At that time, we had taken over an inn near the border in the western frontier of the Kingdom, in the fortress city of Garaia, governed by the Margrave Mald Orunkaim, the royal wall. This was the frontline against the Egil Republic, a fierce battleground where the knights of both nations clashed.

One day, a direct order came from His Majesty the King to Blythe’s group.

To summarize, a contingent from the Republic had been spotted circumventing the border and approaching from the north. Therefore, we were to assist the knights stationed for northern defense.

Knights deployed far from the frontlines were often either young rookies or aging knights nearing retirement.

The number of Republic forces attempting to infiltrate the Kingdom was unknown. However, considering the dangers of stealth movement through monster-infested frontiers, it was presumed to be no larger than a company at most.

Of course, it was assumed that a mere two hundred soldiers or so would not shake the Northern Knights Corps. Yet, His Majesty had one concern.

It was the fear of a repeat of the "Westwill Incident."

In the north lies Lake Mardius, the Kingdom of Galliant's water source.

If the atrocities they committed in their own country were just experiments, there was a risk they would attempt the real thing within our borders.

The situation was urgent.

That very day, we mounted our horses and departed from Garaia towards Fort Mardius.

After three days of riding nonstop, changing horses along the way, we finally reached the fortress by the shores of Lake Mardius. There, several hundred knights of the Kingdom were already guarding the lake and its inflowing tributaries.

The knight commander defending Fort Mardius, Gala Zielbison, reported to Blythe, who had already earned the title of "Sword Saint" at the time.

— We are storing as much water as possible in reservoirs while the water quality remains normal.

— The Northern Knights Corps is testing the water daily, and preparations are in place to immediately dam the flow should any toxins be detected.

Zielbison, though still in his early thirties, was remarkably wise and proactive. Even without receiving orders, he had independently implemented these countermeasures.

In fact, he had begun taking action long before any agents had infiltrated—indeed, from the very moment he was assigned to the critical water source at Fort Mardius.

Blythe was highly impressed that Zielbison had gone so far as to block some of the less supervised tributaries after sensing suspicious movements from the enemy agents.

However, Zielbison's report did not end there.

In the past few days, something troubling had occurred.

The trade with the wandering tribes—who belonged to no nation and made their homes in the frontier—had completely ceased.

The wandering tribes were free people, not ordinary merchants.

They moved as clans, never staying in one place across years. They wouldn’t conduct business on rainy days and would vanish without a word if danger approached. It was not strange for them to disappear silently.

Given the circumstances, it was possible a Republic force was lurking nearby.

Since guarding Lake Mardius was no longer a priority, Blythe’s group accepted Captain Zielbison’s request to check on the wandering tribes and search for the enemy agents at the same time the next morning.

What we found was the charred, devastated settlement of the wandering tribe. Only a single elder sat there in stunned silence.

Through his tears, he said:

— All our clan members have been taken. Oh Sword Saint, please, I beg you to save them.

We should have paused to consider.

If this was the Republic army’s doing, what could their purpose have been? The wandering tribes were not citizens of the Kingdom. They had freedom to trade across borders on the condition they were not under King Kilpus's protection. Thus, they held no hostage value against the Kingdom.

Then why target the wandering tribes?

Enraged, Blythe immediately rode in the direction the elder pointed.

Still inexperienced at the time, I, along with a few senior disciples, stayed behind to guard and escort the elder, while others returned to Fort Mardius to report to Captain Zielbison.

The sharp-minded Zielbison immediately sensed the abnormality and dispatched a force of several hundred, including me, to the plateau.

Lili exhaled quietly.

I could hear the heaviness in her voice. I focused so intently that even the lively voices from outside the window faded away.

"So from here, it's just my speculation," she said.

"That's fine. Please, continue," I replied.

Blythe pursued the Republic’s agent force with less than ten disciples under him.

It would be fine. At most, they numbered around two hundred. They were used to being surrounded and fighting under disadvantageous conditions. Everyone believed that.

When the sun stood directly overhead, Blythe witnessed it at Mardius Plateau.

The sight of the tanned-skinned wandering tribespeople, wrists bound and waists tied together, being herded by a mere dozen or so mounted soldiers.

Seeing the far smaller group than expected, Blythe roared and charged straight at them. When they noticed the "Sword Saint" pursuing them, the enemy abandoned the wandering tribes and fled on horseback across the plateau.

They ran, afraid of Blythe.

To pursue or not to pursue?

Blythe chose not to. He feared an ambush further ahead and abandoned the chase.

Normally, he would have pursued even knowing it was a trap. But now, the safety of the rescued wandering tribe took precedence.

There were only about a dozen of them, ranging from children to adults, both men and women. Their bodies were covered in wounds, bruises, and mud.

Blythe reassured them, telling them they were safe and that the elder was waiting. He placed the most gravely injured youth on his own horse—the young man’s breathing was already shallow and faint.

It was dangerous to jostle him.

Thus, he entrusted the rest to the disciples’ horses and sent them ahead to reunite with the elder. Even if the escaped agents returned, Blythe was confident he could handle them alone.

Just as he began to walk his horse slowly forward, he was stabbed from behind. The blade was coated in the same toxin used during the "Westwill Incident."

When I, having separated from Zielbison's squad, rushed back with other senior disciples, we found Blythe collapsed on the windswept plateau, gazing blankly at the sky.

I dismounted and ran to him, clinging to his body.

He was already growing cold. Even without the toxin, the wound would have been fatal. The blood had dyed the plateau's grass red.

I screamed and cried in a frenzy.

Why?! If you were going to leave me halfway like this, why did you save me that day?! If you had let me die then, I wouldn’t have to suffer like this! I wish I’d never known your warmth if only to avoid losing you! Don’t leave me alone now!

I don't remember clearly, but I think I must have said something like that.

Hearing this, Blythe made a troubled face, and with his last strength, touched my cheek and replied.

He must have already been barely conscious, unable to comprehend his situation.

— Don’t worry. No matter where you are, I’ll find you. Over and over again, I’ll find you.

Those were the last words of the man known as the "Sword Saint." With a promise he could never keep, Blythe died quietly.

His hand fell from my cheek to the ground. The horses’ hooves kicked up mud and grass. Iron clashed against iron. Sparks and roars erupted. Blood sprayed into the sky.

The Republic agents, who had returned to retrieve Blythe’s body, and the senior disciples who had left the wandering tribe with Captain Zielbison clashed violently around us.

Even so, I clung to Blythe’s corpse and cried. Feeling the coldness of his body, I cried out loud with all my might.

The sky above was a clear, endless blue.