The name that had just left the young man's lips was far too familiar. No—calling it familiar didn't even feel right. It was unmistakably her name. Uriel—no, Beatrice—met Caron's glowing eyes through the blades that crossed between them. "You're speaking nonsense," she said, her tone cold and measured. Perhaps he was just probing. Caron Leston was the grandson of Grand Duke Halo. It wouldn't be strange if he had heard something from his grandfather. She had erased every trace of her identity as Beatrice. Completely. With the help of the Inquisition, she had escaped the Ducal Family of Leston's surveillance without a single flaw. She was confident that no one could connect her to her former self. That was why she denied his words without hesitation. "I don't know where you heard that name, but—" Beatrice began, but was cut off. "At first, I wasn't sure," Caron interrupted, his tone casual. "Even just before we crossed blades, I didn't think it could really be you." "...What?" Beatrice asked. "But now that I know, I'm glad. Let's keep going," Caron said. Their swords clashed again. Shards of light scattered through the air like shattered glass. Fragments of a dark blue moon and a pale white one danced together, casting brilliance across the arena. Caron stepped forward, pressing his advantage. Beatrice began to fall back under the relentless assault. In an instant, they exchanged dozens of blows. A sea of moonlight, an overwhelming illusion forged from sheer power, rushed toward her. Beatrice responded with elegant grace. A flower bloomed. White petals drifted down from above, swirling around her like a gentle storm. They deflected Caron's blade with a subtle force. It was Imperial Sword Form 7: Falling Blossoms. As the last petal descended, it caught Caron's sword and turned it aside without resistance. A narrow gap opened between the petals. Beatrice, eyes narrowed with focus, thrust her sword straight through that space. It was a strike that couldn't be dodged—impossibly fast and precisely angled. Caron twisted his sword, parrying her strike as if he had known it was coming all along. Beatrice gasped in surprise. She thought, He expected that? The Falling Blossoms technique created a space in the middle of a swirling petal storm—a blind spot that locked opponents into an unavoidable strike. It was one of her signature finishers. Anyone seeing it for the first time would have no way to counter it. And yet this young man had seen right through it. Effortlessly. With the smallest movement. ...It's familiar, she thought. There was something hauntingly familiar about the way he moved, the way their blades met. She had never crossed swords with this young man before, and yet, it felt as if they had done this for years. "You've gotten a lot faster," Caron said, his voice calm but teasing. "But your right shoulder still twists a little when you lunge. I told you a long time ago—bad habits give your opponent all the clues they need. Did you forget that already?" He tilted his head slightly, then added, "Well, I guess it's been a long time. Easy to forget." Beatrice clenched her teeth. The way he spoke—it was so annoyingly casual, so impossibly familiar. But strangely, the sound of his voice didn't anger her. It was the first time she'd heard it... and yet it stirred something nostalgic and dear inside her. A single tear slipped down her cheek before she even realized it. She now understood without a doubt. She knew whose swordsmanship this young man mirrored. "...Commander," Beatrice whispered. The one she had longed to see again. The man who had been her reason to survive, the one who gave her the strength to keep going even when everything fell apart. The man who pretended to be cold to his subordinates, but in the end, had only wanted them to live. He had been foolish, carrying the weight of everything alone—and he'd died with that burden. Once again, their blades collided. Each clash sent shockwaves of mana bursting through the air, tearing the dueling grounds apart. At that moment, a ridiculous thought crossed Beatrice's mind. "...Commander?" Beatrice called out. It was the idea that the young man before her could be her Commander—so absurd, so impossible—yet it bloomed from the smallest seed of doubt into a wave of certainty. The sight she had longed for all her life now shone right before her eyes. The moon of Cain Latorre had once been cloaked in a wicked power, but this moon radiated a light more pure than anything she had ever seen. A mesmerizing shade of dark blue flooded her vision. Her mind spun in confusion, but one truth rang clear above all else. She whispered, "...You've come back." Shards of moonlight scattered like stardust in every direction. Through the shimmering debris, Beatrice looked at Caron. The world shimmered with moonlight. The moon she had missed, the one she had searched for endlessly... "Take it easy, Beatrice. You'll really kill me at this rate," Caron said with a chuckle. His face was different, his voice was different, and even his tone had shifted slightly. But Beatrice knew—Caron Leston was her Commander. Nothing else could explain this moment. "I came too late, Beatrice," Caron continued, his voice laced with a bit of his old, dry sarcasm. That tone—that hadn't changed. Beatrice gave a faint, bittersweet smile. She lowered her sword and removed the mask she had been wearing, saying, "You took your sweet time." The sharpness in her voice was gone now. As she spoke, her mind drifted back fifty years—to the days when she had been a proud member of the Imperial Guards. Those memories flickered before her eyes, along with the feelings she thought she had long buried. "Hmm," Caron murmured. The Commander with another face gave her a faint smile and slowly lowered his dark blue blade. Following his lead, Beatrice smiled too, though hers came with more effort. She said softly, "You know how to smile now." "...Do I?" Caron asked. "Yes, and it suits you much better," Beatrice answered. "Are you sure it's not just this new face?" Caron asked. "Well... It's not a bad face. But I still liked your old one more," Beatrice replied. A gentle darkness enveloped them both. It was the power of Pluto—shrouding them in silence and shadow, cutting off sound and sight from the outside world. In the sudden dark, Beatrice looked around with glowing eyes. She asked, "This is a cool power. Where did you pick up a trick ?" "I got lucky in this life," Caron replied. "You can speak freely. No one's listening in. But... you still talk a