"Ah…"
A short sigh lingering with a faint echo.
The high-altitude night wind that had been blowing fiercely just moments ago, along with the heat of the curse filled with hatred, had all vanished.
In the midst of this strange and surreal feeling, the place where Isaac stood was the same place where he had fought Helik last time.
The first things to greet him were the cold wind of the north and the softly falling snowflakes.
Perhaps because others who had returned earlier were already gathered there, the joyful cheers that rang out around him felt innocent and bright, as if everything had been resolved.
Unlike before, when the area had been nothing more than a ruin, what he saw now were systematically arranged palisades and tents.
It was immediately clear that, due to the collapse of the Malidan Wall, Commander Eisenwolf had temporarily established a new barrier in the north and was defending it.
"He's here! It's Baron Logan!"
"The Baron has returned!"
The soldiers nearby shouted with such excitement that it was almost like a scream, piercing his ears.
Tap.
Before he knew it, a white snowflake had landed on his head.
A pure, untainted crystal—something he could never have seen in the Abyss Realm.
"You're back! You're really back!"
"...!"
Reian and Marlin, the siblings of House Leviath, were seen running toward him in a hurry.
"Sir Isaac—!"
Jonathan, the knight of Helmut, shouted tearfully.
As he was embraced by those welcoming his return—
The situation, which had felt so unreal due to how rapidly it had changed, began to sink in.
The warmth of his companions melted his frozen mind.
Isaac began to accept that he had truly returned.
"Lia…"
Tears welled in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks.
The name that escaped from his cracked voice felt like burnt ash.
"Lia…!"
Even knowing he could never reach her, he reached out his hand.
The aching in his chest made it impossible not to do so.
He had returned.
He had come back.
But he had left her behind—alone.
***
"Shouldn't you be heading into the meeting right now?"
Jonathan, who insisted on following him as his aide, kept at his heels.
However, Isaac's steps moved straight toward his destination without a single hesitation, ignoring Jonathan's words.
"I heard that you—no, ahem, that Baron Logan was the last one to stay behind!"
"Just call me like you usually do."
"…Yes, sir."
Perhaps realizing the mood wasn't right, Jonathan continued speaking cautiously, gauging Isaac's reaction.
"I heard that only you, Sir Isaac, can explain why Lady Liana couldn't return. That's why Sir Eisenwolf is waiting—"
"Please, Jonathan. Be quiet."
"..."
Jonathan clamped his mouth shut.
Originally, they had been heading to attend the meeting, but Isaac had suddenly changed direction.
Jonathan's urgency was understandable.
But Isaac wanted—needed—to calm his racing heart.
The sense of loss he felt was enough to crush him.
He just needed a moment of peace.
"This way."
In the end, Jonathan chose to guide him rather than argue. Having heard his report, Isaac had turned his steps, so Jonathan knew exactly where he was heading.
It was a small tent.
There were no people nearby, and the place felt somewhat secluded, but perhaps because of that, it felt all the more appropriate.
The man standing in front was short, hunched over, and had two daggers hanging from his belt.
He had often advised in the past life that one must straighten their back to put strength into the center of the sword.
It was Damien, the Grandmaster's disciple.
"Sorry, but inside right now—"
"…"
"Ah, you're that guy."
Damien quickly recognized Isaac.
He had been about to say something, but instead smacked his lips and nodded.
"Tch—Damn, you're really good-looking. No wonder the Master kept going on about you."
"…"
"She said if a tall, handsome guy with a tied ponytail came by, I should let him in."
He stepped aside slightly to make way.
"Since I learned from her first, you should call me 'senior brother.'"
The traitor, Damien.
The man who opened the gates of the fortress that the Grandmaster's disciples had been guarding during the final battle.
Even if they hadn't been betrayed, defeat was inevitable—yet still, it didn't sit well with Isaac emotionally.
"Because of you, the Grandmaster survived."
Had the Grandmaster, injured during the fight with Helik, been left unattended, she might not have survived.
Fortunately, thanks to Damien taking care of her, they were able to meet again like this now.
Tap.
Isaac placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a firm nod.
"Thank you, senior brother."
"Thank me? You should speak more respectfully—"
Ignoring him, Isaac stepped inside.
