Noon.
The heavy snowfall that had begun back when Gunther had first been subjected to the seed did not stop until late evening. The weather was so severe that not only ordinary infantry—even cavalry could not move. Thanks to that, the Barkel family domain remained sealed off and sunk in deep silence, as if the recent chaos had never happened.
“Gunther.”
That silence was broken by the innocent voice of a young girl.
“Take a look here.”
The office where the head of the Barkel family had handled internal affairs for generations. Spinning in the family head’s chair, Remesia gave the order.
Whoosh—
Gunther’s head turned like a machine.
The vision was shared, but the movements happened beyond his will. It felt as if he had become a marionette in a cheap puppet theater. Under normal circumstances, he would have shuddered in disgust, but right now every nerve in his body, unable even to register discomfort, was fixed on the single sight before him.
“This is the traitor. You didn’t know, did you?”
...Because an unexpectedly huge fish had been caught on the hook.
“He’s the one who opened the gates of Barkel Castle for us.”
Gunther’s gaze shifted to the man whose face clearly showed displeasure. He plainly disliked both being referred to as “this” and the word “traitor.” Curling his lips slightly, he spoke in a low voice.
“Calling someone a ‘traitor’ after he helped you at great personal risk—isn’t that a bit cruel? And... it would not hurt to show at least a little respect...”
Remesia narrowed her eyes.
“Mmm~ but it’s still true that you betrayed them, isn’t it? From Gunther’s point of view, you’re someone not even tearing to pieces would be enough for.”
“Ha... ‘someone,’ is it.”
“Well then what, should I call you a martyr?”
“...Enough.”
The “traitor,” apparently deciding to end the argument, cut her off.
Snow-white armor.
The emblem of a sword and an arch of law, symbolizing honesty and strictness.
The heir of the family representing “Law and Protection” in the kingdom of Valloren, Krest Royen, let out a deep sigh.
“...Ha, Royen was the traitor?”
Inside the “Room of Time and Spirit” (as Gunther had temporarily named it), Gunther’s face twisted sharply as he watched.
“The official plot barely means anything now.”
Of course, he had suspected the existence of an infiltrator. The Cult of Repose’s forces that had supposedly withdrawn had been calmly hiding inside the estate, while the Round Table knights, including Kylis Barkel, had fallen so helplessly to the seed. There had clearly been sabotage.
But he had never expected that sinister executor to be Krest.
House Royen was the house that embodied justice and law. In the kingdom, the name was practically synonymous with the word “fairness.” In the game, characters from that family had always been popular with players because of their nobility.
“And on top of that, they said he was the one most strongly pushing support for Night Raven.”
If there had ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) been a traitor, Gunther would have sooner suspected Werner Camaril or Roen Greints, who had always been skeptical of Night Raven.
Gunther fell into grim thought.
“Why Royen? For what? Was this Krest’s personal decision, or the action of the entire House?”
The urge to ask directly was overwhelming, but in the current situation it was impossible.
However, it seemed the course of action immediately after regression had already been decided.
“You... are dead.”
As he solidified that resolve, the conversation between the two continued.
“And when are you planning to seed the family head and the Round Table knights again?”
“How quick you are. It’s impossible to move out in this snowstorm anyway. Why the hurry?”
“...Because there is no reason to leave risk factors inside the castle. They cannot be underestimated...”
At that moment, Remesia’s brows shot upward.
Krest froze with a bewildered look.
“Cannot be underestimated—and what exactly do you mean by that?”
“No, I only meant...”
“What are you worried about, Krest Royen?”
A short, quiet phrase.
Yet there was astonishingly vivid irritation in it.
Krest immediately lowered his head.
“...It was never my intention to diminish the Hierarch’s authority. Variables keep appearing, so I merely became concerned in advance. My apologies.”
The moment Krest swallowed his pride, Remesia’s expression softened with startling speed. The corners of her lips instantly lifted, and her gaze relaxed. As if that irritation from a second ago had never existed.
Watching that shift, Gunther began to understand what kind of “person” this Hierarch of Repose really was.
“She’s truly very far from ‘repose.’”
In a word—a dangerous temperament.
Impulsive, exposed, uncontrolled emotions.
And they were not deep feelings... but childish irritation flaring up at the slightest displeasure under her nose.
It would have been possible to say she resembled a badly raised child... but with overwhelming power in her hands, she was terrifyingly dangerous.
Remesia continued.
“You know it yourself. When the seed briefly faded, they all rushed into the basement and started swallowing that strange medicine... Sanity.”
The moment she had briefly lifted the shared seed in order to subjugate Gunther, someone had acted cleverly. Remesia’s legs, propped on the desk, swung idly.
“Reapplying the seed already takes a lot of strength... and now it’s become even more troublesome.”
“...Your strength still hasn’t fully recovered?”
“No, a lot of strength has returned.”
“Then why...”
At that moment, Remesia suddenly fell silent.
Her gaze shifted directly onto Gunther.
A childishly innocent face.
But behind it—black eyes stripped of all light, boring straight into Gunther’s own.
A stare that felt as though it pierced into his very essence.
Without taking her eyes off him, Remesia said:
“You don’t need to know. I’ll handle everything myself, so stop chattering and leave. I’m busy.”
Krest’s patience had clearly reached its limit as well. He said nothing more and walked out of the office with a frozen expression.
Clack—
Remesia sprang up from the chair and stood in front of Gunther.
With an unreadable expression, she looked up at him.
“...Who exactly are you?”
The irritation she had shown toward Krest had vanished without a trace.
