"Did we really win?"

A tired, bloody youth from Amol village sat on a broken block of concrete, glancing at the devastated scenery. Though the flames finally died down, for the members of Iris’s forces, this moment was what they yearned for.

The once quaint and calm little village, where people farmed and toiled the lands, now lay a charred hellscape.

A firm hand suddenly grasped his shoulder.

"Take a breather, lad, we’ve won the battle, but the war is far from over."

Gerard’s actions during the battle, both inside the tunnel and throughout the village, gained him great respect and awe from the young Amol warriors. He fought the hardest, despite being an outsider.

Thanks to his determination, many of the warriors against their little princess marrying the Lord of Babylon helped change their minds.

"T-Thank you, May the divines bless you, Sir knight."

The old knight couldn’t help but smile, but shook his head.

"No need, Lad. For now, embrace this feeling, and remember that our peril is far from over, should you wish to reach new heights... seek me out."

"I... I understand!"

Like this, Gerard patted the youth’s shoulder before heading towards another group, his stern face a sort of relief for the exhausted and grieving.

Gerard gripped his fist tightly.

His gaze fixated on the tall mountain passage, where the battered wooden walls lingered silently.

After defeating the Goblin Shaman, he sent a few of the least winded troops to man the wall, along with Vaun, who rushed from the mountain top. The second battle ended.

’The Lord was right, his words true...’

When Luka spoke about the coming danger, even Gerard thought he might be overreacting a little and maybe using the situation to increase his control over the people. Yet, after facing the goblins in Amol village and the catacombs.

Gerard couldn’t deny this truth any longer.

[You have reached Level 9]

[You have Bonus attribute points to spend]

In the corner of his vision, a familiar light blue panel shone, and with his newfound trust in Luka, the old knight immediately tapped the small ’+’ button.

[Lucifer Record]

Name: Gerard de Alverain

Miasma: Crimson Red (Wrath)

Title: Knight of the Fallen Star, He who believes, Saviour of Amol Village

Age: 58 (68 True Age)

Race: Human

Rating: Diamond

Level: 7 --> 9

Class: Knight Commander

Talent: Increased Vigour, Drill Master, Exquisite Touch

Skill: Wrath Form (Level: 1 --> 2), Knight Commander’s Aura (Level: 1 -> 2)

[Combat Attributes]

Strength: 24 --> 26

Endurance: 25 --> 27

Dexterity: 15 --> 17

Agility: 15 --> 17

Willpower: 19 --> 21

——

A comforting warmth spread through his tired, aching muscles the moment he tapped the button, spreading his attributes evenly.

Though he wanted to boost his endurance and strength greatly, while fighting in the darkness, using his new Wrath Form and fighting for such a prolonged time against monsters, he found everything lacking.

His dexterity in wielding his shield and sword, the speed at which he chased and followed the younger soldiers and goblins and much to his shame.

Willpower.

Before awakening his Miasma, Gerard’s willpower almost failed him.

"Grandfather!"

He turned away from the bizarre screen to see a fluffy golden ponytail bouncing as his granddaughter rushed to his side. Her armour long removed, she now wore a blue gambeson covered in blood and dirt.

However, only one thing remained on his mind.

"Galatea, how is the Lord?" His voice carried a hint of urgency missing when he encouraged the exhausted warriors.

Galatea slid to a stop a few steps away, creating a small puff of dirt.

"Ah, Luka is alright, Grandfather." Upon speaking, her bright expression waned as she gripped her wrist and twisted her hips away while chewing her lower lip.

’This girl...’

He knew that look.

It brought Gerard back to when she was barely five years old, soon after her parents left for battle and stayed with him and his late wife. The little angel accidentally knocked over a glass jar, but he had punished the maid rather than Galatea.

At the time she came to him, just like this, to ask him not to punish the maid and to admit the truth: that the maid had protected her.

A nostalgic memory.

"What’s wrong?" His lips curled into a soft smile as he spoke in a gentle, more affectionate voice before reaching out and stroking her slightly damp hair.

"Well... the others are taking care of him, so I thought that it might be best to..."

’This foolish girl, is she going to let those women steal the Lord’s affection, who does she take after...’

Gerard grimaced, remembering how he had reacted when faced with her grandmother.

At the time, he couldn’t help but hesitate due to his status. It was only after he had almost lost her grandmother to a young noble from the central territories who didn’t hesitate that he drank heavily and took action.

