August 23, 1258, at the coast of Lewish.

Dannish Howmen held little Jon's hand and looked at the Glamgmar Palace in the distance, only seeing the bright red tile roof. That young man was the only Resistance soldier who didn't go to the front, but according to Jon's words, he was the Chosen One.

Tension came like a storm as each tile of Glamgmar Palace fell. His heart felt like it was jumping out of his chest right now. There is no greater sense of frustration than having to stay where you are for the time being. Dannish tightened his grip on the boy's hand, but then released it, realizing it was too much. Concerned, he asked:

"Will they be fine?"

But the boy just blankly looked in that direction, shook his head, and replied:

"No."

"What do you mean?" Dannish was even more worried.

At this point, Dannish noticed the change in expression on the boy's face. Jon burst into tears. The boy didn't whimper, didn't whine, didn't hesitate, just burst into tears. Jon replied softly:

“Someone will have to die out there. So many…"

Dannish let go of the boy's hand. He bluntly lifted the sword that had been stuck in the sand for a while. He couldn't continue to watch people die like that. Dannish is not afraid of death. Even from the moment he accepted to participate in this life-and-death battle, he was certain that he would die. Life or death is now just a definition on paper. The honor and pride of a soldier is to die on the battlefield, with all efforts to destroy the enemy.

Dannish angrily leaves, but Jon immediately intervenes. The boy didn't run after him, just stood there and cried:

"You can't go!"

"Why?" Dannish was impatient. “My comrades are dying out there. I couldn't stand to watch."

“You can't go!” Jon repeated, shaking his head. “Because you were chosen.”

“I curse that choice!”

Dannish yelled in the boy's face. Jon was suddenly shaken. Dannish's face at this time was extremely scary. After a while, he calmed down, and realized that he had overstated his words. Dannish stepped closer to Jon, then knelt down and said softly:

"I'm sorry," Dannish sighed. "But you have to go."

Jon was silent in thought. He couldn't say what that option was. Given Dannish's personality, if Jon told everything, it could make the situation worse. How can you preserve the timeline?

Sometimes, lies are needed to do something bigger.

Jon took Dannish's hand. His whole hand was in the palm of his big and strong palm. Jon says:

“They will come here to kill me.”

"What?" Dannish looked shocked. "The Lapuntas?"

Jon nodded slightly, his expression turning from expressionless to fearful.

“I am the key to this battle. They will arrive soon.”

“But… I can't…”

"You can, Dannish," Jon insisted. "That's why you were chosen."

Dannish was silent. He is stuck between two ideologies. His comrades and the child. Which path will Dannish choose?

Smoke rose to the sky. The sound echoed everywhere.

Dannish sighed. He hesitated and put down his sword. Dannish will stay, as the boy said. Jon stood next to him, just silent, not saying a word.

--

It was pitch black, but they didn't dare to use torches, it was like luring the enemy to come. At this time, the full moon high above was their faithful companion. Several hours had passed, and Dannish was still in a stance waiting for the enemy to arrive. But strangely enough, the only thing that Dannish could feel was the waves gnawing on the shore. Impatiently, Dannish turned to the boy and asked:

“Are they coming yet?”

But Jon didn't answer, just nodded gently. Dannish sensed that something was wrong here, but he didn't do anything, just continued to wait. It took a while before there was movement in the forest ahead. Dannish pushed Jon behind him, then took a stance. Is he scared? He is. His heart pounded on the pitcher. Dannish is not afraid of death, he is just afraid of not being able to protect this child. But Jon just acted calmly as if nothing happened. What will come out of that forest?

Victoria came out with blood splatters all over her body. But only that. Only Victoria, the boy's mother, and no one else. There are no Lapunta soldiers, and no Emperor.

Jon let go of Dannish's arms, then slowly walked over to his mother. As the boy passed him, Jon just shot him a pair of guilty eyes. It said softly:

"I am sorry…"

Victoria hugged the boy tightly, not forgetting to kiss him on the forehead a few times. Then she turned to look at Dannish as disoriented. Victoria walked up to him, gently put her hand on Dannish's shoulder, and said:

"We won, Dan."

"How many of us do we have left, my lady?" Dannish tried not to let out his emotions. Why can't he be happy when he receives the news of victory?

Victoria hesitated, her eyes also waiting to shed tears. She said in a choked voice:

"Three people…"

Dannish tried to calm down for the first few moments, but it couldn't stay that way forever. All his strength seemed to be drained by the sand of the sea. Dannish fell to his knees in pain. Dannish wept with hatred and pity. The cry of resentment but will the blue sky penetrate? Dannish took the sword lying on the sand. Not a scratch, not a drop of blood. The sword was perfect as if it had just been forged. Dannish indignantly threw his sword into the sea. A sword not used to kill enemies is a useless sword. The most difficult thing that a person has to endure, is to face life when all the important people return to death. Why force him to do that? Why let me be the last one alive? Why?

