Erica pushed herself upright, brushing leaves from her armor.
"It was thanks to him," she said firmly, nodding toward Jericho. "We'd all be dead if he hadn't stepped in. You didn't see everything, Alice… the things he did were—"
She hesitated, searching for a word that didn't sound impossible.
"—incredible."
Alice's blue eyes widened, impressed but puzzled.
"Incredible… how?"
William answered before Erica could. His face was pale, his left arm hanging in a painful angle, but his tone stayed sharp and commanding.
"We were in the middle of asking him that," he said through gritted teeth, "before you regained consciousness."
His gaze pinned Jericho again—cold, calculating, suspicious. "Someone doesn't summon storms of silver death out of nowhere."
The forest fell quiet.
All eyes turned to Jericho.
And with their attention came the sinking weight in his chest—the same confusion as before.
Tell them the truth… or get out while he still could?
Trust was dangerous. And these knights, wounded and wary, would not accept half-truths forever.
Jericho inhaled slowly.
Then something clicked—like a door swinging open in his mind.
The Elvogia ore.
The memory struck him hard.
The six gods, their voices like distant thunder, had told him:
{"If ever you seek our guidance again, use the ore. One of our faithful holds it in the Holy Kingdom of Righteous."}
If he wanted to find the ore…
If he wanted answers… guidance
He needed these knights.
He needed their trust.
And he needed to get to that kingdom.
Jericho's eyes lifted, steady now.
"I'll tell you what I can," he said quietly.
The wind stirred around him, as though listening.
Jericho drew a slow breath, gathering his thoughts.
But before he spoke again, he lifted a hand.
"There's one condition," Jericho said quietly.
His voice shifted—low, heavy, carrying a weight that pressed against the air itself.
The knights stiffened instantly.
Erica's shoulders tensed. Alice's hand drifted toward her blade. Even William's ever-cold stare sharpened.
Everyone braced for something world-shattering.
Jericho's eyes narrowed with solemn intensity.
He inhaled.
Then…
"My stomach is killing me," he said. "So after I answer your questions… I want a meal."
A loud, unmistakable 'grawllll' rolled from his stomach at the exact moment he finished.
The tension shattered like glass.
Alice burst out laughing—sharp and sudden. Erica tried to hold composure, but a snort escaped before she covered her mouth. Even William blinked, caught between confusion and disbelief.
Jericho blinked back at them, dead serious.
"I mean it," he added. "That's my condition."
Erica exhaled, laughter still lingering in her voice as she brushed aside a strand of her reddish hair.
When she looked at him again, her smile was warm—genuine—so different from the ruined forest around them.
"I can't deny a request from the Saint Prince of Menssai," she said.
Alice grinned. William's stare finally softened.
Silence returned, but this time it was lighter.
Erica stepped forward, expression shifting from amused to solemn. She placed a hand over her heart.
"You have my word," she said softly. "after whatever you're about to share with us… you will have a hearty meal"
"And," she added, "I have a request of my own. But I'll tell you after you say what you wanted to say."
Jericho met her gaze—steady, resolute.
He nodded once.
"All right," he said quietly. "I'll tell you everything."
The air shifted.
The forest seemed to lean in.
As though something else out there wanted to hear his truth as well.
Now Jericho continued.
"During the war… I'm not even sure how long ago it was now… My father and I traveled toward the Unified Nation of Warmark. We were acting as mediators between your kingdom, Kosuke, and Warmark itself."
Erica nodded slowly, sadness brushing over her features.
"We're aware of the tragedy. The ambush. The… fate of Menssai's royal envoy."
Jericho lowered his gaze for a moment.
"Yes," he said. "We never made it there."
The others bowed their heads—mourning the story they already knew.
But Jericho's next words carved straight through the quiet.
"We were indeed killed. All of us. I died that day—completely. I left this world. I shouldn't be standing before you all right now."
William stiffened, stepping back as though Jericho had grown horns.
His hand twitched toward the hilt of his blade, despite the pain of his broken arm.
Alice didn't move, her eyes locked on Jericho—wide, dazzled, afraid, but listening.
Erica held her ground, steady as stone.
Jericho's voice softened—yet carried a resonance almost unnatural.
"But I stand here now because the Six Gods themselves granted me a second chance."
He lifted his eyes, and the shadows around him seemed to bend ever so slightly.
"They resurrected me. Reincarnated me. Gave me a purpose. I was reborn into this world… not as a prince alone."
