Zenfri survived that living hell by sheer luck.

However, it would be hard to describe it as a blessing, given what he lost.

The hand with which he gripped his sword had been completely ruined and was beyond recovery. He would never be able to wield a blade with it again. His leg, slashed dozens of times, was no better; he would never walk properly again.

For Zenfri, who had lived his entire life as a knight with a sword in hand, this was tantamount to a death sentence.

The cruelest truth of all was this: Of the five knight commanders, Zenfri had been the luckiest.

Viktor had died first.

Then Rocheste.

As for Alter, his fate could not be confirmed.

Karen had survived, but only by surrendering and begging for her life. It was known only that she now lived secluded within her estate, as though already dead.

And yet, as Thalia was reduced to ruin, Calix could do nothing.

When Rocheste was executed.

When the blood of countless nobles flowed like rivers.

Throughout those days, Calix lay writhing in agony and coughing up blood.

The price of wielding the Sun God’s power was immense. This was why he was meant to remain dormant on the Day of the North Wind, completely unable to act.

But he woke up partway through.

As he had not paid the full required price, the backlash that struck him was even more catastrophic. Calix was forced to endure the brutal consequences for over a month, repeatedly vomiting blood.

Zenfri and Calix were both reduced to broken shadows of their former selves and could barely cling to life. That was all they could do.

At the time, the idea of reclaiming the grand ducal castle or seeking revenge on the Empire was beyond them. Survival alone consumed everything they had.

And so that unbearable period of suffering passed.

Meanwhile, the vivid red of Calix’s eyes faded into darkness. The composure that had once lingered on his face had disappeared, replaced by dark shadows surrounding his eyes, stained by the aftereffects of his forced awakening.

After enduring trials so brutal that they felt unreal, he had changed profoundly.

Those who had once stood under his protection — whom he had believed he would defend at all costs — vanished in an instant.

Calix was shattered by the fact that he had been unable to intervene.

“…Rocheste is gone.”

Zenfri returned to the execution grounds, having gone there without saying a word to Calix. He finally spoke.

His gaze was unfocused, and exhaustion was etched on his face. Soon, tears began to fall.

“Your Grace, I still don’t understand why it ended like this. What went wrong? What exactly happened?”

If there had been one clear mistake, he could have repented for it. He could have apologized to the deceased or berated himself.

But no matter how much he turned it over in his mind, Zenfri could not grasp how Thalia had come to such a ruinous end.

The Empire had been watching Thalia for more than ten years. Had they not repelled them successfully every single time?

So why had everything collapsed so completely this time?

“Rocheste is dead. Rocheste is… that fool—he could have at least pretended to change his mind. He should have acted, just once… and yet he went all the way to the end—”

Zenfri, who had never cried in his life, cowered in a corner, sobbing uncontrollably.

Calix stared at him with hollow eyes. Then, at last, he let out a laugh.

It was a dry, brittle sound, like an old wooden staircase creaking, and it rasped and echoed through the room.

“A reason…”

Zenfri said he did not know the reason. But Calix knew only too well how things had come to this.

The answer was simple: his own arrogance.

He had been far too generous in his self-assessment, utterly convinced that everything would unfold according to his will. This belief became his downfall.

On the eve of a great storm, countless signs warned of the impending disaster. Yet Calix had never truly doubted them.

Why?

Because he believed that, even if calamity struck, he would overcome it.

How foolishly he trusted that everything was proceeding as it should!

‘The cause of everything lies with me.’

His heart scraped raw to the bone, he carved into himself again and again.

All he could feel was an overwhelming sense of emptiness, like a bottomless abyss.

After chuckling to himself for a long time, Calix slowly raised his head.

“Now it’s time to return it to them.”

If they thought they could cast him into hell and escape unscathed, they were gravely mistaken.

This tragedy would only come to a close when the poisoned cup was placed in their hands, still drunk on victory.

***

Calix chose to take his own life.

For all intents and purposes, the man known as Calix died on the Day of the North Wind.

The fact that his burned corpse was mistaken for his own was a stroke of extraordinary luck.

This meant that, as a dead man, he could live on under another’s identity.

“Long time no see, Karen.”

The first person he sought out after his recovery was Karen Rymont.

It was true that she had been confined to her estate, unable to leave. As she wandered the garden with a vacant expression, she spotted Calix and froze, the color draining from her face.

“Your Grace! You’re alive?!”

Karen immediately bowed deeply. The first thing she did was apologize for surrendering. But Calix had never intended to distinguish between right and wrong.

