Facing the endless eastern ocean stood one of the Three Great Powers of the world—
the Unified Nation of Warmark.
A vast and radiant empire, Warmark is home to a beautiful human race known for their darker skin tones and silver or black hair, a lineage said to carry the warmth of fire and the calm of steel within their blood.
The nation spanned nineteen grand cities—including its capital—and six surrounding commoner villages, each overseen by a designated lord. Governance in Warmark was unlike anywhere else in the world:
domain over a village or city was not determined by blood alone.
Any individual—noble or commoner—who rendered great service to the nation could be granted lordship by the royal family. Commoners who rose through such favor were immediately elevated to noble status, receiving both title and land.
With a population exceeding forty million, Warmark stood as one of the most densely populated and prosperous nations on the continent.
At the heart of the capital rose the Grand Fortress-Castle—a structure that looked less like a palace and more like a titanic bastion of iron and stone. Its architecture was alien to the rest of the world, layered with strange mechanisms and designs unseen anywhere else.
And behind much of Warmark's technological leap stood a single name—
The Golden Mind — Princess Clover Tio Von Warmark.
One of the nation's most remarkable achievements was the Iron City of Turus, a massive industrial district filled with factories and processing plants—structures conceived solely from Clover's mind. Even within the royal castle itself, she maintained a sealed personal laboratory, where she spent most of her waking life buried in research.
And presently, that was were she was, working on her latest project.
The young princess sat slumped at her worktable, eyes shadowed with deep exhaustion. Her once-neat silver ponytail had fallen into a rough, tangled mess. Dark rings clung stubbornly beneath her eyes.
"I am… so exhausted…" Clover muttered, stifling a yawn.
"How many hours has it been now?"
Across the room, another silver-haired woman stared back at her in disbelief.
"Hours? Your Majesty?" she gasped.
"No, no, no… try days. We've been at this for five straight days. I'm not even sure I remember what the sky looks like anymore. Or what fresh air feels like."
This was Rose Jamie—Princess Clover's long-serving assistant.
Clover blinked slowly.
"…Five days? That might be a new record."
She sighed, staring back at the dismantled relic before her.
"And we're still nowhere near a breakthrough. This thing is far more complex than I anticipated. Wherever it came from… it was once powered. Used. If we can figure out how…"
Her eyes sharpened.
"…it could change the world again."
Rose crossed her arms, exhaustion etched into her face.
"But is this relic really worth pushing yourself this far?" she asked gently.
"You've already changed Warmark—changed the world. Look at this nation now. Ten years ago it was nothing like this. People are happier. Food scarcity is gone. Living costs are stable. Illiteracy has dropped drastically."
She smiled softly at her princess.
"You are already amazing, Your Majesty. Not solving one ancient puzzle won't erase that."
Clover was quiet for a moment.
Then she slowly stood, walking toward the fractured relic resting under glowing runes and instruments.
"…The more I study these relics," she said softly, "their structure, their design, the care woven into every component… the more I'm certain."
She placed a hand against the cold metal.
"This was created by someone like me.
I can feel it. The obsession. The devotion. The loneliness of invention.
It feels… familiar."
Her eyes glimmered with burning determination.
"I don't know what happened for the world to forget things like this.
But I know this—I was born to rediscover it.
To rebuild what was lost."
She turned, fire blazing in her gaze.
"No matter how long it takes… I will crack every secret this world buried.
And I will reshape our future with it."
Rose stared at her in silence.
And then—
She burst into tears.
"I'll follow you anywhere, Your Majesty!" she sobbed.
"No matter how long it takes—no matter how painful it gets—I'll be right beside you when that future arrives!"
Clover grimaced.
"…You really are emotional, Rose."
"Don't judge me!" Rose cried through her tears.
"It's not my fault you're so bright!"
Clover hesitated—then gave a small, tired smile.
"…Thank you, Rose."
She turned back toward the relic.
"Now then. Let's get back to work."
