“Is that... really true?”

Magrina’s question.

“!”

Perion was shocked.

The elven queen, Magrina, was benevolent and wise—a ruler who smiled upon all—but she never showed her personal emotions openly.

That was the role of a monarch.

A being who must protect the people and always lead for their sake.

They could never reveal weakness.

And so, for hundreds of years as queen, she had never displayed emotions beyond benevolence and anger before her subordinates.

But now, for the first time, Magrina—who had upheld that rule so strictly for so long—was showing emotions other than joy or anger in front of her subordinates.

Confusion and hope.

“Please, tell me more.”

At Magrina’s urging, Philde broke her silence.

“First, let me reiterate, Your Majesty. What I am about to say is pure speculation.”

“Even so, you believe the marquis—the primordial elf, my brother—is him, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then explain why.”

An anxious demand.

Philde recounted everything that happened at Marquis Palatio’s estate.

The moment she used magic to observe the marquis from the outskirts of the estate.

How she had glimpsed the marquis’s soul through her spiritual sight.

And finally, the black pupils at the end.

“...Haa—”

After finishing, Philde took a moment to catch her breath, then summarized the key points.

“In conclusion, the soul of Marquis Palatio did not match his body. In other words, someone else’s soul resides in his body.”

“As Your Majesty knows, it’s inconceivable for a mere human to possess such a golden soul. Just as a sage cannot become a god, and a hero cannot ascend to godhood.”

Philde held the queen’s gaze.

“......That is why I suspect Marquis Palatio may be the primordial elf.”

“Then the reason my brother cannot return is—”

“As I mentioned, the person presumed to be the primordial elf has something strange attached to him.”

Recalling the scene, Philde gagged involuntarily, but quickly composed herself.

“I couldn’t confirm it completely, but based on my assessment, this strange entity is entangled with him.”

“Entangled?”

“Yes. To an extent where they cannot be separated—complexly and chaotically intertwined. I suspect that may be why the primordial elf cannot come here.”

Magrina fell silent.

Her eyes trembled more than ever.

Hope and confusion churned in her gaze.

“Then—”

Her lips quivered as she bit down on them, her head bowed low.

“Couldn’t he at least tell me?!”

A tearful voice spilled out.

“Couldn’t he at least say... that he’s alive, that he’s returned...?!”

How long had she searched? How long had she waited?

To her broken murmurs, Philde replied.

“That puzzled me as well, but I believe it may be due to a ‘restriction.’”

“A restriction?”

Philde nodded.

“This, too, is speculation, but as Your Majesty knows, a dead soul occupying a living body is abnormal. It shouldn’t happen. A dead soul disrupts the order of humanity.”

“Continue.”

“In my opinion, the primordial elf may have made a contract involving ‘restrictions’ with that strange entity. His soul is intertwined with it to that extent. The restriction likely prevents him from engaging with ties from his previous life.”

“Why would he accept such a restriction?”

This time, Philde shook her head.

“I cannot imagine. It is only my guess, based on the fact that he transferred blessings instead of directly involving himself.”

“......”

“Once again, this is purely my speculation. I have no way to know the truth. Even so, I say this because—”

Philde glanced at Perion. After a long silence, Perion stepped forward.

“Your Majesty, may I continue?”

“Go ahead.”

“......Marquis Palatio uses ‘words’ and ‘symbols.’”

“!! That means—”

“......Yes. Just like the primordial elf, he is a mage. Furthermore, through personal investigation, it became clear the marquis has accomplished feats impossible for an ordinary human.”

After a pause, Perion added,

“He has defeated not one but two Outer gods, numerous artificial gods, and recently handled a monstrous entity. All of it—done by a mere human.”

“......”

“That is why we suspect he is the primordial elf.”

Even after Perion finished, the queen remained silent.

Her heart pounded violently.

Memories from centuries ago—memories she could never forget—rose up in her mind.

—You’re the only one.

—You must do it.

—You must lead the elves well.

—Please, I beg of you.

Even as he foresaw his death, he smiled as he stroked her hair.

After a long silence, the queen finally spoke.

“......Perion.”

“Yes.”

“Prepare yourself.”

“......What?”

“I must meet him in person. I must confirm whether he truly is who I believe he is.”

Her eyes filled with resolve as she looked at Perion.

*****

Alon managed to clear the Ironblood Citadel without injury, thanks to Eliban’s help.

“Is this what you need?”

“It is.”

“Then I’ll give it to you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

And so, he obtained the item he wanted.

It felt almost too easy, but there was no reason to refuse.

Alon accepted what Eliban handed him with a bright smile.

