The village chief's face was pale with exhaustion.
His usually neat robes were wrinkled, his eyes dark with lack of sleep.
For a full day and night, he had done everything in his power to stall the royal messenger from the capital—entertaining him with tea, diverting conversation, feigning ignorance, and even pretending Kyle was meditating in seclusion.
But the messenger was stubborn, persistent, and very clearly trained to resist both manipulation and hospitality.
"I must deliver this to Sir Kyle in person. I have orders to hand the message to no one else. Not even to a representative. This is a matter of national importance."
The royal messenger repeated for the fifth time that morning, his voice clipped and formal.
The chief clenched his jaw, trying to conjure yet another excuse, but just as he opened his mouth, the door to the guest room creaked open.
"I'll take it from here, Chief."
That calm and familiar voice hit the chief like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man.
He turned around to see Kyle standing tall—if slightly pale—at the threshold, his silver hair glinting in the morning light, eyes calm but sharp as always.
Relief washed over the old man's face.
"Of course, young master. I'll leave the rest to you."
The chief said hastily, almost running out of the room.
Kyle stepped inside, nodding to the retreating figure, then turned his attention to the imperial messenger, who stood up and offered a respectful salute.
"Sir Kyle. By the authority of the Imperial Palace, I bear a confidential message from His Highness, Crown Prince Mikalius. You are ordered to read and respond to it in person."
The man said, pulling a sealed scroll from the leather pouch at his side.
Kyle accepted the scroll and broke the seal without delay. His eyes scanned the paper quickly, narrowing with each line.
The message was brief but direct:
[Clertion intends to move against Grand Duchess Amanda.
Their saintess has received a vision in which Amanda destroys their nation.
They are mobilizing to eliminate her before the prophecy can be fulfilled.
You are instructed to ensure the Grand Duchess's safety and prepare for potential conflict.
This message will not be recorded in the official logs. Burn after reading.]
Kyle's jaw tightened.
"So it's come to this."
He murmured, folding the paper and setting it on the desk beside him. With a flick of his finger, a small spark of mana ignited the scroll, turning it to ash in seconds.
The messenger remained silent, watching the fire until it died out.
"I was told to ensure the message reached you, and that you alone received it. His Highness trusts you to take the appropriate action."
"I was already planning to. She's under my protection. That won't change."
Kyle replied quietly.
The guard looked visibly relieved.
"Then my mission is complete. I'll return to the palace at once and report your compliance."
"Thank you for your diligence."
The man offered another salute and took his leave swiftly, riding out of the village without waiting for food or rest.
Once the door shut behind him, Kyle's demeanor shifted.
He turned and walked out into the open village, where the sun was rising over a field still filled with bodies—soldiers and knights locked in deep meditation or unconsciousness, struggling to overcome their inner selves and claim the mana Kyle had forced upon them.
He let out a quiet sigh and rubbed his temples.
'So many still in battle… inside themselves.'
His gaze swept over the field.
Duchess Amanda lay beneath a protective ward, her expression peaceful, but Kyle could sense the raw turmoil in her mana.
She was still fighting. As were Melissa, Bruce, Sasha, and the rest of the key members of his force.
'And until they awaken, I'll have to carry everything alone.'
With a subtle thought, his system interface blinked into view before him, lines of data scrolling silently.
[Village Defense Status: Incomplete]
[Available Forces: 2 (User)]
[Estimated Enemy Movement: Unknown]
Kyle dismissed the interface with a mental command.
Clertion was moving now—spurred on by divine command, or rather, by a manipulated prophecy fed through a suffering saintess.
That was its doing. The Goddess. Always whispering just enough truth into the ears of the faithful to push them into madness and war.
He clenched his fists. If Amanda fell here, the balance of power would tilt disastrously. She wasn't just a noble. She was one of the few people standing in defiance of it.
Turning toward the village center, Kyle raised his voice for the few civilians and unawakened guards nearby.
"Until our leaders return, I'm taking command again. Keep to your duties. Prepare the barriers and supplies. Assume nothing is safe."
The villagers nodded quickly and scattered to their work, galvanized by his presence.
Alone once more, Kyle looked out over his people—comrades lying silently, still fighting inside themselves. The burden was heavy, but it was his to bear.
Until they returned, he would hold the line.
Sasha stood quietly by the doorway, watching Kyle from a distance as he finished giving orders to the remaining village defenders.
The early morning sun cast long shadows across the village, but none of it warmed the tightness in her chest. She stepped forward, her footsteps soft but deliberate.
He turned toward her, offering a small nod in greeting.
She approached slowly, her brows creased with worry.
He gestured toward a shaded spot beside the training yard, and they walked there in silence. When they sat, Sasha finally spoke, her voice low and strained.
"It's been a whole day. A full day since they started… this. And they still haven't moved. Not Amanda. Not Melissa. Not Bruce. My student is in there, Kyle. She's in there, and I can't reach her."
Kyle folded his arms and looked out at the motionless figures in the field.
"Power demands sacrifice. They knew the risks when they accepted the training."
Sasha's hands clenched in her lap.
"That's all you ever say. Power, risk, sacrifice. Not everything is about power, Kyle. You talk like you've forgotten what it means to be human sometimes."
She turned to glare at him, her frustration finally rising to the surface.
Kyle didn't flinch. He met her gaze and let out a short, humorless chuckle.
"Then let me be a demon if I must. As long as my people survive, I'll bear the horns and the tail without complaint."
Sasha looked down, her breath shaky.
She knew he was right—knew that this cruel method of training might be the only way to prepare them all for the divine threat looming over them.
But that didn't stop her heart from screaming in protest.
"I can't argue with you. I know you're doing what's necessary. I know you're doing your best. But… it doesn't feel right. My heart doesn't accept it."
Kyle's expression softened just slightly, his voice more gentle when he replied.
"That's because your heart is still human. That's not a flaw, Sasha. But it also means you'll always carry this pain. You'll always feel it when others suffer."
He looked at her directly, his gaze firm but not cold.
"I understand. I do. But there's nothing you or I can do now. Anyone who says otherwise is lying. If they fail, no amount of wishing will change that. And if they succeed… it'll be because they endured this on their own."
Sasha nodded slowly, tears welling in her eyes but refusing to fall.
"I just… I needed to hear it from you."
Kyle offered a faint smile.
"They'll come back. Stronger than ever. You'll see."