**Chapter 64**
—
After all the turmoil, peace finally returned.
Under the name of the Black Tower Lord, the hardliners were purged, and even the remaining elders swore their loyalty. Once again, in the Black Tower of Necropolis, an unshakable “system of the Black Duke” firmly took root.
A rule of iron and blood, built upon the corpses and blood of those who dared defy him.
Furthermore, the Crimson Lords’s son, **Ray Yuris**, returned to the Imperial Capital, and Dale, too, continued his unending self-discipline, sharpening and refining himself day after day.
And as peace finally settled over the Duchy of Saxen, one by one, those who sought to shatter the silence and rise against the Empire’s tyranny began to show themselves.
—
—
At the far eastern edge of the continent.
Beyond the Channel of Calais, there once lay the **Kingdom of Britannia**, formed of four great islands.
When the Empire began its War of Unification under the banner of its “Hero from Another World,” the kingdom fell and became a mere province of the Empire.
At that time, **Aurelia** had been nothing more than the daughter of a serf.
A young girl who had lost her family and homeland to war, and despaired at her own helplessness.
A few years after the end of the Empire’s Unification War—
A voice called out to that lowly serf’s daughter, Aurelia.
— *I shall grant you power. Save the Kingdom of Britannia from the darkness of the Empire.*
The divine revelation of the Twin Goddesses **Sistina**—and at the same time, an undeniable *proof* of that revelation was bestowed upon Aurelia.
To the daughter of a mere serf, a realm was opened—one that even a knight could not attain after a lifetime of training.
**Avatar.**
At that very moment, Aurelia did not hesitate.
She gladly took up the sword, proclaiming herself the standard-bearer of her fallen homeland.
Thus was born **Saint Aurelia**, the Maiden of Divine Descent.
Against the Empire’s tyranny, she took up the role of leader of the Resistance without hesitation, and one by one, patriots of the fallen kingdom rallied to her charisma.
So began the **War of Independence**, to reclaim the Kingdom of Britannia from the grasp of the Empire.
—
—
The **black blade of the Death Knight** swung down. The undead knight was being controlled by none other than **Dale of Saxen**, the Empire’s foremost prodigy.
And before that sword, stood a girl who wielded another black blade of her own.
Dressed in the black armor of the *Raven Knight*, holding a greatsword in her hands—**Charlotte** met the Death Knight’s blade head-on.
This was how the two had recently been spending their days:
A new form of training.
Dale honed his ability to perfectly project his swordsmanship into the Death Knight, while Charlotte, facing that power head-on, trained herself as a true knight, polishing her own swordsmanship in the process.
An astonishing—no, *shocking*—method of training.
And before Dale’s unorthodox brilliance, the knights of House Saxen could only stare in speechless awe.
It was a training that sought to master both **swordsmanship and necromancy**—to grasp two blades at once.
*Whoosh!*
With the martial might of a hero imbued in its blade, Dale’s Death Knight charged in. The descending strike was caught smoothly by Charlotte’s black sword. She parried, then moved in for a counterattack—handling the greatsword of House Saxen as deftly as if it were a rapier.
Two black aura blades clashed in the air, again and again, intertwining endlessly.
A **genius of the sword**.
Even if Dale had yet to achieve full synchronization with his Death Knight, Charlotte’s skill—holding her ground, even gaining the upper hand—was nothing short of breathtaking.
Having attained the rank of **Aura Knight** at such a young age, Charlotte’s growth astonished even Dale himself.
To further accelerate her progress, the finest knights of House Saxen had taken part in her instruction—
Foremost among them, her teacher, the North’s strongest knight, **Sir Helmut Blackbear**.
And her lessons went beyond swordsmanship.
Just as Dale once had, Charlotte was also studying military strategy and command under Sir Helmut—so that one day, as Dale’s chosen knight, she could lead the knights of House Saxen into battle under her lord’s banner.
—
—
It was an unbelievable victory.
A battle that could not possibly have been won without the blessing of a goddess.
Thus, **Gilles de Rais**, the high knight serving beside Saint Aurelia, could barely restrain his overflowing devotion.
The odds had been four to one.
Saint Aurelia commanded ten thousand soldiers of the Britannian Independence Army.
Their enemy was forty thousand Imperial troops, reinforced from the continent—plus five thousand mercenary crossbowmen.
Even in cavalry and heavy infantry, the Empire’s superiority was overwhelming.
For the Independence Army, it was a battle they *could not* win.
For the Empire, it was a battle they *could not* lose.
And yet, Saint Aurelia led her army to victory.
A mere ten thousand Britannian soldiers defeated a combined Imperial force of forty-five thousand.
But the **blessing of the Goddess Sistina** that Saint Aurelia displayed was not limited to miracles alone.
It was a brilliance of **unbelievable strategic genius**.
She placed longbowmen on the hills in a V-shaped double-wing formation, had her knights dismount, and—through precise positional tactics—completely annihilated the Empire’s charging heavy cavalry.
As if she could *see through* the enemy’s movements and formations.
