A sudden thought hammered into Vanitas’s mind.
Did this mean he had secured her trust?
If so, had he just dodged a death flag—one where Margaret would have apprehended him, taken him to trial, and had him sentenced to exile?
He didn’t know the exact details of Vanitas Astrea’s controversy. But he did know that someone had appealed for exile instead of execution.
And exile…. meant everything would be stripped away—his name, his title, his very existence. In the end, he was sent to Index—the worst prison in the Empire.
However, there was one crucial detail that had heightened the controversy surrounding Vanitas Astrea’s sentence.
During his transport to Index, something happened.
And shortly after, the mid-game boss known as Vanitas Astrea never returned to the story.
No matter what, it was still there. And the reward percentage was still steadily increasing.
Thus, Vanitas had the urge to check.
◆ Objective: Prevent upcoming allegations and avoid losing your teaching profession at all costs.
◆ Understanding: +125%
No matter what, it was still there. And the rewards were still steadily increasing.
Karina stepped forward, concern evident in her expression.
But before Karina could get any closer, Vanitas placed a hand on Margaret’s head—her forehead still pressed lightly against his chest—and gently pushed her away.
"I’ll deal with you later," he said.
Then, he turned to the gathered crowd, deliberately ignoring Karina.
"I know all of you have questions," he said, his voice calm despite his exhaustion. "But as you can see, I’m in no condition for an interrogation."
His gaze swept over the knights and mages, then locked onto Commander Albrecht.
"But I will require a report regarding everything that occurred during my disappearance," he continued. "In the meantime, you can take Knight Illenia for questioning."
Margaret blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then, following Vanitas’s gaze, she turned toward the gathered knights.
Their expressions were filled with concern, relief, and a silent plea for answers.
Margaret clenched her fists.
"I’ll handle the procession," she said.
Then, shifting her gaze to her Crusade Order, she took a deep breath.
"I…" Her voice faltered for a brief second before she pushed through. "I have failed you."
A heavy silence followed.
Some of her knights looked down. Others averted their gazes. It didn’t take a genius to piece together what happened during the Dullahan subjugation.
Vanitas glanced at her, but said nothing.
Margaret swallowed hard before continuing.
"But I will take respo—"
"As I’ve stated before, and I’ll state it again," Vanitas cut in. "You have all followed me. Therefore, I will take responsibility for everyone."
Margaret’s eyes widened as she turned to him.
Without hesitation, Vanitas stepped forward. "But for now, Margaret Illenia will answer the questioning."
Margaret’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out as she watched him walk past her.
He approached Charlotte, and his sister wasted no time as she threw her arms around him in a tight hug.
Vanitas groaned slightly and let out a small sigh before ruffling her hair. Then, without another word, the two began making their way back.
Karina stood still for a moment, her gaze lingering on Margaret before she finally turned away and followed after them.
Margaret exhaled, steadying herself. Then, with her Crusade Order by her side, she followed the rest.
Meanwhile, Vanitas glanced at the corner of his vision.
◆ Red Moon of Autumn.
Prevent the fall of Amesticross.
◆ Understanding: +25%
He had finally unlocked the Traits interface.
Within the Empire’s territory, yet far from the bustling cities, lay a quiet rural village. It was a small, humble settlement still under the Empire’s domain.
Margaret stood before a modest wooden house and knocked.
Her fingers hesitated for only a moment before she stepped back and waited.
——Allan, can you get the door? It must be Miss Yuri again.
The sound of a child’s laughter mixed with the voices of two adults echoed faintly from behind the door.
Moments later, the door creaked open, and a man stood in the doorway.
He starkly resembled Johanna.
"Yes—Ah?" His gaze landed on her armor, and his eyes widened slightly. "A Crusade? All the way here?"
He glanced around briefly before turning his attention back to Margaret, confusion spreading across his face.
"H-How may I help you, Miss…?"
Margaret swallowed her saliva.
She had rehearsed this in her mind countless times.
Yet now, standing here in front of Johanna’s family, the words refused to come out.
"I…" She forced herself to meet his eyes. "I’m Margaret Illenia. Grand Knight of the Illenia Crusade Order."
The man’s posture straightened slightly at the name. His brows furrowed, the confusion in his eyes deepening.
"Illenia…?" he repeated. Then, as if realization dawned on him, his expression shifted.
Margaret clenched her jaw and reached into her coat, pulling out a small, well-worn pendant.
The moment the man’s gaze landed on it, his breath hitched.
"That’s…" His voice trailed off.