What filled her gaze now was a mixture of wariness, hunger, curiosity, and admiration.
Gunther could not understand at all why she was looking at him that way.
“...I think they said the previous Hierarch acted the same way toward Dominic.”
Remesia puffed out her lips.
“He’s dead, so I can’t even ask him.”
She grumbled that, then slowly closed her eyes.
A posture that somehow carried something strangely devout.
And in that moment...
“Ah?”
A faint but unmistakable change spread through Gunther’s entire body.
Warmth filled the space between muscle and bone, and his heart began beating harder.
Remesia’s whisper brushed against his ear.
“In any case... in my own way, I’ll perfect you.”
Ding!
[Buff: Self-Multiplication]
A corrupted mind envelops you, forcibly implanting the distorted conviction: “I am strong.” Forgotten potential slowly awakens, carving microscopic growth into the body every day.
Strength +1/day
Agility +0.5/day
Endurance +0.5/day
※ Growth accumulates “permanently.”
※ However, each stat has a limit reachable depending on personal potential.
※ As the limit approaches, the growth rate will gradually slow.
...Gunther stared at the status window before him in stunned disbelief.
“...What?”
Growth equivalent to two levels per day.
He had never even heard of such a buff.
Neither in the game, nor in the setting.
Was this because the seed had been amplified by Dominic?
[Alphonse of Red Street mutters that with this kind of seed... perhaps it’s a matter of the body’s predisposition]
[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats looks at it with contempt]
[The Drug-Addicted Saint clenches her fists, promising that once she regains her strength she’ll give an even crazier buff]
At that moment—
“Hyaaaam...”
Remesia let out a long yawn.
No matter what kind of Hierarch she was, a monstrous buff like this could not come without a cost. Her small body swayed dangerously from side to side under the sudden wave of exhaustion.
Gunther silently watched her.
The manifestation of a Hierarch’s power was always unstable.
Children forced to accept the power of the Seven Evil Gods into themselves.
No matter how suited they were to it, side effects were inevitable.
And each one manifested in a completely different way.
It seemed one of Remesia’s side effects was “irresistible sleep.”
Her eyelids drooped halfway shut, she staggered, and then collapsed helplessly onto the sofa. Her hand waved lazily toward Gunther.
“You’ll be bored... go take a walk for now. I’ll send someone to come play with you...”
She did not even finish the sentence before she was already fast asleep.
Her breathing was soft and even, looking peaceful, as if cut off from the entire world.
And exactly at that moment—
Click.
The door opened.
“Ha.”
The instant he realized the identity of the one who had come to “play with him,” all Gunther could do was hold his breath once more.
“Hi, Gunther...”
***
The snow fell mercilessly.
Across the snow-covered plain where their feet sank deep into drifts, Parco and Blanc ran at full speed. Physically weak Tarsha followed after them on the flying Seren Gless, maintaining a protective barrier that shielded them from the slicing icy wind.
“Khe, khe. Should we rest a little?”
“...All right, now that we’ve made it this far, it should be fine.”
Breathing hard, they finally stopped.
Fortunately, Barkel Castle was already far behind them.
There was no sign of the pursuing Hierarch, nor of the shadows of the Cult of Repose.
Around them there was only the cursed snowstorm.
However, the tension on the platoon members’ faces did not fade.
After personally experiencing the seed, their vigilance had skyrocketed.
And above all—
“Gunther... he must be having a terrible time right now, right? They won’t treat a captured commander gently.”
Tarsha’s voice trembled.
Grinding his teeth, Parco answered:
“Most likely... We know how they treat Night Raven. Those bastards.”
Blanc’s eyes shook.
“Th-they’ll beat him? And they won’t give him food? Poor thing... it must be so hard for Gunther right now.”
“I swear I’m not letting this go. Even I never dared hit Gunther-aaah!”
“Is this really the time for jokes... Parco.”
Even when Parco tried to lighten the atmosphere with his usual humor, the smile vanished quickly.
The soldiers, shoulders drooping, looked back over the path they had traveled.
Even through the blizzard, they could clearly feel the ominous barrier wrapped around Barkel Castle... its overwhelming power and pressure.
Gunther was trapped there.
Their precious commander and comrade.
Just imagining what torment he might be enduring right now made their hearts heavy.
Even if it was for the sake of saving him, running away while leaving their comrade behind was unbearable.
...But they could not stop and give in to emotion.
To save him, what they needed more than ever now was cold calculation and action.
First—this.
“I think they were headed this way...”
Uuuuun—
Tarsha, atop Seren Gless, spread her arms wide.
A golden magical wave stretched out through the blizzard.
Unfortunately, signal flares were useless in weather like this, so they had to rely on such costly methods instead. Like someone sending a distress signal from a deserted island, Tarsha continued to spread her magic with hope every chance she got.
“Oh?”
After some time, Tarsha’s face brightened.
“Oh?”
There was no need to ask what it meant.
Immediately after, a sharp whistle of air being torn apart rang out.
The sound was so clear it could be heard even through the storm.
Fweeeeee—!
A blue flash tore across the sky.
Bang—!
A gaunt figure with a massive bow slung across her back.
It was Cheonmae, who had gone to scout the Hierarch the day before and was just now returning.
“You...”
She looked at her subordinates with a severe expression.
And of course, she immediately noticed the absence of one of them.
Cheonmae pressed a hand hard against her temple.
“...Looks like there’s trouble?”
A long, heavy sigh followed.
“Moon Wolf is going to kill me.”
