The afternoon sunlight filtering through the stained glass was vivid.
"······."
The vast chapel of the empty convent.
Vlad stood alone there, reaching out quietly and trying to grasp the various colors of light that touched him through the stained glass.
However, the lights he tried to grasp scattered emptily.
The light that came through the stained glass was brilliant, but in the palm of his hand, there were only small specks of dust floating around.
"What is this?"
Vlad looked at the dust dispersing in the sunlight and chuckled helplessly.
It looked so large and lofty from a distance.
"······."
With a small sigh, Vlad turned his head and looked back.
At the far end, where even the light from the window didn't reach, there was the door of the old convent.
It was also the door that refused to let Marcella inside on a cold winter day.
"Just because of that."
Virgin inside, prostitutes outside.
Although she was not pure, the prostitute who was cleaner than anyone else lost even the qualification to enter.
The standard set by someone other than God did not fully understand Marcella.
It wouldn't be just Marcella.
Everyone lives like that.
They are evaluated and judged by standards set by others, not by Him.
"No matter how you look at it, I don't like it."
And Vlad didn't like it.
Whether he was Vlad of the back alley or Vlad of Shoara, he was just Vlad.
Knowing that there couldn't be another Andrea for everyone, Vlad's gaze as he looked at the door of the convent began to harden.
※※※※
Although it was the beginning of winter, the atmosphere in front of the gates of Shoara was lively.
The sound of spears being shaken and clashing by the soldiers.
However, at the end of that sound, instead of someone's scream, there were cheers echoing to the city hall at the center.
"You've returned, Father."
"Yes. You've worked hard."
A man with a face resembling Josef's walked politely towards Josef, who bowed respectfully.
He looked neat on the surface, but dust hinting at the journey he had taken fell from his shoulders.
"Congratulations on your victory."
"······I am also grateful. I commend your efforts in protecting Deomar. My son."
Outside was bustling with noise, but the atmosphere inside the mayor's office in Shoara was quiet.
Even the advisor Lagmus and Josef's knight, Zayar, were holding their breath, leaving only the gaze exchanged between the father and son.
"Are you feeling better?"
"Much improved."
The eyes that looked at his son were still full of power, but his previously black hair now seemed to have more white.
Peter was now at an age where he needed to think about the path for those who would follow him rather than the path he himself would take.
"Didn't my brother come with you?"
"Rutger will stay there until the new gate is installed."
That's why it was also time to make decisions.
This war was short but intense, and it was a good opportunity to look back on his sons.
"······Is that so."
Peter guessed his son's thoughts as he looked deeper into Josef's eyes.
Other people might not have noticed, but this smart kid would have noticed.
The new fortress being built in the west was the first significant step taken by the Northern alliance, and it was a place that Tymur, the leader of the alliance, paid special attention to.
Rutger, who would remain in the fortress as Bayezid's representative, would meet numerous northern figures there and also strengthen his political position.
"We have succeeded in inviting people from the Dwarven Liberation Front, Nidavellir. Now they are at the docks of Shoara..."
"I know."
At Peter's cold interruption, the shadow in Josef's eyes deepened.
Josef's gaze began to tremble as if he had guessed something from Peter's attitude.
"You've worked hard. It was great."
Josef had undoubtedly performed admirably in what needed to be done and had completed everything he could do without mistake.
However, Peter couldn't congratulate his son with a genuinely joyful heart.
Facing the desolate winds of the west, he had pondered many things, and now it was time to give Josef the answers regarding that.
"······How about taking Nassau as a reward for that?"
Zayar, who stood behind Josef, flinched at Peter's words.
It was a statement that left out a lot of explanation, but there was a flowing atmosphere, and it was enough to evoke the same thoughts in everyone present.
"It's warmer and the air is better there than in Shoara. It's sure to be a suitable place for your weak body to manage."
"······."
Representing Bayezid were three cities: Sturma, Varna, and Shoara.
However, Peter was advising Josef to consider a city acquired from the west rather than these three cities.
Nassau was undoubtedly a fine city, but it did not share the history and traditions of Bayezid.
".....Father."
"I want to give you a choice, my son."
History repeats itself, and Bayezid survived that way.
It was a world of survival of the fittest, where only the strong could survive.
Peter still remembered the expressions of his brothers pierced by his own sword.
"I will give you the governorship of Nassau. There will be more power and support than now."
So give up your position as the family head.
That's the only way you can survive.
"······Is this the end?"
"Yes."
Listening to Peter's final words, Josef felt dizzy.
The long and arduous trial that began from the moment of his birth, even though he didn't desire it.
Josef did his best with his inadequate body for this trial that seemed to have no end, but his struggles ultimately led him to this point.
The trial is over.
In the end, the person chosen by his father was his older brother, not him.
