While Vanitas was trapped in the loop….
“Are you satisfied, my son?”
“….”
Franz stood at the edge of the bed as silver light of the moon spilled through the window, reflecting across his face. His father, Decadien Aetherion, lay weak but conscious, eyes fixed on his own flesh-and-blood.
“Nothing brings me more satisfaction,” Franz said quietly, “than punishing those who committed an unforgivable sin against me.”
“It’s been so long,” Decadien murmured. “I thought you’d moved on from Alianna. I was relieved when you finally married the Heinrich daughter.”
Alianna Borgia. His late fiancée. A name that still tugged at Franz’s heart like a dagger that refused to commit.
“No one can replace Alianna,” Franz said. “I live each day to purge this world of the stench that took her from me. You should understand the pain I carry, Father. Mother was taken from us by the same filthy hands that still crawl through the slums of the Empire.”
Decadien’s expression remained impassive beneath the fading glow of the moonlight.
“I’ve long since accepted that the world is cruel,” he said quietly. “Julia… Even now, I can’t forget her face. And like you, I’ve made cruel choices unbefitting of an Emperor. But do you know when I realized I had gone too far?”
“….”
“It was when Astrid was targeted,” Decadien continued. “Your little sister. My daughter. They came for her. Before she could even finish high school. She ran to me to the Imperial Palace, crying.”
His voice grew heavier.
“Astrid, who was born gifted in magic, strong enough to be feared, came to me trembling. She asked me why—why the very people she had protected were now raising their blades against her.”
Franz’s fists clenched at his sides.
“Is that why you stopped?” he asked bitterly. “Because one of your children cried?”
“No,” Decadien said. “Because I realized… we were no different than the ones we claimed to be better than. The moment we use power to take, to punish, to destroy without end, we become tyrants.”
Franz scoffed, turning away. “Tyrants are exactly what this rotten Empire needs. People don’t bend to titles anymore. Our nobles are just as corrupt as the commoners they look down on. And do you know whose fault that is, father?”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“It’s yours. You failed to control your own court. You let them run wild, and now I, your heir, have to clean up the mess you let fester.”
Decadien coughed, blood staining the edge of his lips. His hand trembled as he reached for a handkerchief but failed to grasp it.
Franz didn’t move to help him.
“I tried, Franz.” Decadien’s voice was weak and ragged.. “In my own way, I tried to keep the peace. I wanted a future where Astrid and the rest of you wouldn’t have to rule over corpses.”
Franz’s jaw tightened. “You call this peace? Look around you. This is decay. You were so desperate to be remembered as a benevolent ruler by your court that you became a coward.”
“Better a coward with his children alive… than a tyrant whose people revolt.”
To Franz, those words sounded hollow.
In his eyes, Decadien Aetherion had always been a coward. He masked his cruelty with diplomacy. The initiatives he had passed ensured the working class would never rise beyond their station.
There had been extrajudicial killings under his reign, targeted assassinations approved by his council and, at times, even signed off by him.
But never in his name.
No decree ever bore Decadien’s signature directly. The world never saw him as a cold-blooded emperor, only as an ignorant one.
That was the irony.
In shielding himself from accountability, Decadien had become something bizarre, “too” benevolent, to the point of being ineffective, and yet also complicit in every dark corner of his rule.
It was a contradiction Franz couldn’t respect.
A strange paradox, indeed.
“Then let history call me what they will,” Franz said. “But they’ll never say I was weak.”
That day, Decadien Aetherion drew his last breath.
* * *
Franz groggily woke up. Turning his head, he found his wife, Olivia Heinrich, lying in his arms, her top off but wrapped in a blanket.
With an indifferent expression, he caressed her hair.
“Olivia….”
She was a pure woman. Franz couldn’t say he loved her, but the thought of her corpse stirred a certain rage within him. She had become one of the few people he truly wished to protect.
And that, he did.
A few days ago, much like what had happened to Vanitas the last time they met, Olivia had been stoned.
It was a day when she had just returned from visiting an orphanage, having spent her time caring for the children, entertaining them, and tending to their needs.
That very same evening, Franz had wiped out an entire slum community from the Empire of Aetherion.
Of course, Olivia had no idea it was his doing. Franz had manipulated the course of events to appear as if it were the work of criminals.
Naturally, those criminals had been apprehended as well. Just a few desperate men he had paid to take the fall in exchange for money. And once they were arrested, they were killed in prison not long after.
A perfect cover-up.
Franz continued to stare at Olivia’s sleeping figure as his hand gently brushed her hair.
“Hehe~ That tickles~” Olivia stirred awake and nestled closer into his arms.
