I allowed Malachi and Kivana to sit out of the war for a while. At the same time, I ordered all advancing armies to return.
It was clear that we would need to adopt a defensive position, their retaliation would come swiftly.
I sat upon my throne, reading the reports from the previous battle. Rosaline had done far more damage than I anticipated.
From Uhana, I learned that she had even attacked Aubrey, though by some miracle, Aubrey survived.
According to her own report, Rosaline claimed it was because Aubrey had been "annoying in the future."
Whatever that meant, it unsettled me more than I cared to admit.
Beyond that, Fertical had officially declared its non-alliance with us, prompting Bamdia to follow suit, solidifying what we already knew.
It wasn't catastrophic, but it was troubling.
Destrarossa had returned to speak with me, likely regarding my condition and the awakening of my trait.
I reclined upon the throne, my fingers brushing against the cold armrest as he stood beside me.
Several nobles had gathered to greet him after he revealed himself as the First King.
His presence filled the room like ancient pressure, reminding them all that they stood in front of something close to divine.
"You carry the trait of sin within you," Destrarossa said evenly, his voice echoing through the marble hall.
"And meeting Rosaline seems to have awakened it fully."
From what he'd explained before, this trait of sin would amplify my sloth, the Sin I embodied. It was already unbearable.
I often blacked out after expending too much energy, and lately, even the act of breathing seemed to drain me.
Fortunately, Ri'Ishtar had assured me that he was close to finishing the cure.
That was the only reason I hadn't collapsed under my own weight.
"What do you suggest?" I asked, my gaze sweeping over the vast city beyond the balcony.
I could feel the unrest pulsing beneath the kingdom's surface.
Destrarossa was here because he feared its destruction. And in truth, so did I.
He answered calmly. "You need to become demonic."
His words stirred the nobles.
The duality of good and evil ruled over every being in this world, and to embrace one side fully was to abandon balance.
Yet, as the embodiment of The End, my True Self existed beyond both.
The Trinity of Self, and all that lay above it, had always been my domain.
"I must mention," I said, raising my voice so that all could hear.
"During my brief visit to Novastia, Kivana told me that True Dragons, Devils, and Archangels are preparing to descend upon this world."
A ripple of unease swept the hall. They had begun to move, faster than expected.
This was likely the most crucial council meeting in the kingdom's history.
One man among them, with slicked-back brown hair and small circular glasses, stepped forward.
His tone was respectful but firm. "You are powerful, my king, but I wonder if that alone will be enough. We need countermeasures."
Destrarossa nodded, folding his arms. "Indeed. Most of our strongest are wounded or weakened from the war. What do you propose?"
The man adjusted his glasses, standing tall. His skin was pale, but his build was strong, his voice measured.
"I suggest we enact the former king's contingency, the activation of the Rune Knights."
That name surprised me. I hadn't heard it since childhood, when Father mentioned it in passing.
Destrarossa tilted his head. "What is your name, strategist?"
The man bowed. "The Count, Leon Felt."
Leon Felt. The name stirred a distant memory.
In my past life, this was the man who had effectively run the kingdom in my absence.
The great city west of the capital, Felt, was named after him.
[Nicholas felt inclined to trust this man.]
The voice within me spoke softly, and I chose to listen. "Very well, Leon. Do you know the details of this plan?"
The other council members leaned forward, curiosity in their eyes.
Leon nodded. "Only fragments, my king. But in essence, beneath the kingdom lies a network of colossal runic knights. I believe many of you can guess their purpose."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
The Book of Nothing had once mentioned similar constructs, giant automatons inscribed with runes used to channel void magic and harness the faint echoes of the Canvas itself.
Those same runes had helped Ri'Ishtar understand my illness, and their design bore a striking resemblance to the symbols of our language.
It was no coincidence; our written words were but shadows of those ancient marks that once shaped creation itself.
Destrarossa leaned closer and whispered. "I have seen those knights. They are powerful, but they require a catalyst to awaken."
I whispered back. "Can you provide it?"
He paused, thoughtful. "They are weaker than I, but there are ten of them. Would it be a wise exchange?"
I chuckled quietly. "How large are they?"
He spread his arms, forming an illusion in the air, a dragon beside one of the knights.
The comparison was staggering. The runic knight towered higher.
A smile tugged at my lips. I turned to Leon, who was now deep in debate with the nobles about their potential risks.
I raised my hand, and silence fell instantly.
"For now," I declared, "we will activate them. One shall be given to each major city, excluding the capital."
The room erupted in questions and protests. Why exclude the capital? How would they be awakened? What if they turned against us?
I let the noise rise and fall, and when the last murmur faded, I spoke again, softly, but with the weight of law.
"The reason is simple," I said, meeting each noble's gaze. "Because I said so."
Among the assembly, my eyes landed on a familiar face, Gabe Delfer. His return had been long overdue.
From what I'd heard, he had accomplished remarkable feats on the front lines, slaying hundreds of dragons himself.
Both he and Leon reacted vividly to my words, they laughed.
That single sound silenced the room.
The other nobles and council members straightened, uncertain whether to follow or fear the tone that had seized the air.
"The future of this kingdom rests within our hands," I continued, my voice echoing across the hall.
"So instead of talking over one another, perhaps ask a question worth answering."
My words struck the crowd into stillness, and only a few dared to speak afterward.
One noble stepped forward first, easing the tension for the rest. "The Devils," he said cautiously.
"Without the use of holy magic, is it even possible to imagine their defeat?"
He was right to ask. Even a single unrestrained Devil was a force beyond comprehension.
"Leave that to me," I replied calmly.
"I intend to establish a new church, one within the capital, where faith will no longer be bound by the limits of the old order."
That answer raised murmurs among the crowd, but none pressed further. They understood that some questions were best left for another day.
Leon was the next to speak. "These Archangels," he said, his tone sharp but respectful. "Are they our allies, or our enemies?"
I sighed, rubbing a hand across my mouth as I thought. "Both," I answered simply. "Or rather, they can be either. So prepare for both."
He nodded and stepped back, satisfied by the honesty of the response.
Then Gabe spoke, the one question everyone else had been too afraid to ask.
"How will we win?" he asked, his voice firm. "What victory do you seek, my king, survival, or triumph?"
Destrarossa turned his gaze toward me, the faintest glint of curiosity in his eyes.
The nobles followed suit, all waiting for the certainty they needed to cling to. They wanted absolution. They wanted conviction.
And in truth, I was tired. Tired of merely surviving. The last war had claimed too many lives, soldiers, friends, innocents.
It had scarred the kingdom beyond recognition and left me standing atop the wreckage of what I once swore to protect.
To endure, I was forced to abandon what little humanity remained within me.
Piece by piece, it withered away until only something else persisted, something colder, sharper, truer.
The war had stripped me bare and revealed what lay beneath the weakness and restraint.
It had brought out the worst in me, yes.
But in that crucible, only the best endured. And that best… was me.
No longer would I crawl upon the earth, clawing at survival like some wretched insect.
No longer would I bend before fate or pity.
From this point onward, I would rise above, and look down upon all others from where I belong.
[Nicholas was a vile man, one who would forge these convictions into law, and burn them into the hearts of all who believed in him.]
I rose from the throne, the air tightening as I spoke. "Is it not obvious?" I said, my voice resonant with mana.
"We will triumph. We will stand at the peak of this world, and remain there."