The Office of Duke Komalon, part of the Ashtalon Kingdom.

“Was the result successful?”

“Yes, according to the reports. However, it seems there were some shortcomings.”

He was receiving a report from a dark elf.

“Shortcomings? What do you mean?”

“To put it plainly, the manifestation was slightly imperfect compared to the flawless incarnation you originally desired. I suspect the lack of abyssal entities might be the reason.”

“The lack of abyssal entities?”

“Yes.”

At the dark elf’s report, Duke Komalon let out a thoughtful hum and sank into contemplation.

“And, there is one more thing to report.”

“What is it this time?”

“It is said that the one who dealt with the synthetic deity of the Holy Kingdom was none other than Marquess Palatio.”

“Ha, Palatio again?”

“Yes.”

At the dark elf’s words, Duke Komalon chuckled dryly. Then, as if deep in thought, he eventually said:

“Understood for now.”

“Yes.”

“And make sure to inject a bit more of the abyssal essence into the experimental subjects currently under trial.”

With a casual wave of his hand, he signaled the dark elf to leave.

The dark elf bowed slightly, then turned and disappeared. Paying no mind to the departing figure, Duke Komalon immersed himself in his thoughts.

“It’s been a while.”

He suddenly spoke aloud.

Despite no one being present, Duke Komalon greeted as if addressing someone.

“Yes, it has.”

With a faint sound of approval, someone stepped out of the darkness.

From a place that had seemingly been empty moments before, a figure wearing a black sacred robe emerged as if they had been there all along.

“It’s been a long time.”

The figure naturally seated themselves before the duke.

“What brings you here?”

To Komalon’s ensuing question, the figure leaned back in their chair.

“The reason for my visit? You already know, don’t you? I was curious when you planned to act, so I came to find out.”

“All the preparations are complete. Once we obtain what’s in the jungle, we’ll move.”

Komalon’s response was dry.

At that, the figure let out a contemplative hum, fixing their gaze on the duke.

A long silence followed.

As the tension began to build naturally, nearing its peak—

“I see.”

The figure in the black sacred robe shrugged, dissipating the rising tension in the air.

“It’s quite fascinating. To think you can still manage so well as a human.”

The figure stood up and turned away.

“Well then, I’ll take your word for it. I’ll trust that, before long, you’ll bring about the great cause you envision.”

The figure in the black sacred robe cast a glance at the darkness in one corner of the office, then turned back to look at Duke Komalon.

“And…”

The figure began walking into the shadows.

“Just in case, I should warn you—be cautious of that man.”

“…That man?”

“You know who I’m talking about.”

Their voice carried a hint of amusement.

“Count Palatio—or should I say, Marquess Palatio now?”

Leaving those words behind, the figure disappeared entirely into the darkness.

Now alone in the office, Duke Komalon muttered quietly to himself:

“Marquess Palatio.”

He spoke the name softly.

***

Having officially completed the conferment ceremony in the Holy Kingdom, Alon, who had now been elevated from Count Palatio to Marquess Palatio, was leisurely making his way to his newly established marquessate.

Ordinarily, he would have headed straight to Terea after the ceremony. However, he decided it would be wiser to first drop off the gifts he had received from the Holy Kingdom.

Alon turned to look behind him.

Following him were several carriages, heavily loaded much like the ones he had received when leaving Colony.

“I never expected to receive something like this from the Holy Kingdom.”

Alon gazed at the carriages, laden with goods, and marveled.

As far as he knew, completing quests for the Holy Kingdom in the game would reward you with skill books or sacred relics instead of material riches.

“Well, material rewards are much better.”

As Alon thought about the wealth that would soon fill the marquessate’s treasury, a smile crept onto his face.

At that moment, he heard Evan’s voice calling out to him.

“Marquess.”

Evan seemed to have grown accustomed to the new title, addressing him without hesitation. Alon turned to respond.

“What is it?”

“I was just wondering—why does the Holy Kingdom hold a conferment ceremony in the first place?”

“Well…”

“You don’t know either, Marquess?”

“Hm.”

Alon thought for a moment before shrugging his shoulders.

“It feels like more of a tradition that’s been passed down over the years. I don’t think there’s much deeper meaning to it.”

“Is that so?”

“At least, that’s how I understand it.”

Of course, Alon didn’t know much about the tradition himself. His response was based on a casual comment Yutia had made: “It’s just a meaningless custom, but I’m glad I got to see you, my Lord.”

“Honestly, it does feel a bit pointless.”

“I agree.”

Alon’s gaze shifted toward the mercenary group up ahead. More specifically, his eyes landed on Myaon, who was leading at the front.

The thought crossed his mind: not long ago, she had cheerfully climbed into his carriage to chat, making the journey much less dull. But this time, she hadn’t approached the carriage at all.

And then—

Flinch!

Whenever Alon’s eyes happened to meet hers, she would startle, nod awkwardly with a strained smile, then quickly turn her gaze forward again, repeating the pattern over and over.

‘What in the world did Yutia say to her?’

Alon could guess why she was acting this way. A few days ago, he had seen Myaon freeze up like a mouse cornered by a cat in front of Yutia.

Even when he tried to ask what Yutia had said, curious as he was, Myaon would grit her teeth and insist in an unnaturally calm voice, “She didn’t say anything at all.”

