"I am the soldier who will soon fight shoulder to shoulder with you... Muen Campbell."

Muen’s voice, carried through boundless lightning, echoed across the entirety of Doronslei Fortress.

At this moment, he could feel it—not only the soldiers in front of him, but many other soldiers as well, finally staring at him as if their souls had returned to this world.

Some of them were standing atop those towering walls, taking advantage of Donick’s inattention to look down. Some had just been jolted awake from their rest, not even having time to straighten their helmets. Some were wounded who had been rotting for a long time in dim rooms, struggling to stick their heads out on behalf of comrades who couldn’t even move.

All of them were looking at Muen.

And Muen was looking at them, too.

This was a world of sword and magic, but here, these most ordinary soldiers were the foundation that built this solid fortress.

No matter how outstanding a commander was, he still couldn’t lead an army of grief that was gradually sinking into despair toward victory.

And at this very moment, maybe a single sentence like this couldn’t make these people feel hope—but at least it could pry open a tiny crack in their numb, sealed hearts.

"I know you all understand the predicament the Empire is facing now. You’re all confused about the future. You might even feel like this is a war whose only end is death, so you’ve already given up thinking... thinking about what, exactly, we’re fighting for."

"But I came here to tell you—no. This war is not like that. This war isn’t something that can’t end, and its endpoint isn’t only death."

"Look!"

Muen pointed at the ten-thousand-jun thunder behind him.

"Standing here right now is a top-tier powerhouse known as King Yintuo. His name, like the title Lion King, is famous across the entire continent. His strength is so great that even if he faced those demonfolk Grand Dukes—those old monsters ranked in the top two—he would still have the ability to fight and win!"

"..."

King Yintuo’s cheek twitched, but facing the gazes of all the soldiers that instantly turned respectful, he still gave a slight nod.

Seeing the light in those soldiers’ eyes gradually brightening, Muen continued.

"And it’s not only King Yintuo. I also brought condolences from the Empire’s Empress."

"Maybe you don’t understand that newly appointed Empress. Maybe you don’t know whether she really cares about ordinary soldiers like you... but I can pat my chest and tell you—she cares. Yes, Her Majesty the Empress cares about you. Because that Empress... she really, truly is a very adorable person."

That silver-white figure surfaced in Muen’s mind, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile without him realizing it.

"She won’t abandon a single inch of the Empire’s land, and she won’t abandon you. That’s why, right behind me, following close after me, support from a full six territories in the Empire’s west has already been prioritized and sent to this defensive line."

"Even with the Empire facing the Kingdom’s threat, she still overruled all objections and drew out the greatest strength she could possibly draw out right now."

"Weapons, medicine, food, arrangements for the wounded, compensation for the dead... not a single one of these will be missing!"

"And what we have to do is keep fighting—fight without worries behind us—until we grind those demonfolk bastards who want to invade our homeland, kill our families, burn our houses... completely to dust in front of this bulwark!"

"Not just for the sake of staying alive—these are the reasons we fight!"

This was the first time Muen had spoken in front of so many people.

Even with the upbringing of a duke’s son, he still stood tall, head held high, voice ringing out before these soldiers.

But honestly, his speech wasn’t very competent.

If you grabbed any random squad leader—Ebul, for example—he could deliver something ten times more passionate, ten times more eloquent, ten times more moving during the daily morning briefing.

Yet these plain, ordinary, unoriginal words—every single person listened to them very seriously.

"Will we win?"

Suddenly, someone asked.

"Of course."

Muen smiled.

"Of course we’ll win. But at this point, I don’t want to say some nonsense like ‘the Empire will surely win’ that you’ve probably already heard until you’re sick of it. I’ll only say one last sentence."

Muen paused, swept his gaze over everyone again, then took a deep breath and said with incomparable solemnity,

"Until the moment victory arrives, just like you, I will fight in this Abyss. I will not retreat a single step."

"...That is my promise to you!"

...

...

With Noble supporting him, Muen walked down from the platform. He didn’t pay attention to the cheers behind him, or the slogans of “Long live the Empire,” “Long live the Empress.”

He walked up to Donick, who was still dazed, and gave him a light push.

"Let’s go. Uncle Donick, you’re not young anymore—don’t tell me you got infected by my bowl of chicken soup?"

"N-no... I..."

Donick snapped back to himself, looking at this duke’s son who was the same as in his memory, and yet completely different from in his memory.

"I... I think I misjudged you."

"Is that praising me or scolding me?"

"Of course it’s praising you!"

Donick finally remembered to take off his helmet and, by habit, scratched his head.

"Young Master Muen, you really are different now. If someone told me two years ago you’d be able to say this kind of rolling, glib stuff in the future, I’d have slapped him hard right there and cursed him out, asking if his brain got kicked by a donkey."

"And now?" Muen asked.