lot, Beatrice." "Do I? People in the Vatican kept asking me to speak more, you know," Beatrice said. Caron quietly studied her face. He wondered if she had overcome aging by reaching the pinnacle of 8-Star. Her face looked exactly as he remembered it. Only now did he truly realize—Beatrice had always been beautiful. Her golden eyes still shimmered, but now they were tinged with sorrow. Caron didn't know what to say to her. So he simply spoke the first words that came to mind. "Have you been well, Beatrice?" Caron asked. It was nothing grand—just a plain and simple greeting. And to that, Beatrice answered only with a bright, radiant smile. The battle quickly fell into a lull. With external interference completely blocked, no one outside the shadowed arena could even begin to guess what was happening inside. Caron planted Guillotine into the ground and let out a quiet breath before saying, "Kerra and Ugo asked me to say hello for them." Beatrice narrowed her eyes and said, "So you went to see those guys before me." "Don't say it like that. They were the senior members of the Knight Order," Caron said. "They stopped being my seniors the day I walked away from the Imperial Guards. Still, I guess they're doing fine. What have they been up to?" Beatrice asked. "One's raising a kid, and the other's doing security," Caron answered. Beatrice gave a crooked smile and said, "Let me guess—Kerra's the parent, and Ugo's the guard. Am I right? But whose kid is it? Don't tell me..." She narrowed her eyes at Caron with suspicion. Caron simply shrugged. "Well... She is my daughter, but—" Caron began, but was cut off. "Die," Beatrice interrupted. Beatrice unsheathed her sword again, and Caron quickly raised both hands in defense. He shouted, "Hey, wait! You've got it all wrong! I didn't birth her!" "Of course you didn't—you're a man!" Beatrice shouted back. "I'll tell you later. This is a misunderstanding. She's not biologically mine. She's my stepdaughter. If you meet her, I swear you'll adore her," Caron explained. Latest content published on novel-fire.ɴet A terrifying killing intent filled the air. Caron had nearly been decapitated. After barely calming Beatrice down, he carefully continued, "Ugo's living in the palace of the Sultanate now. It's a long story, though. Let's save it for later when we have a drink. First, I've got a few questions for you." Beatrice let out a sigh and nodded, then said, "Go ahead." "Why are you here, Beatrice? From the looks of it, you've sided with Saint Elijah..." Caron asked. That had been the first question in Caron's mind the moment he realized Uriel was Beatrice. He wondered why someone like her, who had never wanted to follow anyone, would align with Elijah. "I made a deal with the Saint," Beatrice said plainly. "He promised to help me get revenge. In return, I'd help him. That's all." "...Revenge?" Caron asked. "After you died like that, revenge was all I had left," Beatrice answered. "Against whom?" Caron asked. "Everyone who made you end up like that," Beatrice replied. Her voice dripped with hatred. Caron looked at her and nodded bitterly, then said, "...I wanted all of you to live freely." He meant it. Back then, Cain Latorre had hoped his subordinates could escape from the monstrosity known as the Malevolent Emperor. He'd hoped they could live happy lives, free from cursed fates. But now, he saw the truth clearly. None of the survivors had found freedom. Kerra had inherited a new burden. Ugo had nearly died, ensnared by a Demon King. And even Beatrice had remained shackled by hatred. That truth tore at his heart. "Beatrice, I'm really so—" Just as Caron was about to apologize, Beatrice stepped forward and embraced him without a word. She said, "It's okay. You came back. That's enough for me." Caron gently patted her back. How much time passed like that, he couldn't say. Eventually, Beatrice stepped back and quietly said, "I didn't expect you to reincarnate as your friend's grandson." "You believe in reincarnation?" Caron asked. "Well, the Light must've had a reason to send you back. And honestly? If I can believe in what I can't see, it's only fair to believe in what I can," Beatrice answered. Her logic was oddly convincing. Caron let out a soft laugh and waved his hand, saying, "This isn't the place to talk about all that. Still like drinking? Come on, let's finish this first." There were mountains of things he wanted to talk about with her—but first, they needed to take care of the business at hand. "I'm going to clean up the Holy Kingdom. Some of their clergy have sided with demons. They've developed techniques using black magic. They might fool others, but not me," Caron continued. Beatrice's expression turned grim at that. She said, "So that's why you forced your way in here... I didn't sense a thing." "Of course not," Caron said. He pulled Guillotine from the ground and looked at her, saying, "Some bastards were clouding your vision." And at that very moment... Beatrice's eyes turned a deep, burning red. Dark energy began rising from her body. There was no mistaking it—it was dark mana. She bit her lip and said through gritted teeth, "...Commander. Is this—" "The Shackles of Immortality. I had a hunch, but it looks like you're still bound. Someone in this place must've triggered them," Caron said, finishing Beatrice's sentence. Caron had already realized the chains still existed when he fought Ugo. So he'd expected that something could happen to Beatrice as well. "Step back, Commander. If I lose control—" Beatrice began. "No," Caron interrupted. With a wave of his hand, the veil of darkness that had isolated the arena dissipated. From above, the face of Elijah, who had been watching, came into view. Caron looked up at Elijah and said coldly, "I'm not leaving this time." Fifty years ago, he had abandoned his subordinates and chosen death. He wouldn't make that mistake again. "It'll hurt a bit. Bear with it," Caron said. A chilling light pulsed from Guillotine as Caron, without hesitation, drove the blade into Beatrice's side. He said, "Guillotine. I'm counting on you." "Don't worry," Guillotine said. Caron's mana surged into Beatrice's body through the sword, clashing violently with the dark mana inside her. His energy began to consume the curse that was devouring her from within. As he looked back up at the spectators above, he infused his voice with power and declared, "What happens next... is on you." The one who had triggered the Shackles of Immortality was among them. And so Caron said, "Pay for your sins... in blood."