The tears stopped instantly.
A dark, hopeless aura enveloped Rose.
"…You know what," she said flatly, eyes dead,
"just kill me now."
Clover spun around. "HEY—what about all that talk about standing by my side no matter what?"
"If I keep working like this, I'll die anyway," Rose replied in a hollow voice.
"Might as well save time. oh—Look! My grandmother is waving at me from the great beyond. It looks very peaceful over there."
She smiled strangely into the corner of the room.
"STAY AWAY FROM THE LIGHT, ROSE," Clover snapped with a sigh.
"Fine. We'll take a break. Go touch some grass. Smell some flowers. Live a little."
She slumped back into her chair.
"Seriously… you're so dramatic."
A week passed.
Jericho had rested far longer than the three days he originally agreed to — not by choice, but because Erica and Alice refused to leave him alone. Every time he tried to sneak out to train, one of them would appear from nowhere with folded arms and unshakable resolve. In the end, even William had sided with them.
So he rested. But now, there was no more delay.
The next phase had begun.
The chosen knights gathered at the training grounds just at the entrance of the Great Forest of Dawn — far enough from the city to avoid casualties, yet close enough for supplies and support. Tents were raised, training dummies set in place, and swords stacked in rows.
Jericho stood before them, eyes steady, presence calm but overwhelming.
"The weapons you're holding," he said, "were never meant to carry soul energy. They will break. That is expected. Don't fear it."
The knights exchanged uneasy glances.
"But until the proper weapons are forged," he continued, "these will be your teachers. When they shatter, you take another. And when that one breaks, you take another."
There was no room for hesitation in his voice.
"We don't have the luxury of time."
And so the training began. As expected, it was chaos.
The knights couldn't feel anything at all — they swung their blades as they always had, confused and frustrated. The training regime was much more difficult than what they were used to , but William, Alice, Erica and a few other knights didn't look like they were having that much trouble keeping up with Jericho's instructions.
Everyday, steel shattered.
Everyday, bodies collapsed.
And everyday, they stood back up.
Jericho moved among them constantly. This continued for a days, until little progress with some knight began to show.
Jericho corrected stances. Adjusted breathing. Slapped hands away from improper grips. Stopped reckless outbursts of soul energy before they swallowed their wielders whole. When someone pushed too hard, he pulled them back. When someone hesitated too long, he forced them forward.
"Not force," he told them again and again.
"Feel it."
"Let it move."
"Control the flow — don't fight it."
All this he was tapping from the advice and memory the Six granted him upon his return.
Some learned quickly.
One knight managed to coat the edge of his blade in a thin shimmer of soul energy without breaking it. When the sword finally shattered, it was not from overload — but from precision. The look on the man's face was something close to disbelief… and then awe.
Others struggled deeply.
One collapsed every single day from exhaustion. Another lost control and injured himself more than once. A few nearly gave up entirely.
But no one quit.
Erica watched everything with quiet intensity.
She sparred with those who grew confident too fast, knocking them back down to reality. She didn't hold back — and those who faced her learned very quickly the gap between potential and true power.
Alice assisted the wounded, her hands working tirelessly, her eyes always flickering back to Jericho when she thought no one noticed. She saw the way his shoulders tightened each time a knight fell, the way he clenched his fists when someone screamed in pain.
William observed silently, arms crossed, saying little — but remembering everything. He began restructuring combat pairings on his own, placing knights in teams that forced their weaknesses into the open.
By the end of the first week.
The training ground looked like a battlefield.
Broken swords littered the dirt. Cratered earth marked where uncontrolled power had erupted. The knights moved with heavier breaths, shaking limbs, and battered armor — but something had changed.
They were no longer ordinary. But they still didn't have the believe they can actually pull it off.
Jericho stood at the edge of the field as the sun dipped behind the forest.
His expression was calm… but his heart was racing.
This was working.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
But it was working. He just have to get the knights to believe more and not fear it.