A faint echo stirred behind his words, like distant thunder answering him.
"…but as a sub-god, entrusted to help this world survive what is coming."
Shock rippled through the group like a wave.
Alice covered her mouth.
Even William—unyielding William—froze, fear and awe battling in his eyes.
Erica's lips parted slightly.
Not in disbelief, but in realization… as if pieces of a long-unsolved puzzle were finally clicking into place.
"Jericho…" she whispered.
"…what are you?"
Jericho's breath caught.
He raised both hands quickly, panic flickering across his face.
"I'm not with Jace," he said sharply.
The urgency in his voice made even William hesitate. "I didn't even know what he'd become until recently. And when I found out…"
His voice cracked—just a little.
"…it didn't just shock me. It devastated me."
The others watched him closely.
Jericho stepped back, running a trembling hand through his hair.
"Jace wasn't like that," he continued, voice thick with memory.
"He wasn't a tyrant. He wasn't cruel. He was the most intelligent, kind, thoughtful person I knew. He used to sneak food from the royal kitchen just to feed the stray animals behind the palace."
He swallowed hard.
"The world fears him now—calls him the untouchable tyrant, the bringer of ruin… but that isn't him. That's not the brother I loved."
Erica's expression softened with sympathy.
Alice looked like she might cry.
"And that," Jericho said, steadying himself,
"…that is one of the reasons the Six Gods sent me back. Not just to help the world… but to save him."
The sincerity pouring out of him was almost palpable.
William shifted uncomfortably—the untrusting knight suddenly unsure of how to stand before a man who believed so fiercely.
But then William's expression darkened.
He stepped forward, ignoring the pain in his arm.
"Then answer this," he said, his voice low and cutting.
"If bringing your brother back fails… if he refuses to change… if he turns his power against the world again…"
He met Jericho's eyes with cold clarity.
"…will you side with us? Or with him?"
The question stopped the forest. Jericho froze.
For the first time, uncertainty carved itself into his features.
He looked down… thinking. Truly thinking.
He had no doubt where he should stand.
No doubt where the gods intended him to stand.
He would choose the world.
His mind knew that.
But his heart…
the heart that once held a little brother's hand as they ran through palace corridors…
the heart that remembered Jace's laughter before the world twisted it into something unrecognizable…
Would he really be able to raise a hand against him?
Jericho didn't answer immediately.
The silence grew heavier, thicker, pressing down on all of them like a storm waiting to break.
The silence tightened around Jericho like a noose.
William's question hung in the air—sharp, unforgiving, impossible to dodge.
Jericho lifted his head slowly.
His eyes were rimmed with pain, but behind that pain was something stronger… something forged in fire and divine purpose.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet—but it struck with the force of a blade.
"I will stand with the world."
Erica inhaled sharply.
Alice's hand flew to her chest.
Even William—the one who asked—blinked, not expecting an answer so direct.
Jericho continued, each word deliberate, carved from his soul:
"If Jace refuses to return…
If he chooses destruction over peace…
If he becomes the true enemy of humanity…"
He swallowed, but didn't look away.
"…then I will do what must be done. Even if it destroys me."
His voice wavered just slightly—not from weakness, but from the unbearable truth of what he was saying.
Because he wasn't afraid of death.
He wasn't afraid of the tyrant the world saw.
He was afraid of raising his hand against the brother he once laughed with… the brother he taught how to hold a sword… the brother he swore he'd protect.
And now he was choosing the world over him.
William looked at him with something new—respect, cautious and reluctant, but real.
Erica stepped closer, her expression soft but filled with a princess's resolve.
"Jericho…" she whispered. "That choice… it must have broken you."
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to. Alice wiped her eyes.
Erica stepped toward Jericho, the remorse in her eyes deeper than any wound she carried.
"Jericho…" she began softly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you relive that memory. It was cruel of me."
She exhaled shakily. "But I'm… I'm truly glad you're back."
Jericho blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in her voice.
She continued, her gaze drifting toward the scarred forest around them.
"The war… that was four years ago now… it's still a blur to us. We didn't understand what we were fighting for. We didn't think—we just acted on blinding rage. Hatred."
Her voice wavered slightly.
"I hadn't joined the Holy Knights yet—I was still too young—but even from the palace I felt it. That suffocating fury."
Then Erica stepped forward and dropped to her knees.
Jericho's eyes widened.
She bowed deeply, forehead touching the dirt.
"Please forgive us," she said, voice trembling.
