Regyn Solis.
He was from the Pervere Kingdom.
Though it was rare for a commoner to have a surname, this one felt somewhat ambiguous to even call a proper noble name.
Because he had neither a family line nor any relatives.
He was a war orphan.
A victim of the war between the Pervere Kingdom and the Empire, he was a man who had no choice but to dive into the life of a mercenary.
The surname Solis was the name of the city where he lived.
It was now the name of a city erased by the Veil of Mercy.
However, he liked his surname.
He loved the feeling that it gave him, as if he had a place to return to.
No matter how dirty the work he did, or how many people he killed for money, he could still think about returning home.
He had even thought that when the time came to retire, he would go back with the money he earned and open a shop.
That was before the Pervere Kingdom fell to the Veil of Mercy.
He was called a survivor, and a traitor.
Because he didn’t die fighting priests until the very end for the Pervere Kingdom.
He was among other traitors.
Ordinary people who lacked the courage to throw away their lives following the fallen kingdom, and others who left the kingdom for different reasons.
He wanted to save those traitors.
Desperately, he hoped they would survive.
Just like Diel had said, wanting to live wasn’t a sin. He wanted people to live because the traitors he had lived with were not bad people at all.
But on the other hand, he also wanted to survive himself.
There were many regrets.
When reflecting on the pain and hardships of his life, he thought he shouldn’t have become a mercenary in the first place.
There were trivial thoughts like wishing he had held onto his first love, and regretting turning down an apprenticeship offer out of arrogance instead of accepting it.
But all these regrets were meaningless.
As he faced death, he struggled in the throes of regret.
“Will I just fall into the afterlife like this?”
He wondered, unaware that the afterlife itself had perished. Remembering his deceased subordinates, he felt overwhelming guilt.
In reality, his subordinates died because of his decisions.
They had bravely sacrificed themselves for his strategies, and thus met their ends.
If Regyn Solis had been more capable, if he had devised a perfect plan that could capture even a priest, then perhaps his subordinates wouldn’t have had to die.
He accepted their deaths as a result of his own inadequacy.
He believed that his subordinates only had to die because he wasn’t good enough.
Even though there was no clear alternative at the time, he still regretted it deeply.
“At least, when I get to the afterlife, I can make amends.”
At the very least, his subordinates wouldn’t be alone.
With this thought, Regyn Solis closed his eyes and then opened them again.
Before him hung stars, or rather, they adorned the sky far off in the distance.
Such a night sky was not unfamiliar.
Though he didn’t know much about the afterlife, this sky seemed too clear and dark to belong to the afterlife.
Regyn Solis tossed and turned in his body, overwhelmed by a sense of weakness.
Confused, he blinked several times and sat up.
His body felt sluggish, yet strangely devoid of pain.
However, a dull headache persisted, so Regyn Solis furrowed his brows as he looked down at his body.
His body wasn’t exactly normal. His entire body was tightly wrapped in bandages, and a strong medicinal smell lingered around him.
Thus, with an even more confused expression, he tore his gaze from his body and glanced around.
What he saw was a dimly lit sky and a cart he had been lying on.
From somewhere nearby, flames flickered, accompanied by voices that were both familiar and strange.
He climbed down from the cart and moved toward the voice, his legs barely able to support his weight.
While walking, he examined his body, noticing discrepancies with his memory.
He was missing an arm.
His head throbbed faintly, bringing memories into sharp focus.
He remembered confronting Ash.
And dying.
He was almost beyond saving, dying slowly.
The blood vomiting from his mouth was proof of fatal injuries, and he instinctively knew most of his internal organs were damaged.
So how was he here now?
Regyn Solis walked with a puzzled expression, gradually approaching the familiar voice.
The voice spoke.
“So you just let him go?”
A sharp, ringing voice reprimanded.
“How can you let someone who killed so many people just walk away without punishment?”
Before the woman could respond, the man replied.
“It wasn’t exactly letting him go. In fact, I made sure that next time, he’ll definitely die. So this won’t happen again.”
The man continued, drawing attention.
“Besides, it was the best option.”
The ensuing name caused Regyn to freeze momentarily.
“Ash was incredibly strong. Strong enough that we would have surely lost if we had fought her directly. Even before she entered that state, she was formidable.”
“Hmm… If I had been there?”
“Yes, even if Angie had been there. Ash is the type that doesn’t succumb to combined attacks.”
Instead, silence followed as the man added something.
