Late hour.

Bill headed toward the Royal Guard’s office as usual.

Though this office had once belonged to Ascan, it was now under new ownership—Bill, as the new Captain of the Royal Guard.

To outsiders, Bill appeared flawless, without a hint of disturbance—but contrary to that polished exterior, his mind was in utter turmoil.

‘It’s hard to regain the Emperor’s trust.’

Helsion had already been betrayed once by Ascan. He couldn’t possibly be unaffected by that shock.

No matter how loyal Bill appeared, Helsion no longer trusted him completely. It felt as if he were merely being watched, given a trial period.

Bill felt as though he stood on a testing platform every single moment.

‘To bring about world destruction, I must somehow restore my relationship with the Emperor.’

The Karua Empire was absolutely essential to the plans he had built up until now.

He had spent a long time here, painstakingly cultivating influence and gaining power. Moving his base to another empire now would not only multiply the time required exponentially but also introduce too many unpredictable variables.

There had been a reason from the very beginning for elevating Helsion—someone who was practically his sworn enemy—to Emperor.

Though unintentional, because he had caught Helsion’s eye through the Human Weapon Experiment, he naturally gained the environment needed to infiltrate the Karua Empire.

Conveniently, the Karua Empire was not only powerful but also harbored strong ambitions for conquest, making it easy to instigate wars with other empires.

The plan had been constructed through meticulous calculation—overturning it was unthinkable.

Use the Karua Empire to destroy other empires, then let it self-destruct in the end. That was the fastest and most perfect plan.

But a flaw had appeared in that perfection.

Ascan, who should have led the wars, had betrayed them—and Helsion no longer trusted the Royal Guard.

Even if Bill had taken over Ascan’s position, without regaining Helsion’s trust, controlling the wars as he pleased would be difficult.

‘If only I had captured my brother back then… I might have regained the Emperor’s trust…’

When Ascan and Tanashia Brellof escaped the Imperial Palace, Bill gave chase with all his might—but ultimately failed to catch them.

Truthfully, it wasn’t due to Bill’s inadequacy. Ascan was simply too exceptional to be caught.

But excuses were not permitted. He had no choice but to endure Helsion’s suspicious gaze, implying Bill had deliberately let them go.

“…Huh.”

Upon arriving in the office, Bill sighed unconsciously and sat down at his desk.

Out of habit, he reached for the document stacked on top—but a small slip of paper fluttered out and fell from within.

Picking it up with curiosity, Bill’s eyes widened in shock.

It bore no sender’s name, nor specified exact time or place.

Yet Bill instantly recognized it as something left behind by Ascan.

The meticulousness of omitting names to avoid detection by others, the familiar handwriting, and the phrase “where you always see me”—only Ascan could have done this.

‘Brother…’

Bill’s ash-gray eyes darkened.

His emotions tangled complexly—joy at seeing Ascan again, yet also the selfish desire to capture him and thereby regain the Emperor’s trust.

When Ascan and Tanashia Brellof had first fled the Imperial Palace, security had been extremely tight—but now, compared to then, it had become lax.

It was only natural; they couldn’t possibly monitor every person coming and going from other empires indefinitely.

The “place you always see me” that Ascan had written to Bill referred to the mansion where he had once resided.

Now abandoned and virtually a ruin, the place was littered with objects scattered everywhere, and footprints of searchers marked the floor—evidence of thorough searches conducted to find him.

Ascan waited precisely in his old study, the very place Bill had secretly visited in the past.

Even the study’s appearance had changed. The herbs he once cultivated were dead; many books once neatly shelved were now sparsely missing or piled like trash.

Ascan, scanning the surroundings with an indifferent expression, was addressed by Carlton.

“Captain, just in case—shouldn’t we prepare for potential danger?”

Carlton had stubbornly followed Ascan to the Karua Empire. But he remained skeptical about meeting Bill.

Though Ascan seemed to trust Bill enough to come this far, Carlton couldn’t overlook everything Bill had done so far—it was impossible to trust him.

Ascan spoke softly.

“What preparations?”

“Couldn’t the Vice Captain bring troops? Shouldn’t we have planted explosives, at least, to escape if things go wrong…?”

“That’s exactly why I told you not to follow.”

Cutting him off as if unwilling to hear more, Carlton opened his mouth with an aggrieved expression.

“How could I possibly stay still if the Captain might be walking into danger?”

“It’s different now from when we served in the Royal Guard. We’re not on a mission—there’s no need for you to tag along for personal business. You have only one life. Treasure it.”

When they were Royal Guards, they could earn merit and receive rewards tied to missions.

But now, it was different. Since leaving the Karua Empire, Ascan was merely a private individual. Even if Carlton followed him out of loyalty, he could no longer expect the same rewards as before.

Carlton let out a deflated laugh, as if the whole thing were absurd.

“If that sort of thing bothered me, I wouldn’t have followed you, Captain. You saved my life. So I’ll spend it for you.”

Though spoken casually, the loyalty embedded in those words ran deep.

And Carlton wasn’t alone. The Royal Guards who had followed Ascan out of the Karua Empire were all people who, during past missions, owed him their lives.

Just as Ascan was about to speak—

Swish. Bill emerged from the shadows. His expression, cruel as if not a drop of blood would spill even if pricked by a needle, looked thinner than before.

