The vast sea, once believed capable of embracing even the whole world.
Today was the day that the very sea revealed its floor.
Crack! Boom!
Green blood burst into the air as a house-sized beast collapsed backward.
“Huff, huff, huff… that son of a bitch…”
A man with long blue hair placed his foot on the creature’s corpse and spat bitterly.
The captain of the Grand Blue Knights and third son of Duke Daph, “Varlach Daphne.”
The man once hailed as the strongest knight in the Fabian Empire.
He frowned and briefly scanned his surroundings.
“Goddamn it.”
Wooden planks and corpses floated on the sea, the waters dyed crimson with blood.
On the shore, hundreds of knights, thousands of soldiers, and the carcasses of beasts were scattered in disarray.
Smoke rising from all directions stung the eyes, and a putrid stench pierced the nose.
A scene describable only as hell on earth.
In the midst of it, Varlach kicked at the blood-soaked sand and ground his teeth.
“What the hell is this mess…”
Reflected in his bloodshot eyes were the figures of his comrades.
Kelthas, the vice-captain who nagged him endlessly every day.
Martin, the idiot rookie who boldly claimed he’d one day surpass Varlach.
And the knights and soldiers who had fought countless battles by his side for a lifetime.
‘They’re already… all dead. These weak bastards.’
Not long ago, they had laughed and cried together, surviving through death more times than they could count. Now, all that remained were lifeless bodies devoid of soul.
Anger and sorrow welled up simultaneously on Varlach’s face.
Beeeep—
A high-pitched ringing filled his ears, his eyes trembled violently, and his vision swayed.
Varlach bit down hard on his lower lip.
“Varlach, pull yourself together.”
“…Yes.”
At that moment, a single word from his father, Copen Daphne, yanked Varlach back to reality.
He blinked, then slowly turned his head to the side.
He saw the few comrades still alive. Seven in total, all in ruins.
“Huff… haah…”
“Damn it.”
Crackle! Crackle!
Their mana shields had broken, leaving their armor full of gaping holes.
Blood oozed from the gaps, giving off a metallic stench.
Their bodies were drenched in sweat and blood, their faces twisted in exhaustion.
They were barely standing—practically corpses already.
But they couldn’t die yet.
‘Not until I kill that bastard.’
《Goooooo…….》
A bizarre roar that shook not just the earth, but the very fabric of space itself made Varlach slowly lift his head.
On the sea stood a towering mountain of flesh, now within full view.
Thousands—no, tens of thousands—of tentacles twisted together, with the corpses of all manner of beasts and humans entangled in its mass, forming an incomprehensible being that crushed the soul with its mere presence.
‘Demon King Shagrath.’
Above Varlach's blue eyes, the cursed image of that monster flickered.
No matter how great the knight, how powerful the army or weapon, or even the strongest of mages—none had managed to bring that creature down.
The number of people from the Fabian Empire slain by that thing had already surpassed millions. The number of noble houses wiped out in flames was well over several dozen.
Its overwhelming power had turned everyone into cowards.
Ignima, Divinity, Quiznos, Shadow, and even the Bower Duchy.
Most of the so-called Seven Great Houses had already turned tail and ran.
Only the Bloodfoot, with whom they had some personal ties, had offered even the slightest aid.
We were the only ones who had truly stood up to fight.
“Varlach, you must do it.”
His father, Copen, spoke in a solemn tone as he extended his sword forward.
The tip of the blade pointed directly at the red sphere at the core of Shagrath’s body.
Varlach's gaze locked firmly onto it.
‘The core.’
The infinite source of that monster’s endless power, no matter how much was used.
Destroying that was the only method that the final desperate unit could bet on for even the faintest chance of success.
“…Yes.”
To ensure everyone’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain, he had to see it through.
Not as the reckless Varlach, but as Varlach Daphne, the commander of the Daphne Knights.
Varlach slowly closed his eyes, then opened them again and turned his head to the side with a resolute gaze.
The seven knights who had survived until the bitter end.
Looking at them, he spoke in a firm voice.
“We die here.”
They wore serious expressions as they silently nodded.
Then, all at once, they lifted their heads toward the core and gripped their swords tightly.
Whooo… Haaah…
All sound vanished, leaving only the sounds of their breathing in their ears.
Then it happened.
Screee!
His father’s eyes gleamed as he shouted.
