RLTIC Chapter 0

Chapter 0

Prologue

Under the clear sky, pale pink petals scattered gently in the spring breeze.

It was a scenic backdrop perfectly suited to emphasize the triumphant parade that would follow.

The crowds gathered at the edge of the main road as if guided by an unspoken agreement determined to not miss this precious moment to glimpse the return of their heroes.

At last, resonant trumpet calls heralded the heroes' entrance.

The people erupted in unified cheers, while others wept silently, unable to hold back their sobs.

And how could they not?

The monsters had truly been ahorrificnightmare.

Night after night, they had lain awake haunted by fear that monsters might emerge from the shadows and claim their lives?

Hardly a soul in the gathered crowd had been spared loss—nearly everyone had watched monsters tear away their family, friends, and neighbors.

But now, finally, at long last, that dark tragedy was over.

The three brutal wars between humans and monsters had finally ended with humanity's triumph.

Those entering triumphantly amid everyone's acclaim were more than just military leaders - they werehumanity's saviors.

The crowd's cheering swelled to new heights as they recognized the two figures leading the procession.

On the left, astride a white horse, rode the black-haired man who ruled northern Virka and stood as the sole heir of House Schwert- the legendary Sword Saint, Erich von Schwert.

And on the right, mounted upon a black horse, was the white-haired woman who commanded the Ivory Tower and had proven herself history's greatest magical prodigy- Beatrice Winter.

In that moment, Erich von Schwert drew his white horse to a halt and accepted two wreaths from a young girl standing by the roadside.

He placed one upon his own head before reaching over to crown Beatrice Winter with the other.

The crowd's response was immediate - their cheers intensified at this touching display between the striking pair.

"My, you certainly have a gift for theatrics," Beatrice remarked dryly. "Perhaps you should consider a career change."

Erich remained silent in the face of Beatrice's detached remark.

Instead, his eyes studied the white-haired woman intently. Despite his careful observation of her features, he could detect not even a flicker of emotion.

'Why?'

Beatrice mouthed the question while meeting his gaze.

Erich responded with a subtle shake of his head.

But he must have failed to maintain his composure, for Beatrice whispered under her breath.

"What's wrong, Schwert?"

Since their parting, Beatrice had taken to addressing him by his family name rather than his given name. Erich's lips parted briefly before pressing closed again as he searched his former lover's face once more.

Those ash-gray eyes that once shimmered with joy at his whispered words of love now held nothing but emptiness. They showed only confusion, as if wondering why this man was suddenly acting so strange.

Erich von Schwert swallowed back the heartfelt words that threatened to spill forth. Though he had accumulated countless things he'd wanted to say once the war ended... now that the moment was here, he couldn't voice any of them.

He knew Beatrice Winter too well to summon such pointless courage.

They had fought as one for 10 years.

On the same side, pursuing the same goal, protecting each other without hesitation as they raced toward victory.

Without her presence, his life would have been forfeit.

Without his support, she would not have survived.

At times he could sense her intentions without seeing them, understand her thoughts without exchanging words. And she too seemed to peer directly into his heart.

Even though they had grown apart and become strangers, their spirits remained inexplicably connected.

If his entire life could be distilled into a single word, it would undoubtedly be "Beatrice Winter."

And so Erich recognized the truth.

The simple, undeniable fact that Beatrice Winter held no remaining attachment to him whatsoever.

"Schwert?"

"Neither can I," she admitted.

"Me neither."

"Yeah."

"But I imagine we'll adapt eventually. To peace. To ordinary life."

Will they really?

Suppressing the doubt that threatened to escape, Erich fixed his gaze ahead. Though he wished to end the exchange there, Beatrice Winter had always been persistent.

"But Schwert, we'll see less of each other now, won't we?"

"Ah. Have you grown tired of me?" He attempted to keep his tone light, concealing his pain.

"What are you saying? It's just that... well, how should I put it... We were only together on the battlefield."

"I suppose that's true. Being with you always felt like waging a war anyway."

Erich fell quiet, wounded by her agreement to his own bitter words.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately,Beatrice also ceased speaking.

They shared no more words after that.

Not until the victory parade concluded, not even during the grand celebration at the imperial palace.

The next time they spoke was after all the festivities marking the war's end had finished.

As the warriors prepared to return to House Schwert and the mages to the Ivory Tower's headquarters, Erich and Beatrice faced each other one final time.

Companions who had pursued the same dream. Soulmates. Greatest comrades. And above all,former lovers.

"Beatrice Winter."

Erich softly spoke her name, and

"Erich von Schwert.”

Beatrice quietly answered.

They gazed at each other in silence, deliberately ignoring all the time they had walked together. Thus, burying their past, they exchanged light kisses on each other's cheeks.

It was a farewell so formal and empty that none could have guessed they had once been passionate lovers.