"Now I only want to slap myself hard, just to try to prove I’m not dreaming."

"I can satisfy you on that. King Yintuo—"

"Wait, wait, wait, I’m joking! I’m not so far gone that I can’t even tell whether it’s a dream."

Donick glanced at King Yintuo, who could casually grab ten-thousand-zhang lightning with one hand, and imagining taking a slap from him... couldn’t help shivering.

"I just didn’t think you’d change this much, Young Master..."

In the end, Donick sighed.

"The things I said earlier all turned into nonsense, and those worries were unnecessary too. Young Master Muen, you really are just like the intel from Belrand said—you’ve become far more outstanding than we ever imagined."

"Is that so?"

Muen glanced at his own palm, then raised his head and looked at the muddy sky stretching upward from the silver cliff face, and suddenly smiled.

"Maybe... this is what they call growing up?"

...

...

"He really said that?"

"Yes, Duke."

Funal pushed up his glasses and looked at the Imperial Duke who was lying in bed right now—Lion King Lorne Campbell.

"He spoke every single word clearly. There’s no way I missed anything."

"Is that so?"

Duke Campbell lay back against his pillow.

He still had that thick beard. Even lying down, he looked like a male lion sprawled in sleep, brimming with authority.

But even an ordinary person could clearly see how weak he was right now. That pale face couldn’t be hidden even by a Crowned One, which showed just how serious the injuries he’d taken in that previous siege truly were.

Even so, no matter how heavy his injuries were, hearing this news still made him invigorated again.

"Good, good, good! Being able to say words like that—this brat finally has a bit of what I had when I was young!"

"A tiger father won’t have a dog son. That’s only natural," Funal said.

"By the time, Young Master Muen should be arriving soon. Duke, you want to..."

"Help me up!"

"But your injuries—"

"What kind of reunion is it if I’m lying in bed when I meet my son I haven’t seen in over a year? Make that kid worry about this old man? Help me up!"

Funal’s face was full of hesitation. He knew extremely well just how severe the duke’s injuries were. In order not to strike the army’s morale again, the duke hadn’t shown himself publicly for several days.

But he couldn’t win against Duke Campbell’s stubbornness.

"Alright."

But just as he was about to help Duke Campbell sit up, the door to the room was suddenly pushed open.

"I don’t think that’s necessary."

That familiar voice made even Duke Campbell—a steel brute who wouldn’t blink even facing a siege of a million demonfolk—feel his nose sting.

"A son will worry about his father, Your Lordship Father, but he definitely won’t despise Your Lordship Father."

Muen walked into the room and gave his father on the sickbed a slight smile. Behind him was Donick, looking embarrassed because he hadn’t managed to stop him.

"You brat..."

Duke Campbell glared at Donick first, then looked back at Muen. Even though he’d received the news ahead of time, he still almost couldn’t control his emotions.

"It’s been over a year—since when did you start talking so nicely?"

"Well... after all kinds of tempering, you kind of have to talk nicely. Otherwise it’s easy to get stabbed."

Muen gave a guilty laugh, then looked to the side at Funal.

"I remember... you’re Uncle Funal, right? I saw you when I was little too."

"Yes, Young Master Muen. It really has been a long time. You truly grew up."

Funal stroked his beard with relief.

With just a single look, he knew the Muen Campbell in front of him now was worlds apart from that worthless playboy from before.

Under that still-handsome exterior was a terrifying presence that even made his heart jump. That body had clearly gone through countless hammerings and temperings—probably even the death winds raging through the Abyss couldn’t blow him down.

"There’s no need for praise. Right—Uncle Funal, before you help Father up, can you help me with a small favor?"

"A small favor? What favor?"

"Help me..."

Muen, who had been tense for longer than he’d expected, showed an awkward but still polite smile.

"Find a bed?"

"Huh? A bed?"

Funal was still blank when he saw that body he’d thought even the death winds of the Abyss couldn’t blow down...

...fall over just like that.

"Y-Young Master Muen?!"

Funal was shocked.

"Y-you... what’s wrong? Could it be those demonfolk bastards—"

"N-no, I’m fine. I just showed off a little too hard just now, and my stamina got a bit overdrawn."

Muen’s face was pressed into the floor, and his smile turned into a bitter smile.

"Quick... quick, go find a bed!"

Funal immediately started giving orders, and Donick panicked too. For a moment, he didn’t even know where to find a bed in this fortress where even sickbeds were in short supply.

In the end, with no choice, they started ripping off a doorboard.

A flurry of frantic movement.

Two minutes later, Muen was finally carried by Funal and Donick onto a simple bed hastily set ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) up.

Everyone let out a breath of relief.

And then...

The atmosphere fell into a bizarre silence.

"..."

This father and son who hadn’t seen each other in over a year—when they first met again, it ended up like this: one lying down, one climbing, awkwardly staring at each other across the bed.