Chapter 153: Fire (1)

Yalta was still strangling Graham’s neck when a knight behind him grabbed his shoulder.

“Sir Yalta!”

Immediately, several more knights jumped on him.

Even if they were afraid of him, they couldn’t just stand by while he threatened a commander.

“Please calm down!”

“Let him go already!”

Yalta, eyes bloodshot, was tightening Graham’s neck, but when he saw himself surrounded by knights on both sides, he shook his arms in annoyance.

They all went flying.

“Damn pests!”

Thanks to that, Graham managed to free himself.

Coughing and leaning forward, Graham looked up and glared at Yalta.

Yalta, scratching his head, avoided meeting his eyes.

“My apologies, Sir Graham… Damn it.”

And turning around, he walked away from the scene. The knights approached Graham.

“Are you all right?”

“Sir Graham!”

Graham raised his hand.

“I’m fine.”

The first to leap in to stop him bit his lip in anger as he watched Yalta’s back moving away.

“That bastard…”

Most of the knights hated Yalta. He was always causing trouble, and because of that, countless innocents had died.

“We have to do something, Sir Graham. Something must be done. That bastard just crossed the line! Strangling a commander…! According to military law, that’s punishable by immediate execution.”

“What he just did was total madness…”

“He doesn’t even care anymore. Did you see how his eyes rolled back?”

“He used to at least listen to what Sir Graham said, but now… he’s completely lost it.”

“We have to act now!”

The pent-up frustration erupted. Graham shook his head.

“We can’t.”

“But…”

“Are you sure you can face Yalta?”

With that single question, everyone fell silent.

“Well…”

“We only have the Fifth Knight Division here, and on top of that, their captain was captured. There’s no knight capable of stopping Yalta.”

Maybe if there were other members of the Ten Greats or several division captains. But with their current forces, subduing him was impossible.

Graham preferred to look for alternatives rather than wear himself out emotionally over something he couldn’t change.

He looked around.

“Why is Yalta so angry? Wasn’t someone with him?”

“I was present.”

A knight stepped forward.

“What happened was…”

He explained what had happened in the forest.

A young man named Hopper, imposing in appearance, faced Yalta and managed to match him. Then, three adoptive brothers, famous for their resolve in the sweet potato field, joined in, and the four of them cornered Yalta, who ended up fleeing.

“Yalta fled?”

“Yes, sir.”

Even if it was four against one, it was still shocking.

And the fact that Yalta had lost control in that way revealed the mental toll it had taken on him.

It wasn’t just a fluke. He was outmatched in skill.

Graham remained silent for a moment, looking off into the distance where Yalta had gone.

“Sir Graham, what should we do?”

“We have to convince him. If he can’t win alone, he must fight alongside others.”

“And you think that guy will listen…?”

Graham knew well that his own words were wishful thinking. He didn’t believe Yalta would obey.

“But we have to try.”

The truth was, Graham didn’t feel any real justification for this war.

Since not even he was convinced of the conflict, he couldn’t find an appropriate solution.

He had come with the intention of minimizing unnecessary deaths, but Joachim’s resistance was much fiercer than expected.

And then, Graham began to wonder if his rash judgment wasn’t worsening the tragedy.

“What if we just set fire to the forest?”

A knight suggested.

“What Yalta said isn’t entirely unreasonable.”

Although they despised Yalta, deep down the knights of the Empire agreed with the idea of burning the forest.

After all, that was imperial warfare. Any means necessary were used to crush the enemy.

Only Graham, who even doubted the motive for this war, couldn’t accept it.

“I’ll think about it.”

Graham replied, walking away from the place.

He needed time alone to reflect.

***

Sitting on a rock, Yalta was panting heavily as he looked out at the forest before him. The scenes from the previous battle replayed in his mind again and again.

That guy Hopper was strong, yes, but he could beat him.

Even if he spouted nonsense like “a sword needs depth,” he was confident he could crush him with the weight of the blood he had already spilled.

But when those three ridiculous brothers joined in, everything changed.

He had taken them for useless clowns, but they wielded swords hardened by battle.

Especially the one they said was the eldest.

“So you have to work harder. That’s what you meant.”

He had said, as if mocking him. Yalta clenched his fist, veins bulging in his hand.

They had implied that this was his limit, that he couldn’t improve anymore, that he had no future. Since reaching the level of the Ten Greats, no one had dared speak to him with such insolence.

But deep down, Yalta knew they were right.

Somewhere inside, he recognized that what enraged him the most was being struck right in the heart of his insecurity.

Even so, he didn’t accept it.

He simply wasn’t the kind of person who could. The only reaction he knew was to increase his hatred toward the enemy.

“Shooting for the heavens? What a joke… Keh keh keh…”

Yalta grinned, his face twisted.

To him, a sword was nothing more than a tool for killing enemies. That was all.

Yet those idiots acted as if they could become gods with a sword.

Cutting flesh, severing necks, extinguishing the breath of life. That was enough. Why study anything more?

The images in his mind, once scattered, now converged into a great blaze that consumed everything.

“Fire.”

Yalta muttered.

Burn that damned forest. That would solve everything. He slightly turned his head and fixed his gaze on Graham’s tent.

His eyes flickered with a glowing light that came and went.

He had to start the fire.

But Sir Graham, a model knight respected by all, wouldn’t do it. He wanted to ignore him and do it anyway, but Graham was one of the few people he respected.