Victoria walked over and knelt beside a Dannish drowning in grief. She held him in her arms like a mother caressing a baby. She consoled:

"I'm sorry, Dan. I know that you are heartbroken. I also lost most of my companions. But the consolation is that we succeeded.”

“I know, my lady. But I couldn't help it…”

“You stay here because you have another mission. Reind needs to meet you at Glamgmar Palace. Not Jon, you are the ultimate key to this victory.”

Dannish stopped sobbing. He looked up at her, with half-credibility. But after looking at Jon, the boy didn't reply, but nodded with a serious expression on his face. Only now did Dannish calm down. He wiped his tears with his hand, then stood up slowly. Dannish glanced at the distant column of smoke. That burning fire must have been to burn corpses. Dannish clenched his palms together as if to gain courage to go on. Jon walked over slowly. The boy took Dannish's hand, then led him away.

--

The horrifying scene of battle appeared before Dannish's eyes. The fiercely burned corpses lay on the cracked ground. Dannish struggled to stand up to the sight. It was Peter, a friend of his. Dannish recognized the bronze ring on his finger. Little Peter just turned two years old, and his wife is still waiting on Irene Island. And there's Elyscia, the Panmore family necklace that still holds its shape as proof of that. He also recognized the fat Warren, the skinny Hervoet, the teenager Remon who had just turned sixteen this year, or the Meisent who was self-deprecating about her low nose. They looked different from each other before, but now they are just dried black corpses.

Dannish found Reind and Phalanx. He slowly entered the ranks. Below are fallen heroes. Aris and Megara clutched each other's hands as they fell together; O'biehn, Tyron, Heindrich, Leila, Andrea, Andrian, Hargnes also suffered similarly. As for Herone, she didn't have to lie on the pyre, she had Phalanx by her side. He hugged her tightly without leaving half a step, like that for hours.

Dannish did not want to disturb this solemn atmosphere, so he just stood next to Reind and whispered:

"I'm here, my lord."

“Just wait for everyone to arrive,” Reind only whispered, his gaze still too far away.

Dannish didn't understand what he meant, but he didn't dare ask again. Mr. Reind knows what needs to be done, you just have to do it.

The night fades. The sun's rays slowly glimmered in the clear sky. As the first rays of sunlight patted the ground, Dannish sensed movement. He looked down at his feet, the ground shaking. The rocks bounced, the dust rose in plumes of smoke. Dannish turned his head to look around to find out what was going on. An unimaginable scene is actually happening. All the people still living in the land of Mascredyre(1) at that time came from all over the place like a dream that Jon had planted in each person's mind. Today is an important day to witness. Old, young, girls, boys, from the countryside or the hills, from rivers and streams or deserts, they all seek out the holy place. Just to see the head of the great villain on the bonfire.

"What's going on, my lord?" Dannish wondered.

“We need a new Emperor,” Reind said wisely.

"Who will take the throne, my lord?" Dannish asked, but he had some theories for himself.

Reind didn't answer, just looked at him with cold eyes that made Dannish shiver. After a while, when everyone had gathered around, Reind replied:

"You'll find out soon enough."

With that, without giving Dannish time to think, Reind left with Lapunta's head. He stood in the middle of the circle, raised his hand high, and chanted:

"Here! The head of the Emperor! Who has sown so much pain and hatred! We, have conquered the darkness!"

The crowd cheered with enthusiasm. It was the embodiment of disarmed hatred. The shackles of the shackles have been released. The Immortal Emperor is no longer Immortal. The head had been cut down in a neat slash, as beautiful as a delicate carving. Reind threw his head to the ground, and everyone there swarmed and spat. One by one, one by one. There are widows who lost their husbands because they were forced to build walls; there are children who have lost their fathers to pointless expeditions; mothers who lost their daughters to cruel sacrificial rituals… And many, many more mourning events occurred in this land during the more than a hundred years Lapunta fell from grace. So even if he chopped his flesh and bones, it would not be able to heal the wounds of that generation.

After letting everyone vent their anger, Reind came over and lifted the head and put it back on top of his corpse. Lapunta's body was placed on a makeshift cremation pyre. After all, he had absorbed Black Magic, Lapunta's corpse could be used by other bad guys. Cremation is the best solution right now.

Reind picked up the torch. Everyone stood solemnly watching without daring to utter a word. In Arglohandrian custom, when a person is cremated, a eulogy is read as if to send them off to the Valkyrem, also known as the Eternal Afterlife. But for someone like Lapunta, he didn't deserve it. Therefore, Reind didn't say a word, just coldly lit the pyre. It was as if the sky was favorable to the people, and a gust of wind blew, causing the fire to burn up quickly. The whole pyre now only sees a bright red color.

