hugged the bottle and stepped back.
Yuri’s column resumed the march, followed by soldiers from all the countries they had crossed:
those from Briol, the Duchy of Klein, Liberta, the Confederation of Small Kingdoms, troops from small independent domains, swordsmen who had once remained hidden—all had joined.
Now the army of Brusen was added as well.
The king of Brusen raised his hand and shouted.
“My loyal knight, Jose Aratur!”
“Yes!”
Jose, who was behind, answered firmly.
The king shouted.
“Aid the prince of Briol and save the continent!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
His voice resounded throughout the place.
Next, a horn drew out its note and the troops of Brusen began to merge into the column.
Jonathan, watching from the rear on horseback, commented.
“I recognize almost all of them—aren’t they from the Alliance?”
“That’s right.”
“Funny how so many connections end up united like this.”
“They’re not many connections,” replied Froin with a smile. “It’s just one—Yuri Briol. He’s the one who brought them all together.”
“You think so?”
“Think about it. It’s as if all of this had been prepared for this day.”
Froin stroked his horse’s mane and added.
“It all started in the Alliance—the orcs, the black magic—the war to protect the continent had already begun back then.”
“Maybe so.”
They both nodded.
Those who had forged bonds in the Alliance of Nations were now joining together in a battle for the fate of the continent.
The troops of Brusen fully merged into the formation and began to advance. Jonathan and Froin also spurred their horses.
On both sides, people wished them good fortune.
Jonathan smiled.
“Has there ever been another war like this?”
“Pardon?”
“A war truly worth fighting. Not for someone’s ambition, nor for some stupid misunderstanding, nor even for a sacrifice in the name of the common good. It’s because of the appearance of an absolute evil, and because we raise the sword to protect the continent and our loved ones. Isn’t that great? We’ve fought many times before, but has there ever been a battle where risking our lives really didn’t matter?”
“That’s true. Still, living is good.”
“Then let’s live.”
They both moved forward.
Thus, the forces of Brusen became fully integrated into the Anti-Imperial Alliance. And immediately, they headed north.
The long march was coming to an end.
After passing through the Holy Kingdom, they would head straight into the Empire.
***
The Holy Kingdom welcomed Yuri Briol more quietly than Brusen.
Luther Arsaint, who had ascended to the throne thanks to Yuri, dressed in pure white, gave them his blessing, and the priests who came out of the temple recited prayers like incantations, asking for their victory.
The knights, paladins, and all the military forces of the Holy Kingdom joined in.
Given its nature, the Holy Kingdom felt an even greater revulsion toward black magic, so the response to this war was considerable. It seemed that anyone capable of wielding a weapon was joining the formation.
As he greeted Francesco and Fenek, who were waiting with their troops, Yuri thought of Sybilla.
If that hadn’t happened, she could have been here fighting alongside them.
It would have been better that way.
But the past could not be changed. Now the only thing he could do was kill Cedric and soothe her soul.
While Yuri was absorbed in thought, Ainzer approached.
“They say the Holy Kingdom completely exhausted its orichalcum. We’ve received a large shipment of weapons.”
“Oh, really?”
“Most of us are now equipped with orichalcum weapons. Of course, being an alloy, the purity is low.”
“That’s enough. The Holy Kingdom has made a good effort.”
“The old dwarf’s face is a mess.”
“Hahaha…”
Yuri smiled, remembering Umstein.
“It was the least he could do.”
Yuri turned. Francesco was riding toward him.
When he had lost his mana, he had looked like a worn-out vagrant; now, after slimming down and shaving, his appearance was completely different. He could pass for a handsome young man.
“Yuri Briol.”
“You look well.”
“It could be the last time, so one has to look presentable, don’t you think?”
Then Francesco waved to the citizens of the Holy Kingdom. They responded with cheers.
“When I lost my mana, I thought it was a trial sent by God. And when you restored it, I thought you were a messenger sent by Him.”
“Really? Me, a divine messenger?”
“I’m not saying you actually are. Just that our meeting might have been guided by God.”
“Could be.”
“In the end, I think it was all preparation for this moment.”
“And that preparation will only be worth it if we win.”
“We’ll win.”
Francesco said it with absolute conviction.
Yuri asked.
“Why are you so sure?”
“Have you ever seen an unfinished painting?”
“Pardon?”
“In the Great Cathedral, there’s an unfinished mural.”
Francesco rode alongside Yuri and continued.
“It shows the historical saints walking together. But no one knows what’s at the end. They only used pigments to depict a blinding light, without a defined form.”
“Could it be they just left it incomplete?”
“There are many stories about it, but none certain. Some say yes, it was left unfinished. But that doesn’t matter. Even if it’s not painted, we know what lies at the end of the path the saints are walking.”
Francesco smiled.
“That’s why they call it the holiest sacred painting of all.”
“I think I understand what you mean.”
“Yes. The path we follow, and the one you’ve walked—you don’t need to see it to know where it leads, do you?”
He placed a hand on his shoulder.
“We’re going to win. If this journey were to end in tragedy, it would mean the painter of that mural was insane. But the Creator of this world is not such a being.”
“Sounds nice, but isn’t that a bit too grand a thought?”
“No. Trust me.”
“Did you perhaps receive some revelation in a dream last night?”
Francesco’s eyes wavered.
Yuri frowned.
“Were you just saying that, or is it true?”
“Just think of it that way.”
“Did God really appear to you in a dream?”
“He did, with an indescribable light, like in the Cathedral’s mural.”
“And what did He say?”
Francesco looked at him in silence.
“What? Why?”
Instead of answering, he patted his back, with an unusually kind gesture.
Yuri put on an uncomfortable expression.
“Don’t tell me He spoke about me.”
“Let’s win. We’ll win, Yuri Briol.”
“I’m asking you what the revelation was.”
“Let’s go.”
“Tell me already.”
“How could a mere mortal understand the will of God?”
“I’m not saying to understand it, but at least tell me what He said…”
As they argued, the march did not stop.
The sound of horns resounded.
Thus, the formation of the Anti-Imperial Alliance begun by Yuri Briol had grown like a snowball into a colossal size.
Only one thing remained to march north.
Toward the Empire shrouded in darkness, the final army led by Yuri Briol advanced.
____
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