"Ivan. A royal guard standing and dozing off. The world has certainly improved."
"Huh...!"
Ivan jerked his head up in surprise at the low voice whispering in his ear.
His blurry vision slowly returned. It was a bright afternoon inside a familiar barracks.
He quickly looked around, assuming the posture that a trained agent should take when dropped in an unfamiliar place.
First, he needed to assess the terrain.
"What...?"
After quickly scanning the barracks, Ivan muttered blankly, at a loss for words.
The red banner with the emblem of a roaring bear.
The spacious barracks, the massive wooden table with tactical maps spread across it.
The office desk and behind it, seated, a massive silhouette.
Solid shoulders, thick forearms, and piercing blue eyes.
"Ah...."
"Ivan? Are you ill?"
"Aah...."
The man set down his clattering utensils and slowly rose to his feet.
A large shadow stretched across the barracks, blocking the light. Ivan dropped to one knee on weakened legs and bowed his head.
"I... see my lord."
"...Indeed. You see me. What exactly are you doing?"
"I am...."
Ivan looked up with confused eyes.
A warm gaze full of concern, and a massive hand patted his shoulder before withdrawing.
'The Great One,' 'The Thunder Emperor,' 'The Bear of Krasilov,' 'The Conqueror,' 'The Great King'.... The man who was called by countless names by both enemies and allies.
Now he was looking down at him. With the same gaze as back then, with the same face.
This must be a dream.
Ivan quickly gathered his wits.
If this was a dream of that time, he couldn't make mistakes. The moment there was a discrepancy between the dream and his memory, he might wake up.
Think. This situation must be a memory from his past. And not just any memory, but a significant one.
He couldn't wake up. Not yet.
Then, Ivan noticed the dishes on the desk. Ah, it was that time.
A point not long after he had begun serving as the Great King's royal guard. He remembered. That day, he had witnessed what was called a royal feast for the first time.
The question he had asked then was certainly...
"I thought Your Majesty would have a better meal."
"Hmm? Haha! You mean this? Is it that terrible?"
"Isn't this the diet of a conscripted soldier?"
"Indeed."
The Great King smirked as he mashed a potato with his fork. He spread the potato on a dry biscuit, soaked it in water, chewed it thoroughly, and then spoke.
"This is my hypocrisy."
"Hypocrisy... you say?"
"The common people would gladly praise me if they heard I eat like this. Oh, what a frugal king! Haha, wrong."
The Great King gulped down some water and set down his cup.
"Do you know how much it costs for the nobles and royals of this country, those precious ones, to eat expensive food and shit expensive shit? There was a time when the food consumed by ten nobles was similar to the food budget for an entire division of soldiers."
"..."
"If those bastards ate less, how much higher would the survival rate of our soldiers be? We could provide sturdier armor, give them an extra handful of ammunition. Now, Ivan. Do you understand what must be done to tell those noble bastards to eat less?"
The Great King shrugged and tapped the empty bowl.
"I must eat less first. If there's anyone bold enough to eat something more precious than the king of this country, well. I'll personally acknowledge that boldness by sending them to the vanguard. So, what do you think? My hypocrisy?"
"I don't understand why that would be hypocrisy..."
"Because I don't want to eat this crap either."
The Great King laughed heartily and patted Ivan's shoulder.
"So isn't it hypocrisy? I'm not doing this because I truly want to, but rather putting on an act to intimidate the nobles and save a penny. How is that not hypocrisy? Hmm? Come, Ivan. Now I'll show you the terrifying greed that only a king can display."
The Great King laughed playfully and strode to the table, opening the drawer beneath it.
Out came a half-dried bunch of grapes, a chunk of smoked ham with congealed fat, and a bottle of milk.
"Isn't it frightening? This is the terrible result of a king's greed and extravagance."
"That... um."
"What? Do you dare oppose my words? I force dry food on the nobles to save money, while secretly feasting on such delicacies!"
"I... suppose so."
"Heh, you're too young to understand. Do you know how much administrative burden it takes for milk to reach this frontline without spoiling? Ah, right. How old did you say you were?"
"Eighteen, Your Majesty."
The Great King frowned as he looked at Ivan's shoulders and forearms.
"And yet you're so scrawny for a man."
Ivan was a sensible person, so he didn't grumble at the king. However, he was someone who exceeded the average height and build of this primitive pre-modern world.
It was just that the man before him was too massive.
The king chuckled and gestured.
"Come and take it."
"Pardon?"
"I said come and take it, as I must add another line to my hypocrisy. How can I maintain my dignity when the royal guard protecting me is so frail? Eat and grow bigger, 'Little' Ivan."
The Great King smiled contentedly and pushed the dish forward.
Ivan was a patient person, but he couldn't resist the temptation of greasy meat and fresh milk for long.
After all, even when he was growing up as a peasant's son, milk was a luxury he couldn't dare to taste.
There was no way to keep it fresh, and it spoiled instantly. After paying tribute, all remaining milk had to be processed into cheese or butter. In this primitive world, even preservation was difficult.