"I've had many conversations with your mother. She also said she would accept this decision if it ensures your safety."
The deep sense of defeat that Josef had been suppressing all this time began to engulf him.
It felt as if the emotions he had suppressed with reason were bursting out like a breached dam.
"I believe you'll understand my decision."
"······."
Of course, Josef can understand.
The world today is turbulent, and to overcome such turbulence, a strong ruler is needed.
Josef knew long ago that a weak ruler who collapses after just one adversity is not suitable.
But his feelings...
Who on earth would understand the feeling of having one's lifelong goal crumble before them?
"When this winter passes, prepare your luggage and go to Nassau. Your mother will accompany you."
"Father."
Josef slowly raised his head amidst Peter's remarks, which were full of consideration for his son but were ultimately only one-sided notices.
In Peter's words, Josef reluctantly raised his head.
It was a head filled with frustration, defeat, and an uncontrollable anger that had been suppressed.
"Was I lacking?"
"....No."
But within his gaze that met his father's, the sticky emotions had somehow been subdued.
Josef was not as strong as Rutger, but he had endured much suffering and lived up to this point.
"Was I a son you were ashamed of or wanted to hide?"
".....No. You are my proud son."
Children grow up.
Even if they diverge from the direction and limits set by their parents.
With his soul hardened by experience, Josef's determination was more resilient than Peter had thought.
"Then I will die."
While parents may set the beginning, they cannot dictate the end.
My life belongs solely to me, and I alone have the right to determine its end.
"I want to leave behind at least one star in the vast sky with my name engraved on it before I die."
"······."
Because my body is weak, because my talent is lacking.
I do not want a life where I simply live as I was born, unable to do anything.
Because I, your proud son, was not born to live like that.
"As your proud son, I want to become the next Bayezid family head, father."
Once disregarded among the stars in the night sky, Josef now decided without hesitation to burn his entire life.
According to his own will.
Even if everyone else says it's impossible, he wants to pursue something worthwhile.
※※※※
Crash!
A loud bang reverberated through the convent of Shoara, shaking its very foundation.
"Wh-what! What's happening!"
The head nun, startled by the thunderous noise, rushed downstairs, her eyes wide with disbelief at the scene before her.
The chapel of the convent is still filled with swirling smoke, with scattered wooden panels strewn about in disarray.
"What on earth is going on, Lord Bishop! Even though I'm a follower of the Vatican!"
"....Ha."
Andrea, who had been conversing with her in the office moments ago, was also startled by the noise and followed her downstairs.
Stefan, the mercenary leader, stood anxiously amidst the gathering nuns, his eyes darting around nervously.
But the man who drew all the attention seemed unperturbed, simply closing his left eye again as if nothing had happened.
"The door wouldn't open, I heard."
He laughed sarcastically, but the golden light that flowed between his closed eyelids was anything but ordinary.
"The door that wouldn't open for the prostitutes, the door that wouldn't open for the people who don't have anything, and the door that wouldn't open for those in need."
A door erected by noble intentions but controlled by the standards of those in power.
For Vlad, who had realized the superficiality of those standards, the firmly closed door of the convent was nothing more and nothing less than a target to be removed.
"So, I tried fixing it, but it didn't go well."
".....Is that so?"
There was a nun next to him who was yelling at him, asking what the hell he was doing, but Bishop Andrea was just nodding and smiling.
"It's fine! After all, it was a door we were planning to replace anyway!"
This was precisely why he, who once roamed the wilderness, had taken up the position of bishop.
I was planning on breaking it anyway.
I was fed up with the high threshold you made, ever since I was a priest.
"Aren't there still some things left? Since there are no capable men here to do it, you'll be the one to finish the job!"
As Andrea suggested, there were still a few loose door panels.
Vlad was surprised to see Andrea, who seemed to encourage him to break even more, but since he had permission, there was no reason to hesitate.
"Understood, Lord Bishop."
Light began to emanate from Vlad's closed left eye.
His own light, unerasable by the various colored glasses reflecting from above.
Though he hadn't yet surpassed the moon, Vlad, who had his own world, was shining brighter than anyone at that moment.
The first blow was for the prostitute.
The second was for the girl.
All of them were people who struggled not to live the way they were born.
"······!"
With the permission of the noble Bayezid and the assurance of the bishop, the knight's blow was launched through the highest hill of Shoara.
Boom!
The resounding noise, even louder than before, startled the soldiers below, causing them to look up at the convent.
With Vlad's furious strike, the last remaining door panels of the convent were blown away.
The standards set by someone else couldn't fully judge him.
The boy from the back alley, who had been doing what he had to do, had finally done what he wanted to do.
It was the potential of a boy recognized only by a true priest.
[T/L: You can read more chapters and support me here: - https://ko-fi.com/revengerscans ]