A storm was brewing within the Empire.
Everyone could feel the Empire’s decline and weakness.
Though there had been a facade of prosperity not long ago, in the end, it was just that—a facade.
With Gerard’s death and complete disappearance, the Nobles lost their final fig leaf.
Even after searching among themselves, the Nobles’ chosen Emperor could not serve as a shield.
The Emperor was not only young, but also completely inexperienced.
No matter how foolish the people were, they couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to keep believing the Nobles and the Round Table Conference’s empty promises.
The residents of the Capital felt it most keenly.
After all, Gerard had been dead for quite some time now, yet the beautiful future once promised by the Nobles and the Round Table Conference was still nowhere to be seen or touched.
It was as if the people had awoken from a dream—touched, but still empty-handed.
“What’s going on? It’s been days, and things still haven’t gotten any better. Instead, the Nobles are getting even more outrageous with their greed. Taxes keep going up, prices keep rising, and there’s not even a hint of relief. This isn’t what they said would happen at all… What’s going on…?”
“These Nobles aren’t treating us like fools, are they? My family can’t even put food on the table anymore. There’s not even any news of Lady Emilia returning…”
“Maybe… let’s wait a few more days and see. If things still don’t improve, we’ll make those Nobles pay.”
The reason the Nobles were so frantically and recklessly amassing wealth was to prepare for the Empire’s defeat in the War.
Anyone with eyes could see the Empire couldn’t win.
Once they lost, there would be a massive bleeding of wealth.
So whatever losses they could make up for now, they would.
Let the people suffer a bit more—what did it matter to them if the commoners died?
Yet these old fools still thought things were as they had always been, that a gentleman’s war would never touch the Nobles.
At worst, they’d lose some land, some money, maybe swap out the Emperor.
Now that the Demon King was no longer a threat, all those old assumptions had become a joke.
Those unable to accept it, or those unprepared, would all be swept away by history.
What they didn’t realize was that the fate of the Nobles was still bound to this crumbling Empire.
Everything they did now was nothing but digging their own graves.
Perhaps only Duke Oray understood this, but unfortunately, he was powerless alone.
He could only lay low to avoid ending up as a sacrificial pawn.
Even the Empire’s last trump card, the Hero, could be discarded at will—paraded before the public, with grandiose words tossed around.
Duke Oray had to wait until the Nobles realized the seriousness of the situation before making his move, using his own influence to gather the remaining forces and see if he could give the Empire a chance to breathe.
After all, he didn’t have Emilia’s skill or means—only third-rate schemes and thinking.
He wasn’t a savior, but this was all he could do.
The reason he hadn’t appeared in the public eye was probably because there was nothing he could do—better to fade from everyone’s sight.
Waiting for the right moment to make a stunning move.
At that moment, in the conference hall.
“These damn commoners are really about to rebel. Some even dare refuse to pay taxes. And that Enemy Nation is being so unreasonable. We’re all Nobles here, we’re family!”
Very quickly, the Empire’s Nobles sensed danger—the fear of riots and unrest among the people, and the outcome of their final negotiations with the Enemy Nation at the conference.
Even so, each of them continued to greedily amass wealth, squeezing every drop, afraid that if they were too slow, others would snatch it away.
The Enemy Nation’s representatives at the talks seemed genuinely puzzled by the Empire’s willingness to abandon the Hero as their trump card.
The Hero had always been a strategic weapon since ancient times—something other nations could only dream of, yet the Empire discarded it so easily.
Were they foolish, or did they have some hidden purpose?
Or perhaps they were just overconfident.
Even so, the Enemy Nation remained on guard.
They frequently displayed aggression and hostility during the meetings, but never went too far, not out of consideration for the Nobles, but to leave themselves a way out.
After all, during Emilia’s era, the Empire’s development had far surpassed all other nations.
Its strength was formidable, both technology and magic flourished, the army was vast and well-equipped, and the Academy produced talented people regardless of whether they were Nobles or commoners.
This was the main reason for the Enemy Nation’s constant probing—they feared a misstep would plunge their own nation into crisis, but that was no reason to back down.
If they knew the Empire was now just an empty shell, weak to the core—
They’d probably come to carve it up at once.
After all, the Empire’s strategic location had long been coveted by many nations.
Clearly, the Enemy Nation had not given up on invasion.
If nothing unexpected happened, a great battle would erupt within days, and the Nobles’ sweet dreams would be shattered.
The scent of gunpowder in the air drifted with the wind to the Empire’s borders, hovering above the Enemy Nation’s army, which stood ready and waiting.
All clad in iron armor, weapons gleaming, their eyes cold and murderous, devoid of human emotion.
Every step they took seemed to shake the earth, as they marched relentlessly toward the Empire’s fragile border.
A thousand Anti-Magic Cavalry guarded the massive army’s flanks, ready to counter any surprise or large-scale magical assault.
Behind them followed newly developed War Beasts—huge, magic-driven, and versatile.
All these machines, equipment, and training methods had been contributed by Emilia’s Supporters, who had escaped the Nobles’ purge a year ago.
They carried the fire of vengeance, ready to burn the Empire.
While all the human nations were busy tearing themselves apart, no one paid attention to the Ruins of Demon King Castle, where a brand-new country was quietly rising.
Its leader, Hajimi the Demon King, was working hard—perhaps even a little crazed.
“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have tried to show off. Nearly bit off more than I could chew. Now I finally know what it feels like to be burned all over. Maybe I could become the next Sunfist.”
Under the blazing sun, Sig was doing push-ups—over ten thousand, his form nearly leaving afterimages.
Yet he didn’t feel tired at all.
He looked completely at ease, still full of energy.
After all, he’d been an athlete in his previous life—this was nothing to him.
Beside him, a silver-haired girl crouched elegantly, holding a parasol.
She smiled as she watched, saying nothing, as if she thoroughly enjoyed their time alone together.
Unexpectedly, their moment was interrupted by a boy passing by with a bucket of manure—the stench clinging to Gerard’s whole body.
Unable to stand seeing the two together, he put down the bucket and strode straight over.
“Emilia, stay away from that guy. He almost killed you before! I was so terrified by your injuries I fainted, praying nonstop for God to save you. Thankfully, my prayers were answered and you’re safe. Otherwise, I’d blame myself for the rest of my life, I swear.”
He thought that by explaining everything, Emilia would finally see Sig’s true colors, leave his side, and run into his arms.
But it only became a joke between the two.
Emilia didn’t even glance at Gerard.
She listened quietly, her smile unchanged, shrugged, and put on an unconcerned expression, her gaze never leaving Sig—her attitude clear.
Then, the gravity began to shift.
“I know everything you said, but my life always belonged to Sig. He can use my body however he wishes, no matter what he does to me—it’s his right, and that’s why I stay by his side.”
A hint of weariness and affection flickered in her blood-red eyes.
“As long as I can stay by his side, I’ll do anything he asks.”