"For what happened to you and Emperor Richard. We mourned you—both of you. The world mourned you. Even half of the human continent turned on us after the destruction… destruction we still cannot remember."
Tears gathered in her lashes.
"We lost a leader praised as the Pride of the World… and the Saint Prince of Menssai. I beg your forgiveness on behalf of my kingdom."
"Y-Your Highness!" Alice and William yelped behind her.
They rushed forward in panic.
"Princess Erica, please—stand! You're the heir of Righteous!"
"You mustn't bow—let us kneel in your place!"
Without hesitation, both knights fell to their knees beside her, armor scraping, heads bowed deeply to Jericho.
Jericho stood frozen.
His face turned red in an instant.
"P-Please, please stand up!" he said quickly, flustered, waving his hands. "You don't need to do that—any of you!"
Reluctantly, they rose to their feet.
Jericho offered them a warm, soft smile—one that eased something in the air.
"I don't hold any grudges. Not against anyone in this world."
But somewhere deep inside him…
a flicker of dark anger stirred.
Pluto.
The god responsible for everything.
The death, the chaos, the war, the destruction…
It all traced back to him.
The moment passed, and Erica let out a relieved breath.
"So that's why you were given that title," she said with a small smile.
Jericho stiffened, embarrassed, turning away.
"P-Please don't call me that…" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I'm not worthy of a title like that."
As he turned back—his eyes met Alice's.
She froze, cheeks blazing red, her eyes going wide.
Her heart thumped so loudly she feared everyone could hear it.
The crush she felt when she first saw him—the moment she regained consciousness—had only grown stronger. And now, meeting his gaze directly…
She nearly melted. Jericho stared back, confused.
"Uh… Lady. Alice? Are you… okay?"
Alice squeaked.
Erica pinched the bridge of her nose.
William sighed and muttered, "Here we go…"
Jericho blinked again, utterly lost.
Alice snapped her head away so fast her ponytail whipped like a startled fox tail.
"I-I'm fine!" she blurted, voice way higher than normal.
Jericho blinked. "…You don't sound fine."
"I am fine!" she repeated, stiff as a wooden plank.
Erica slowly turned her head toward Alice, eyebrows lifting with the most painfully obvious really? expression.
William stared at the sky in visible exhaustion, as though begging the heavens for strength.
Alice clutched her helmet against her chest like it was a shield protecting her from her own emotions.
She took a step back, nearly tripping on a root.
"N–nothing's wrong! I just— I just— I just remembered I forgot to… uh… feed my horse."
Erica frowned gently. "Your horse is in the capital city."
"YES! EXACTLY! AND SHE'S VERY HUNGRY!" Alice shouted before wincing at her own voice.
Erica dragged a hand down her face.
"Alice… please."
"I'm fine, Your Highness," Alice insisted, cheeks flaming, eyes anywhere except Jericho's.
She shot a nervous glance at him—only for her heart to nearly stop when their eyes met again.
She instantly looked away.
Jericho tilted his head, utterly lost. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No!" Alice squeaked. "Everything's perfect—I mean fine—I mean normal—I mean— I need air!"
She spun around, smacked directly into a tree, squeaked again, and then tried to pretend nothing happened.
Jericho raised an eyebrow.
Erica whispered to William, "She's gone…"
William nodded. "Beyond saving."
Erica sighed but hid a small smile.
"Alice has… her own way of handling stress," she said diplomatically.
Jericho glanced at Alice again—still rubbing her forehead against the tree—completely puzzled.
"I… see."
Erica leaned closer to him and whispered, "Please ignore her. She'll either faint or get over it."
Alice gasped. "I HEARD THAT!"
"Good," Erica said dryly.
Jericho tried to suppress a laugh.
The mood was finally lighter… even if only briefly.
The laughter and awkward tension faded slowly, like mist drifting away from a clearing.
Alice finally stepped away from the tree—face still pink, but at least breathing normally.
William straightened.
Erica watched them all settle, then drew in a quiet breath.
The warmth left her features, replaced with the calm authority of a princess and commander.
"Jericho," she said, voice steady. "Earlier, I mentioned that I had a request."
Jericho's smile faded. He nodded. "I remember… and also, am still hungry"
She smiled, "I remember" Erica stepped forward, every movement controlled, respectful… and heavy with meaning.
"This isn't a command," she said softly. "And it isn't an order from my father or from our council."
Her eyes held his, unwavering.
"This is a request from me."
Jericho's posture straightened instinctively. The forest seemed to quiet again, leaning in.