“The aura surrounding her body has the power to bring death in every direction. Numerous lesser deities couldn’t overcome it and submitted. It erodes and kills divine power. Those who face Ash are inevitably forced into a one-on-one confrontation.”
“What does that mean?”
“If it hadn’t been Ereta there, anyone else would have certainly died.”
Regyn Solis agreed with that statement.
From his experience, the harbinger of the Veil was a true monster beyond comparison.
He remembered how his subordinates who touched that aura instantly turned into ice powder.
“Don’t you think we need to fight to understand?”
Angie’s ringing voice questioned, and the man responded promptly.
“No, I know. Even I would have died if I had fought alone. We were lucky Ereta fought alongside us.”
The mention of her name seemed to make Ereta, whose voice was gentle, slightly embarrassed.
“It’s a bit embarrassing… but it feels good to be praised…”
Laughter rippled through the group, and Regyn Solis slowly stepped into the heart of their laughter.
Then he saw the people gathered around the fire.
Regyn recognized all of them.
They were Aslan’s traveling party.
Regyn watched them with a look filled with curiosity.
Sensing his confusion, the red-haired woman Angie said,
“Oh, you’re awake already?”
Regyn found her words puzzling. “Already?”
As if reading his perplexed expression, the blind dragonkin stopped sharpening an arrow and spoke.
“You’ve been out for a week.”
This only deepened Regyn’s confusion.
“A week…?”
The red-scaled dragonkin nodded lightly.
“You were almost dead. Hence, it took a week.”
To Regyn Solis, this contradicted common sense.
Given his current state, which was nearly fully recovered, it seemed impossible for someone on the brink of death to recover in just a week.
Regyn Solis had seen mercenaries who suffered severe spinal injuries and never woke up despite months of recuperation.
He couldn’t comprehend Tiamat’s words, and the blind dragonkin gestured with his chin and added,
“Ereta healed you here.”
Only then did Regyn Solis turn his head to see the snow-white haired woman, who shyly waved her hand.
“Miss Ereta, are you a restoration mage?”
Though he teased her a bit with the term “miss,” it soon became evident she wasn’t a mage.
“…Restoration magic is quite convenient, but it can’t regenerate lost limbs or resurrect the dead. It operates within the most basic boundaries.”
The explanation came from a woman with black hair and ominous violet eyes.
She glanced at Regyn Solis with a soft smile.
Still bewildered, Regyn Solis stared at her.
Looking at him, she cheerfully explained,
“There’s no way restoration magic could revive you when most of your internal organs were frozen and your heart had long stopped. What saved you transcends common sense.”
“Transcends common sense?”
“The deity used their power.”
Her initially straightforward explanation shifted into metaphor, leaving Regyn confused, prompting the actual person involved to finally speak.
Hearing Ereta’s words, Regyn looked at her and vaguely recalled colliding with Ash amidst flames.
“God of Fire and Mercy…”
The title seemed to embarrass her, as she pulled her hair covering her cheeks and shrank back.
On the other hand, Regyn recalled the moment of loss.
The instant Ash flew in, unseen to the naked eye, and crushed his arm along with his shield.
Recalling it, his shoulder tingled, and reflexively, he touched his missing shoulder joint.
It was a purely instinctive action, but Ereta glanced at him and apologized softly.
“I tried, but I couldn’t manage that part. If it had cleanly detached, I might have reattached it, but adding more divine power would have burned you….”
“So I stopped. I’ll regrow it for you later.”
As if regrowing an arm was a completely natural thing.
Amidst the feeling that his common sense was collapsing, Regyn blinked.
Then, without realizing it, he shook his head.
Perhaps it felt wrong to selfishly ask for his arm to be regenerated while his subordinates were dead.
Instead, he asked,
“What happened?”
“The fastest way is to show you.”
Aslan approached him differently than before, using honorifics, and only then did the campsite hidden in the shadows of the campfire come into view.
The campsite was full of countless tents and carts.
This campsite was evidence of a halted migration convoy.
Although the death spread by the Veil of Mercy still swirled in the sky, before Regyn could show concern, Aslan reassured him,
“You don’t need to worry about the Veil of Mercy. Ereta is neutralizing it.”
“My subordinates…”
“Most of them survived. For those with minor wounds, Ereta healed them. And for those who lost limbs, if the limbs weren’t shattered, she mostly managed to reattach them. With some effort, she could even revive those who haven’t been dead for too long.”
“Then, how many have survived?”
“Twenty-two, including you.”
Regyn quietly closed his mouth.