Franz’s impassive expression softened, replaced by the natural, gentle smile Olivia had grown so used to.
“Morning already?” she mumbled, her voice still groggy with sleep.
“Mhm,” Franz hummed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Go back to sleep if you want. It’s still early.”
She nodded slowly, eyes fluttering shut again as she let out a soft sigh of comfort.
Franz held her closer, eyed lingering on her peaceful face.
There was something sacred about her fragility, something that he couldn’t allow the world to tarnish. That purity, that innocence, had to be preserved at all costs.
And if it meant burning another district to the ground… so be it.
Two weeks later, under the same routine, they shared breakfast together. It had to be said, the Emperor, Decadien Aetherion, had passed due to natural causes.
A few days later after that his, funeral was held. And now, a full week had already gone by since then.
As they ate and exchanged conversation, one of the palace servants stepped into the room and bowed deeply.
“My Lord, a guest has come to visit.”
“A guest?” Franz narrowed his eyes. He was particularly wary when it came to uninvited visitors in the Imperial Palace. Just yesterday, he had turned away a Marquess who had requested an audience. “Who is it?”
There was a sense of hesitation in the servant’s voice. “It’s… Vanitas Astrea, my Lord.”
“Oh, my…” Olivia covered her mouth.
“….”
At that moment, Franz’s eyes widened.
These days, it was hard not to know what Vanitas had been up to. Ever since their last encounter, when Vanitas asked for his help if the situation ever called for it, he had changed.
And not just figuratively.
Vanitas had turned down every request for an audience. No one could reach him, not even those with status or influence.
What’s more, there was a certain fact that the entirety of the High Council of Nobles, the secretive Council of Owls that Franz had long been cultivating, and even the Scholars Institute, could barely comprehend.
Vanitas Astrea was now, officially, a Great Power.
And of course, Franz had a good idea why Vanitas had been avoiding him.
It was because of his little sister’s death, Charlotte Astrea. Franz had made a promise, and not even a few days later, that promise had been broken… without him even realizing it had.
Franz had heard that Vanitas had resigned from his position as a professor and had since turned away from most of his obligations.
He had disappeared from the public eye, and now, for the first time in weeks, Vanitas had finally resurfaced.
Franz exchanged gaze with Olivia briefly, then turned to the servant.
“Let him in,” he said. “Bring him here.”
“As you wish.” The servant bowed and left.
Moments later, Vanitas entered the room. Instinctively, Franz and Olivia stood as if he were the ruler and not them.
And in a way, he was.
Great Powers no longer fell under the authority of any nation. It was the balance of the world’s power at play. Franz, the Emperor of Aetherion, had no jurisdiction over Vanitas Astrea, the Great Power.
But if it were the Marquess, Vanitas Astrea, that would’ve been a different matter. But that all depended on Vanitas.
Vanitas stepped forward slowly with his back straight.
Franz studied him. The air around Vanitas felt heavier than it had before. Even Olivia looked uneasy. The man before her didn’t resemble the courteous professor she had spoken to at her wedding.
“Vanitas,” Franz began. “It’s been… a while. Please, sit. If you haven’t had breakfast yet, feel free to join me and my wife.”
“It’s alright, Franz,” Vanitas said as he gave a polite bow, then turned toward Olivia. “Empress. Why are you two standing? Please, sit.”
Franz let out a soft breath of relief and nodded. He sat down along with Olivia, who remained silent but attentive.
Despite his expression being impassive, the way Vanitas spoke felt strangely normal.
“I assume this isn’t a courtesy visit,” Franz said.
Vanitas sat across from there. “It’s not.”
There was a pause before he continued.
“Forgive the lack of pleasantries, but I’ll get straight to the point. I need you to mobilize a detachment of Aetherion’s Crusade Orders. Send them to the Northern provinces. I’ve uncovered evidence of cultic activity spreading again.”
“….”
Franz fell silent.
So that was what Vanitas had been working on all this time. It hadn’t even been a week since his appointment as a Great Power, yet he already had results.
“What kind of activity?” Franz asked.
“There are signs of chimera breeding pits near Gildrun Valley. One of my scouts came back with traces of corrupted mana. It matches the same patterns from Lance Ableton’s corpse.”
“….”
Franz swallowed.
After the uproar Vanitas caused by killing Lance Ableton and Cardinal Ester, the Theocracy had been furious. They had demanded Vanitas Astrea be handed over. But Vanitas had safeguarded himself by rising to the status of a Great Power.
In the aftermath, Franz had been left to clean up the mess. It had taken everything he had to barely repair Aetherion’s relationship with the Church.
“It’s done,” Franz said. “Who should I appoint as the leading Knight to take orders from?”