He couldn’t act purely on impulse.

“Sir Graham…”

Yalta was furious.

To Graham, war seemed like a soldier’s game, a mere act of swinging swords and shooting arrows.

That would never win. If they kept on like that, he’d have to flee from those damned four again.

Yalta’s face turned red.

Yes, he had run. Bleeding, he had turned his back and fled. And because of him, the entire imperial army had to retreat.

“Graham…”

He muttered.

“Graham, Graham, Graham, Graham…”

He repeated over and over, until he gently rose. His face was expressionless, but a dark red energy trembled in his pupils.

A black smoke was emanating from his entire body.

For a moment, the whites of his eyes turned completely black—then returned.

Yalta began to walk toward Graham’s tent.

“Sir Yalta?”

A patrol of knights suddenly crossed his path.

“Where are you going?”

“To see Sir Graham.”

“For what purpose?”

Yalta looked at them. Normally, they wouldn’t even dare speak to him. But maybe because of what he’d done earlier, they seemed eager to show some kind of loyalty.

He curved his lips into a slight smile.

“I’m going to apologize for earlier.”

“Hmm…”

“Move aside.”

He ignored them and continued on his way. The knights hesitated for a moment, then let him pass.

Once at the entrance, he called from outside.

“Sir Graham. May I come in?”

From inside, Graham replied,

“What is it?”

“I came to apologize for earlier. I got too worked up. And I also wanted to talk about what’s next.”

“Come in.”

Upon entering, Graham was hunched over a map. Yalta observed him and nodded. Despite nearly killing him, Graham didn’t show a shred of fear.

That calmness was part of why he respected him.

Even knowing Yalta was stronger and more violent, Graham never flinched.

He acted like someone who wasn’t afraid of death. He simply followed what he believed was right.

And that was admirable—but now, it was a problem.

“Sir Graham.”

“Yalta.”

“Sorry about earlier.”

Graham looked up and met his eyes.

His gaze, as always, was sharp, as if it could see the soul.

“I accept your apology.”

“Thank you.”

Yalta took a step forward.

“Even so, Sir Graham. I think we should burn the forest. Unless you have another plan.”

“Yalta, you’ll lead the front. The rest of the knights will follow close behind. If the enemy gets in the way, we’ll fight together. As long as you’re not surrounded, you won’t lose. That’s how we’ll get through the forest.”

“…Understood.”

Yalta nodded.

“Sir Graham.”

“Yes?”

“Those guys told me my sword lacks depth.”

“Hmm…”

“A sword is just a sword, right? Why train for some mystical level? I just wield it naturally. Those weaklings talking like sages…”

“…”

“But… maybe they’re a little right.”

Graham’s eyes gleamed. Yalta continued.

“They say a true sword is mastered by controlling your impulses. Strike when you don’t want to, hold back when you want to attack. That’s how they learn technique. It’s not that I can’t… I just don’t want to. Why should I?”

“I see.”

“So this time… I should hold back too.”

And then, Yalta’s sword pierced through Graham’s abdomen. Graham’s eyes went wide.

Yalta covered his mouth to keep him from making noise.

The whites of his eyes turned black again. As a dark energy enveloped him, he whispered in a shrill voice,

“I told you to set the forest on fire, damn old man.”

“Mmmgh…”

“It’s not that I don’t respect you, Sir Graham. Even as a barbarian, I know you’re a great knight. But damn it, why don’t you listen when I say burn it all? Stubborn old man! Why rush to die?”

Graham’s eyes trembled. Blood poured from his chest.

Yalta pulled his hand from the sword embedded in Graham’s torso and punched him in the head.

“Huh? Huh?”

He landed several more blows. Graham’s body collapsed.

As he watched him writhe on the ground, Yalta asked,

“Is he dead?”

He scratched his chin.

“I didn’t want to kill you, Sir Graham. But of course… if you’d let me start the fire… damn it.”

He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. He felt Graham still moving, but didn’t open them.

A gust of wind blew.

“Hmm…”

After thinking a while, Yalta ruffled his hair in frustration.

“Bah, doesn’t matter anymore.”

With his hair a mess, he opened his eyes.

“I really need to calm this damn temper. Screwed up again.”

Graham lay dying on the floor. His gaze was fading. Blood kept gushing from his chest.

Yalta murmured with a sigh.

“It’s hard to watch.”

And he crushed his head with his foot.

That’s how Graham, the exemplary knight, became a cold corpse.

Yalta smirked.

“In the end, everyone’s the same when they die.”

He kicked the body into a corner.

“It’s done. All that’s left is to set the fire.”

It saddened him to have killed Graham, but imagining those Joachim pests roasted cheered him up a bit.

Humming, he left Graham’s tent. Since Graham had no guards, no one suspected a thing.

Just in case someone found out, Yalta decided to act immediately.

No one—enemy or ally—knew what had happened yet. This was the perfect moment.

That’s what a surprise attack is.

“See? I can manage without Sir Graham.”

***

Yuri suddenly felt an ominous sensation in the air and stepped outside.

Darkness loomed over the sky.

“What is this…?”

The moon was shining brightly. Suddenly, he saw what looked like a firefly flying toward the moon.

“How beautiful…”

But he shook his head. His whole body bristled.

That wasn’t a firefly.

“It’s fire.”

The flames had begun to erupt. The fire had started.