Erica continued:
"You told us the Six Gods brought you back. That they made you a sub-god to protect this world."
Her voice tightened slightly.
"And after what I've seen today… after the silver rain, after your confession… I believe you."
Jericho's breath caught.
"And because I believe you," Erica said, "I must ask something that I cannot ask of any mortal knight, any priest, or any ordinary warrior."
She lowered her head—not in subservience, but in gravity.
"Jericho… when we leave The Great Forest of Dawn… I want you to accompany me back to Righteous."
Her hands clenched at her sides.
"And when we arrive… I want you to stand at my side as my equal. As my ally. I need you with me, Jericho for what's to come— let's protect the world together"
Jericho offered Erica a gentle smile, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.
"I accept," he said. "From this moment on… we stand as allies."
He stretched out his hand.
Erica blinked in surprise — not at the offer, but at the simplicity and sincerity of it.
Then she returned his smile and placed her hand in his, firm and resolute.
Their handshake sealed it.
A sub-god and a princess.
A resurrected prince and the heir of Righteous.
Two destinies now bound.
The atmosphere softened; even the forest's unsettling quiet felt less suffocating.
"Prepare to move," Erica ordered, her voice returning to command.
"Righteous awaits... but first, let's have dinner, for Jericho's sake" she smiled
"Yes, Your Highness!" the knights responded, immediately gathering their equipment and steadying themselves for the journey, and preparing what they will be consuming for dinner.
But Jericho raised a hand.
"Sir. William."
The older knight paused mid-step, confusion flickering across his face.
"Yes… Jericho?"
Jericho walked toward him calmly.
"Your arm. Let me see it."
William tensed — suspicion fluttering back — but after a moment, he extended his injured arm.
The limb was bent at an unnatural angle, bruised and swelling.
Jericho gently held it, studying it with a thoughtful hum.
He whispered under his breath,
"It's not that bad… I think I can fix this."
William's eyes widened.
"What—?"
But Jericho had already closed his eyes.
His aura stirred — a soft pulse at first, then brighter, rising like a silver dawn.
Alice gasped and shielded her eyes.
Even Erica stepped back a pace as Jericho's presence swelled, divine and commanding.
Then Jericho spoke:
"Soul Casting… Silver Regeneration."
A stream of liquid mercury materialized from the air, shimmering like moonlit water.
It wrapped around William's broken arm, flowing smoothly, almost lovingly, before glowing bright.
A warm hum filled the air.
Then—silence. The light faded. The mercury vanished.
William lowered his arm slowly… cautiously… and then—
His eyes widened. His breath caught.
He flexed his fingers.
Rotated his wrist.
Moved his elbow.
Perfect.
No pain.
No fracture.
Not even a scar.
For the first time since Jericho had met him… William actually glowed.
His stern, cold expression softened into something painfully close to gratitude.
Erica watched with a soft exhale and shook her head fondly.
"At this point," she said, half amused, half awed, "I don't think anything Jericho does can surprise me anymore."
Alice hurried over, practically pressing her face to William's arm.
"It's completely healed!" she exclaimed. "It's as if it never happened!"
William cleared his throat awkwardly, gently pushing her away.
Jericho scratched the back of his head with a shy grin.
As William muttered more thanks, Jericho smiled and waved it off. "Don't mention it… I'm just glad it worked."
It took a heartbeat before William's expression shifted.
"…Glad it worked?" he repeated slowly.
Erica exhaled sharply. "oh no— not again."
Cold sweat trickled down Jericho's neck as he took a cautious step back. "Well… I mean… today was the first time I've ever actually used my ability. Before today I had no real experience so— but hey, look at the bright side! It did work. And you're healed." He gave a nervous, innocent smile.
But it was too late. William had already shifted into the one state Erica feared above all: his lecture mode.
"You can't just act on impulse!" he began sternly, pointing a newly restored finger at Jericho. "There are things called consequences, Prince. What if my hands had disintegrated? What if the regeneration reversed? What if—"
"I'm sorry," Jericho whispered.
"—and another thing," William continued, completely ignoring the apology. "You don't experiment on people without clarifying the details!…. And even at all!."
Erica pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alice," she said with a resigned sigh, "come help me prepare the meal, and the to depart. Since William has started… this will take a while."
Alice let out a small chuckle, nodding as she stepped beside her commander.
Behind them, William's lecture carried on like a relentless sermon, Jericho shrinking under every word. And with that, preparations to return to Righteous quietly began.