Chapter 81

Chapter 81

Einar asked Ivan to guide him to the Basilica Orphanage, wanting to witness his brother’s living conditions firsthand to ease his conscience.

“An orphanage! This is truly remarkable!”

Einar chuckled continuously as he explored various areas, causing residents to scream and flee due to his sinister appearance.

“You really spared no expense!”

“Hm.”

“The war orphans look better than the noble children living in our palace. Oh dear, how is the world going to turn out!”

Despite his words, Einar proudly patted Ivan’s back.

“You brat, you’re better than me.”

“Hmm.”

Since it was an objective fact, Ivan didn’t bother to argue. Einar chuckled and then wrapped his arm around Ivan’s shoulder.

“Now, let’s take a tour of your humble abode.”

Einar glanced around the director’s office and nodded.

“A very modest office. So, where do you sleep?”

“Here.”

“What...?”

“I sleep on that sofa.”

“Oh...”

Einar hesitated and looked around.

One old sofa. One old coffee table.

One wardrobe and a desk for office work. Weapons on the wall neatly arranged and well-maintained.

Why does this brat continue to live as if it’s still wartime?

Einar squinted his eyes. Eating and sleeping in the director’s office, well, that’s one thing...

‘He was always ready to leave at any moment.’

He was a king of a nation, the top field commander of Drovian, and someone who fought alongside soldiers on the frontline.

He instantly saw through Ivan’s condition. The office, filled only with essentials to leave without hesitation in any situation, would pose no issue for anyone to sit at the office desk, excluding the armed figures on the wall. There was no ‘color’ in this place.

No personal possessions, no hues bestowed by personal preferences in the space. It was a completely monochrome environment.

A colorless, transparent space devoid of any sense of belonging.

“Ivan, let’s have a seat.”

Einar gestured with solemn eyes. As soon as he sat on the sofa, huscals rushed in and placed a bottle and glasses in front of him.

“Let’s hear the story. How did you manage to survive after killing the Seven Dragon Generals?”

Always ready to disappear, a state where his disappearance wouldn’t be surprising at all. Einar knew that kind of guy.

Maximilian. The hero of humanity.

His state just before going missing was exactly like this.

***

A random mistake of the god who created the race, the essence of the evolution of a race spanning thousands and tens of thousands of years, the ultimate creation brought forth by the fate of the world.

The most powerful and, at the same time, the greatest individual across an entire race.

During the war, humans called them the ‘Seven Dragon Generals.’

Beings who obtained the name of the gods through the mortal flesh. Manifestations in the world. Representatives of each race that makes up the members of the demon race.

In human terms, they might be deemed heroes, or perhaps even more. Among humans, heroes aren’t always the most powerful individuals.

These beings can individually symbolize an entire race, essentially becoming ‘Race Gods.’

Seven of them, one who governs the seven. Under their leadership, a multi-racial coalition swept in. Humans lost half of the world in the first ten years of war.

That was the cause and history of the past war.

“How on earth did you come back alive?”

Einar asked Ivan with a sense of looking at a miracle.

He had faced the Seven Dragon Generals. In this world, surviving an encounter with them was extremely rare.

So, questions were inevitable.

Even the hero party felt despair when confronting the Seven Dragon Generals. They experienced fear and pain. They learned defeat.

It was an opponent where, after the entire hero party struggled in battle, they could only defeat them one by one.

And to think, he defeated and survived against such a creature with just a few ‘well-trained’ troops?

“The one you killed... Abiditas, was it? I heard something like that.”

“Yeah.”

“The Lord of Dragons? Wasn’t he even living in the skies of Ifeira? How on earth did you kill that bastard? How did you come back alive?”



“...Curse.”

“Yes, a curse. The divine retribution poured upon mortals who killed the gods. A curse bestowed upon those who turned the blood of gods upside down.”

Intense vitality emanated from Einar’s body.

“Daringly, daringly, he took on that sin in our place. Assuming we couldn’t bear it. Reveling in his own superiority...!”

In Ivan’s eyes, it was a sense of guilt masked as anger.

It was a manifestation of helplessness and guilt, expressing the indescribable emotion solely through rage.

Ivan silently swept the glass.

“When he first killed one of the Dragon Generals. That’s when he realized. This is a curse humans can’t bear. Then he must have thought about it.”

If someone had to endure the same curse later.

Already cursed, wouldn’t it be most efficient for the one already cursed to receive it?

“That scoundrel... without even thinking of consulting others, embraced everyone alone.”

Einar tilted the bottle, pouring the liquor forcefully. After a deep exhale, his eyes opened low.

“Killing a Dragon General makes the soul more burdensome. What about after killing the Demon King? Others found Maximilian’s disappearance strange, but not me. He finally became unbearable.”

Einar placed the empty bottle down and stared at Ivan.

As if he would peer into his soul.

“Aviditas’ concept was greed. You’ve lost desire, Ivan Petrovich. The world’s wealth, fame, connections, and love.”

Despite establishing an orphanage, pouring all the assets earned through war, Ivan slept alone on a sofa.

While nobles and high-ranking officers from various sectors were still active, he lived as if disappeared.

Aging alone, rejecting all marriage proposals from the socialite women of the time.

Einar quietly controlled his breath, swallowing his anger.

He swallowed the sadness, guilt, and helplessness.

“How do you live? For the past four years. What on earth is keeping you in this world?”

“...Duty.”

Ivan lifted his head at Einar’s words.

“Obligation.”

Then, he spoke heavily.

“Respect, faith, responsibility, hope.”

Respect for the Great King.

Faith in the ending page.

Responsibility for those dying on behalf.

Hope that he can return.

And, adding one more in the end.

“Survival.”

Not finding a reason to live.

Blind devotion to the act of living itself.

If that could sum up everything about Ivan, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

After finishing his words, Ivan pondered for a moment and took out a small box from his embrace.

“And I haven’t lost all desires, Einar.”

“Sir.”

“Einar.”

“Call me ‘sir.'”

“...Sir Einar.”

“Good.”

Einar chuckled and nodded towards the box.

“Yeah, what is it? Let’s see what desire you claim I haven’t lost.”

“Don’t be surprised.”

Ivan slowly opened the box. A meticulously maintained shining metal comb carefully emerged in his hand.

With a click, he opened the comb wide and said in a subdued voice.

“This can also be used as a dagger.”

“Damn, this is amazing, you rascal!”

Einar exclaimed with a loud sound, standing up from his seat.

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