Akriod Kalar.

Akriod had arrived at the main Agard family mansion, walking through the grand corridor.

The soldiers stood aligned in perfect formation as he passed between them.

In a single, unified moment, they offered him a military salute—raising their hands high and striking their chests firmly.

With a poised and solemn dignity, they lowered their hands and resumed their stance.

Without breaking stride, Akriod proceeded to the main chamber at the end of the corridor.

_ _ _

His mind could not find rest from analyzing every possible outcome, replaying everything he had done from the past to this very moment.

Ever since his return from the burned Agard family mansion at the farm, his thoughts had been consumed by what he had witnessed. Restless and plagued with uncertainty, he removed his military coat and cap, hanging them by the window where he stood.

From there, he gazed out over the city, the view stretching from the peak of the mansion room, capturing the bustling scenes below.

The weight of his contemplation seemed to blend with the distant hum of the city, yet no answers came to ease his turmoil.

* *

Akriod had returned to the Fifth Region, governed by the Agard family, one of the five most powerful and influential families within the democracy.

Each of these five families produced a Dysar in every generation, a prestigious military rank inherited through generations within these influential lineages.

The Dysars represented the pinnacle of leadership within the democratic military hierarchy.

Every Dysar commanded a specific portion of the democracy's army, with each segment stationed in one of the five major cities.

Dysar Inar, whose form Akriod had assumed, was recognized as the commander of the Fifth Region, the city of Zirasia—a magnificent city located in the eastern part of the Elethra Democracy, famed for its breathtaking beauty and vibrant allure.

* *

His attention was captured by the discovery that Inar was the last remaining member of the Agard family.

This meant that the last living heir of the Agard family was Inar's father, who had passed away some time ago, a duration unknown to Akriod.

Nevertheless, he continued to preserve the last vestige of this family's legacy.

This phantom legacy was embodied in Inar's form, which served as the final link to the existence of the Agard family in this world—a connection that Akriod held onto desperately, determined to reach the hidden library and achieve his goal at any cost.

But all of this paled in comparison to the shock he felt when he found his name written in the very place where the mansion had burned, consumed by the forbidden black fire—a power that was strictly prohibited from being used.

"If this was intentional, and this... whatever his identity is, why choose to destroy the Agard family mansion instead of targeting me directly?" he muttered to himself, perplexed, as he stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at the horse-drawn carriages passing through the streets of the upscale city.

The mansion was the tallest and most massive building in the city of Zirasia, a fitting symbol of the esteemed and ruling Agard family in this region.

The lights sparkled brightly, and the upscale shops were open and operating everywhere. The tower, visible from a distance from the mansion, glowed with lights, so far away that it appeared as if a blazing star had descended.

Someone knocked on the door, and Akriod turned, "Come in," he ordered, settling back on the sofa in a relaxed manner.

The door opened, revealing a soldier who stepped aside to let in Ronan, clutching the golden file tightly as if protecting his honor.

The door was closed behind him as he entered.

His footsteps were uneasy, his eyes never leaving Akriod, who took a sip from the coffee cup on the table.

Once he finished, he glanced at Ronan with a puzzled look, realizing that he was on edge. "Sit down, what's wrong?" Akriod asked.

"Your command, sir." He sat quietly, still holding the golden file.

"What are you nervous about? " Akriod asked as he noticed his gaze to him.

"It's just about the golden file." He placed it on the table.

"Is it sensitive information or something about democracy that has you so nervous?" He approached Ronan's cup of coffee to calm him and know how to talk to him normally.

"Thank you, sir. As for the nervousness I feel, it is because this is my first time reading the contents of a golden file, envoyed by the Great Northern Theocracy, and I am afraid that someone will find out, as someone of my rank is not allowed to handle such sensitive documents. Only those with permission are allowed to open and read what is inside. Therefore, I hope you will forgive me if I reveal an embarrassing side of myself." He lowered his eyes in shame after his confession.

Akriod knew he had done something that Dysar wasn't supposed to do, but he wanted to play the role of a leader who cared for his followers.

He looked directly at him with a serious expression. "Ronan, reading the Golden File was my order, so set aside your unnecessary worries, and tell me what you found in it."

He relaxed and regained the natural color of his face, relieved by what he heard from the Dysar.

Opening the file, he spoke in a composed tone after calming down, "As for what is contained within, I hope you see it for yourself, sir."

He placed the three papers before Akriod, who carefully moved his coffee cup aside to ensure the papers wouldn't get wet.

However, his eyes were fixed on the insignias on the rings—a symbol he knew all too well.

They proudly bore the crest of the Great Northern Theocracy: a man aiming his arrow at a dragon with a crown perched atop its head, its magnificent wings spread wide.

He carefully lifted the middle document, his hands steady. And the first thing his eyes fell upon was the name written at the top: "Akriod Kalar!"

His gaze froze, locked onto the words as if they carried the weight of something deeply familiar.

It was a name he knew intimately—the name of the Holy Knight who had served for over twenty-four years in the sacred capital of Arkan, where he had been raised and trained to become a Holy Knight.

And the reason it struck him so profoundly was simple... Because it was his name.