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Siris walked alone through these dark streets, compelled by a meeting with someone.

With elf-like silence, she headed toward the center of the Grand Forge. She reached a towering iron tower and, climbing the stairs, Siris’s expression was grimly set.

As she opened the door, an old dwarf, his appearance nearly obscured by a snow-white beard, greeted her. It was Makelin, the High Priest of Al Fort.

“Welcome, young elf.”

Entering, Siris responded in a chilly voice.

“I received your message. You hold the answers to my questions.”

Makelin stroked his beard and chuckled heartily.

“Come, take a seat over here.”

After ushering Siris into the sitting room, Makelin quietly asked,

“What is your question, young elf?”

As if she had been waiting for this moment, Siris calmly replied.

“Everything, about Lord Repenhardt.”

From their first meeting, Repenhardt’s demeanor had been incomprehensible to her.

“From the beginning… it seemed as though he knew me well. His gaze, his actions, his tone of voice, they were not those of someone meeting a stranger.”

Furthermore, his subsequent actions were filled with equally incomprehensible behaviors. Given his age and the life he had lived, there was no way to explain his remarkable skills and profound knowledge.

“Even more, he knew my real name, something I didn’t even know myself. How is that possible?”

As Siris’s tone grew more insistent, Makelin inwardly sighed. Telling her the truth was simple. However, Repenhardt’s silence was not due to ignorance but a fear of the repercussions.

Finally, Makelin spoke softly.

“Young elf, Siris.”

“Yes.”

“I know his secret.”

Siris’s eyes sparkled as she sensed his forthcoming words. Feeling her probing gaze, Makelin continued,

“And he is afraid that you might not understand.”

“Why?”

Confused, Siris murmured softly. She could not fathom what kind of secret would make her incapable of understanding. Makelin smiled gently, then spoke reassuringly.

“As one who has lived a bit longer, and as someone who belongs to the same yet different species, I shall offer you my advice.”

Siris nodded blankly. Makelin stroked his beard.

“Do you think you can trust him? Can you trust him and not misunderstand him in any situation?”

Siris tilted her head. The whole secrecy seemed somewhat amusing. Repenhardt was a being of immense power, capable of reviving the World Tree Elvenheim, a wish of all elves. The miraculous scene from that time was still vivid in her memory.

“Honestly, I could believe he is one of the gods incarnate on earth.”

Makelin seriously shook his head at her slightly playful response.

“That’s not what I mean.”

Makelin paused to organize his thoughts. A conversation he had with Repenhardt late at night came to mind.

-I don’t have the confidence to tell Siris everything.

Makelin could fully understand Repenhardt’s feelings. Even Makelin, a dwarf who hears the voice of truth, hadn’t asked for evidence, so absurd it was. However, Makelin did not agree with him.

-I don’t think she wouldn’t believe it either. The truth of time regression can explain all the actions you’ve shown so far. Elves are a rational race. I believe she will trust you…

-Honestly, even if she trusts me, that’s a problem…

Repenhardt sighed as he continued.

-She said it. That I was looking past her. She wasn’t wrong. You understand why she felt that way, don’t you?

Only then did Makelin realize what Repenhardt was truly worried about. Repenhardt murmured in a weak voice.

-I don’t want to be hated by her.

Eventually, Repenhardt left after asking Makelin to explain everything to Siris on his behalf. It could be seen as quite irresponsible for a man to pass this burden to someone else. But sometimes, it’s better for a third party to reveal the truth.

“I’ll ask again. Can you trust him?”

Siris’s expression became serious. With a resolved look, she nodded.

“Yes.”

Makelin slowly opened his mouth.

“Then, I will tell you everything.”

* * *

Exiting the central tower, Siris walked with a defeated look on her face, still haunted by the echo of Makelin’s voice in her mind.

“He is one who has traversed through time.”

A legendary 10th circle archmage, unprecedented in history.

He stood up for other races, even bearing the stigma of being called a demon lord, in his quest to change the world.

Despite a previous failure, he was determined to realize his dream once more, turning back time itself.

Everything made sense now. Siris understood why Repenhardt had been so reluctant to reveal the truth.

Frankly, she thought that had it not been for the miraculous revival of the World Tree, she would have considered him a madman. Therefore, she held no resentment towards Repenhardt for deceiving her—it was completely understandable.

It was somewhat comforting.

His dream, his goals, were not mere fantasies. All his attitudes had been genuine, not pretense—a fact that brought her joy.

However, the truth did not make Siris feel entirely at peace. Another layer of truth, concerning herself, troubled her.