“Let’s go!”
Flash!
As he took a step forward and launched ahead—
“Hrrgh!”
Tatatat!
Everyone, including Varlach, followed behind him, forming a long, straight line.
Cold blue light seeped from their eyes, and their swords glowed with blue flashes.
They clenched their teeth and summoned every ounce of mana from their bodies.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
With each step, their armor burst with sparks and blue light.
The essence of the Daphne sword style—Wave Swordsmanship—left afterimages.
Those afterimages connected, forming a single unified shape among the seven, surging forward like a single massive entity.
This was ‘Grand Blue’, the immense wave created by the Great Blue.
And in that moment—
“They’re coming head-on!”
Swishshshsh!
Hundreds of tentacles shot out from Shagrath’s body.
A sweeping wave attack, like a net with no blind spots.
Just then, a middle-aged knight at the very front gathered blue lightning on his sword.
“UAAAAAAAH!”
BOOOOM!
As he let out a battle cry and swung his sword with all his might, the explosion of mana halted the tentacles’ movement for the briefest of moments.
Not even a second passed.
“Now!”
Flash!
Without needing a signal, everyone leapt up onto the pillars of tentacles.
Crunch!
“Gaaah!”
The very next moment, the tentacles surged forward again and engulfed the middle-aged knight’s body.
From the rear, Varlach turned his head slightly to glance at him.
Rohan Vesta, captain of the Grand Blue Knights’ 3rd unit.
Always cracking terrible dad jokes at the worst times, but deeply protective of his subordinates.
“Hrnnng…”
He bit down on his lips to stifle his scream.
Even in the throes of death, he radiated stoic composure.
Grind!
Varlach gritted his teeth.
Step after step, he forced his legs to move forward.
Flash! Flash!
Shagrath’s tentacles.
No—stepping over the corpses of his comrades, he continued pressing forward toward the core.
A few seconds later—
“They’re coming again!”
Swishhhh!
Once again, the monster’s tentacles came crashing down from the front.
Crunch!
“I’ll go!”
Another knight at the front threw away his life to buy a fleeting moment.
Benjamin—the guy who always talked too much and often earned Varlach’s scolding.
His sacrifice allowed them to advance another ten paces.
His heart pounded wildly.
His guilt had long been torn to shreds and discarded.
Crash! Crackle!
Like waves hitting sharp rocks, they began to scatter and vanish.
“Do not falter! Faster! We have to move faster!”
“UAAAAAH! Protect the commander!”
Everyone charged ahead, like moths to a flame, chasing after his father.
Living only for this moment.
As if they didn’t care at all whether they lived or died, so long as they could tear that monster apart.
Crunch!
“Gaaah!”
Death piled up one after another.
Knights who had once carried the golden age of their house were crushed like insects.
In place of the millions who would have died in the future by Shagrath’s hand, their noble deaths stacked high.
Crunch! Crack! Crunch!
Five deaths followed in succession.
Varlach’s face was contorted halfway into tears, and now only two remained.
“Hrrgh!”
The head of the house, Copen Daphne.
And the commander of the knights, Varlach Daphne.
The two—father and son—riding atop the tentacles, had finally reached just before the red sphere.
At that moment, the head of the house turned his head and locked eyes with Varlach.
‘You must do it, Varlach.’
He didn’t say it aloud, but his expression conveyed everything.
“UAAAAAH!”
Without hesitation, his father leapt toward the core.
Swiishhhh!
Tentacles surged from the core, glowing bright red, and hurtled toward him.
‘Come.’
Crunch!
At that moment, without a hint of hesitation, he reversed his grip on the sword and plunged it into his own chest.
From his chest burst a mix of crimson blood and radiant blue light.
BOOOOOOM!
A massive explosion erupted, devouring the tentacles as it surged forward.
‘Father…’
Varlach’s face contorted.
It felt like his heart was being carved out with a blade.
But there was no time to dwell on that emotion.
If he couldn’t end it here, their deaths would be tossed into the gutter.
In a flash, he furrowed his brow and squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.
What he saw next was a new sight.
“Grrrrrr!”
A hole had been blasted open in Shagrath’s thick flesh, revealing a vast, glowing red sphere beyond it.
‘There it is.’
It felt like staring into a massive furnace.
The weight of the immense power radiating from within pricked painfully at his skin.
The core—the source of Shagrath’s limitless power.
