# Enhanced Translation
## Upper
It was the night before the siege of Matilenne began.
"I became a priest because I didn't want to fight..."
Yu-jin lamented as he walked along the gallery. Beyond the high spires of the Palais Royal, the vast plains of Matilenne were covered with an overwhelmingly dense array of military camps.
This fortress would fall if those people just walked in our direction. The difference in military strength has clearly exceeded what's possible for a defensive battle.
"The difficulty level is insane, seriously."
How is this possibly an early-game quest? Is this appropriate for a first-year quest? Or is this happening because I've been following Ivan? Some kind of level scaling?
Yu-jin grumbled idly while checking the soldiers' equipment and the gallery's defenses. He couldn't sleep at all.
War is only enjoyable as content in games and movies. When you're dropped in the middle of it, it's not thrilling—it's closer to horror. His hands kept trembling.
"You seem unable to sleep."
"Ah, Oskar."
Yu-jin deliberately avoided eye contact. Oskar approached from the entrance of the spire. Standing beneath the torchlight, his face was hidden in shadow.
Awkward. Yu-jin nodded slightly and tried to leave. At that moment, Oskar's voice came from behind him.
"Has the Lord spoken to you about the upcoming battle?"
"...The Lord doesn't communicate in that manner."
"I see."
Oskar turned his head with a composed voice. There was a moment of hesitation. As if he had something he wanted to say, but was reluctant to speak first.
"Perhaps... has the Lord revealed anything else to you...?"
"What kind of thing?"
Oskar began speaking very cautiously, then closed his eyes tightly and stepped back. He mumbled something several times before bowing his head again.
Soon, his expression had hardened once more.
"No. It's nothing. Please try to get some rest, even if just a little."
"If what you were trying to ask about is 'that'..."
"No. Don't say it. I'll hear it after today is over. For now... for now, isn't this a time when we need more hope?"
Oskar soon turned and left. His heavy footsteps echoed on the solid stone of the gallery.
Yu-jin watched his retreating figure for a moment before turning his gaze back to the plains beyond the fortress.
"Hah..."
The problem was that he knew too well what Oskar wanted to ask about, what he feared.
Yu-jin scratched his head vigorously, then hung his head and sighed again.
[Ivan Petrovich Yeremov]
[Character: Affinity toward Gilbert de Etakriche]
[76 (Very Friendly)]
[This value cannot be changed due to the subject's death.]
"Seriously, the difficulty level is insane."
Yu-jin had to spend the night wide awake. Just like everyone else behind these walls at that moment.
Ep25. Funeral.
It always seemed to rain at times like this. Was this also a kind of cliché? I'd rather it wasn't. That would be too cruel. As if the world had wished for that guy's death.
Ivan watched the funeral procession while standing in the falling rain.
-Grant them eternal rest.
-Lord, let perpetual light shine upon them.
Knights walked through the pouring rain, followed by an enormous coffin.
The military banners drooped, soaked by the rain. The banner of Etakriche quietly marched behind the coffin.
-Praise be. Praise be. Praise be.
-All flesh shall come before You.
-Grant them eternal rest.
-Lord, let endless light shine upon them.
The funeral procession, which stretched all the way to the Saint Charlemagne Cathedral in Matilenne, soon stopped in front of the cathedral's cloister.
The old king rose from his seat in the rain. Dismissing the guards who held umbrellas for him, he leaned on his cane with trembling hands.
Approaching the coffin, he quietly made the sign of the cross and spoke in a low voice.
"The greatest knight of Tilles has gone to sleep. There was none greater before him, and none shall ever surpass him."
He threw a white lily onto the coffin. Following the ancient custom, he bowed his head and stepped back. He soon collapsed weakly into a chair.
Attendants hurriedly approached to hold umbrellas over him. The last raindrops of autumn felt like they were cutting into the flesh.
Soon, the surviving high nobles of Tilles each offered a few words and threw lilies. Gilbert's coffin soon became colorlessly splendid, as if experiencing an untimely spring.
After the nobles finished their flower offerings, a woman supported by Oskar walked forward last.
Odelia de Etakriche, the Duchess of Etakriche, approached staggering, paler than the lily she held in her hand.
She scanned the gathered crowd once, then with trembling hands, held up the lily and stepped forward. Treading on the hill of flowers, she stood before the coffin.
"Ah... ah... Ber... Ber..."
She collapsed onto the coffin, her hand still placing the lily. Her pale hand caressed the coffin.
Her sobbing continued for a long time. Everyone bowed their heads and waited for her words.
