# Enhanced Translation
Ivan has nightmares every night. While there were occasional dreamless nights, there were never nights without nightmares. That's how he's lived for 30 years.
The subject of his nightmares changed with his experiences. In his childhood, a typical nightmare was dying as a pitiful old man in this primitive world.
Freezing in the cold, starving, never experiencing any of his homeland's culture, ending his life as a wretched serf.
If that was the form of his early nightmares, they changed during his military service.
Dying comrades, Pritzenkaya burning, demons flashing red eyes and brandishing blades in the deep coniferous forests.
Under the broken military banners of Krasilov, on the devastated burning foundation of this country, he dreamed of wandering while holding charred corpses.
And when his long military service ended, his nightmares became fixed on one scene.
"Live long, Lieutenant Colonel. Come as late as possible. If you come early, I'll commit insubordination."
The hot blood warming his nape.
The increasingly lighter body of the woman on his back.
In the heavy rain, her cold, long hair sticking to his cheeks.
Her final breath scattering coolly by his ear.
"Please."
Ivan collapsed, clutching the priest's sleeve. Please heal the wound that wouldn't close no matter how much Healing Potion was poured on it.
The priest closed the eyes of the woman on his back and made the sign of the cross over her.
He still remembers it vividly.
Not a single moment has been forgotten.
Every night, that time's emotions writhed in old scars, constricting his heart.
"Sergei, Nikolai, Polina, Anna, Valeria, Alinya, Leonid, Visali, Sasha, Anatoli, Yuliya, Victoria, Kseniya, Yelchina, Roman, Artem..."
He remembers the faces of everyone who perished before Aviditas, their families, personalities and voices, hobbies, and the things they loved.
Every night, he collapsed while ruminating on all his fallen comrades.
As an offering to the dead, he took in war orphans and fed them.
And as atonement for those who died in his place, even when he replenished minimal sleep by dozing off leaning against the sofa.
"Lieutenant Colonel."
The faces he always saw when he woke up sweating in the dark night.
The silhouettes reflected in the night window, the faces in the mirror reflecting the billowing curtains.
"Live long."
Because they didn't resent him.
Because they always smiled at him, repeating the same words.
"Cherenovika."
She loved roses.
He learned that thanks to Kim Seon-woo's small act of courage. That strong woman who smiled even when her abdomen was torn by Taurus showed tears for the first time when she received roses from Kim Seon-woo.
So Ivan sat on the sofa during the remaining nights, the remaining time, sharpening his axe and whispering.
"Sergei, Nikolai, Polina, Anna..."
Though wounds heal, scars never disappear.
Though people perish, memories never fade.
Even if all motivation is lost and fades away, this feeling alone never disappears.
"Alexandr..."
He remembers the red smile of that young man as he stamped the order.
-Scrape... scrape...
Sharply enough to split the dust on the blade in two, he pushed the whetstone mechanically, swish, swish, whispering dryly.
"She loved roses."
Not now.
Krasilov is in crisis of civil war, and there isn't enough national foundation left to endure the next war. This country's economy is extremely weak, winter is threatening, and they've just begun rehabilitation.
Princess Elizabeta Kirillovna Krasilov is engaged in a difficult struggle. If he assassinates the Crown Prince, the military government will move immediately. Then, could the princess, with only the counterintelligence headquarters in her hand, revive the kingdom?
If civil war breaks out again, this country will certainly perish. And that would be an insult to all the heroes who died for this country's future.
Neither the great king nor the countless comrades who faded away without reservation would want that.
He endures. He has endured. Isn't patience one of the things he's most confident in?
Swish, swish. Scrape. In the deep night, pushing the whetstone against the axe blade, Ivan whispered the names of his comrades.
Such time passed for about four years.
Sometimes there were days without dreams, but never days when dreams weren't nightmares.
# EP 31. I Remember.
Flower rain falls on Idranhil. The sky was opening with warm breezes.
The giant tree that grew crushing the Eternal Palace was slowly dispersing. The massive tree made of demons was slowly breaking apart.
The demon corpses shattered and became magical power. The condensed, twisted magical power scattered in the wind and sublimated into flower petals.
Orchestrating all these miracles, Elfihera smiled slowly.
"Yes, Father. I... I love you too."
I loved you.
A warm breeze tousled her hair once. A flower petal fell with a plop onto her snow-white nose bridge. It was so ticklish that...
"Hic..."
Elfihera bowed her head and began to sob.
Ivan was feeling the divine power draining away.
He swung all the weapons thrown by the survivors of the Sword Legs and Annihilation Squad until they turned to powder and shattered. Sucking divine power from the god's fragments and converting it back into offense.
As a result, the Queen was crumbling before his eyes.
Looking at the east breaking wide open, she reached out with trembling hands, flailing.
"The shadow of god is fading. At last I can see the world... I..."
The Queen slowly knelt. The Milestone stopped. The mythical artifact that had endured for thousands of years finally ceased to pulse.