When he came to his senses, Ivan was already devouring the ham and milk hastily.
The Great King watched the scene silently for a while, then sighed.
"Truly, my sin runs deep."
"What? Oh, I apologize, Your Majesty."
"Enough. Why apologize? What do you have to be sorry for when I speak of my own sins?"
The Great King said as he personally cleared the empty dishes.
"A world where a young man your age goes crazy over a cheap piece of meat like this... is not right. When I ascended to the throne, this country wasn't like this. Once a week, the smell of baking bread and roasting meat would fill the streets of Pritzenkaya."
The Great King eventually shook his head.
"I don't know why I'm saying this to a kid not even half my age. Enough. Don't mind it. Ivan, from today, you will keep me company during my meals."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"At least I can feed one little brat, so behold how high this king's authority stands. Surely one more poor subject playing along with my hypocrisy won't be a problem."
The Great King smiled wryly and gestured. It meant he could leave now.
Ivan bowed deeply and slowly backed out of the barracks.
It was a day in his sixth year of military service, sixteen years after his transmigration.
Outside the barracks, the military camp was filled with despairing soldiers walking dejectedly with faces showing clear signs of defeat.
Krasilov was falling.
No, humanity was perishing.
The Hero would only appear two years after this point.
Therefore, Ivan occasionally thought:
If only the Hero had found us a little sooner, the Great King would still be alive.
He too could have lived to see the smoke rising again from the meat-roasting ovens in Pritzenkaya, and smiled.
If that had happened, perhaps Ivan might have liked this world a little more.
Everything he had ever respected, honored, or admired had perished during those eighteen years of war.
He wanted some kimchi stew.
"Is this all?"
Ivan stood in the middle of the military camp, looking up at the sky.
"If this is meant to show regret or lingering attachment, it's not enough. Is this all?"
The days when he was young enough to be captivated by dreams were long gone. Ivan thought as he looked at the sky.
He didn't understand why an ancient ruin powerful enough to instantly destroy a dwarven excavation artifact would try to deceive him with such a dream.
If it believed it could subdue him with this level of temptation, wasn't that too foolish?
Ivan reached into his pocket. The essential weapons he always carried were in his grasp.
He acted immediately upon thinking. He drew his dagger, stabbed his forearm, and poured a Healing Potion over it.
With a sizzling pain...
-CRACK!!
The dream shattered.
Ivan regained his senses and took a step forward.
The last scene he had witnessed was jumping beyond the swirling magical energy at the edge of a cliff.
Now he believed he had finally arrived at the ancient ruins.
"This is."
His blurred vision quickly regained clarity, and the lost sensations returned to his body one by one.
Ivan loosened his shoulders slightly and looked around. Clean corridors and massive pillars, reliefs carved from marble, a huge ceiling...
A great hall lined with incomprehensible statues.
"A temple...?"
Ivan carefully stood up and moved. Along with the sound of wind from a distance, he heard small breathing sounds from somewhere closer.
As he approached the direction of the sound, he saw Elfihera lying neatly on the floor with her eyes closed.
"Wake up."
Ivan lightly slapped Elfihera's cheek. With a smack, Elfihera startled awake and sat up.
"Eeep?!! W-what are you doing all of a sudden...!"
"Shh."
Stay quiet for now, since we don't know what might be here.
At Ivan's gesture, Elfihera closed her mouth and looked around, then suddenly grumbled.
"Sheesh... I was having such an amazing dream..."
"I'm sure you were."
"Humans are just... stupid and dull, and rude on top of that. Where did you learn such bad manners as to wake someone up like this..."
"Still not fully awake?"
Ivan looked at the grumbling Elfihera and raised his hand. If she wasn't fully awake from her dream, he was willing to wake her up again.
Elfihera startled, covered her cheek, and shook her head.
"I need to start interpreting the ancient language."
"Where?"
"All of this."
Ivan nodded toward the reliefs covering the ceiling and pillars.
Elfihera looked up blankly, then slowly opened her mouth and laughed helplessly.
"All of this...?"
"Isn't that why we came?"
"I'm more of a thinking type, so I'm not great with labor."
"But you can read it?"
"What do you take me for...! Of course I can. Let me see. Hmm... hmm... huh?"
Elfihera immediately approached the nearest pillar, frowned for a while, and said:
"Didn't you say these artifacts were 1,500 years old?"
"Yes."
"With this kind of interpretation, you should have called a priest instead of a mage."
Elfihera stepped back with a surprised expression.
"A priest?"
"Yes, this is ancient Delen language... the one used in scripture. It's an aged language, but priests learn it in their basic training."
"And you can't do it?"
"Of course I can. What do you really take me for? You mere human."
"..."
Elfihera scanned the reliefs while perking up her ears.
"This is... a victory monument?"
"A victory monument."
"Yes, it's full of praise for the God of Light. Victory monument... what on earth did they fight against to create such an impressive ruin..."
"Hmm."
Was there anything in Academy "common knowledge" about "ancient ruins where ancient demons are sealed"?
I hope not.
Ivan checked his weapons and clicked his tongue.