"Can you both promise me something?"
At the entrance of the town, after that brief fainting spell, Karl hadn't died immediately, but his flesh was visibly shrinking day by day; his life force was ebbing away.
Even after the three of them had cleaned up and had a hearty meal in the town, it seemed that his life was beyond saving…
It was as if he knew that his time had come to an end.
Finally—
On a road leading back home, Carl suddenly stopped his horse and spoke those words.
His expression was different from usual, strange, almost.
Night and Gracchus felt a jolt in their hearts, realizing what might be coming…
They stared at him for a long time before finally agreeing to his request.
Karl smiled—!
It was the first time since his weakness set in that his face showed such clear emotion.
It was a smile filled with comfort and peace.
Night and Gracchus didn't even ask what the request was.
And Carl wouldn't ask them to do anything too difficult…
With trembling hands, he reached into his coat, taking a long time to hand them a slip of paper.
Written on it was an address, seemingly of someone's residence.
"You'll find my son there… His name is—"
...
On this day, Karl seemed to have transformed from a hardened veteran into a nagging old grandmother, speaking endlessly.
However, neither Night nor Tiberius showed any signs of impatience and they listened attentively to every word he had to say.
All of them had smiles on their faces.
In the end, Carl passed away with that same smile, peacefully content.
He had said—
Rather than dying amidst cries and tears, he preferred a more spirited and carefree departure, hoping no one would grieve for him.
He wished for everyone to walk away from the shadow of death with smiles and continue moving forward.
This was the scene he longed to see…
Night and Tiberius carried on as if Carl's death had not affected them in the slightest, going about their daily routines.
They continued their journey without sorrow, not pausing for grief.
That is, if one were to overlook their trembling hands.
After several more days of travel, they finally reached Rome—home at last!
As soon as they arrived, Night was met with the fervent cheers of countless people.
Someone shouted excitedly, 'Our heroes have returned!!!!'
Night and Tiberius: What… is this?
『You crossed 25 kilometers of the Ebro River, fought against thousands of Spanish soldiers, and managed to save half of the people with you.
Your deeds had already become famous in Rome, and even before you returned, many had already heard of your legend.
They calculated your expected arrival, and countless Roman citizens and nobles voluntarily gathered at the city gates to hold a grand celebration for your triumphant return.
Even though only you and Tiberius arrived back in Rome in the end…
It didn't matter—people still regarded you both as heroes.
"Rome's Last Heroes," that's what they are chanting your names as…
In an era where every battlefield is marked by defeat, and no one else can stand tall, people believe that if Rome still has heroes, then it must be you—!
But while everyone else is celebrating the return of Rome's last heroes,
Your thoughts dwell on the fallen warriors.
The living bask in glory, adored by the masses.
Those who truly sacrificed for Rome have been forgotten—they fell long ago.
They are nameless because no one remembers their names.
People sing songs of love and hope, glory and strength.
But Night heard the sound of Tiberius crying beside him…
You asked him why he was crying—
He replied, 'Because no one else is crying, so I cry for them…'
If even their homeland forgets the names of those heroes, and no one remembers them, then won't their souls truly be dead after death?
Forgetting is worse than dying…』
.....
Indeed, forgetting is more terrifying than death.
Night suddenly recalled the 300 Spartans at the Battle of Thermopylae; everyone remembers the name of Leonidas, the king who led them and created the miracle of that battle.
But who still remembers the names of the other 300 Spartans?
Just like now, when the crowd was chanting his name.
But deep inside, he felt no joy—only a heavy weight in his heart.
Compared to "Rome's Last Hero," he much prefered being the "Magnus" in those soldiers' hearts.
In the end, Night rode his horse with an expressionless face down the path of flowers laid out for him by the Roman citizens.
… It's infuriating.
His grip tightened on the reins.
"Last hero," "Rome's guardian of honor," "The flawless victory at the Ebro River."
As he stepped onto this path, his ears were filled with endless praise and flattery.
Even the nobles who came to welcome him continued to heap praise upon him, smiling warmly as if they wanted to curry favor.
But little did they know, the more they said such things, the more agitated Night felt, and the colder his expression became, turning increasingly icy.
"Rome's beacon of hope," they said—people are always willing to believe in some mythical, nonexistent legend.
The ruling powers weaved a narrative of a 'destined hero,' turning a miraculous battle into a tale of predestination.
But Night didn't see it that way.
Miracles have an expiration date; without those 43 men watching over each other, without those 39 men fighting desperately, gambling everything with sheer willpower, there would be no legend."
Lacking even one of them would have made it impossible to achieve what they call a miracle and return to Rome.
But in the end, they all died…
How is a 'miracle' where everyone sacrifices themselves even considered a miracle?
Night once believed that after learning about fate, he could save everything and alter those unjust destinies.
But he could only change the fates that were visible to him…
When he realized he was trapped within fate itself, encountering battles that history had never mentioned, he was taught a harsh lesson by fate.
One can only change what is known, not the unknown.
This sense of powerlessness left him frustrated, like a fire was burning in his chest.
He had prepared himself, even if no one supported him, even if no one stood by him, he was ready to fight to the world's end alone…
However—
He thought back to those he initially doubted, even suspecting the loyalty of those deserters;
Those whom he once didn't care about.
Night remained silent for a long time: ...…
After the grand welcoming ceremony was over and the two of them left, finally finding themselves alone.
Tiberius suddenly asked, 'What are you thinking about now, Night…'
Night: 'I'm thinking—
How I can bring my soldiers… back to life.'
As his calm words fell, Tiberius's body trembled slightly and the smile on his face, which had appeared after reuniting with his family during the ceremony, froze in an instant.
After all, when faced with such heavy words,
How could he possibly continue smiling at this moment?