"This belonged to Johanna," she said softly. "And I believe it must be returned to the place where it rightfully belongs."
A silence fell over them, heavier than anything Margaret had ever endured on the battlefield.
The man reached out with a shaking hand, his fingers brushing against the pendant before he finally took it.
But as if he hadn’t heard her, Allan’s grip tightened around the pendant. His eyes glistened, his chest rising and falling.
"She’s…." he said, his voice cracking. "She’s not coming home, is she?"
Margaret swallowed hard.
The way her gaze remained steady, the way her lips pressed into a thin line, it was enough of an answer as is.
Allan exhaled sharply, his shoulders shaking.
Behind him, the woman’s voice called again, this time with a hint of concern.
Slowly, he turned his head. "Come here, Jean."
There was hesitation. Then, soft footsteps. Tak. Tak. Tak.
A woman emerged from inside the house. Her auburn hair was tied loosely behind her head. The moment she saw Margaret, her eyes flashed with confusion.
Then, her gaze landed on the pendant in Allan’s hand.
The color drained from her face. Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Margaret braced herself as Jean stepped forward.
"What is this?" Jean asked.
Allan inhaled shakily, then gently took her hand, placing the pendant in her palm.
Jean stared at it for a long, frozen moment.
Then, realization hit.
Her entire body tensed, and for a moment, it seemed as though she had stopped breathing.
Her hands trembled as she turned to Margaret, eyes pleading, as if desperately hoping for denial.
But Margaret said nothing.
And that silence alone shattered everything.
Jean let out a choked sob, her legs giving out beneath her as she collapsed onto the doorstep.
Allan immediately knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her shaking form.
Margaret could only stand there, watching, as grief consumed them both.
A lump formed in her throat. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, and her eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall.
Instead, Margaret took a slow breath, steadying herself, before speaking.
"She fought until the very end. She gave everything she had to protect the people she swore to. Not because she had to, but because that’s the kind of person Johanna was."
Her voice wavered, but she pushed through. Jean clutched the pendant to her chest, her body still trembling in her husband’s arms.
"I cannot take away the pain of her loss. And I cannot bring her back," Margaret said, her voice shaking. "But I swear to you, her name will not be forgotten. Her sacrifice will be honored."
Allan lifted his gaze, his expression hollow, but listening.
"She deserved more than what the world gave her," Margaret murmured. "And I will spend the rest of my life making sure she is remembered for the hero she was."
Margaret exhaled, forcing herself to push through the weight pressing on her chest.
"I know these words won’t ease the pain," she admitted. "But I wanted you to hear them. Because Johanna was more than just a knight to me. I considered her as family too."
Allan closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Amanda’s.
Margaret inhaled sharply, turning her gaze away, forcing herself to keep standing.
Because she, too, wanted nothing more than to fall to her knees and cry again.
But just as she was about to take a step back to giving them the space they needed, a small voice came from inside the house.
Margaret’s gaze shifted.
At the doorway, a little girl who looked no older than six or seven, stood. She had the same auburn hair as Amanda, and the same eyes as both Johanna and her father.
Margaret’s breath caught in her throat.
It was probably Johanna’s sister.
Jean stiffened in Allan’s arms, then quickly wiped at her face as she turned to the girl.
"Sweetheart…" she whispered, her voice breaking.
The girl’s gaze alternated from her mother to her father, then to Margaret, confusion written all over her face.
She seemed to have recognized the armor Margaret was wearing. But couldn’t recognize the face.
"Where’s Big Sister Jo?" she asked. Read exclusive adventures at NovelHub.Côm
Hearing those words felt like a blade just stabbed Margaret’s chest.
Jean choked back a sob, while Allan’s grip on the pendant tightened.
Meanwhile, Margaret’s throat went dry.
How was she supposed to answer that?
The girl’s innocent gaze locked onto hers, waiting, as if expecting an answer that Margaret couldn’t bring herself to give.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then, finally, Jean took a deep, shuddering breath and turned to her daughter.
"Come here, love," she murmured, opening her arms.
The girl hesitated, looking back at Margaret once more before slowly walking forward and sinking into her mother’s embrace.
Jean held her tightly, pressing a trembling kiss against her hair.
Margaret clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
She had faced demons. War. Death.
Yet this quiet, gut-wrenching moment felt heavier than anything else.
Allan, still kneeling beside his wife and daughter, looked up at Margaret.
"Thank you," he said. "For bringing her home.… in whatever way you could."
Margaret blinked away the tears that threatened to spill and forced a small, bittersweet smile.
"She deserved that much," she murmured.