"You fool... I told you to run away. To leave everything behind... I said that... why, why..."
"Mother."
"This country, the title, honor..."
Odelia crushed the broken-stemmed lily in her hand and tapped the coffin repeatedly.
"I never needed any of those things from the beginning... You were all I needed..."
"Mother. Father would... want to see you smiling as he departs."
"Ber... how... how am I supposed to live now...?"
"Mother. The weather is bad. Father has been in the rain too long."
Oskar held an umbrella over Odelia's head. He supported the collapsed woman and returned to their place. Odelia sobbed against his chest.
Ivan sighed watching the scene. The deaths of heroes come in different forms, but the grief of those left behind always looks the same.
"Senior. You should say something too."
"I suppose I should."
Dmitri, who had been holding an umbrella, stepped back.
-Do not mourn those who have gone before.
Enrique's voice echoed in his ear. But Ivan shook his head. Thinking that he simply couldn't do that.
Rain wet his cheeks as it fell. The cold raindrops couldn't cool his feverishly hot head. He stepped forward.
Time passes. Years go by, seasons return. That's how time passes.
During that time, many have departed, never to return.
Now, those who remember that era, that era that shone even in darkness, are disappearing one by one.
"Gilbert. My old friend."
He walked step by step through the rain.
The crowd parted. A terrible killing intent was slowly seeping from his body. Almost too much for ordinary people to bear.
The killing intent of a transcendent can harm people. But the killing intent of those with special training carries an even more distinct physical force.
Certain agents who must conceal their killing intent even in the moment of killing develop a condensed, lurking killing intent. Like an aged poison.
When such killing intent is finally revealed due to a failure of control, it possesses a toxicity that surpasses that of ordinary transcendents. People clutched their chests and parted to either side of him.
The path to Gilbert's coffin opened. Ivan continued walking.
-Do not mourn those who have gone before.
-For you too stand in the same ranks as they.
Looking down at the flower-covered coffin, he thought:
You unlucky bastard. Now I can never defeat you again.
He sensed approaching soldiers. Behind the soldiers trying to stop him, he also heard Elizabeta's voice.
-Tilles shall not interfere with his right!
With Elizabeta's shout, Krasilov soldiers raised their weapons. When the old king of Tilles waved his hand, the soldiers bowed their heads and stepped back.
In the silence that returned, Ivan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small emblem. The symbol of the Annihilation Squad, the last one remaining. The one he couldn't bring himself to discard even after discharge.
-Clank.
Turning over the steel-forged emblem, the engraved name became visible. [Lieutenant Colonel Ivan Petrovich]. He placed the emblem on the coffin with the pin facing downward.
-Thud.
He drove his fist down, nailing the emblem to the coffin. Again and again until it was firmly embedded. Thud, thud, thud. Like a heartbeat.
-Speaking on behalf of the current generation, Ivan Petrovich Yeremov. You were then, and remain now, a member of the Hero Party.
-Thud. Thud.
Driving it deep with his fist until it would go no further.
-You're so timid. Have confidence. Otherwise, I'd be worried about leaving the kids with you.
-The previous generation will bear its own burdens. You're the scout for the current Hero.
-Take up the previous generation's burden, continue the previous generation's duty.
-Light the path for the current generation.
When he finally stopped his fist, Ivan looked down at the coffin and nodded.
"I promise."
That no one in the current generation will have to mourn each other.
So when we meet again someday, we can finish the conversation we couldn't complete.
Ivan turned and left. Dmitri held an umbrella over his head with a bitter smile.
-Grant them eternal rest.
-Lord, let endless light shine upon them.
-The righteous shall be remembered forever.
-The righteous shall not fear evil tidings.
The funeral hymn ended. The funeral of the Guardian Knight was complete.
In the rainy October, along with the war in Tilles.
"Say it again."
Ivan asked in a low voice, standing before a soldier lying in a hospital bed.
The soldier wearing the Capital Defense Force uniform hesitated with a terrified expression, then tightly closed his eyes.
"Who did what, and how?"
This man was the only soldier who returned alive from the Bernini Mountains. Everyone else—the entire Eastern Knight Order and all Capital Defense Force soldiers who had marched into the mountains—had burned in the dragon's maw.
"I, I... I'm just telling you... what I saw..."
"So, tell me once more."
At Ivan's question, the man shrank back. It was too terrible a gaze for an ordinary soldier to withstand. He carefully looked around, then continued in a small voice.
"The, the Hero appeared and..."
Killed His Highness the Grand Duke.
He said.