Chapter 975

“You used to be a boy whose ambition was matched by effort. But now... you’re all greed and no growth.”

Galexantr's lips quivered. After a moment of silence, he erupted in a furious scream, as if unable to contain himself.

“Truly... truly, you’re too cruel, Master! You’ve always favored Meghna, always been harsh with me! If you had believed in me even once—just once—you would never treat me like this!”

His bloodshot eyes were filled not with fear, but with hatred, resentment, and envy.

“If I go down, do you really think you’ll come out unscathed? No. No matter what anyone says, I’m your disciple! You and Meghna may pretend to be innocent by pinning everything on me, but that’s not how people will see it! My downfall will stain your name forever! The name of Gino Bodelli, once flawless, will be ruined!”

“I know.”

General Gino Bodelli responded calmly. His voice was so heavy and cold that even the raging Galexantr recoiled slightly.

“Your crimes are mine as well—for failing to raise you into a proper man. I have no intention of avoiding that responsibility. That’s also why I’ve stayed here.”

Galexantr’s eyebrows twitched with confusion.

“What are you...”

“We’ve caught you—and a number of others who impersonated members of the Southern Army for years. But we both know that’s not all. There are still rot and infiltrators festering inside our ranks. And with the South hanging by a thread, we can’t afford to leave that mold untreated.”

A chill crept over Galexantr as he looked around. Come to think of it, from the time he’d been dragged out of his cell to this room, he’d seen almost no one. And in this space—it was just him and the General.

He had assumed it was simply because someone of his former rank needed to be interrogated discreetly. After hearing that Meghna was out in the field, he thought perhaps the troops had been deployed to deal with the flood and monsters.

But... what if that wasn’t it? What if there was another reason entirely?

Then—it happened.

A faint but distinct presence was felt outside the room.

“So you’ve finally taken the bait. The rest of the rotten roots clinging to you.”

Gino's smile turned icy, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. He placed both hands on the scabbard he had been resting on like a cane and slowly, almost lazily, straightened up.

And yet that simple movement... felt like a towering mountain rising from the earth, crushing Galexantr under its weight.

“Ugh... huhhk...!”

“Well then. Time for the harvest.”

With a casual air, Gino slung the scabbard over his shoulder like a farm tool and walked to the door.

The moment he opened it—dozens of assassins in Imperial uniforms, lying in wait, leapt forward with bloodlust in their eyes.

“Kill him!”

Smoke bombs exploded, ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) vision vanished, and a barrage of mysterious powers flooded in. It became immediately clear these were no ordinary swordsmen—they were Awakeners.

But Gino Bodelli didn’t even flinch.

He closed his eyes, recalling the letter he had received not long ago from Kishiar la Orr.

“–If a second 'Hailstorm Day' comes to the South, the final infiltrators in the army will surely begin to move. But I have no intention of letting them disrupt our plans. I intend to lure them away with a more ‘appetizing’ bait.”

New traitors were easy to catch. But those who had embedded themselves in the Southern Army over years were hard to root out. To draw them into the open, Kishiar and Emperor Keillusa had asked Gino to act as bait.

While pretending to pursue foreign spies disguised as Southern soldiers, Gino had also quietly spread rumors that his health was failing.

Aging Swordmasters often restrain their aura use, fearing the strain could shatter their bodies. And after he had revealed his full strength publicly during the Hailstorm Day to annihilate monsters, the rumor that he’d been seriously affected seemed plausible.

Gino made sure it didn’t leak beyond the military—so Galexantr and his faction began watching his every move.

When the time was right, Gino had them all arrested. But conveniently, just before the formal interrogation could begin, the wave and monsters struck. Meghna and other forces had to be sent out.

Of course, that was a ploy. In truth, the army’s base was left nearly empty on purpose—so the enemy wouldn’t suspect anything. Who would imagine the Emperor and Cavalry had predicted the disaster in advance?

Even as the South faced chaos all day, Gino did not emerge to fight. That was the final trigger—the traitors were convinced the rumors were true.

Bait must seem irresistible despite its danger.

To those who wanted to bring down the Empire, a revered Swordmaster weakened by illness—vulnerable and isolated—was the perfect target. Even if things went wrong, they could pin everything on Galexantr and walk away clean.

But Gino Bodelli, even weakened, was no easy prey. The enemy wouldn’t waste resources unless they believed it was the right moment.

And Kishiar, calculating this like a master tactician, had left Gino one final instruction in his letter:

“–If we make it this far and the bait is fully taken, I trust you know what to do. Make sure they never even realize when they took the hook.”

Yes. I will.

Gino muttered as he drew the sword from his shoulder.

In that instant, the dozens of attacks flying at him through the smoke were sliced clean by a surge of aura.

“–GAAAAHHHH!”

Screams and explosions erupted. Blades aimed for his throat. Murderous aura thickened. Some of the more perceptive assassins tried to retreat, realizing something had gone wrong.

“None of you will leave here.”

The old swordsman’s eyes gleamed like a predator’s.

“Come then. Let this old man at least try to atone.”

When the fourteenth wave first appeared, no one who saw it escaped the chill of fear.

After fighting nonstop for a full day—only to face a calamity even worse than before—how could anyone not despair?

But now, that indigo wall of despair was collapsing, breaking apart in tatters before everyone’s eyes.

“Not much left now!”

“The tide is pulling back!”

No matter how unnatural the wave’s strength had been, it couldn’t defy nature forever. As the tide receded, the surging waters lost their strength, softening and retreating.

The wall that had seemed indestructible began to crack.

And everyone, refusing to give up, shouted themselves hoarse, fighting until the end. They protected each other, fought for each other—and their desperate resolve looked hauntingly familiar.

“...Yes. Just like you.”

Perched on a high hill, Kishiar’s quiet voice drifted out.

Yuder Aile frowned, puzzled.

“Pardon? What did you say just now?”

Yuder was half-reclined beneath a special tent set up on the edge of the hill, receiving treatment from Inon and Lusan. But with Inon’s constant swearing as he worked, it was hard to hear anything else.

Kishiar glanced down at Yuder’s hand, peeking out from the thick blanket wrapped around him, and smiled as if finding it endearing.

“It’s nothing.”

At that moment, the worst despair in the form of water... finally collapsed and lost its power.

“The wave’s pulling back!”

“Commander! They say most of the monsters have been dealt with!”

Yuder, still wondering what Kishiar had meant, turned his gaze back toward the sea. In his dark eyes, the sight of the ocean gradually calming, regaining its serenity, was etched slowly and deeply.

...The Southern Great Quake... won’t happen.

The realization, spoken internally, felt surreal—like a dream. It made his chest ache strangely.

Yuder let out a long breath and closed his eyes, then opened them again. A strange heat bloomed in his throat, followed by an overwhelming urge to leap up and scream.

But what remained after the storm of emotions... was the memory of a jet-black fissure, hidden deep beneath the mist-shrouded sea.

Yuder remembered the rift he had faced—and the white-gloved hand that might have reached out from within it.

That being—who had urged him to “look at what matters,” showing him what lay beyond the rift. Was that white hand watching this, too, from within the dark?

“......”

To shake off the thoughts he couldn’t answer, Yuder closed and opened his eyes again.

When he turned his head, he saw his comrades—stumbling, shouting, crying, laughing—running toward him.

“Yuder!”

“Did we... really do it?!”

Yes. We did it.

Not just me. Not just you. We.

Yuder found Kishiar in the crowd—amid those crying, hugging, shouting in triumph. Their eyes met, and Yuder felt the corners of his lips rise into a soft, involuntary smile.

After all this time... he finally began to understand what it was he had always wished for.