Chapter 52

Chapter 52
## Chapter 52: Randolph vs. Maxim, the Eighth Hero

Reaching the Lord’s manor was a priority, but there was a task more pressing than fighting through the blockade. I turned back to the man and spoke once more.

“Is Priest Andrew currently at the sanctuary?”

“Ah, he should be there.”

“I appreciate the information.”

“Please, don’t mention it! If the Heir hadn’t appeared, none of us would have survived. And besides…”

He was clearly thinking about the spatial rupture.

“The tribute you paid to the lost knights meant everything to us,” the man added. “Without the Heir’s arrival, this entire city would still be consumed by misery.”

Five hundred brave souls had vanished during the great crusade, yet their sacrifice had been met with silence. While some clung to the hope of their return, others felt a bitter sting, believing their deaths had been forgotten by the world. Had I not stepped forward as the successor to the King of Knights to honor them, a thick shroud of grief would still hang over these streets.

“I only did what was right.”

“Perhaps, but no one else bothered. Don’t pay any mind to those guards; I’ll make sure they’re moved somewhere out of the way.”

With a respectful bow, the man began dragging the unconscious sentries into the shadows. As the commotion in the street settled, neighbors who recognized me peered from their windows, offering silent nods of gratitude. There was a mutual, unspoken pact: this incident would remain our secret. The people were firmly on my side.

‘First, I have to locate Priest Andrew.’

Storming the castle hadn’t been my original intent. My return to the Knight’s Garden was solely to find the Priest. Putting the matter of Andasar aside, there was an even more critical objective.

‘The Platinum Box.’

This was the unique prize granted to the individual who contributed most to closing the Dimensional Rift. It was finally in my hands, yet it remained frustratingly locked.

‘Only a devout cleric capable of the Prayer of Exaltation can unseal it.’

The box was enchanted so that only a high priest of true integrity could grant access. In my experience, Priest Andrew was the only one who fit that description. It was a grim reality, as most of the truly virtuous leaders had perished in the crusade, leaving behind only those of questionable character.

—

Isaac followed me toward the sanctuary, his expression one of pure bewilderment.

‘An Heir? To whom?’

He was completely in the dark regarding Randolph’s background. Initially, he had perceived him as nothing more than a genuine scavenger of the dead. It wasn’t just a mask; he seemed to embody the very essence of a corpse crow. How could a man who navigated the Mythic Gate, commanded the attention of Kramdel’s terrors, rose to become one of the Five Lords, and seized a star coveted by Guardians be a mere mortal?

‘…Yet, he is human.’

It was a revelation Isaac struggled to digest. Despite the evidence—the fact that both Randolph and Isabella were clearly human—the lingering trauma of the corpse crow’s presence was hard to shake. And now, they had vanished into the ‘Knight’s Garden,’ where the locals treated him with a reverence that bordered on the divine.

‘Honour, wonder, and devotion.’

Those three emotions were etched into every face they passed.

‘Is he the scion of the ruling house here?’

Isaac couldn’t find a better theory. His curiosity was reaching a breaking point, and he struggled to keep his questions to himself.

The Knight’s Garden was no ordinary place. It had once been the premier training academy for the fallen Kingdom of Valan, the crown jewel among its thirteen great provinces. To see such respect given by a population of seasoned warriors was staggering. Even a seated Lord would find it difficult to command such loyalty. Was his character truly that beyond reproach?

“…Successor. You have returned at last.”

Priest Andrew met us at the entrance of the sanctuary. He scanned the area for eavesdroppers before ushering us inside.

“Quickly, come in. There are too many eyes on the street.”

“Understood.”

Once inside a private chamber, the Priest lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Maxim, the Eighth Hero, is currently terrorizing the city. If you reveal yourself publicly, it will trigger a disastrous confrontation.”

A confrontation was putting it lightly. If I claimed my title as the King of Knights’ successor, a clash with Maxim was inevitable. Maxim likely knew of a potential heir’s presence in the city, even if he hadn’t identified me yet.

“I’m aware of the situation.”

“It appears your company has expanded as well.”

“Indeed.”

Our duo had grown. Including the hidden Ahram tucked away in Isaac’s pack, our number had reached five. I reached out and gently removed the helm from the silent dullahan that had been trailing us.

“Wait. It can’t be?”

The Priest’s composure crumbled.

“Is that… Andasar?”

He recognized the face instantly. His hands shook as he reached out to touch her.

“Great Heavens…! My daughter…!”

A flood of tears escaped him. Though her skin was as cold and pale as stone, there was no mistaking her. I had kept my word. The Priest bowed low, his voice thick with emotion.

“Successor, I cannot thank you enough. How can I possibly repay such a debt…!”

“Ahem! Hack!”

Isaac broke the moment with a series of forced, loud coughs. He was reeling from the revelation.

‘The King of Knights? As in Wilhelm?’

The title belonged to only one man. To think that the successor to Wilhelm—a man recognized by the White King as a Lord of the North—was standing right here. It felt like a fever dream.

—

After a long moment of grieving and rejoicing over his daughter, Priest Andrew turned his focused gaze back toward me. Any doubts he held about my journey to Kramdel had vanished the moment he saw Andasar. However, one thing still puzzled him as he looked at me.

**[Fame: 724]** **[Sin: 27]**

As a man of the cloth, he could perceive the moral weight of a soul. Since our last meeting, my renown had surged to a staggering level.