Even when exceptional foes appeared, wielding abnormal power to turn the tide, it was Saint Aurelia herself who rose to meet them.
Could such a thing truly be done by the daughter of a serf who had never once held a sword?
A girl who had never received the slightest military education—commanding an army of this scale, turning certain defeat into victory?
It was a miracle that could only be explained as the will of the goddess herself.
“For Saint Aurelia!”
“The Holy Maiden! The mercy and compassion of the Twin Goddesses Sistina are with us!”
Overcome with faith, the knight Gilles de Rais fell to his knees before her—
Before the savior clad in white armor, holding aloft the banner of Britannia.
The morale of the soldiers fighting beside the Saint was beyond measure.
“It is all thanks to your valor,” Aurelia said softly amid them, smiling humbly and turning her achievements toward her subordinates.
“Stand tall, with pride.”
Her golden hair shimmered wildly under the pouring sunlight.
She was a girl of noble, immaculate beauty—so pure that none could dare defile her.
“Ah… Saint Aurelia…”
Against the Empire, her battle had only just begun.
—
—
That night, after finishing her training, Charlotte finally removed her black armor and stepped into the castle courtyard.
“Charlotte.”
“D—Dale!”
At the unexpected sight, Charlotte gasped in surprise—realizing that without her black helm, her face was fully exposed.
“Ah, you’re still here?”
Trying to hide her blushing cheeks, Charlotte stammered.
“Should I… go then?”
Dale asked casually, and Charlotte puffed her cheeks in protest.
“T—that’s not what I meant!”
“Then you want me to stay?”
“Idiot!”
Unable to answer his teasing, Charlotte flared up instead.
She couldn’t help it—this boy standing beside her was so dear to her that it hurt.
She could never forget the warmth of his hand, that day when he had reached out to her.
That was why she wanted to become stronger—strong enough to stand by his side, always.
“…I want to become stronger.”
After a moment of silence, Charlotte spoke. Dale smiled reassuringly.
“You’re already doing great.”
Of course, Dale knew how tirelessly she trained, day and night, for her lord’s sake.
“No, not yet.”
Charlotte shook her head.
“I’ll get stronger—much stronger.”
Thinking of the boy she held within her heart.
“Until I become the strongest knight on the continent.”
The **Divine Sword**. The **Greatest Blade**.
Charlotte made her vow, and Dale silently nodded—then gently took her hand.
Startled, Charlotte’s slender white shoulders trembled.
Without her armor to hide behind, she felt bare—embarrassed, as if she were a defenseless girl before the boy she loved.
“You *can* become stronger,” Dale said, holding her hand—
completely unaware of the girl’s fluttering heart.
“I’m too curious to see just how far your sword will reach.”
He said it plainly, only as her lord.
“…Yeah.”
Charlotte nodded, her face flushed—not hidden behind her helm this time.
Her cheeks, pink and warm in the night air, felt as revealing as if she had bared her chest.
Before the boy she loved, it felt as though he could see right through her—her heart pounding, her face feverish.
“Hey, Dale.”
As if swept away by an uncontrollable wave of emotion, Charlotte spoke.
“Mm?”
Brushing aside her golden hair, Charlotte shyly lowered her head.
*Smack.*
A soft, innocent kiss touched Dale’s cheek.
“Charlotte…”
“I—it’s just a thank-you kiss!”
Her face bright red, Charlotte shouted hastily, trying to sound casual.
“I mean, you’ve helped me so much, and I owe you a lot, so… so it’s special service, got it?!”
“Is that so?”
Dale smiled—gently, as if amused by the innocent feelings of a young girl.
“Thanks.”
“U-uh…”
Charlotte bit her lip, unable to reply. Then, after a pause, she spoke again.
“You’ve changed a lot.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
Dale tilted his head at the unexpected comment.
“How should I put it… you feel calmer somehow. More… grown up.”
Charlotte said softly.
She wasn’t talking about swordsmanship or magic.
Her words made Dale catch his breath for a brief moment.
“…Yeah. Thanks.”
“No, thank *you*.”
Dale replied, and Charlotte nodded shyly, feeling the warmth of his hand in hers.
Together, in the cold night air, they looked up silently at the stars shining above.
—
—
That night, in his chamber.
Leaving behind his thoughts of Charlotte, Dale lifted his gaze.
*‘I do not believe my actions can ever be forgiven.’*
He recalled his father, the Black Duke’s words.
*‘But the Empire—and the Crimson Lord’s ambition—will not stop here.’*
Indeed.
The reason the Crimson Lord had once extended his hand to Dale, the heir of the Black Tower—was for the sake of a new bond between black and red.
His purpose had always been one thing.
*‘The Empire will continue its experiments—trying again and again to reach the world of Truth.’*
And in pursuit of those experiments, it would care nothing for the blood and suffering spilled along the way—just as the **Black-red Order**, that demonic corps, once had.
*‘So that the Empire will not repeat those same sins again—’*
*‘So that you may one day stand against them—’*
Not as Duke and heir, but as two partners sharing the same conviction.
*‘I shall teach you the power I once obtained in that world.’*
