The next morning, the royal convoy prepared to depart.

With the Frostward Core replaced by the Titan’s Heart, the barrier was fully restored. The immediate threat of constant monster incursions had been completely neutralized, so there was no longer any tactical or political reason for the princesses to remain in this freezing wasteland.

The heavy iron gates were drawn open, and the royal carriages were lined up, surrounded by the elite Royal Knights.

Before boarding, Princess Rumina paused. She turned, her black fur cloak billowing in the cold wind, and fixed her metallic amber eyes directly on me.

"I will be watching you very closely from now on, Cadet Lucien," she said, her raspy voice carrying a terrifying, amused promise.

Please, for the love of the gods, don’t, I begged internally, keeping my face perfectly neutral. "I am honored by Your Highness’s attention."

Rumina let out a short, knowing chuckle and stepped into her carriage.

Princess Celestia lingered behind for a moment. She looked at me, the usual icy distance in her eyes replaced by genuine, complicated gratitude.

"You prevented another absolute disaster yet again, Lucien," Celestia said softly.

"It wasn’t only me," I deflected smoothly, not wanting to hoard any more dangerous spotlight. "Everyone bled for this fortress. And if we’re being honest, without your glacial walls holding the line while the core was replaced, none of this would have been possible."

Celestia blinked, a faint pink dusting her cheeks at the direct compliment. She quickly composed herself, pulling her white hood up.

"Let’s meet again at the Academy," she said.

"Yeah, let’s do that," I nodded.

With that, the royal convoy rolled out of Winterguard, heading south back toward the Capital.

I, however, decided to stay in Winterguard for the remaining week of the academy vacation. There wasn’t a strict need to stay—the barrier was impenetrable now, and the monsters had completely given up on sieging the fortress—but it felt right to fulfill my responsibility to the end.

Above all, there was a certain bet that hadn’t concluded.

"Where exactly do you think you’re going?"

A few days later, while I was casually inspecting the eastern battlements, a heavy arm slung around my shoulders. It was Roderic.

I smiled faintly. "I was thinking of heading inside. I could just concede the bet, you know."

"Are you crazy?" Roderic laughed, clapping my back hard enough to rattle my ribs. "Not a single man has died on this wall since you arrived! Why the hell would you lose now, man?"

It was true. Even during the total, apocalyptic onslaught of the horde while I was briefly absent, there had been zero casualties among the knights. It was incredibly fortunate that I had returned with the Holy Sword before the damage got severe, but it was an absolute relief that no one had died in the meantime.

"When you first came here, I thought you were just an arrogant, suicidal noble," Roderic chuckled, leaning against the stone. "But now I see it clearly. There is no one in the Empire as perfectly, efficiently mad as you."

"Ha. Haha." I gave him a dry look. "Is this guy actually trying to compliment me?"

Ironically, my nickname had permanently cemented itself as ’Madman.’ Roderic, as well as the other veteran knights, constantly laughed and called me Madman whenever they passed by. Initially, the title was steeped in derision and disgust. Now? They shook their heads and muttered it with a strange, deep-seated reverence.

It was a badge of absolute honor in Winterguard.

I looked out beyond the barrier. The magical wall, having regained its past glory and humming with emerald light, was incredibly reliable. Even after I leave, it won’t be breached by anything for decades.

However, a barrier can only protect a territory; it cannot help humanity reclaim the world. Considering how brutal the fight was just to hold this boundary, one could only imagine what terrifying, ancient monsters lurked deeper in the true Wilderness.

"Roderic," I said quietly, keeping my eyes on the horizon.

"What?"

"This barrier is going to need you."

"Huh? Of course it will," Roderic scoffed, puffing out his chest. "Didn’t I tell you my name will be remembered across the continent? Even after you leave, this place will be completely secure."

"That’s right. So..." I turned to look at him, my expression turning serious. "If there’s anything unfinished, you had better finish it now."

"...Huh?"

"Just in case."

I knew his secret. Roderic was the estranged son of Commander Arthur Whitmore. He had joined the garrison claiming he was just a wandering mercenary, refusing to use his real last name over what amounted to a stubborn, deeply rooted father-son dispute.

It wasn’t my place to interfere in their family drama. However, that foolish quarrel couldn’t continue. I knew the game’s lore. Someday, when humanity finally pushes back into the Wilderness, the man standing next to me was destined to awaken his Aura and become the legendary "White Lion Roderic."

He would be a formidable, irreplaceable force for the continent.

"Hmm. Okay," Roderic muttered, aggressively scratching the back of his neck and avoiding my gaze. "I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, kid."

He knew exactly what I was talking about. And as the future White Lion, just mentioning it should be enough to finally push him to end the childish cold war with his father.

Let’s just believe that.

****

A few days passed in peace. The vacation was officially over.

I was in my assigned quarters, quietly stuffing my spare clothes and tactical gear into my spatial duffel bag. I wanted to leave quietly. I hated long, emotional goodbyes.

Knock-knock.

Before I could even zip the bag, the door swung open.

"Are you leaving now?"

It was Vice Commander James, the grizzled old knight I had met on my very first day. He stood in the doorway, crossing his arms as he looked at my packed bag.

"Yes," I replied, slinging the bag over my shoulder. "The holiday is over. I have to report back to the Academy."

"That’s too bad. We all wish you could stay permanently," James sighed.

"Don’t say such dreadful things, old man," I chuckled.

James laughed with me, but then he stepped forward and blocked the doorway. "You can’t just leave like this, kid. Without telling anyone? Sneaking out the back gate like a thief?"

"What do you mean?" I sighed. "I hate speeches."

"What I mean is, all the knights want to properly thank you," James grinned, grabbing my arm with a grip like a vise. "And here you are, trying to sneak away before paying your dues!"

"Sir James, there is seriously no need for—"

"It’s not up to you!"

Despite my protests, the old man practically dragged me out of my quarters and down the stone corridors.

He hauled me straight into the main mess hall. The heavy oak doors banged open.

The room was absolutely packed. Every off-duty knight, every mercenary, and every penal soldier was crammed into the hall. Long wooden tables were overflowing with roasted meat and massive barrels of northern ale.

"Hey!" James roared over the chatter, holding my arm up like a trophy. "I caught the perpetrator trying to sneak away!"

The entire hall erupted.

"MADMAN!"

"THE EXECUTIONER!"

"DON’T LET HIM LEAVE SOBER!"

Men surged forward, lifting me off my feet. I was dragged to the center of the hall amidst a deafening chorus of cheers, laughter, and sloshing tankards.

Knights who had sneered at me on day one were now throwing their arms around my shoulders, aggressively thanking me, and shoving oversized wooden mugs of ale into my hands. Even Commander Arthur was sitting at the head table, raising his glass to me with a wide, scarred smile.

"Drink, kid! You’re an honorary Knight of Winterguard now!" James yelled, slamming his tankard against mine.

I tried to refuse, I really did. But in a room full of hardened northern warriors, resistance was completely futile. The atmosphere was harmonious, loud, and incredibly warm.

I was toasted, praised, and relentlessly poured drinks. I lost count of how many tankards I downed.

By the end of the night, I was so completely, undeniably drunk that I couldn’t even walk in a straight line. Only when I was slurring my words and nearly falling asleep on a table did they finally laugh, pat my back one last time, and let the ’Madman’ go.