Upon hearing this, he silently closed his eyes and trembled with pain and relief.
He didn’t know whether he should mourn the fact that ten had died or be grateful that twenty-one had survived.
Lumel observed Regyn Solis’s pain and then spoke.
“Would you like something to eat? I’ll prepare something easy for you.”
Regyn Solis opened his eyes at this and saw the pot already placed over the fire.
Inside was stew.
The sight of it brought an embarrassing wave of hunger.
Despite trying to hide his shame, his face reddened slightly as he shook his head.
“If you could spare some of that stew, I’d appreciate it.”
Though hesitant to give stew to someone who had just woken up, Lumel hesitated briefly before serving it.
“It should be fine. Ereta’s recovery is similar to regeneration. It doesn’t lower recovery abilities or physical capabilities.”
With Aslan’s assurance, Lumel served the stew with slight hesitation.
Though Regyn Solis felt ashamed to admit he was hungry, he quickly devoured the stew the moment it was handed to him.
At the speed he emptied the bowl, it was hard to believe he was missing an arm.
Lumel had to serve him several more bowls.
Regyn ended up greedily consuming the stew, seemingly defeated by the overwhelming hunger.
By the time he paused during his meal, it was after finishing several consecutive bowls.
He wore an expression of anguish.
It felt wrong to eat so comfortably while his subordinates had died.
Anyone could tell what he was feeling.
Though losing subordinates was not uncommon during his years as a mercenary, everyone understood.
This event must have been on a scale Regyn had never experienced before.
It must have felt like being relentlessly hunted by a malevolent natural disaster.
The group well understood how devastating it must feel.
Therefore, they waited to see what choice Regyn Solis would make.
Fortunately, he sighed deeply from the depths of his heart and finished the last bowl.
You can’t survive without eating.
He decided to do his best since he had survived.
Aslan smiled in relief at Regyn’s demeanor, and Tiamat, after observing him for a while, stood up and left.
Regyn spoke again when Tiamat’s shadow had completely disappeared.
“What exactly happened?”
The group looked at him, and Regyn set down his bowl and asked,
“I understand this is a migration convoy. I realize I’ve been asleep for a week disgracefully….”
Aslan caught on to what he was asking and stood up, meeting Regyn’s gaze.
He asked nervously,
“Have we been accepted?”
Anxiety flickered across his face. Aslan noticed and extended a hand to him.
“The fastest way is to show you.”
Regyn immediately took the offered hand and stood up.
Together with Aslan, he passed the tents and campfires of the traveling party and ascended a hill across the camp.
As they climbed the hill, the scenery changed.
Beyond the disordered and shabby tents lay elaborate and luxurious ones.
People were busily moving around from these tents.
They approached the shabby carts or tents, asked questions, wrote things down, or distributed bags filled with goods.
Familiar styles of elaborately pitched tents caught Regyn Solis’s eye.
When he rolled his eyes in disbelief, Aslan beside him spoke.
“How does it look?”
Regyn Solis didn’t answer verbally but slowly turned his head to survey the surroundings.
The busy figures were soldiers of the Empire.
They went to the migrants’ campfires, asked questions, and recorded them.
They distributed bags, and the recipients happily poured the contents into pots and cooked them.
The scene was clear.
As Regyn Solis’s lips tightened and trembled, Aslan glanced at him sideways and spoke.
“287 migrants, excluding you and your subordinates.”
When he looked up, Regyn Solis saw a mountain.
“All 287 made it to the empire’s border without a single casualty.”
The towering mountain symbolized the empire.
“The Emperor has granted you the lands centered around the Labyrinth, Wihill, and Widis River from the former Pervere Kingdom as your fief. Knight Regyn Solis, appointing you as an imperial knight, they likely intend to eventually consume the territory of the Pervere Kingdom.”
Of course, the death spread by the Veil of Mercy needs to diminish, but the comment was almost inaudible. To Regyn Solis, it was already unimportant.
The crucial point lay elsewhere.
“The 287 citizens of the Pervere Kingdom under your protection will be able to farm, own homes, and live ordinary lives on your fief.”
When Regyn Solis turned his head to meet Aslan’s eyes, Aslan smiled gently.
“Knight, Sir Regyn Solis.”
Aslan, looking into his bloodshot eyes, told him what he truly wanted to hear.
“This victory belongs to you and your subordinates.”
Only then did Regyn Solis close his mouth tightly and bow his head.
The deaths of his subordinates were not in vain, and he genuinely felt relieved.
He sincerely found solace in it.