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, Jean finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Would you… like to come inside?"
Subtle ways to build a narrative that garnered both respect and sympathy.
There was hardly any way anyone could blame Vanitas Astrea, who had only played the hand he was dealt to the best of his ability.
Nevertheless, the results were staggering—even for him.
Vanitas Astrea’s thesis on the Thirteen Eclipses had sparked both controversy and revelation.
Scholars had dissected its every branch, and as they tracked the events of the Blood Moon, fact after fact aligned with his theories. What was once considered absurd speculation had now been confirmed as nothing but the truth.
The results became evident.
Borders commanded by knights and mages who had followed Vanitas Astrea’s strategy, despite it being unconfirmed at the time, had achieved astonishing success in defense.
Meanwhile, the borders that had dismissed his warnings and refused his methods?
They had suffered the most during the Blood Moon.
But that was no longer Vanitas’s concern.
As he had made clear in his letter, he would take no responsibility for them.
Moreover, he was now free from his duties, as scholars had been dispatched to the borders to disseminate the latest findings regarding the Blood Moon.
In simpler terms, the Blood Moon was over.
A sharp groan escaped Vanitas as he pressed a hand to his forehead.
His body, long pushed beyond its limits, was now exacting its price.
For two days, he had been bedridden with a fever. The abuse his body had endured had caught up to him.
Nevertheless, Vanitas used this time to experiment with the Traits interface.
This was the perfect opportunity to test a theory—whether traits could be influenced by external conditions, particularly when his body was at its most vulnerable.
The Traits system operated on a branching mechanic, allowing players to allocate upgrades to specific aspects of their capabilities.
Magic was always an option. However, the Vanitas Astrea character was a mage by design. Magic could be refined through study, research, and dedicated practice.
But there was a fundamental weakness that magic alone couldn’t overcome.
It was a glaring flaw.
He was fragile. Far too fragile. His body couldn’t keep up with Chae Eun-woo’s experiences, especially in the combat department.
With that in mind, he navigated the interface and selected a trait under the Endurance branch.
◆ Strengthens the body’s natural physical resilience. Gradually improves through sustained physical training and steady mana circulation.
As soon as he confirmed the selection, a dull warmth spread through his limbs, followed by a strange, deep ache that settled into his muscles.
Vanitas exhaled slowly.
This was going to hurt.
The sharp sound of impact echoed through the estate grounds. Charlotte, startled, glanced up from her book.
With a sigh, she set the book aside and stepped outside.
She already knew what she would find.
Despite being feverish the past few days, Vanitas was at it again.
It was the same cycle. Day after day.
He would push himself until his body gave out, then come crawling back to her. She and the house servants would nurse him back to health, only for him to sneak off the moment he could stand again.
Charlotte followed the noise to the private training facility Vanitas had built on their estate grounds.
His shirt was damp with sweat. His body was visibly trembling—but still, he stood.
Every punch he threw against the reinforced training pillar sent vibrations through the air. His knuckles were already red, bruised from the repeated impact.
Charlotte clenched her jaw.
"Vanitas," she called.
But he didn’t respond, and the strikes continued.
Charlotte stepped forward.
His breaths were ragged, and his fever-worn body was swaying unsteadily. Yet, his amethyst eyes remained locked on the target.
Charlotte exhaled through her nose, forcing down her frustration.
This brother of hers…. since when had he been so reckless?
In the seven months she had known him, he had never pushed himself .
Seeing the fire in his eyes, she knew there was no stopping him—not unless she physically dragged him away.
And so, she remained silent, standing by.
Just in case he needed help again.
His knuckles were red, streaked with blood. The pain was there, but it wasn’t to the point where he found it agonizing.
Stepping outside the training facility, Vanitas spotted Charlotte seated nearby, flipping through her study materials.
"Charlotte, why are you out here?" he asked.
"I was watching over you," she replied without looking up. "But a letter arrived from the Imperial Palace, so I waited until you were done."
Vanitas raised a brow. "The Imperial Palace?"
"Yes." She lifted the envelope. "I didn’t read the contents. Here."
Vanitas took the letter, breaking the seal with a flick of his fingers. As he unfolded the parchment, his eyes scanned the elegant script.
To Professor Vanitas C. Astrea,
By Imperial Decree, you are hereby summoned to the Imperial Palace to be granted an audience with His Majesty, Emperor Decadien.
You are to present yourself within three days’ time.
The letter ended with the Emperor’s personal signature.
A slight smirk tugged at his lips.
It was probably Franz’s doing.