Drip.
Drip.
The sound of water droplets falling could be heard.
It didn't take long to realize that the sound was actually blood trickling down his arm and hitting the ground.
At some point—
The floor had become drenched, soaked to the point where the pool of blood was no longer visible beneath the pile of corpses.
"Haa… haa…"
Each ragged breath felt like his lungs were being wrung dry.
His grip on the sword had lost all strength, yet it remained stuck to his palm, sticky with sweat and blood.
"M-Monster—"
"He's insane. Completely insane!"
"Do you even know how many you've killed?!"
At their cries, Isaac slowly lifted his gaze.
"Ah…"
Before he knew it—
Dawn had passed, and the day was breaking.
The thick, blackened pool of blood, which had seemed so dark before, now glowed under the morning light, as if to lift the veil and ensure that the horrors of the night would never be forgotten.
Those who had been intoxicated by the drug began to stagger back, suddenly acting as if they were the victims.
"No, no! This isn't right!"
"We just did what we had to do to survive! How does being high on a drug warrant death?!"
"This is unfair! Unfair!"
Splash.
Isaac took a step forward.
As the tip of his sword sliced through the blood pooling on the ground, a faint ripple spread out.
His voice, weak yet steady, slipped through his ragged breaths.
"Baron Volten, who was involved in the attempted assassination of Princess Adeline, has been executed for treason."
He had come here under the princess's orders. He had the right to do so.
"And those who supported Baron Volten resisted me—meaning you, too, are guilty of treason."
"W-Wait, we were just—"
"We only… wanted the drug…"
Perhaps the sunlight was helping them sober up. They stammered over their words, glancing nervously at Isaac.
They had been so intoxicated that they had only thought about the present, acting on impulse.
Now, with the paradise they had clung to crumbling before their eyes, they finally realized the full weight of their actions.
Just as one inevitably sobers up from a high, they were beginning to awaken to the truth of their own atrocities.
"..."
Isaac's bloodstained gaze bore down on them.
His arms hung limply at his sides, his legs barely holding him upright, his entire body covered in wounds—he looked as though he could collapse at any moment.
And yet—
The sheer pressure of his presence crushed what little defiance remained in the few surviving fanatics.
One by one, they fell to their knees.
"P-Please, have mercy."
"We're sorry! We're truly sorry! When we're high on that stuff, we lose all reason—"
"We were wrong! Please, spare us!"
Not long ago, these same people had thrown themselves at him, heedless of their own lives.
But now, with the drug's influence gone, with the stench of blood and death thick in the air, they had become nothing more than ordinary people again.
And that—
That was the most painful sight of all for Isaac.
"..."
Kneeling in the pool of blood, bowing their heads before him.
The madness had been quelled.
Volten had been washed away in blood.
And now—
Isaac could endure no longer. As he collapsed—
Thud.
A firm hand caught him.
"…I won't say anything."
A familiar touch.
A familiar voice.
As if he had been waiting, the Grandmaster held Isaac in his arms and whispered softly.
"For now, just rest."
At those words—
Isaac slowly closed his eyes, marking the end of a long, grueling day.
***
Isaac opened his eyes again around noon that day. Despite his exhaustion, he had only managed to sleep for a few hours before waking up.
"Where is this…?"
He was lying in a bed. The room's interior was decorated with animal hides, noble title certificates, bows and arrows, and a leather coat. Just from looking at the surroundings, he could tell whose room this was.
"Ugh…"
A foul medicinal smell lingered on his body, and the tightly wrapped bandages made it difficult to move.
As he struggled to get out of bed and stepped outside the room, he happened to run into a man who was carrying a wet towel.
"Baron Logan!"
"...?"
"Ah, I am the caretaker of this mansion and the former secretary of Baron Volten—"
The secretary introduced himself, but Isaac couldn't quite catch his name due to a momentary ringing in his ears.
Well, it didn't really matter.
"Thanks to your valor, the rebellion was swiftly suppressed. We are truly grateful."
The secretary bowed deeply, his eyes carefully observing Isaac's expression. He seemed worried that Baron Volten's crimes might implicate him as well.
But Isaac didn't have the energy to concern himself with that right now.
'If he committed any crimes, he'll receive his due punishment.'
Judging by the fact that the secretary had not tried to flee, he was likely planning to confess everything and seek leniency. Unlike Baron Volten, who had been addicted to drugs, his secretary appeared to be clean.
"I need to send a letter to the royal palace."
"Of course! I will immediately prepare a pen, ink, and parchment. Your hand seems to be injured, so I can write it down for you—"
"No. The princess will read it directly, so I'll write it myself."
"Understood, my lord."
The secretary bowed again, eager to please, and turned to leave to prepare the materials. As he walked away, Isaac hastily called out to him.
"Wait."
"Yes? Is there something else you need?"
"...You were Baron Volten's closest aide, correct?"
"Ah, well… yes. I've already organized all records of the drug storage, ledgers, and external distribution transactions—"
"No."