Still — in the back of his mind, a warning echoed.
They were growing stronger.
Which meant…
So were their enemies.
Jericho stepped forward, his gaze moving from one knight to the next.
"Listen, everyone," he said calmly. "I know all of this is new to you. And change—it's never easy. Most times, it's frightening."
He paused.
For a brief moment, another face forced its way into his mind.
Jace.
Jericho's jaw tightened. He shook the thought away and continued.
"But this change," he said, voice steady again, "gives all of us a fighting chance. It's something we must embrace if we want to protect what we love… and everything we care about."
He took another step forward.
"Soul energy is the future of this world. For the next generation, this will be the norm. And you've already seen the destruction it can bring when it falls into the wrong hands."
His hands slowly curled into fists.
"And Jace won't be the only wrong hands this power will ever find."
He stopped.
For the briefest second, the pain in his eyes slipped through his calm exterior—raw, unguarded. Then it vanished, locked away once more.
"That is why you are here," he continued. "You are the elites of the kingdom. It will be your duty to stand between our people and that darkness."
The knights stood straighter.
"For the past week, we focused only on drawing soul energy out—through meditation, through drills—making it something you can reach when you need it most. That phase is over."
His eyes sharpened.
"Now comes the hard part. Mastering it."
A quiet tension spread through the group.
"We have two week left out here. The king could only spare us a month before duty calls us back. That is all the time we have. By then, I expect every one of you to have at least mastered the basics."
He looked at them firmly.
"Train hard," Jericho said. "Struggle. Fail. Break your limits. Because when the real battle comes… failure will not be an option."
Then, more quietly—
"Do it for your nation. Do it for your people."
Silence followed.
Then, one by one, the knights inhaled deeply and slammed their fists to their chests.
Their eyes burned with resolve.
The knights soon returned to their training, the sharp clang of steel once again echoing through the clearing. Jericho turned away from them, exhaling quietly as the tension left his shoulders.
"That was quite the speech," Erica said beside him, folding her arms with a teasing smirk. "I almost felt like saluting you myself, Your Highness."
Jericho shot her a tired look.
"You know," he murmured, "sometimes I truly believe you forget that I am actually a prince. Or was" he muttered the last part to himself.
Erica blinked. "Oh? And should I be trembling right now?"
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"As a prince, I was taught how to carry myself so people could trust me… believe in me as their future ruler," he said quietly. "It's not just about power. It's about presence. About responsibility."
He glanced back at the knights training under the afternoon sun.
"And it's no different here. If I want them to follow me… if I want them to trust me with their lives, then I have to prove I'm worthy of that trust. That I won't break when things get difficult."
His expression darkened slightly.
"Trust isn't something you can demand—especially from people you just met. It has to be earned."
Erica stared at him for a moment, her teasing expression softening.
Then—
Jericho's tone suddenly shifted, his lips curling into a faint grin.
"Which is why it truly terrifies me that someone with such a dangerously chaotic imagination might one day become a queen."
Erica froze.
Jericho continued calmly, "Honestly… I sympathize deeply with the poor, brave man who will someday be forced to call you his bride."
William, who had been standing silently nearby, immediately nodded in agreement.
"I have always said the same thing," he added flatly. "That man's survival will be a daily miracle."
For half a second, Erica just stood there.
Then her brow twitched.
"…That was mean."
She stepped closer to Jericho, eyes narrowing playfully.
"And what makes you so sure," she said slowly, her voice dropping into a teasing drawl, "that you won't be that poor, brave man… hmm?"
She dragged out his name gently.
"Je–ri–cho…"
Jericho stiffened.
From the side—
Alice was pouting hard, cheeks slightly puffed as she looked stubbornly away. Yet no matter how much she tried to ignore them…
Her eyes kept betraying her.
Glancing back at them again.
And again.
Jericho felt the air shift the moment Erica said his name like that.
"J–Je–ri–cho…"
Her voice was slow. Teasing. Dangerous.