Letting the flames eat away at Lapunta's body minute by minute, Reind mournfully took the torch towards his comrades. They won, but also lost. This loss is too great for one person to bear. His hand trembled, as if about to drop the torch. But he couldn't collapse right now. He could spend the rest of his life mourning, but now the people need to see a man strong enough to move on.

Reind regained his composure. He gripped the torch tightly, turning to face the people below. He drew in a long breath, trying to run the words he should have said in his head. But strangely enough, his mind suddenly went blank. He had never been prepared for these things, even though death was just a blink of an eye for Reind, but this time the ones lying down were his friends. Eight years on the island, one hundred years outside have passed, these people have bonded like family. Holding the torch in his hand, the fire that would soon bring these bodies to dust, his heart seemed to freeze in his chest. Everyone below held their breath to listen to him. The sound of the heart beating seemed to integrate into every corner. Heart palpitations, palpitations, for the first time in history, consensus has reached its peak.

Reind clenched his fist tightly. Under the intense sunlight, the heat rising from the dust, Reind clenched his teeth and let go. He straightened himself, and all, except Phalanx, who still mourned for his mermaids, did the same. With a solemn expression, Reind announced:

“Welcome home, my comrades!”

Reind knelt down, and everyone there followed suit. For the last farewell, the people of the continent bowed respectfully. Then everyone stood up, looking sadly at them for the moment they had left in front of the iron gates of Valkyrem. Victoria stepped up from below beside Reind. She was willing to share this burden with him. Victoria grabbed her husband's hand, lifted the torch together, and then set the pyre on fire. A scene that is both terrifying and reverent at the same time. Smoke and fire rose, and dust and ash flew through the air.

Megara lay on Aris' chest, and he hugged her tightly. Their hands were still clasped together. Eternal fire surrounded them. The smiles on their faces showed that they were extremely satisfied. There are people who wait their whole life to love someone deeply. But the teasing of the Gods was never light. Was it a punishment, or a reward, when they finally got each other, even though life was over?

The smoke continued to rise, and the smell of burning wood was painful. O'biehn, Tyron, Heindrich, Leila, Andrea, Andrian, Hargnes were also in flames. And the last one, but neither Reind nor Victoria could do it. It was Herone, and the Phalanx was still mourning his woman. Reind gave the torch to Victoria, and I knelt beside the Phalanx. Reind put his hand on his shoulder, but said nothing. Sometimes that is the most powerful consolation.

Phalanx suddenly burst into tears like a baby. His Herone is gone! Strength, life or power doesn't matter if there's no one else to share it with. Phalanx buried his face in Reind's chest and sobbed. Why not let him die with Herone? Never before had he felt so jealous of Aris. Even now, they still have each other, yet between him and Herone can only be a dream.

Victoria mournfully sat down beside her. She also hugged Phalanx, trying to warm her frozen heart. They had lost so much today, Victoria couldn't let another member of the family die in any other way. Quietly, she said:

“Phalanx. You know, Herone never stopped loving you."

“What?” Phalanx was surprised, but Victoria's words seemed to have changed his feelings somewhat.

"The time you two spent together was the best for her," Victoria said softly.

"Really?" Phalanx couldn't believe his ears.

“She has no regrets anymore. Phalanx, let her go…”

The four words "No more regrets" were like a painful blow, but also a sweet taste to soothe his spirit. Phalanx turned to look at the face of the woman he loved. Gentle and serene. He reached out and wiped the blood from the corner of her lips. Is that a smile? Herone was smiling at him. A warm and warm smile. Truly no regrets!

Reind, seeing Phalanx's reaction like that, immediately added:

“Herone will live forever with you, and all of us. Not only her, but all of us are still alive.”

Phalanx is like a healed soldier. He drew in a long breath, then gently set Herone back on the rig. Phalanx turned to Victoria, trying to keep himself from collapsing, and said:

“May I?”

Victoria did not answer. She just nodded and handed him the torch. Victoria and Reind stepped back, leaving space for the Phalanx. Victoria clutched Reind's hand as if she were afraid she would lose him one day. Reind clutched her too, with the same fear. He followed the Phalanx's every move on it. Suddenly, Reind turned to Victoria and asked something he was thinking about earlier:

“Herone… did she really say those words?”

Victoria looked at her husband silently, her expression a little complicated. Then she sighed, then shook her head and said:

"No. Herone never said that…”

The couple didn't say anything more, just looked at everything that was going on with a heavy heart. At this point, Phalanx made up his mind and dropped the torch on Herone's pyre. Flames quickly flared up, engulfing her. The whole space burned with endless flames. Liberation Day is also a day full of loss. The death of an Emperor is exchanged for honest, patriotic, and mighty people. Sacrifice is always easy to say. But the most difficult thing always lies in the people who stay.