It was an artifact obtained from the Ironblood Citadel.

More precisely, an artifact disguised as an “object.”

‘The Footsteps of the Past.’

Alon stared at the object—feet running across the ground, forged of dark steel—then spoke to Eliban.

“...Thank you.”

“No, don’t mention it! You came here to help me because I asked! Is there anything else you need?”

Alon shook his head.

From the start, the only thing he needed from the Ironblood Citadel was the ‘Footsteps of the Past.’

Most of the items here were warrior-class weapons, and even the rare mage-class items weren’t especially useful to him.

“No. This is enough.”

Alon carefully stowed away the ‘Footsteps of the Past.’

The eerie gate that had been open began to fade.

After watching it, Alon and his group headed to the nearest territory—the Duchy of Zenonia.

By the time they reached the duchy’s lands, dusk had already fallen.

“I suppose we’ll meet again next time.”

“Yes, understood! If I need your help again, may I ask?”

“Sure, as long as it’s not too demanding.”

“Thank you!”

Eliban bowed deeply, then left with his companion toward the territory.

“Marquis.”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been feeling something odd for a while now. May I say it?”

“Speak.”

Left alone, Evan—as if he’d been waiting for this moment—finally voiced his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking. This Eliban guy... he came to us for help because he thought there was danger, right?”

“That’s right.”

“But doesn’t it seem strange? He has skills far beyond what he let on. Why would he come to you for help at all?”

“That’s true.”

The inconsistency Evan pointed out had been bothering Alon, too.

With a neutral expression masking his thoughts, Alon quietly stared at the place where Eliban had disappeared.

“What is it, really?”

Possibilities spun through his mind.

A whirlwind of thoughts flashed by in an instant.

From them, he singled out a few plausible ones.

He narrowed it down to three hypotheses.

Eliban might have summoned him here for a specific purpose.

Or he might have intended to harm him.

...Or perhaps he was acting on someone else’s request.

However, Alon quickly shook his head.

It didn’t seem like Eliban intended to harm him.

If that had been his goal, he’d had plenty of opportunities—both before entering the eerie gate and inside it.

“If anything, he was overprotective.”

Eliban’s behavior in the Ironblood Citadel didn’t match someone acting with malice.

So the remaining possibilities were either that he’d summoned Alon for a specific purpose, or that he was acting at someone else’s behest.

But neither explanation felt quite right.

If Alon had suffered any harm, he could’ve used that as a basis for speculation. Instead, he’d obtained what he needed easily, without any losses.

Because of that—

“What could it be?”

Alon’s confusion only deepened as he absently stroked Blackie’s head. At some point, Blackie had slipped out again.

*****

“Eliban.”

“Hm? What is it?”

“...Why did you hide it all this time?”

The inn in Zenonia Territory.

In the quiet room, Yan hesitated before speaking, her voice unsteady. Eliban looked at her.

“Hm? Hide what?”

“...Your strength.”

“Ah—”

He scratched his cheek awkwardly, as if unsure how to respond.

“Sorry. I meant to tell you eventually, but I thought it was still too early.”

Eliban answered with a sheepish smile.

But Yan’s expression didn’t soften.

“...If you had that level of power, couldn’t you have helped in that last situation? Or the one before that?”

She couldn’t let it go.

Eliban’s party had been through life-and-death situations more than once.

“When Ralph was about to be crushed to death by the Giant Wood, or when I nearly had my soul devoured by the witch—never once did you use that power.”

It wasn’t just that he’d hidden his strength that angered her.

It was that, despite having such immense power, he hadn’t used it when his party members’ lives were on the line.

It implied their deaths weren’t important enough for him to reveal it.

“But for Marquis Palatio—”

Yan’s brows drew even tighter.

To her, the threat facing Marquis Palatio seemed trivial compared to the brushes with death they had endured as a party.

Yet Eliban had revealed his secret without hesitation to protect him.

The secret he’d kept even when their lives were at stake.

However, Eliban remained calm.

“...Yan, I know what you’re trying to say.”

“Then—!”

“But this was unavoidable. How do I put it... it’s like a ‘habit.’”

“...A habit?”

“Yeah. I’m not lying. It really is a ‘habit.’”

His serene blue eyes glimmered softly as he stepped closer.

Placing a hand on her ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ shoulder, he spoke.

“And in time, you’ll understand.”

“...Understand what?”

“The reason I acted this way.”

He enunciated each word deliberately, as if weighing every syllable.

“He is an incredibly important person.”

Something feverish flickered in his blue eyes.

“More important than anyone else.”

“...”

Under the rising blue moon, Yan met his gaze, and a strange chill crawled down her spine.