The secretary, assuming he would be reprimanded, had instinctively shrunk back and started confessing everything.
But that wasn't what Isaac wanted to ask.
"Millie Marceau's family."
Baron Volten had said he had found them.
"Take me to them."
***
When he had been inside the mansion, he hadn't noticed, but thick, dark clouds had gathered over Volten, and rain was pouring down.
However, despite the heavy downpour, the sound of the rain was oddly quiet.
It felt as if the city was being washed clean.
"...It's fortunate, in a way."
The Great Master, who had taken the umbrella from the secretary, spoke in a low voice from behind Isaac.
"The rain came at the right time, washing away the stench of blood naturally. The city will be a little cleaner now."
"...."
Isaac couldn't respond.
They were standing in a small, deserted park.
The reason why there was no one here was simple—this place hadn't been built for the living.
Before Isaac stood a large tombstone.
As his eyes traced the names engraved upon it, he finally found the ones he had been searching for.
Marten Marceau.
John Marceau.
Marilene Marceau.
"The graves of those whose identities have been confirmed." the secretary explained.
Isaac looked up at the tombstone and spoke calmly.
"It wasn't the revolution. They got caught up in the violence that followed."
He didn't know exactly what kind of violence it was.
In Volten, violence was as common as breathing.
Isaac lowered his head. If he didn't, the tears threatening to fall would surely stream down his cheeks.
"I know this was just self-satisfaction."
"...."
"I just wanted to do something—anything—that might let Millie rest a little more peacefully."
Tears welled up in his eyes.
His broken body, along with his heart, was slowly wearing away.
"In the end, this is all I amounted to."
Even after returning to the past.
All he did was struggle to protect himself.
Why?
Why was someone like him given this second chance?
A tear slid down his cheek.
Not even a full day had passed since he had taken countless lives.
And yet, here he was, mourning his friend's family.
It felt hypocritical.
It was harder now than when he never had the chance.
The fact that he had the opportunity but failed to seize it—
That was what truly broke him.
"Do not fall apart."
A gentle arm wrapped around him from behind.
"If you collapse here, you will only bring more shame to your fallen friend."
His legs had no strength.
If not for his master holding him, he would have already crumpled to his knees.
"Is it difficult?"
A soft voice.
Memories of the past surfaced, and before he knew it, Isaac was nodding, tears falling freely.
"It is difficult. I cannot forgive myself."
"I suppose so."
"I just… I wanted to do something for that child."
"I understand."
"The guilt—"
"If that is the case."
Though he couldn't see behind him,
His master's voice carried the hint of a smile.
"Then do as you have always done—follow me."
"...!"
Isaac's eyes widened.
His weakened legs regained some strength, and he slowly pulled away from her embrace.
When he turned his head, his master was standing there, wearing a bittersweet smile.
"I will believe in your words. My disciple who has returned from the future."
"Why—?"
"Because I must teach you."
Her grip on the umbrella tightened.
It was clear that she, too, was holding back a surge of emotions.
"My fellow disciples… they are all dead."
"...!"
"I didn't want to believe it. That's why I treated you like a liar. For that, I apologize."
"G-Grand Master…."
"I am certain that, even now, my fallen comrades would sigh in disappointment if they saw me.
Those who are gone… must be let go."
She had supported the princess Clarice and aided their Patrons for one reason—
To find her fellow disciples.
Even the reason she had continued to stay by Isaac's side was because he had been proof that they might have survived.
"But I have overcome it."
Now, at last—
She had chosen to accept everything.
She opened her eyes and looked at Isaac.
"A master is one who teaches."
Her hand gently rested on Isaac's head, pressing down as if to encourage him.
"Child, I choose to let go of the past and live in the present."
"...!"
"If it is difficult, then watch and learn from me. I will live a life that even my old friends would envy."
Just as she had let go of her fallen comrades,
So too should Isaac learn to let go of Millie.
In doing so, she was acknowledging the truth of Isaac's return to the past.
"You too must learn to let go."
Isaac lowered his head.
"Always—"
His voice, a mix of exhaustion and tears, was almost like a childish complaint.
"You always just teach me."
"That is what a master does."
She smiled faintly.
"There is much I wish to ask about my future, but for now, you have more pressing matters to deal with."
Gently, she wiped away the tears at the corner of Isaac's eyes, mindful of his injured arm.
Isaac accepted it in silence, taking a deep breath before nodding.
"You're right. In fact, we technically failed our mission."
Originally, they had come to capture the Bellingwaltz Mercenaries, who had attempted to assassinate the princess.
But since they had failed—
"Ah! There they are!"
A loud voice pierced through the sound of rain.
In the gray cityscape, a girl with striking red hair stood out as she waved and ran toward them.
"Isaac!"
Behind her bright smile—
"Urgh!?"
"H-Hey, go easy on us!"
The Bellingwaltz Mercenaries, bound in ropes, were being dragged along by Sharen's rough hands.