‘…’
Just one shot.
A single opportunity created by the deaths of all his comrades.
If their deaths were to have meaning, he had to seize this chance.
“Hrrgh!”
His body screamed in agony.
Clenching his teeth, he gripped his sword with such force that it seemed his hand might shatter.
Wooooooong!
Determined to squeeze out every last drop of mana, he accelerated the flow through his circuits.
Crackle!
A blue fracture formed at his abdomen, spreading throughout his body.
His physical form, at the very brink of collapsing like shattered glass, was barely held together by Varlach’s will.
He had long since surpassed the notion of a limit.
But Varlach’s resolve went even further.
Wooooong!
A dazzling blue aura gathered on the longsword in his hand, so bright it nearly blinded him.
When the swelling energy, ready to explode, had filled his entire being with no more room to grow—
“AAAAAAARGH!”
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
Crack!
The longsword shattered, and from its broken end, a streak of light shot forth.
The regenerating tentacles tried to intercept it, but the moment they touched the light, they disintegrated into dust.
Crunch! Crackle!
That desperate strike tore through the storm of flesh and finally reached Shagrath’s core.
《Grrrrrrrr…….》
Crackle! Craaack!
Red fractures rapidly spread across the surface of the core.
“UAAAAAAAAAH!”
Just a little more, just a little farther.
He screamed with such force it seemed his teeth would break.
Blood seeped from the gaps, and his swollen veins burst open, spraying light with every rupture.
Perhaps it was this desperation that carried through.
Snap! Shatter!
The core, pushed to its absolute limit, began to shatter like glass.
BOOOOM!
As if unsatisfied, the streak of light stirred a violet vortex, pulverizing Shagrath’s flesh, piercing through his body, and surging powerfully into the sky.
《Goooooooo!》
A hole burst open through the dark clouds, and Shagrath’s final death cry echoed through the sky.
…
…
Several more seconds passed.
Plop! Plop-plop!
Its massive body collapsed, and a rain of flesh poured down.
An intoxicating, pungent scent—an alien aroma of black lotus flowers—spread across the land, tickling the nose and nearly dizzying the mind.
“Ughhh…”
Through it all, Varlach, now appearing like an old man, fell from the sky.
His body was charred pitch-black in places, and even the intact parts were eroded by spreading blue fractures.
“Damn it… did we do it…”
He slowly opened his eyes.
The sky, once consumed by dark clouds, now revealed a patch of clear blue beyond them.
What they had bought with the lives of all was as blue as the waves and it filled the heart with something—something profoundly fulfilling.
“The sky… it’s disgustingly beautiful.”
He felt sorry to be the only one seeing it.
If only he had been stronger, perhaps they all could have seen this view together.
If, in his youth, he had focused on the family instead of wandering around as a knight—would the outcome have been different?
In his final moments, many regrets surfaced. But more than anything else, what weighed heavily on him was…
‘Was this really the right thing?’
Certainly, today’s sacrifice would save millions in the Fabian Empire.
A holy sacrifice worthy of praise from the god Faeron, a glorious death.
He had always believed that such a life was right, that it was only natural.
But still…
Each time his subordinates, comrades, and the many members of House Daphne fell, he felt his blood boil in reverse.
Couldn’t they have waited, hidden like cowards among the sheep, like so many in the Empire?
Shouldn’t they have stalled for time, waiting for the Empire or the Seven Great Houses to finally join the war?
Yes, perhaps countless innocents would’ve died in the meantime—but at least their own lives might have been spared.
‘Maybe… there was another choice.’
If they had only thought about their own house—if they had just tried to preserve their own lives a little more.
But now, it was all just too late for regrets.
What could he do now? He was already as good as dead.
With a full stop placed on a messy life, everything else was now in the hands of his family.
‘I’m sure they’ll manage.’
His elder brother, Valter, always frail in health.
Yet wise enough to be called a great sage, and the pride of their house throughout his life.
He would surely guide the family well from now on.
‘I entrust it to you, big brother.’
It hurt to lose the knights and soldiers, and the wounds would take a long time to heal.
But a few people who understood the essence and techniques of the Wave Swordsmanship he created still remained in the house.
Since the seed had been left behind, all he could do now was hope that it would eventually sprout.
Such a great sacrifice—surely the god Faeron would watch over them.
