"It seems there's no other way."
Roland let out a long sigh, a trace of helplessness in his voice.
"You're really going?" Paracel rose into the air, blocking Roland's path.
"I'll say this again — even if humanity loses a few kingdoms, it's not the end of the world. As long as the Empire itself doesn't fall, the overall war won't collapse.
But if we lose a Saint-rank powerhouse, the consequences will be catastrophic."
"I know." Roland nodded seriously, his tone firm and resolute.
"But I am the King of the Knight Empire — the monarch to whom those vassal kingdoms have sworn fealty.
As a king, while I enjoy the privileges of the crown, I must also fulfill the duties that come with it.
I am responsible for the tens of millions of lives in Celephis, and for the five border kingdoms that depend on us.
The tragedy brought by the beastmen ends here — with me."
Paracel sighed, his expression softening.
"Ah… hearing you say that makes me want to go with you too."
He shook his head bitterly.
"I'm sorry, Roland. You know well that the Mage Council is small and… not exactly on good terms with the Magic Empire's royal family.
If I die here, the entire Council will be buried with me.
So I can't go with you. Even though I doubt you'd listen, I'll still say it once more — the most rational choice is to abandon the entire Sacrifice Kingdom, redeploy our troops, and use its territory as a buffer to wear down the enemy."
"You're right," Roland admitted with a nod.
Then, gazing up at the ominous Gate of Hell hanging in the sky, he spoke solemnly:
"But have you thought about how many demons might come through that gate?
How many of them might be Saint-tier themselves?
If we let them cross into our world — along with the beastmen's existing Saint-ranks — tell me, how could we possibly win?
Besides, as a knight, there is no such word as 'retreat' in my vocabulary."
A bright smile spread across his face.
"For the sake of a better future, what harm is there in burning these old bones of mine one last time?
My brothers… if I fail, the future will be in your hands."
"Hahaha! That's the Roland I know!"
Augustus, the great dragon, laughed heartily.
"Old Naiser, in my thousands of years of life, you're the gutsiest man I've ever met.
I may not be foolish enough to die beside you, but I won't let you fight alone."
With that, Augustus lifted his claw and slashed through the air.
A rift in space opened, and from within it tumbled a small round shield — which floated before Roland under the dragon's control.
"This is the Oak Guardian Shield, a sacred relic of the dwarves — one of my finest treasures. It's yours now."
Roland looked down at the shield, then at Augustus, whose pained expression betrayed how much it cost him to part with it.
He knew how greedy dragons were, and how hard it was to get them to part with a single coin — let alone a holy artifact.
He understood what this gesture meant.
Gripping the shield tightly, Roland smiled.
"Brother… thank you."
"Then go already! Don't let me see you again — it hurts too damn much!"
Augustus turned his head away sharply, refusing to look at him any longer.
At that moment, Paracel approached, looking slightly embarrassed.
"I'm sorry… I'm not as wealthy as Lord Augustus.
But I'll do what I can."
He pulled a seventh-tier elemental crystal from his spatial ring, holding it in his palm.
As he began chanting a series of complex incantations, streams of elemental power burst from the crystal, forming an invisible quill that swiftly drew a vast magic circle beneath both him and Roland.
"Paracel, you're…"
Having fought beside him for decades along the Watchwall, Roland instantly knew what he was doing — and what the cost would be.
But when he saw the mage's unwavering eyes, he couldn't bring himself to stop him.
Soon, the crystal crumbled into dust — and the glowing circle beneath them flared to life.
"Supreme Reality Magic: Hermes' Balance!"
A massive golden scale materialized beside them.
"I offer this spell to exchange for Roland Naiser's victory in this battle!"
Paracel declared solemnly.
The scales trembled violently for a moment — then fell still.
Seeing this, Paracel's pupils contracted sharply.
A bitter smile crossed his lips as he turned to Roland.
"Fate… has already witnessed your defeat.
Do you still intend to go?"
"Yes."
Roland's voice was steady and resolute.
"So what if I know the ending?
There are times when someone must step forward — to set an example for those who come after, to light the path ahead."
"…Very well. If that is your will."
Paracel nodded slowly, then turned toward the golden scales.
"Grant Roland tenfold strength and tenfold battle aura.
The price shall be—"
The balance suddenly tilted toward Paracel's side.
"My thirty years of life."
At his words, the mage's face began to wither visibly — his hair turning silver, his features growing older by the second.
The scales wavered, nearly reaching equilibrium… but stopped just short.
"Sigh… still not enough."
Muttering softly, Paracel pulled a blood-red gemstone from his ring.
He caressed it for a long moment — then, with a reluctant breath, dropped it onto his side of the scales.
The scales immediately balanced.
A surge of pure energy burst forth and poured into Roland's body, filling him with strength.
Feeling the overwhelming power coursing through him, Roland met Paracel's aged eyes and simply nodded in gratitude.
Then he raised his knight's lance before his chest and declared solemnly:
"I, Roland Naiser, 172nd King of the Naiser Empire,
hereby beseech the spirits of my ancestors —
bear witness to my Knight's Oath!"