By now, Alon had given up on figuring out what had transpired.

“Well, if asking only makes her more uncomfortable, I’d better just let it go.”

Letting out a light sigh, Alon leaned back in the carriage, almost reclining.

It was a leisurely afternoon under a clear blue sky.

***

About two weeks later, Alon arrived at the Palatio marquessate. After parting ways with Myaon and resting for a day, he promptly set off for Terea.

Having passed the now-familiar scenery, he found himself within the royal capital and was granted an audience with Critenia Siyan.

This time, however, the meeting took place not in the audience chamber but in Critenia Siyan’s personal office.

“I greet Your Majesty,” Alon said with a bow.

“Raise your head.”

A voice answered immediately.

As Alon slowly raised his head, the interior of Siyan’s office came into view.

‘Simple.’

The room was remarkably modest. Though the furniture was clearly of high quality, it was far more understated compared to the opulent office of the King of Colony that Alon had seen before. He couldn’t help but glance around for a moment.

“I heard you saved the Holy Kingdom,” Siyan said.

“…That’s an exaggeration.”

“Is that so? Then why is there no controversy about it? Ah, but first, have a seat.”

“……”

“It must be a bit uncomfortable kneeling, after all.”

At her words, Alon cautiously rose and sat in the chair placed before the desk in her office, meeting Siyan’s gaze.

With her golden eyes, a characteristic of the Asterian royal family, Siyan spoke.

“Well, to continue, there’s no need to feign humility. While humility is indeed a necessary virtue, when taken to extremes, it can become a hindrance.”

“Then I’ll refrain from unnecessary modesty.”

“Do so.”

Siyan smiled in satisfaction, resting her chin on her hand as she studied the marquess intently. After a moment, she seemed to remember something.

“Ah.”

She retrieved something from one side of her desk and handed it to Alon.

“…This is?”

“Don’t you like sweet potatoes?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you dislike them?”

“…No, not at all. I do like them.”

“Take it.”

With a bewildered expression, Alon accepted the sweet potato. For a moment, he wondered if he had ever mentioned liking sweet potatoes to anyone. Shaking off the thought, he focused on Siyan’s next words.

“To be honest, the usual routine would be to conduct a formal ceremony in the audience chamber and then send you on your way. But do you know why I specifically called you here?”

“As someone in service to Your Majesty, my insight into such matters may be insufficient—”

“There’s no need for such formalities. In other words, you don’t know.”

“That’s correct.”

At Alon’s response, Siyan nodded and said, “It’s nothing particularly significant. I called you here just to have a chat. The favor I’m about to ask is simpler than you might expect.”

“May I ask what it is that Your Majesty wishes of me?”

“A month from now, there will be a conference of the Allied Kingdoms.”

“A conference?”

“Yes, essentially a continuation of the discussions held last time. I’d like you to accompany me as an aide. Is that possible?”

Alon fell silent for a moment before nodding.

“It is possible.”

To be honest, participating in the conference wasn’t a bad opportunity for him. The center of the Allied Nations, Tern, was a place restricted to administrators except during central conferences. It was also home to places like the Magic Society, where he could potentially obtain valuable items.

Even so, he was curious why Siyan had chosen him specifically as her aide. Although puzzled, he decided not to ask. After all, in this world, if the king orders, you follow without question—that was the law and the undeniable truth.

“Your prompt answer is appreciated,” Siyan said with a satisfied nod.

“Now, eat it.”

“…Eat what?”

“The sweet potato.”

“…Yes?”

“Eat the sweet potato. Do you not intend to?”

“No, I will eat it… but here?”

“Yes, where else would you eat it?”

“I’ll eat it here, then.”

Though Alon had no idea why she was insisting on this, he nodded and began eating the sweet potato right in front of her. Of course, he barely tasted it.

***

A few days later, as word began to spread that Marquess Palatio would be attending the Allied Kingdoms’ conference as Critenia Siyan’s aide, two individuals reacted to the news more strongly than anyone else.

One of them was—

“Guild Leader.”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“I have good news.”

“What is it?”

“It’s about the Allied Kingdoms’ conference that you’ve been requested to attend.”

“Ah, did they cancel it?”

The speaker was Seolrang, who was sprawled out in the guild leader’s office.

“No, it hasn’t been canceled.”

“Then it’s not good news. I told you I didn’t want to go.”

“But we’ve received significant aid from the kingdom, haven’t we?”

“Doesn’t matter. I still don’t want to go.”

Letting out a long sigh, Seolrang slouched even more, her entire body radiating the message “I really hate this.”

“Still, I do have genuinely good news.”

“What is it?”

“Marquess Palatio will also be attending the conference.”

“…Seriously?!”

At the secretary’s words, Seolrang’s previously drooping tail began wagging cheerfully.

The other person to react was—

“Commander.”

“What is it, Vice-Commander?”

“I thought you should know, just in case. Did you hear that Marquess Palatio will be attending the conference you declined to join?”

“What did you say?”

The speaker was Deus, who had been focused on training after declining the kingdom’s request to attend the conference.

“Is that true?”

“Yes, Marquess Palatio is confirmed to attend.”

“I’m heading to the kingdom immediately.”

“Then I’ll prepare—wait, Commander! At least change into proper attire…!”

Without waiting, Deus bolted toward the royal capital in his training clothes. His violet eyes gleamed with determination.