The Undead stronghold had no throne, no temple.
It was a network of underground ruins forgotten by time, layers of rock gnawed hollow again and again, walls crusted with black crystals and dried bloodstains. It felt less like a military base and more like a shelter waiting for the end of the world.
When we were brought here, there was no welcome.
The Undead did not have such things.
They confirmed the relic Sethiel had left behind, confirmed the residual stream of consciousness within Silent Man, and then silently cleared a path.
As if to say—
What you are meant to remember will return, sooner or later.
I had thought the memories would come the same way as before, violently dragged out by the Rose.
But this time, they didn’t.
This time, Silent Man stopped first.
He stood deep in the corridor where the lights could not reach, his silhouette nearly dissolving into shadow.
“This place…” he said quietly.“I’ve been here before.”
It was not a question.
Before I could respond, his body swayed slightly, as if struck by something invisible.
I reached out to steady him, but he reflexively stepped away.
Not rejecting me—
but avoiding the version of himself that was returning.
At that moment, the Rose mark in my chest pulsed faintly.
The world did not overturn.
Only certain sounds were unlocked.
[Battlefield Afterimages]
The first thing to return was the smell.
Not blood.
Burned metal. Shattered bone. And something else—Nature itself, forcibly erased.
The sky was gray-white, without day or night.
A world in the process of being emptied.
“You’re late.”
A voice cut through the wind.
I saw two figures.
One stood on higher ground, long hair pulled straight by the battlefield winds, eyes so calm they were almost cruel.
Sethiel.
The other stood amid the ruins, sword tip planted into the ground, breath ragged—yet still smiling.
That was Silent Man.
No—that was him before he learned silence.
“You’re the same as always,” Sethiel said.“Always charging in before me.”
Silent Man looked up at him, blood at the corner of his mouth.
“How else am I supposed to prove I’m stronger than you?”
There was no hostility.
Only the kind of provocation shared by people who had fought side by side for years.
They stood on the same battlefield—yet not quite on the same side.
Because the war itself was never clean.
[Purge Directive]
The scene shifted.
I saw the command.
Not written words, but a structure implanted directly into consciousness.
Target: Luminary Elves and remaining allied entitiesReason: Interference with world stability
Silent Man’s expression changed for the first time.
Not fear—hesitation.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” he asked Sethiel.
Sethiel did not answer immediately.
“It means order,” he said at last.“It means sacrificing the few so the world can reboot.”
Silent Man lowered his gaze, looking into the depths of the ruins.
There was light there.
Not weapon light—but life that had not yet gone out.
“And if that’s wrong?” Silent Man asked.
Sethiel looked at him.
That look ran deep.
“When did you start caring about right and wrong?”
Silent Man smiled.
It was a small smile—but it marked a fault line.
“Since I realized this world can only survive by killing those who ‘shouldn’t exist.’”
[The Luminary Elf Princess…]
The image never showed her face.
Only a white silhouette, protected within a shattered barrier.
Silent Man stood before that barrier, unmoving.
“You knew her already,” Sethiel ’s voice turned cold.“Didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Silent Man answered without hesitation.“Long before you think.”
My chest tightened.
Not jealousy.
But understanding.
He hadn’t betrayed anyone in that moment.
He had simply—finally admitted it.
[The Divergence]
The battlefield fractured again.
The Luminary barrier collapsed, the world torn open like a wound.
Silent Man stood before it, unmoving.
Sethiel stood behind him, sword drawn.
“Move,” Sethiel said.
Silent Man did not turn.
“No.”
A single word.
Light—but heavier than any declaration.
“You know the consequences,” Sethiel said quietly.
“I do,” Silent Man replied.
“Then why—”
“Because this isn’t order,” Silent Man cut in.“It’s just delaying extinction.”
Sethiel fell silent.
In that instant, I saw him waver.
Truly waver.
His sword lagged—just half a beat.
[Why They Didn’t Die Together]
The image blurred.
Only two figures remained at the edge of the battlefield.
Silent Man, soaked in blood, still standing.
Sethiel, cloak in tatters, eyes once again calm.
“You will die,” Sethiel said.
“I know.” Silent Man smiled faintly.“And you?” he asked.“Why not die with me?”
Sethiel did not answer immediately.
It was the longest silence of his life.
“Because…” he finally said,“If even death is refused as a tool, then this world is truly beyond saving.”
Silent Man looked at him.
There was no anger.
Only an understanding so deep it bordered on grief.
“I see.”
The world collapsed in the next heartbeat.
[Back to the Present]
I gasped and opened my eyes.
The Undead stronghold was still there.
Silent Man was kneeling on the ground, one hand braced against the stone, breathing hard.
I stepped closer—but did not touch him.
Because I knew—
this time, he had to stand on his own.
“So that’s how it was,” he said quietly.
Not to me.
To the version of himself that had died a thousand years ago.
The Undead envoy spoke from the shadows.
“Now you know,” it said.“Why he did not die alongside you.”
Silent Man closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, his gaze had changed.
Not relief.
But—
acceptance.
“He didn’t betray me,” Silent Man said.“He just… walked down a different wrong path.”
My chest tightened.
That sentence was crueler than any accusation.
Because it meant—
he still respected Sethiel.
Even now.
The Undead envoy spoke softly:
“Are you ready to inherit what he left behind?”
Silent Man did not answer immediately.
He turned to look at me.
There was no possession in that gaze.No demand.
Only a choice, quietly placed before me.
In that moment, the full weight of the Rose War finally descended.
And I knew—
this was not the end.
This was only the true beginning.
ns216.73.216.33da2
and then Add to home screen.