Damien looked dumbfounded and reached out to stop him, but Jonathan intervened and blocked him.
Inside the tent, the thick scent of tobacco masked the smells of medicine and blood.
"Hm?"
The Grandmaster, with bandages wrapped around her body, was sitting on the bed with one leg resting on the other.
The tobacco stick in her hand was still long, but she snuffed it out beneath the candlestick beside her.
"You've returned."
The Grandmaster flinched.
She wanted to rush over, embrace him, and praise her disciple's safe return right away.
But as a master, she had to maintain her dignity.
Especially since lately, her disciple often thought of her as someone who pouted too much—she needed to show some authority.
"Seeing you unharmed puts my heart at—"
Her words, laced with joy and wagging metaphorical tail, were cut short.
Because Isaac, upon seeing her, rushed forward and embraced her tightly, swallowing his tears in her arms.
"…!"
"I-It's such a relief…"
His voice trembled with emotion, filled with overwhelming relief.
The fear of possibly losing her again clung to his fingertips.
Tighter.
Even more desperately.
As Isaac clung tightly to the Grandmaster, she said nothing and simply patted his back.
"Was it difficult?"
His voice was choked with tears, barely able to come out. Isaac forced himself to speak despite the burning in his nose and trembling tongue.
"Yes…"
So very much.
"It was difficult."
Tears streamed down as Isaac buried himself even deeper in her arms. It might've seemed childish, but—
In a situation where his heart felt like it could collapse from helplessness—
"If even you…"
Isaac sobbed and entrusted himself to his master.
"Please… don't leave me too."
His words were more like a desperate plea.
"Well now…"
The Grandmaster gave a faint smile and held Isaac tightly.
"It seems this Master is still needed, after all."
A moment later.
Isaac entered the meeting tent.
He tried to hide his reddened eyes, but it wasn't as easy as he hoped.
It was embarrassing and undignified, but now wasn't the time to be concerned with pride.
As he stepped inside, all eyes turned to him.
Starting with Sir Eisenwolf, then Reian Leviath, Lohengrin Helmut, and others.
Many of them were staring intently at Isaac.
Seated across from them were Uldren Caldias and Silverna Caldias.
"Isaac—!"
Silverna couldn't bring herself to be simply happy to see him.
She wanted to say they had survived together.
But he hadn't survived with them.
Knowing that, she instinctively swallowed her greeting and sat back down.
"Apologies for the delay."
"It's fine."
"Liana! What happened to Liana?!"
Lohengrin slammed the table and stood up.
Was he worried about his sister, who hadn't returned?
It didn't seem like the usual Lohengrin at all, but for now—
Isaac calmly and thoroughly began recounting the events he had gone through.
It had been a brutal time.
The brief respite the Grandmaster had given him was crushed once again.
A mix of guilt and helplessness left a sickening feeling. The self-hatred and despair grew stronger with each word.
Someone ought to have told Isaac to stop.
The way he recounted things felt like he was stabbing himself with a blade, a form of obsession that was painful even to watch.
But ironically, the one who most wanted to hear it all—was Isaac himself.
He went over every detail again and again.
The report was like a vow.
'I swear…'
A resolve to get her back.
After the chilling, blade-like report ended, a moment of silence filled the tent.
"That is all."
As Isaac concluded, the others finally exhaled and nodded, as if they'd been holding their breath.
They had already heard parts of it from Uldren, but hearing it directly from Isaac, who had been the medium of the sorcery, brought greater clarity.
Just as the meeting was expected to proceed—
A woman entered the tent.
She was brought in as a prisoner, without her usual straw hat or massive sword.
"…Miss Nameless?"
Isaac looked at her with surprise, and she scowled in return.
"What the hell is this?"
"How did you end up here—"
"The sorcery from the Silver Clock that left Liana… somehow came to me instead. What the hell is going on…?"
Nameless let out a sigh.
Eisenwolf, resting his chin on his hand, explained:
"She appeared alongside as well. Safe to assume she's an enemy, right?"
"Yeah… I guess so."
Isaac nodded awkwardly, when suddenly, a possible reason popped into his mind.
"Are you… perhaps a half-blood?"
Nameless answered with a nod.
Only then did Isaac sigh in realization.