“How’s it looking, Catherine? The situation?”

“Shaping up nicely! Leave the final stamina tweaks to me! He’ll drop dead at the Empire Sword Martial Festival, no doubt.”

“Good, good. Well done, Catherine. Looks like that guy’s pulling his weight too.”

Catherine reported to Odin.

Odin gazed out the window.

The imperial capital was in full festival frenzy.

The annual Empire Sword Martial Festival was always a massive bash for KOG fans, but this year it was drawing even bigger crowds.

Nobles and tourists were pouring in from across the Earthguard Empire.

All to witness the dawn of a new era.

“Tomorrow’s the day, huh. Road’s due back tomorrow too. As expected of my little brother—he really conquered that battlefield in just a week.”

“Thrilled to hear he put the trap we set for Lord Road to such good use.”

The battlefield Road had headed to was originally prepped for a different scheme.

If Odin sensed a coup brewing, he’d lure Road there and finish him off.

In the end, Road never showed any signs of it, and with victory now locked in, there was no need anyway.

Odin hadn’t anticipated Road challenging them without a single soldier, but it had kept their losses light.

“Yeah, tomorrow decides it all. Though Osiris’s win is basically a done deal. No one’s beating him without even trying.”

“Yes, word is he took on every Holy Knight Captain in the capital yesterday and came out on top. The Sword Saint’s title isn’t just for show. As expected of Lord Odin’s knight.”

“They’re keeping it from Osiris properly, I bet. He’s a stickler for fair fights—all knights are. They’ll battle fine on orders, but I’d rather he goes all-out without a care.”

“Indeed, Lord Osiris has been holed up training like a monk for a full week… Controlling the info was a breeze. He’ll probably one-shot them with that blade of his. Especially since he’s staying shut in until the festival.”

“Sounds like a treat.”

…

“Hey, are you listening?! Hey!”

(Something… I can’t make it out.)

Leerbelt propped up Kenya and made his plea.

“This fever’s life-threatening! Call it for today!”

Kenya’s condition had been deteriorating daily.

And today, Leerbelt urged them to stop.

“Hmph, fair enough. Drag him to the jail. Release him come morning. Let him have at it then.”

With the Empire Sword Martial Festival looming tomorrow, the inquisition finally wrapped up.

“Understood.”

Kenya crumpled weakly.

He no longer had the strength to even stand.

His fever had spiked since then, and he’d gotten zero sleep.

No treatment, even when he vomited blood.

Still, they’d kept him on his feet nonstop, leaving him covered in wounds.

Finally losing consciousness, Kenya was tossed into a cell.

(So cold… Where am I? What was I even doing?)

A cold from his rundown state, plus exhaustion from endless forced standing.

A frigid room, nutrient-poor slop for food, and ramped-up poison.

“Cough! Cough!”

Kenya had developed pneumonia, and the poison had ravaged his stomach, leaving it inflamed.

Each coughing fit filled his mouth with the taste of blood, and he’d been throwing it up regularly.

One woman watched from outside the cell.

“Oops, overdid it a tad? But with just one more day, it’ll be perfect. Adjustment’s spot-on. My own talent freaks me out sometimes.”

She leaned close to the huddled, immobile Kenya and whispered in his ear.

“Hang in there a little longer… and die as pathetically as you can. For the good of the world. Haha! Ahh, nothing beats putting an arrogant little shit in his place.”

Catherine left the cell in high spirits,

leaving Kenya collapsed and motionless on the floor.

Alone.

…

The next day. Empire Sword Martial Festival. Morning.

(So painful… Why am I like this?)

Kenya wandered alone in the darkness.

Unconscious, he was in a dream—but he had no clue.

(Why all this suffering… Can’t remember.)

His thinking robbed, body broken, Kenya couldn’t process a thing.

But one thing stuck.

(I have to win. I must win.)

Why?

Couldn’t say.

Why did he have to fight?

Who against?

His head wouldn’t turn.

His body felt like lead.

Right now, he just wanted to sleep…

…

“Sword Silfield’s suspected treason has been cleared. Thanks for your cooperation.”

With that, the soldiers handed over the barely upright Kenya to Road and Reina waiting outside the military facility.

“Sword!” “Big brother!”

“…Road… Reina…?”

Road and Reina rushed over, offering their shoulders.

They embraced Kenya, his face ghostly pale and voice a rasp.

At the sound, Kenya snapped back to awareness and forced out words.

Road looked up, anger seeping through.

His gaze fixed ahead.

“Leerbelt… What the hell is this? I never got any report. Just that it was sleep deprivation.”

There stood the blond, bespectacled model student.

Leerbelt, who was supposed to be Road’s spy.

Road laid bare his fury—what excuse did he have?

But.

“…Lord Road, it’s been an honor serving you.”

Leerbelt bowed, his face utterly changed, voice chillingly cold.

That look, those words—they told Road everything.

“…Since when.”

He didn’t want to believe it.

“The very start. Everything. Truly from day one. The EU Great War—the day those EU scum burned my parents alive.”

“…I see. No eye for people, then. Can’t even hold onto one friend. You, betraying me all along.”

“If you’d been pure Earthguard blood… No, pointless now. You, with EU running through your veins.

Just talking to your tainted blood makes me sick. But rest easy—I served you faithfully right up till today.”

Leerbelt turned his back.

He’d long operated as Road’s trusted subordinate.