“According to him, you and I both were very close to him. Especially you; you were one of his Four Heavenly Kings and his lover.”

Mulling over Makelin’s words, Siris muttered to herself, “Siris Valencia…”

The name belonged to Repenhardt’s lover from his memories.

The leader and spokesperson of all elves on the continent, and their guardian.

She was a master of the seven elemental magics, among the continent’s renowned swordsmen and a high mage who had reached the 8th circle. To other races, she was known as the embodiment of kindness and mercy, even hailed as the incarnation of Eldia. To humans, she was a goddess of madness and terror.

“Is that really me?”

Siris couldn’t identify herself with that elven woman. She couldn’t believe she might become such a formidable entity in the future.

It made sense that Repenhardt knew so much about her. From their very first meeting, his gaze had been filled with deep affection—it was clear now. To him, Siris was a precious lover whom he had encountered again across time.

Yet, for Siris, it was merely a nonexistent time.

She was profoundly confused.

“If only he was projecting his old first love onto me…”

That would have made it easier to steady her wavering heart. Whether to reject or accept his feelings, Siris felt she could have decided completely on her own.

However, she found herself at a loss on how to perceive this situation.

Repenhardt was clearly projecting his former lover onto Siris. Yet, that projected lover was Siris herself, from the future. Then, who exactly was the recipient of Repenhardt’s affection?

“Sigh…”

A sigh escaped her lips.

As she walked through the chaos in her mind, Siris found herself unexpectedly arriving at her lodging. She entered quietly, careful not to awaken her sleeping companions. They had a long journey ahead starting tomorrow, and lack of rest would only be a burden to the group.

Stepping inside, she sensed a presence and turned with a start. In the large living room, which connected to each of their rooms, sat a formidable figure at the table. It was Repenhardt, whom she had assumed would be asleep.

His voice was calm.

“You heard everything, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Siris approached Repenhardt gently. He maintained a composed facade, but Siris, now attuned to elemental magic, could distinctly sense the anxiety hiding beneath his calm voice.

“…It was indeed a story beyond imagination.”

She spoke in a soft voice.

“But I can accept it. Considering everything you’ve shown me until now.”

“Is that so…”

Repenhardt’s face relaxed slightly, then tensed up again.

“Then… can you forgive my ‘attitude’?”

Siris fell silent.

The darkness was filled with silence.

After a long while, she finally spoke again.

“I will follow you, Lord Repenhardt.”

It was an ambiguous response. Repenhardt looked puzzled. Siris continued in a colder voice.

“That’s all I can offer you right now.”

It was unavoidable. No matter how much she pondered, there was only one conclusion she could reach.

“…Because I am not the ‘Siris’ from your memories.”

It was a soft yet firm reply. In an instant, Repenhardt’s shoulders slumped. Pretending not to notice, Siris walked quietly to her room. She brushed past the curtain, casually bidding him goodnight.

“Then, have a good night.”

“Uh, uh…”

While responding, Repenhardt remained dejectedly seated, his form reminiscent of a forlorn large dog abandoned by its owner.

Just as she was entering her room, Siris muttered,

“Still…”

“Hmm?”

Repenhardt lifted his head, his eyes catching the sight of her face, slightly smiling at him.

“I don’t dislike you,” she declared.

After her final words, Siris immediately entered her room. Left alone in the living room, Repenhardt simply stared at the curtain covering her door.

A while later, Repenhardt muttered with a dumbfounded expression, “So, does that mean you forgive me, or not?”

The world was at peace.

There was no Demon King aiming to annihilate humanity, no grand war where dozens of nations clashed with swords and spears, and no legendary dragons threatening to wipe out all humans.

However, this was a macroscopic view of the entire continent. While some regions celebrated an era of peace, others cried out in torment, describing life as a living hell. Such is the nature of human existence.

In the Kingdom of Crovence, however, peace was far from reality.

In the central region of Crovence, in an unnamed vast field, a group of knights were engaged in fierce battle.

“In the name of Carsus! Wipe out that filthy band of usurpers!”

“Tear open their filthy mouths! Kill the traitors in the name of the legitimate royal line!”

Leaders of each group shouted as they charged into enemy lines, followed by many knights and soldiers swinging their spears. A rain of arrows filled the air, and screams and roars echoed across the battlefield. The knights following Sir Carsus, the heir of the Fernando ducal family, clashed with the forces loyal to Prince Yubel Ren Crovence, the kingdom’s second prince. Each side believed in the legitimacy of their leader, continuously engaged in a dreadful battle that relentlessly took lives from both sides.

“For the true king, Lord Carsus!”

“Prince Yubel is the rightful king of this country!”