"Consider yourselves lucky. If His Highness had not become the Border Duke, your fate would have been far worse."
"If that were the case, they probably wouldn't have bothered capturing us in the first place. They would've just disposed of us," Ian added with a smirk.
The brief journey north had made Hans and Ian more comfortable around each other, enough to exchange lighthearted banter.
Aizen, too, allowed a faint smile to cross his lips.
Yet amidst the warm atmosphere, one person remained rigid.
William.
"Sir Aizen."
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Why didn't you kill Jordi?"
At those words, the once-warm air turned frigid in an instant.
Aizen was the only one who did not seem surprised. Instead, he let out a dry chuckle, as if he had expected the question.
"Because I do not know the will of the Grand Duke."
"My father's will?"
"A man standing on the precipice of death will contemplate many things. Often, those who survive such moments find their values and beliefs irrevocably changed."
If the Grand Duke had still been alive, Aizen would have cut Jordi down without hesitation.
But the Grand Duke was dead.
His successor had not been named.
And no one knew what his final thoughts had been.
Aizen did not know the right course of action.
"It is the privilege of the living to interpret the will of the dead," he admitted, "but as a vassal, I could not bring myself to do so."
"Do you believe my father wanted Jordi to live?"
"I do not know. He may have wished for him to be executed immediately, or perhaps, in the chaos following his death, he hoped the Second Prince would serve as a stabilizing force."
"You feared that, by acting, you would be shaping my father's will to suit your own."
"I am ashamed to say that is correct."
Aizen lowered his head, as if burdened by the weight of his own decision.
William closed his eyes.
He could understand. Aizen had been a loyal retainer, unwilling to twist his liege's will to suit his own choices.
Yet, knowing the truth, William found the decision utterly bitter.
"You did not know," William said softly. "And because of that, you made a choice you will regret for the rest of your life."
Aizen's gaze lifted slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"There are things the Emperor told me about my father's death."
William met his eyes, his voice calm and unwavering.
"My father was killed by a black tendril that emerged from the shadows."
Aizen's expression froze.
William told him everything.
The conversation with the Emperor through the magical artifact. The mysterious black tendril that had taken the Grand Duke's life. Tristan's rage, his descent into madness.
By the time William finished speaking, Aizen stood in stunned silence, his gaze fixed on nothing.
The weight of the revelation was too great. His mind reeled, as if it refused to process the truth.
For a long moment, no one dared to speak.
Then—
A faint rustling sound broke the silence.
"Aizen!"
Felicia's sharp cry snapped them all to attention.
Everyone turned at once—
And their eyes widened in shock.
A dark energy, writhing like living tendrils, had begun to coil around Aizen's leg.
"Sir Aizen?!"
"Hup!"
With a sharp breath, Aizen tensed his thigh, and the writhing black energy instantly dissipated.
Brushing the dust off his tattered pants, he let out a weary smile.
"I've shown you quite the disgraceful sight. Then again, is there anything left of me that isn't disgraceful?"
"Sir Aizen," William called, his voice steady.
"It would have taken just one swing," Aizen murmured, his gaze distant. "That's all it would have taken to end it. And yet, in my misguided attempt to consider my liege's will, I let my lord's murderer slip through my fingers."
He let out a hollow laugh—one that was more akin to a broken sob.
No one else spoke. They could only watch in silence as the weight of his regret bore down on him.
William stepped closer.
"That black energy just now—what was it?"
"It's nothing," Aizen dismissed. "A scar left by that damned mage. A small lump of it lodged itself along the paths of my mana flow and keeps trying to eat away at my body."
"Is it dangerous?"
"If I keep suppressing it, it should disappear in a few days. Not that it matters anymore..."
His voice trailed off, his lifeless eyes betraying the torment within.
He was pretending to be fine on the surface, but his insides were being torn apart with regret.
It was as if he might leave that festering wound untouched, allowing it to consume him entirely.
William reached into his coat and retrieved a small vial.
"Sir Aizen, take this."
Aizen glanced at the bottle, assuming it was just an ordinary potion, and was about to decline when he caught sight of the liquid inside—glistening with an ethereal radiance. His eyes widened.
"What… is this?"
"That guy made it," William said, motioning toward Ian, who stood behind him, rubbing his cheek awkwardly.
"It's my greatest masterpiece," Ian admitted, voice tinged with embarrassment.
Aizen let out a quiet sigh of disbelief.
"Hah."
But still, he did not reach for it.
William, noticing his reluctance, spoke first.
"Please, judge its effects for yourself, Sword Saint. If you're afraid that drinking a potion made by an amateur will have unintended side effects, I won't force you."
"...You make it impossible to refuse," Aizen muttered, shaking his head with a bitter chuckle.
Their relationship had begun simply because William had saved him as a subordinate, but through their shared journey, a faint camaraderie had formed.
Aizen was not the kind of man to stubbornly refuse an offering made in earnest.
"Well then," he said, finally taking the vial. "If His Highness speaks so highly of it, I suppose I should at least give it a try."
With a hint of formality, he uncorked the potion—
And in that instant, his half-dead eyes snapped wide open.
"This—!"
Mana radiated from the potion, powerful and overwhelming.
What kind of elixir could possibly emit mana before even being consumed?
His breath hitched in shock, but before he could hesitate any longer, he raised the vial to his lips and drank.