724!

‘That surpasses almost any living knight.’

Even within the upper echelons of the Church, such a number was unheard of, perhaps reserved for a handful of high-ranking Cardinals. He wondered what monumental deeds I had performed in such a short window. My transgressions had grown slightly, but they were a pittance compared to my glory.

“How may I serve you now?”

He pushed his curiosity aside. He had his daughter back, and even if her memories were fragmented and her form altered, he would never let her go again.

“Open this for me.”

I presented the Platinum Box. Andrew’s eyes widened at the sight of the container.

“This… is this not a sacred relic?”

“A relic?”

“Sacred objects manifest differently to everyone, but this is undeniably a treasure of the Church. It is under a heavy seal.”

“Are you capable of breaking it?”

“Typically, such a task falls to the Holy Sovereign… but I believe I can manage it.”

He spoke with a firm, newfound resolve. He would not fail the man who had brought his daughter home, regardless of the difficulty. This was a matter of profound respect.

“Excellent.”

I felt a wave of relief. As I handed over the relic, I made one final request.

“I also require an indulgence.”

“…Another one?”

It would be the third I had requested from him—the very last one he could grant. He looked at me with confusion.

“One was for you, and one was for Andasar.”

“And the final one?”

“It is for me.”

“But your sins are negligible. With your level of fame, an indulgence is entirely unnecessary…”

I simply shook my head. He wasn’t wrong about my current standing, but as I looked toward the distant spires of the Lord’s castle, I spoke quietly.

“I suspect I’ll be needing it very soon.”

—

A young man with a crimson bob of hair sat slumped in the Lord’s high chair. This was Maxim, the Eighth Hero. He had his feet kicked up on the desk in a display of total disrespect.

“So, Marquis Wyzer. How much longer do you intend to test my patience?”

“…My dealings will be with Duke Saiyen directly,” Wyzer replied from a lower guest chair.

The humiliation was a bitter pill to swallow, but Wyzer was trapped. Maxim was the Duke’s chosen representative and heir apparent. Having failed to meet his own obligations, the Marquis was forced to endure the hero’s insults.

“The Duke has fulfilled his end. Don’t you realize that breaking your word is an invitation for war?”

“I just need a little more time…!”

“Don’t play me for a fool. Between that man Hudson and your sudden change in tone, do you really think I don’t see what’s happening?”

“…”

“If I report this, this city will be razed. You should be grateful I’m being this patient.”

Wyzer remained silent. Maxim smiled to himself; he had the man cornered. In the week he’d spent in the city, he had pieced the puzzle together.

‘That Hudson fellow is clearly a puppet of the White Knight.’

The merchant’s interest in Serengeti had given him away. If the Duke found out, the city was doomed.

‘But this place is too valuable to destroy. I’ll keep it.’

Maxim’s ambitions had shifted. He would use this leverage to seize the territory for himself. He already held one city, but that was just the beginning. He intended to eclipse the Duke and claim the throne of Valan. It was a meteoric rise for a former mercenary captain.

‘I’ll have this city under my thumb before the Council meets. Then, my status will be undeniable.’

The other heroes looked down on him, but they wouldn’t be able to ignore a Lord of two great cities. He could already see himself exerting his will both here and back on Earth. The thought of humbling his rivals brought a sadistic grin to his face.

“My time is worth a fortune. Your credit has expired today, Marquis. What’s your move?”

Maxim idly spun a blade on his fingertip before burying it deep into the expensive wood of the desk. For a man labeled a hero, he carried himself like a common thug. Wyzer could only clench his jaw, praying for Serengeti’s recovery. If she were awake, this gutter-born intruder wouldn’t dare act this way.

‘Borrowing from the Duke was a fatal error.’

But regret offered no escape. A predator more vicious than the Duke had moved in. He was stuck between losing his land or losing Serengeti.

Suddenly, the air was sliced by screams.

“Aaargh!”

“No! Please—!”

The sounds of a massacre drifted up from the courtyard. Soldiers were being cut down in waves. Maxim’s brow furrowed in annoyance.

“Who is responsible for this?”

Whoever it was, they had a death wish, interrupting the Eighth Hero in his own den. He intended to make them pay in blood.

*Whoosh!*

As he stood, dark, hellish flames licked across his skin.

‘Actually, this might be a welcome change of pace.’

The monotony of the last week had been grating. Bullying the Marquis had lost its charm. If someone was strong enough to breach the inner sanctum, they might actually provide a decent workout.

‘Time to reveal the true power of the Demon Heart.’

He felt a surge of unnatural strength. He wanted Wyzer to watch as he obliterated this intruder. With a predatory glint in his eyes, Maxim stepped away from the desk.

— *Avoid him at all costs. If Maxim discovers the Heir is here, he will hunt you down.*

That had been Priest Andrew’s warning. He viewed Maxim as a natural disaster to be avoided.

— *But tell me… do they really deserve the title of heroes?*

In the Knight’s Garden, the legend of the Eight Heroes was met with skepticism, especially regarding Maxim. If he were a true hero of the expedition, he would have shown respect to the legacy of this city. Instead, his first act upon arrival was to demolish the memorial dedicated to the five hundred fallen knights. He had reduced their names to rubble, replacing the monument with a shrine to the Eight Heroes.