“……”
Consciousness slowly faded, and his eyes closed.
‘Is this really the end?’
Varlach let a faint smile tug at his lips.
‘Everyone… live well.’
Rustle…
Right there, in midair, Varlach’s body crumbled into dust and scattered.
Once hailed as the strongest knight of the Fabian Empire, the commander of the Daphne Knights, and the youngest son of Copen Daphne—a man’s life came to a hollow, futile end.
…
…
He felt as though his body were floating gently atop warm water.
A comforting, serene, dreamlike sense of drowsy peace.
‘…Am I dead?’
I always knew it would end like this.
Varlach surrendered himself to the distant sensation.
The final page of a life filled with nothing but regret had finally closed.
Warm, peaceful, and warm again.
So comfortable, he felt he could melt into it.
Even the emotions once lodged in his heart like thorns now seemed to dissolve and fade away within this calm.
[Commander Varlach!]
[Come on! Let’s give it our all again today!]
Territorial battles, monster subjugations, and all those grueling days of training he endured through clenched teeth.
Memories of the countless days he spent with his subordinates slowly resurfaced in his mind.
‘Those were good times.’
Then, from beyond his fading consciousness, a faint voice called out.
Do you regret it?
Who was that?
Father? Big brother? Or someone else?
If you were given one more chance, what would you do?
Maybe… it was just the echo of his own lingering regret.
‘A second chance, huh…’
Varlach’s thoughts lingered in silence for a long time before he finally spoke a word.
‘If it were me… forget chivalry, forget honor, I’d want to live selfishly—for my family, just once.’
It was a pure, honest truth.
Only for the family. Only for House Daphne.
He would throw away all the burdensome ideals of justice, cause, and knighthood—and live for himself and for his house.
Just as his father had his own version of justice, he would make this the justice of Varlach Daphne—the man once called a scoundrel.
‘…’
But no answer came.
‘How pointless.’
He melted deeper into that distant sensation.
He savored it—over and over.
Time passed, so much that even time itself became hazy.
“Young Master?”
“…”
From the far side of the darkness, someone’s voice began to reach him faintly.
…Who is that?
“Are you alright?”
Alright about what?
“Young Masteeeeer!”
That voice grew louder, and soon, it was loud enough to grate on his ears.
“Young Masteeeeer! Please wake up, can’t you hear me?”
I hear you—I can hear you.
It’s too loud, so please… enough.
I was supposed to be dead now.
“Young Master? Young Masteeer?”
Hey, whoever you are… can you quiet down a bit?
“Nooo! Answer me! Young Masteeer!”
Please, just be quiet… quiet…
“Young Master!”
I’m begging you, stop…
“Young Masteeeeeer!”
JOLT!
“Damn it, you’re loud! I said shut uuuup!”
Varlach instinctively threw a punch.
SMACK!
“Gah!”
His fist landed with a solid thud on something, sending it flying backwards with a crash.
“Owowowowow…”
“Huh?”
He blinked and stared blankly at the man before him.
The guy wore a servant’s uniform, the kind commonly worn by attendants. He looked to be in his early to mid-twenties.
His clothes were worn and dirty like they hadn’t been washed in ages, and his hair was scruffy—not the look of someone serving a noble family.
“No waaay!”
The servant, rubbing his reddened forehead with both hands, shot up with a loud protest.
“Why did you punch someone out of nowhere!?”
“…Uh, huh?”
Varlach looked between his own fist and the young man in front of him.
‘What the hell is going on?’
Wasn’t I just fighting Shagrath a moment ago?
Then what is this?
His arm still tingled from the punch, and the man before him looked way too vivid to be just a dream.
And this place didn’t look like heaven at all…
“Hey, where is this?”
“Where else? It’s your room, Young Master.”
“I mean, I get it’s a room—but why am I alive?”
“Excuse me?”
My body got shredded into pieces—I was dead.
So why am I perfectly fine?
The servant gave him a baffled look and replied,
“Why are you alive? Because you didn’t die, of course.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I died. So how the hell am I alive now?”
“Died?”
The servant tilted his head, then reached out and pressed a palm to Varlach’s forehead.
“That’s strange. You don’t have a fever… why are you suddenly rambling nonsense…?”
“No seriously, why am I alive!?”
“What are you talking about?”
Why is this guy reacting like that?
Varlach could only blink in bewilderment, overcome by the confusion.