He swallowed.
"Don't say my name like that," he muttered, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected.
Erica leaned in slightly, hands clasped behind her back, tilting her head as she studied his face with mock innocence.
"Like what?" she asked sweetly. "Is that not your name?"
"…You know exactly what you're doing," Jericho replied.
William turned his face away with a sigh of exhaustion.
"This is painful to witness."
Alice's pouting had progressed into full emotional distress. She turned away completely now, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"I'm not watching this," she muttered.
Yet her reflection in Jericho's peripheral vision betrayed her.
She was absolutely watching this.
Erica took one more step closer.
"So," she continued softly, her eyes glinting with mischief, "if I did become queen someday… wouldn't it be troublesome if you were the king beside me?"
Jericho's brain short-circuited for half a second.
"…That is not how royal politics works."
"But you didn't deny it," Erica shot back instantly.
He froze.
William groaned.
"Strike me down now."
The knights training in the background had also slowed noticeably, far too invested in what was happening between their commanders.
Jericho finally took a step back, clearing his throat.
"You have a terrible habit of putting people in uncomfortable positions."
Erica smiled wider.
"And you have a terrible habit of looking flustered when I do."
Alice finally snapped.
"You're enjoying this way too much!" she burst out.
Erica turned, blinking. "Oh? Were you uncomfortable too, Alice?"
Alice froze, face turning red instantly.
"I—I just—! That's not—!"
Jericho looked between them.
"…Why do I feel like I just walked into a battlefield I didn't prepare for?"
Erica laughed lightly.
Alice looked away again, gripping her sleeves tightly.
And Jericho—
For the first time in a long while—
Felt his heart racing for a reason that had nothing to do with war.
Jericho exhaled slowly, shifting his focus away from the awkward tension lingering in the air.
"Erica," he called calmly.
She turned to him with a playful look. "Hm?"
"If you have this much time to tease me," he continued, eyes steady, "then you have time to spar with me."
Her brow lifted slightly.
"I want to see what you've learned so far with soul energy," Jericho added. "And… I also want to see how talented you truly are with a sword."
Erica blinked once.
Jericho's gaze sharpened just a little.
"The first time I saw you fight, I was impressed. More than I expected to be," he admitted. "And back when I was alive the first time… I was no slouch with a blade myself. I'm curious how I would fare against you now."
He wasn't boasting. There was no arrogance in his tone—only honest curiosity.
A wide grin slowly spread across Erica's face.
"…Is that a challenge, Your Highness?"
Jericho gave a faint smile. "You can call it that."
Then his expression turned thoughtful.
"When I spoke with Lord Bios," he continued, "he told me something important—that the more effective one's imagination is, the more powerful and precise their soul energy becomes."
His eyes met hers fully now.
"Care to demonstrate?"
To Jericho, this was only meant to be a simple test. He didn't truly believe Erica had already grasped the deeper mechanics of soul energy. More than that, he simply wanted to test his own raw strength without relying on it.
And if he were to choose an opponent—
There was no better choice than the strongest knight in the world.
Not just of the Human Continent.
Of the world.
Erica's smile widened again.
She leaned closer and whispered softly, just for him to hear—
"I was thinking the same thing… I've been wondering how my talent measures up against an actual god."
Jericho chuckled quietly.
Then he turned and raised his voice.
"All knights, halt your drills."
The sounds of clashing steel slowly died down as every knight turned toward him.
"Your commander and I will be giving a brief demonstration," Jericho continued. "Step back and observe carefully."
The knights immediately moved away, forming a large open circle, excitement and anticipation visible on their faces.
Erica rolled her shoulders once and shifted her grip on her sword.
"I should warn you," she said casually, eyes sharp. "I didn't become commander because of a pretty face or a title. I bled for this position."
Her smile turned confident. Dangerous.
"And I've been called a battle genius more times than I can count."
Then—
Without warning—
She vanished.