But in truth, he was Odin’s man.

A boy seething with hatred for the EU, he’d been recruited by Odin to double-agent on Road.

Seared into his heart: the screams of his parents, tortured and burned alive by EU forces in his childhood during the great war.

Odin had masterfully exploited that trauma. Leerbelt burned with vengeful fire, spying from the shadows.

That’s why Road’s camp had zero intel on the inquisition.

“Cough! Cough!”

Kenya vomited blood.

Reina cried out at the sight.

“Don’t give me that crap! You know damn well what’s happening today!”

Her voice low and menacing as she confronted Leerbelt and the soldiers.

“We were just holding an inquisition. If he fell apart, that’s on him. Do you get it? Who’s fighting who today. And what happens to the loser.”

The soldier showed no deference to Road anymore.

Odin’s lackey, utterly convinced of Odin’s win today—and Road’s downfall after.

He took a domineering stance, even toward Road.

Leerbelt had cut ties with Road this very day.

Years of built trust, cashed in for this moment—Odin’s most devastating play.

“Choke down those words. You won’t spit ’em out twice. And Leerbelt!”

“Right back at you, Lord Road.”

Road loaded Kenya into the car.

“To the venue.”

“!? Lord Road! Not like this! Postpone it… Postpone’s the only way!”

“Can’t be done. You saw yesterday’s broadcast. The world’s not waiting.”

“B-but…”

“Kenya. You good?”

“Yeah.”

His weak reply held no hint of resolve.

The festival was mere hours away, but the world had already lurched forward.

While Kenya rotted in the inquisition, global affairs had shifted wildly.

He knew nothing of it. And Road had no intention of telling him now.

Better he focus on the brutal fight ahead.

He entrusted his hopes to his battered knight.

…

“We’re here, Kenya.”

The spot Road and the others reached.

A colossal coliseum straight out of the Middle Ages.

This traditional event’s venue was vast enough for KOG battles—like a soccer stadium.

The trio entered through the VIP entrance.

“Kenya, we have to stop! Dying gains nothing!”

“It’s fine, cough! Cough! One match, I can handle. Besides… gotta fight today, right? Road.”

He’d caught fragments of their talk in the car.

Road had said it had to be settled today.

There was probably a reason.

“…Yeah. Miss today, the empire falls to my brother. The world gets billions dead, billions enslaved—including everyone you want to protect.”

“Then I’ll push through, cough… gotta.”

“Lord Road! Why… why say that?! Why not stop him… ugh, ugh. Why won’t you stop him…”

Tears streamed down Reina’s face.

Why wouldn’t Road halt this madness?

No way he could fight in this shape. Why not put a stop to it?

“He’ll die, Kenya! Your opponent’s the Sword Saint! Ugh, ugh. In a body like that…”

“Sorry, Reina. But I’m going.”

Kenya rose to his feet.

Shaky on his own legs, his back looked heartbreakingly frail.

All Reina could do was sob and watch him go.

She sank to the ground, staring after the pair.

Imagining the horror ahead, picturing Kenya’s death, she wept uncontrollably.

“No, no… Don’t go, Kenya.”

Her voice reached them.

Yet they pressed on regardless.

“Sorry, Reina. I’ve got people to protect… You and Kaguya. I have to save you both.”

“Ugh, ugh.”

Reina could only cry.

Ahead stood Road, resolute. Beside him, Kenya shuffled along, leaning on a shoulder.

The girl’s pleas held no power to stop them.

“Sorry, Road. Stuck fighting like this. Never saw Leerbelt as the enemy.”

“I’m the one who should apologize. Forgive me—we got played. I never saw through it… Too focused on battlefields, ignored the people. My failing.”

“Yeah… But I’m… cough… your ally. Rest easy. Battered knight and all.”

“…”

Road’s eyes glistened with tears.

Kenya lacked the strength to look up, missing the expression.

Just one word.

“Thanks.”

At that, Kenya smiled faintly, eyes downcast.

The lord and his battered knight proceeded, arms linked.

Road could trust no one now but that broken knight.

Even in this state, he had to believe in him.

No room for doubt of defeat—not a flicker. Right to the end, Road would trust Kenya’s victory without question.

That was why he said it.

“Win. My knight, Kenya Mikazuki.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

…

“Kenya!” “Kenya!”

Road and Kenya entered the waiting room.

Zeke and Issei Tanaka were waiting inside.

“Those bastards… In this state… Damn it!”

Zeke took one look at Kenya, fury and frustration boiling over as he slammed the wall.

He knew instantly it was the inquisition’s doing—their playbook was familiar.

Even so, he’d cooperated with Orgord and Lamia to ban outright torture, and it pissed him off that he’d felt any relief.

“Takemikazuchi’s in perfect shape, Kenya. But… like this.”

Tanaka sized up Kenya’s state and knew he wasn’t battle-ready.

“I’m good. Limbs still work, somehow… Guh… Cough.”

Then the announcement rang out.

A voice like a sports commentator.

“Here we go! The Empire Sword Martial Festival begins! Today, our next emperor will be crowned—and you’ll all bear witness to history!”

The opening fanfare for the Empire Sword Martial Festival.

The arena teemed with over ten thousand spectators, Earthguard nobles included—Odin among them.

And in the opposite waiting room, one man stirred from his meditation.

“Time…”

The empire’s mightiest knight.

Osiris Halberd opened his eyes.