As Vivian fought the clown in a space far from the battlefield, the war outside had already come to an end.
The land that once echoed with screams and clashing steel had fallen quiet.
Smoke still rose in thin lines from broken ground, but the fighting had stopped.
After seven long years of struggle, the empire had finally won.
Duke Vined had captured Ravan Tramplin and his son alive.
Both were now held under heavy guard. His brother, however, had not been as lucky.
He had fallen during the final battle, his body left behind among the countless dead.
Soon, large tents were set up across the Tramplin territory.
The empire's flags rose high in the northern lands, waving in the cold wind as a sign of victory.
What was once enemy land was now under their control.
The former duke's family was also taken captive.
Their fate was not yet decided. Some said they would be executed once the empire's parliament gave the order.
Others believed they would be spared, forced to serve the empire for the rest of their lives, stripped of their titles and pride.
As night fell, the camp slowly came to life.
New soldiers laughed loudly, raising cups and dancing without care.
For them, this was a moment of glory. A story they would carry for the rest of their lives.
But not everyone shared that joy.
The older soldiers sat quietly near the edges of the camp.
Some drank in silence. Others stared into the fire.
They spoke softly, remembering the friends they had lost. For them, victory came with a heavy cost.
Not far from the center of the camp, outside one of the largest tents, Duke Vined walked back and forth.
Even though they could have moved into proper houses in the captured territory, they chose not to.
These lands, though once enemies, were now under their rule.
Taking over homes so soon did not feel right.
Setting up camp was the better choice, at least for now.
Vined's steps were uneven, his mind clearly troubled.
Inside the tent lay his father-in-law, Duke Sant, who had been badly injured during the battle against that strange creature.
After the war had ended, Vined had sent out a search team when Duke Sant failed to return.
When they finally found him, his condition was far worse than anyone expected.
His body was covered in deep wounds, and his breathing was weak.
It was clear that his fight had been brutal.
"Haa…" Vined let out a long breath as he finally stopped pacing.
"The war is finally over…" he muttered quietly.
There was no joy in his voice.
His eyes turned toward the dark sky.
"I just hope Vivian… and father are safe…"
He had also sent people to search for Vivian, but they had returned with nothing. Not even a trace.
Vined himself had gone out to search, but he found nothing.
He could only come to one conclusion.
"It must be that clown…" he said under his breath.
"That thing must have trapped him in some separate space…"
For a moment, his expression tightened.
Then slowly, he let out another breath.
Fortunately, there was still something he could rely on.
He closed his eyes slightly, focusing.
A faint connection still remained.
"I can still feel his mana…" he thought.
Relief washed over him, small but real.
Vivian was still alive.
Not only that, he could also feel the clown's presence.
And with each passing moment, that presence was growing weaker.
That alone was enough to ease his heart, even if only a little.
Vined opened his eyes again and looked toward the distance.
"Hold on…" he whispered.
"Just a little longer…"
If everything went well, then he could return home with a smile on his face.
For Duke Vined, nothing mattered more than his family.
Titles, victories, land, none of it came close.
Bringing back both Vivian and his father-in-law safe and alive was the only thing he truly wished for.
But right now, that wish felt uncertain.
Duke Sant was in a terrible condition. His injuries were deep and severe.
The fact that he was still breathing felt like a miracle in itself.
Inside the tent, treatment was still going on.
And outside—
There was nothing Vined could do but wait.
"Haa…"
He let out another long sigh and began pacing again.
His steps were slow but restless, his thoughts refusing to settle.
Every second felt longer than the last.
Time passed.
One hour.
Maybe two.
It was hard to tell.
Then finally—
The tent cover moved.
An old man stepped out slowly, his back slightly bent with age.
His movements were calm, but steady.
The moment he appeared, Vined rushed forward.
"Physician… how is he? Is he alright?" he asked.
His voice, usually firm and composed, now carried clear worry.
The old physician looked at him for a moment, then gave a small nod.
"He is out of danger," he said. "He should recover steadily."
For a brief moment, Vined just stood there.
Then—
A deep breath escaped him.
Relief washed over his face.
"I see…" he whispered.
He didn't know how he would have faced Elena if something had happened to her father.
The thought alone had weighed heavily on him.
But now—
It was fine.
Everything was fine.
"Can I see him?" Vined asked.
The physician shook his head.
"No. He is resting. No one should disturb him right now."
"He should wake up in a few hours. There is no need to worry."
With that, the old man slowly began to walk away.
"Thank you," Vined said, bowing his head slightly.
The tension in his face slowly faded, returning to its usual calm.
He let out another quiet breath, as if releasing the last bit of weight from his chest.
Then he turned.
His eyes lifted toward the night sky.
The stars were faint, hidden behind drifting clouds.
"Now that father is safe…" he murmured softly.
His gaze grew steady.
"It's about time you finish things…"
A small pause.
"…son."