All he wanted was for her to survive, even if that meant bowing to the Empire.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. The person you knew is truly dead.”

He dismissed it as if it meant nothing, and Karen’s expression darkened.

In truth, the moment she realized he was alive, her chest had filled with overwhelming relief to the point of bursting.

Calix had been her first love.

She had never properly expressed her feelings, and when she heard that he had died, she lost the strength to do anything.

And yet—he was alive.

It felt as though fate itself had granted her a second chance.

“There’s something I need you to do.”

However, Calix continued to treat her with the same impersonal distance.

It hurt a little, but she should still be grateful.

The fact that he had come to her at all proved that he trusted her.

“Yes. Please tell me.”

“I need a magical artifact that can change one’s appearance. As quickly as possible.”

Calix had taken the risk of seeking Karen out precisely because of her abilities.

Her family had been crafting mana-infused tools for generations.

One of their ancestors was descended from a mage who had come from far beyond the sea.

Perhaps due to this lineage, the family possessed the rare ability to imbue mana-infused stones with special magic, creating true magical artefacts.

And right now, Calix needed that power.

“A magical artifact that can alter one’s appearance…”

Karen quickly grasped his intention.

“So you don’t plan to hide quietly.”

“….”

“…Give me one week.”

“That’s faster than I expected.”

“But—do you have a specific appearance in mind?”

From the very beginning, Calix had someone in mind.

“Callios.”

“…What? B-but that name is far too similar to yours, Your Grace. If anyone realizes—”

“No. They will never realize it.”

In the Empire, no one knew that Calix was still alive.

And even if someone suspected it—

“No one would imagine that I would willingly walk straight into enemy territory while using a similar name.”

Moreover, Callios, who died in the underground labyrinth, was around the same age as Calix and was an open critic of the Grand Ducal Family.

If these characteristics were exploited effectively, they would be far more advantageous than pretending to be an ordinary man.

Marquis Bryson, in particular, hated Calix, so such a persona would certainly draw his attention.

“…Very well.”

In the end, Karen nodded.

She was deeply worried about Calix, but there was nothing more she could do for him.

Biting her lip, she held out her hand.

“Please… take care of yourself.”

Calix looked at her outstretched hand for a moment, then turned his gaze away.

“I’ll return in a week.”

It was better not to make promises one could not keep.

A week passed.

What Karen handed to Calix was a ring.

“If anyone else wears it, it’s just an ordinary ring with no effect. I designed it to respond only to Your Grace.”

The moment he slipped the ring onto his finger, his appearance changed.

Shaggy chestnut-brown hair. Deep brown eyes.

Calix had become Callios entirely—a man who carried the rough, beastlike air of a predator.

“I set it so that not only your appearance, but even your scent and voice change when you wear it. Just in case.”

The results were satisfactory.

“Thank you. Then.”

Calix offered a brief word of thanks and turned to leave.

“W-wait.”

Karen reached out and stopped him.

“When… will I see you again…?”

For some reason, she felt that if they went their separate ways now, she would never see him again.

He was walking too far ahead for her to catch up with him, and she feared that she might never reach him.

Calix looked down at the sleeve she was clutching, then slowly reached out and brushed her hair.

“If the opportunity arises.”

It was very much in character for Calix to avoid making promises that he could not be certain he could keep.

Karen slowly loosened her grip, hoping that events would unfold according to His Grace’s will. And so Calix stepped into the heart of enemy territory, wearing Callios’s skin.

Having been trapped in the underground labyrinth and having turned against Thalia in the past, he was able to convince the Imperial forces to trust him. He endured every hardship to draw the attention of his superiors, achieving great things while giving all the credit to them.

Perhaps because of that—

Before long, the man he had been waiting for finally appeared.

“So your name is Callios?”

Marquis Bryson Ilios Axell — or rather, Duke Axell — had come in person, having recognized the many merits that Callios had accumulated.

As planned, he took an interest in Callios’s name. Perhaps he believed that by keeping Callios close and treating him like a loyal hound, he could serve as a replacement for Calix.

He began to favor Callios, keeping him at his side and entrusting him with greater responsibilities.

If things continued this way and Callios solidified his position within Thalia, dismantling the Empire itself would no longer seem impossible.

Not in some distant future.

And then—

An entirely unforeseen variable appeared.

“From now on, you will be tasked with watching Selina.”

Something stirred in the hollow pit that he had been forcing himself to ignore. A thorn, sharper than anything in the world, that could never be removed, slowly reared its head.