“What a touching scene. Is this why you left me behind, brother?”

At Bill’s appearance, Carlton immediately bowed his head—offering the same respect he had always given his former Vice Captain.

“It’s been a while, Vice Captain.”

“Drop the insincere greetings. And I’m not the Vice Captain anymore. I’m the Captain.”

At the correction, a flash of anger briefly crossed Carlton’s eyes.

Just as the atmosphere threatened to turn hostile, Ascan spoke softly.

“Carlton, wait outside.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Without protest, Carlton obeyed Ascan’s order and stepped out.

For some reason, Bill stared after Carlton’s retreating back with displeasure—then finally turned his gaze toward Ascan.

“What brings you here? I thought you’d forgotten about me, busy living happily with Lady Tanashia Brellof.”

“Don’t be sarcastic. I told you back then—I wouldn’t abandon you or the lab children.”

At Ascan’s words, Bill’s ash-gray eyes flickered with hope.

“…Does that mean you’ll come back?”

“No. I have no intention of returning to the Karua Empire.”

Bill’s face twisted in anger as he shouted.

“Then why did you come find me! Do you even realize how badly your actions have worsened my position? Regaining the Emperor’s trust is—!”

“What if we changed the plan we built together?”

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“I’ve thought about it since leaving the Karua Empire. World destruction might not be the only right answer. Too many innocent lives are being sacrificed to realize our plan.”

Bill’s face hardened completely, his expression gradually emptying of emotion. He stared at Ascan with hollow eyes and spoke.

“You came all this way… to suggest giving up world destruction?”

“Don’t misunderstand. I’m not announcing a final decision. I want to hear your opinion. I… I don’t want any more victims like us. But now I’m starting to think our revenge might create even more casualties.”

“Have you already forgotten how we lived in the lab, brother? What do you think would’ve happened if the Emperor hadn’t saved us?”

Superficially, it was true that Helsion had rescued the lab children. Behind the scenes, however, he regarded them as expendable—seeking to revive the Human Weapon Experiment.

Thinking of the children who died carrying out missions, Ascan wanted to tear Helsion apart—but ironically, without Helsion’s help, Ascan and Bill might not have survived at all.

Bill continued, his face contorted with bitterness.

“You know it too, brother. We’re here only because we got lucky. One misstep, and we’d have died like the others. After living through that sewer of a life—how can you speak so calmly?”

It wasn’t wrong.

Perhaps Ascan and Bill might have died quietly, without fanfare, in the Human Weapon Experiment lab.

That was why, watching children die, they never saw it as someone else’s problem. Instead, their own faces overlapped with those cold corpses.

Rage toward the creators of the Human Weapon Experiment, and vengeance for the children they’d grown up with, burned hot in their blood.

But….

“Destroying the world won’t bring the dead children back.”

If world destruction could have saved those children, Ascan wouldn’t have hesitated.

But it couldn’t. Nothing would change. Only more children in their same situation would increase.

Not long ago, he’d met a child in an orphanage who shared Bill’s name—a child who said his dream was simply to live an ordinary life.

Ascan realized then—their revenge might be crushing countless children’s dreams.

What Ascan himself had wished for as a child wasn’t grandiose. Like young Bill he’d met in the orphanage, he’d only ever wanted to live an ordinary life.

“Bill, think carefully about this. I won’t force my thoughts on you. But if you see for yourself the children in situations similar to ours back then—”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear any more.”

Bill turned his head away, his face chillingly cold.

He had always been affectionate toward Ascan, even if distant with others. This was the first time Ascan had ever seen him wear such an icy expression.

Ascan still had much he wanted to say—but he could wait until Bill was ready to listen.

“Alright. Maybe this was too sudden for you. Let’s talk again another day.”

“No. I’m going to give up hope in you, brother. I won’t fear you leaving me anymore—I’ll be the one to let you go first.”

“Bill, what do you mean—”

Ascan couldn’t finish his sentence.

Crash! Crash! Clang!

Suddenly, windows shattered as people rappelled in on ropes, invading the study.

Ascan realized—he’d assumed Bill came alone, but that wasn’t the case. From the beginning, Bill had brought troops with him.

Carlton, who had been waiting outside, rushed in with a tense expression.

“Captain, we’re surrounded in an instant.”

Faced with the situation he’d hoped to avoid, Ascan sighed unconsciously.

He wasn’t foolish enough to have failed to anticipate this possibility.

He’d known Bill might bring troops—but even so, he couldn’t abandon him. That was why he’d come here.

Because he’d promised not to abandon Bill or the lab children.

Ascan wasn’t suggesting giving up revenge for the lab children. But apparently, that intention hadn’t reached Bill.

With no other choice, Ascan placed his hand on his Calspelliver, preparing to escape.

At that moment—

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

Dozens of unextinguishable flames ignited midair.

The dark mansion brightened, revealing clearly the still youthful faces of children.

Only children subjected to the Human Weapon Experiment could wield this ability.

Until now, only Ascan had been able to use it; Bill, knowing it shortened his life, had stopped using it.

But the fact that so many children besides Ascan could now summon unextinguishable flames meant only one thing.

These children before them had undergone the Human Weapon Experiment.

It was unbelievable. So many children were products of the second round of Human Weapon Experimentation.

The very victims of the experiment Ascan had so desperately tried to stop were now moving under Bill’s command.