Divine power was draining from the Queen's body. The divine power that rose from her shoulder blades like wings spreading was scattering like scales into the sky beyond.
The Queen looked at her trembling hands. From the fingertips, she was slowly turning to dust and crumbling.
"I express my gratitude to you..."
Ivan raised his head at her words. But the Queen wasn't looking at him.
She was whispering toward someone behind him.
"I will not forget Your Majesty's sacrifice."
"My royal astronomer. Can you now... see an auspicious day...?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. The entire sky is favorable."
"Is that so. Then it is done."
Ivan raised his head despite the intense exhaustion that made it difficult to move even a fingertip. Beside him, kneeling on one knee, stood a man wearing a robe.
Brilliant golden hair like a wheat field swayed beyond the hood blown back by the wind. Between them, pointed ears jutted up, briskly piercing the sky.
Green eyes looked down at him.
"Beolgrin."
"Our hound. Well done."
"You're... alive."
"For now."
Beolgrin smiled faintly.
"Don't resent Her Majesty. She willingly gave her body to complete the vessel of god."
"I don't resent her."
Ivan shook his head. He had never hated an enemy simply for being an enemy. He had only fought as necessary.
At his words, the Queen laughed softly.
"Stranger. We were all puppets in the astronomer's hands, but now that this play is over..."
The Queen looked at the sky, then bowed her head.
"I shall bless you. You, the savior of our people. You shall never kneel before any king or ruler."
With those final words, she turned to dust and scattered. He felt the last trace of god fading away.
"...We needed a soul that could maintain its self even within god's malice. Someone who could die as a human in the final moment, even after losing reason to that terrible distortion. There are only a handful of such souls in this world."
Beolgrin grabbed a handful of the Queen's dust scattering in the wind and briefly paid his respects.
He eventually scattered the dust toward the distant sea of Idranhil and said:
"If you don't mind, would you yield the right to name her?"
"Hmm."
"Eternal Senasgeor. In our people's language, it means winter that continues for ten thousand years."
"Good."
"The concept she was in charge of was appetite. She was the god of gluttony."
"I see."
"And I'll take the blessing."
Beolgrin looked at Ivan with a gentle smile.
"There will be some influence, but at least it won't be eternal."
"Hmm."
"May I entrust my daughter to you? Since she contributed to this resolution, she can't avoid being affected in this ambiguous situation. Now she's alone."
Since there's no one to prepare meals for her, just make sure my daughter doesn't go hungry.
Beolgrin was becoming increasingly faint. Ivan watched him, then closed his eyes tightly and nodded.
"I will."
"Help Patricia."
"Understood."
"I'm sorry. I've asked for too much. There are things I couldn't finish, but now time is short, so it can't be helped."
"Hmm."
The calm conversation continued.
Each time, Ivan nodded as if it were nothing and answered.
Seeing this, Beolgrin moved his nearly vanished lips and smiled warmly.
"I'm truly sorry."
"It's fine."
"The tasks you must do... will be more difficult than what you've done before. I should have helped you more... I always end up being indebted to you. Since those days."
"It's my job."
"Haha... hahaha... Your job? You're a stranger from another world. Truly, many people will be indebted to you."
Beolgrin asked in a low voice:
"No one will understand your dedication."
"That's fine."
"Your achievements will scatter without any honor."
"I'm used to it."
"At the end of this journey, you will never be able to close your eyes in peace."
"I see."
Finally, the astronomer asked him:
"Will you still continue without stopping? Can you do that?"
"I've done it before."
At Ivan's answer, Beolgrin laughed helplessly and rubbed his face.
He nodded and looked at the sky.
"Thank you... Ivan. I'm tired now. It would have been nice to stay together longer. I'm sorry."
"Rest..."
Ivan, with his eyes closed, answered in a cracked voice.
"Rest in peace."
My old friend.
When he raised his head again, the man had disappeared without a trace.
Only the clear sky was visible; he was alone on the spire of the broken Eternal Palace.
After sitting with his head bowed for a slow count of five, Ivan straightened his back and stood up again.
Firmly gripping a half-broken masterless sword.
Magic power returned.
The elves heading toward the Eternal Palace slowly regained their composure as they watched the shadow of the evil god scatter.
Twelve academies were gathering at Idranhil. Since all elves were essentially political creatures, their arrival times at Idranhil were not significantly different.
Hundreds of ships densely filled the waters near Idranhil, and airships that had begun to rise again swam through the sky above.
Holding high the seals of the academies and military banners, once again, the Privy Council members began to gather at the port.
Now there is no god. The Milestone has stopped, winter has ended, and spring has arrived.
The fact that the Milestone, which promised eternal prosperity, has stopped means:
The elves can now wage "civil war" against each other.
Since the force preventing all factors that hinder prosperity has disappeared.
War is merely an extension of politics.
The next throne, the reconvening Privy Council, and the numerous vested interests held by those who have died and disappeared must be obtained through such "radical" politics.