“Margaret Illenia.”
Franz nodded. “Alright. I’ll inform them immediately.”
A brief silence followed. Vanitas began lightly tapping his finger against the table. Olivia shifted in her seat, visibly uncomfortable with his presence, though she resumed her breakfast, as did Franz.
After a moment, Franz finally broke the silence.
“Vanitas… regarding Charlotte… I know it’s late, but I’d like to offer my sincere condolences.”
At those words, Olivia lowered her head, then softly added, “I offer mine as well, Marquess Astrea. She was a kind girl… I still remember how she smiled at our wedding. It’s hard to believe she’s truly gone.”
“I appreciate it,” Vanitas replied. “And I’d also like to apologize for being unreachable. Coming to terms with something like this hasn’t been easy.”
His voice, however, was devoid of emotion. As if he had rehearsed these lines an innumerable amount of times.
Vanitas wanted to bring up what Franz had done. But with Olivia present, Vanitas exchanged a glance with Franz and chose not to.
Olivia, oblivious to the silent exchange between the two men, gently picked up her teacup again and took a quiet sip. Franz leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms.
“I assume you’ll be personally overseeing the northern operation?” he asked.
“Yes,” Vanitas said. “There’s no room for error. I won’t entrust it to anyone else.”
* * *
It didn’t take long for Vanitas’s initiative to begin. Just a few days later, he had completely wiped off the facility and had killed a bunch of cultists. He had led the entire command, and the Crusade Order could only swallow despite his harsh orders and words.
——Advance through the fog, now. I don’t care if the land is cursed. Move, or I’ll drag your corpse through it myself.
——Stop hesitating. What, are you scared of a pile of flesh stitched together like a toddler’s toy? If you are, then die quickly and let the next man take your place.
Vanitas barked out every command like a man possessed. There was no room for debate, nor any tolerance for weakness.
Even the Crusade’s most seasoned commanders found themselves swallowing down fear as they carried out the operations under his command.
After all, what could they say to a Great Power?
He didn’t lead from the safety of the rear like most commanders. He joined them on the front lines face to face with death with men half as prepared.
Alongside Aetherion’s Crusade Order were the Illenia Knights. Silas, and Ezra had also volunteered. They all felt the same grief as Vanitas ever since Charlotte’s death.
For that reason they resolved to carry out his initiatives.
In any case, the results spoke for themselves.
By the time night fell, the valley was silent and the village had been reduced to rubbles. Not a single cultist remained. The breeding pits were reduced to ash. The mutated creatures, no matter their grotesque size or strength, had been slaughtered.
Vanitas himself had killed them.
And when the last scream faded into the wind, Vanitas just stood there, soaked in blood,looking at the devastation as if it was nothing more than a chore crossed off his list.
“The post-cleanup’s done. Everyone’s just waiting on your word to go home.”
The voice came from behind.
Vanitas didn’t turn, but he already knew who it was.
Margaret stood a few steps back and Vanitas remained silent for a while, eyes fixed on the valley that had turned into a graveyard.
“Burn the bodies,” he finally said. “All of them. Cultists. Beasts. Even the mutated civilians. I want nothing left behind.”
“Understood.”
“And the survivors?” he asked.
“Three. Two men and one child. All unconscious. We’ve contained them.”
“I’ll question them myself.”
Margaret gave a nod. “I’ll prepare them.”
Without another word, she stepped forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
“Take a break after this,” she murmured, pulling away. “It’ll be harder on your condition if you don’t rest properly.”
Vanitas didn’t even glance her way. “I will. I’m meeting the Sword Saint in a few days. I ought to rest at home until then.”
“Good.” She offered a faint smile, then turned away. “I’ll be right back.”
* * *
That night, the news arrived late, but as soon as she heard it, Karina sat curled up, hugging her knees tightly to her chest.
“Charlotte… is dead?”
She remembered that young girl vividly. The younger sister of the professor she loathed. But Karina knew better than to hold someone accountable for the sins of their blood.
She never once hated Charlotte. In fact, it had been quite the opposite.
Despite being the sister of that professor, Charlotte had always been warm. She was one of the few students who paid attention whenever Karina took over a class.
When Karina stumbled over her words and the students snickered, it had always been Charlotte who silenced them with a glare.
When Karina sat alone in the office while the professor vanished off to who-knows-where, it was Charlotte who brought her food, kindly reminding her to eat.
In a way, Charlotte had felt like a little sister to her too.
Drip. Drip…!
Tears streamed down Karina’s cheeks. As she wept in silence, she clenched her fists and made up her mind.
She would return to Aetherion as soon as possible as soon as she was going to be promoted to Major.