If not for his drunken courage.

’Ah, it’s me.’

"Galatea, the battle is over. I will take care of the boring aftermath. Vaun has stationed her troops at the wall. Galatea, if you want to be beside him. Go. Do not let honour or foolish thoughts stop you from following your heart."

"E-Eh?"

Her eyes widened as her sharp blue gaze softened; something inherited from her mother and grandmother, which had always stirred the old knight’s heart.

"But Grandfather, there is so much to do..."

Even now, the blonde beauty hesitated, yet the glint in her eyes only grew more vibrant after his words.

"Silly girl, you are a knight, not a politician or Lord. The duties that fall upon you first and foremost are to protect our Lord. As the Commander of the Babylon knights, I give you a night of rest."

Her face brightened as she smiled.

"Thank you, grandpa!"

Then she dashed off, no longer holding the esteemed atmosphere of a knight.

Gerard could only see the small image of that little girl rushing to tell the maid she wouldn’t be punished. Excited that at the cost of her extra snacks, she’d saved the maid, Galatea, to spend the next four hours bouncing around like a little rabbit.

"Come to think of it. Wasn’t that the day she met Lord Luka for the first time?"

’Well, let’s continue.’

After seeing off Galatea, the old knight continued his current task, boosting morale and helping the knights clear burnt debris.

Their work was far from over.

...

Meanwhile, in a small rustic tent near the centre of the city, close to where the broken shrine lay in waste. Luka lay unconscious on several sheets and a bale of unused hay covered with thick leather.

A faint scent of herbs lingered throughout the tent.

The warm glow of a small oil lamp flickered softly near the entrance while the distant sounds of rebuilding echoed outside. Occasionally, warriors shouted, horses neighed, or wooden debris collapsed somewhere within Amol village.

Yet inside the tent, it remained peaceful.

"...Mm."

Luka’s fingers twitched weakly atop the leather sheets.

A deep pain greeted him immediately; overusing his Wrath and Miasma led to a dull, crushing pain spreading from his abdomen to every limb. Even breathing carried a faint sting as though tiny blades scraped against his lungs.

His eyes slowly opened.

The rough canvas ceiling entered his vision first, before he felt an almost enveloping warmth on both sides.

Luka blinked, trying to fight his tiredness, before lowering his gaze.

On one side, golden hair covered the entire edge of the bedding beside him.

Galatea sat slumped against the hay bale with her head resting near his side, one hand loosely clutching the edge of his sleeve. Her long ponytail had partially unravelled, while faint dirt still marked her cheeks despite attempts to clean herself.

"...Galatea?"

She stirred slightly before immediately jolting awake.

"Luka!"

Her sharp blue eyes widened with relief before quickly scanning his body for injuries.

"You fool..." Her voice trembled faintly despite the frustration in her tone. "Do you have any idea how worried everyone was?"

Luka laughed weakly through his nose.

"...Everyone?"

His words were simple, but struck right at the heart of things.

’Who are you fooling in such a state?’

He couldn’t help but smile at her nervous state, a faint pink flush illuminated by the orange light as she shook her head. "...D-Do not focus on strange details right now."

Even exhausted beyond reason, Luka couldn’t help but find her reaction charming.

Then his expression slowly softened.

That’s when he noticed the second figure beside him; unlike Galatea, her golden-orange hair bristled against his arm as she shifted with a sleepy mumble.

"Mmmhm.... Lord Luka..."

Iris was completely asleep and dead to the world.

Unlike Galatea, who barely managed to change her clothes, Iris wore a simple nightgown with a soft woollen robe to keep her clothed, and slipped onto the bed completely thanks to her demure, petite frame.

Though a little too hot, he could help but relish in this peaceful exhaustion.

The quiet sounds of people hammering, clearing rubble, and chattering outside reminded him why he continued fighting at all.

"...We won, hahaha," Luka murmured before breaking into a chuckle.

His body screamed in agony, and yet he couldn’t stop laughing.

A strange sense of lightness filled his body as Galatea stared at him silently for several moments before gently tightening her grip on his sleeve.

"Mhm, we did, and it’s all thanks to you that we won."

He’d changed the past.

Luka’s heart felt an untold glee at that thought.

He’d beat his father’s plot.

Which meant that his father’s plans were not absolute!