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There was one last place I needed to go to before going to the North, ending the unfinished calamity, and untying the knot with my own hands.

Unfortunately, walking there myself would’ve meant being stopped every few steps, so I asked the Mage Duchess to teleport me. I felt bad about making her do me a favor when she was already upset about me going to war, but there was no way around it. I had to go.

“It feels like we just saw each other, huh?”

And so, I arrived in front of their gravestones. Somehow, I end up coming back here whenever something happens. Maybe it was because I still didn’t have anyone else I could really call a friend besides these guys, or because I couldn’t leave for the North without seeing them when it was tied to them.

“I can’t stay long. My future wife is waiting outside.”

Either sensing the seriousness in my expression or thinking it wasn’t time to meet Hecate yet, the Mage Duchess decided to wait outside. I couldn’t help but feel guilty for dragging her for personal reasons.

Anyway, I sat down in front of the gravestones and sighed. There was no alcohol and someone was waiting, so I should just quickly say what I needed to and leave. I didn’t feel like staying for long, anyway.

“That bastard Dorgon finally crawled out again. Honestly, I was hoping he’d just die in some forgotten corner of the world, but I guess that was wishful thinking.”

I couldn’t help but laugh for a moment. Dorgon’s tenacity in surviving two years of war and three years of pursuit after the war ended was amazing. And then there was me—naive enough to hope that a monster like him would just conveniently drop dead somewhere.

Each of the Eight War Machines was a monster, but that bastard was in a league of his own. His raw power wasn’t overwhelming, but his survival instinct and cunningness were something else. That must be why the imperial army that managed to kill all the other War Machines couldn’t finish him off until the very end.

Moreover, he was also the commander of Kagan’s personal guard, which made him even harder to catch. The guy was practically the villain traveling with his own squad of mini-bosses.

“Still, it’s not the worst-case scenario. We thoroughly crushed the anti-empire tribes in the last war, so the forces he’s rallying now are bound to have some cracks in them.”

I didn’t mention that the current empire had its flaws, too. I didn’t want to say anything negative to these guys, who should only hear good things.

“And I’ve decided to participate in the war. If I’m out there, killing Dorgon shouldn’t be too hard.”

My bad blood with Dorgon ran deep. To be accurate, I clashed with Dorgon and Tala often, and Dorgon was the last one standing. We fought and fought until the war ended, and yet the both of us were still alive despite everything. I couldn’t kill him, but he couldn’t kill me, either.

But I was confident it’d be different this time. Unlike Dorgon who didn’t have Kagan and the War Machines, I had the Masked Unit that I revived with my own hands, the slowly recovering imperial army, and the elites that would be deployed to the North as the Emperor declared the conquest of the North. Everything was in my favor now.

So, I could kill him. I could finally end this long, tangled mess.

“If I take him down, then maybe I’ll deserve to be here.”

With those words, I closed my mouth.

Yes, deserve. If I could finally put an end to this mess, if I could accomplish what I believe I was brought here to do, maybe then I’d earn the right to call myself a part of this world.

Maybe that’s why I was brought here in the first place.

If there was one thing I’d learned from all the transmigration stories I’d read, it was that transmigrators always had a reason for being pulled into a new world. Whether it was to save the world, prevent someone’s death, turn it into a better ending, or simply live a peaceful life, there was always a purpose. There was no transmigration without a reason, and no life without a purpose.

However, I didn’t know much about this world. I stopped reading the original novel halfway and lost interest after dropping it, so I didn’t know why I came into this world or what I should do. At first, I just thought I’d hit the jackpot—an orphan turned noble, living a good life and enjoying the perks.

But as things got complicated and I ended up joining in the war and meeting these guys, I started thinking differently.

Killing the Khan, ending the war, protecting the peace, and saving all of them—maybe that was why I was brought here.

There’s no other reason I can think of.

Kagan was a monstrous figure, someone who could’ve easily been mistaken for a Demon Lord. If I, a possessor, ended up facing such a monster, wouldn’t it be only right to think of it as the will of this world itself? And wouldn’t saving these guys, the first relationships I made after possessing this body, and being together until the end be the goal?

But I failed. I killed Kagan and ended the war, but these guys died. The peace I achieved ended up being a half-baked facade of peace the moment Dorgon escaped.

Since then, I had thought that way: that I was someone who failed to achieve the purpose of my possession. That I was a foreign species unworthy of settling in this world. That I was a worm who stole someone else’s body but ultimately failed his purpose.

Of course, other people called me a hero, saying I achieved an unparalleled feat. But what good was that when I myself, who couldn’t save them and couldn’t die alone, thought of myself as a worm?

Half-baked.

There was no word more fitting for me than that because I only achieved a half-baked peace. I was a half-baked person who stole this family’s son and older brother, a half-baked person who couldn’t protect these guys despite claiming to be their friend, and a half-baked person who couldn’t even bring comfort to the first lover he loved.

I rolled into this world as an outsider, shamelessly took someone else’s life, and still failed to fulfill my purpose. How could I possibly consider myself whole?

A half-baked person that doesn’t even compare to you guys...

Born into nobility, gifted with a sturdy body from the blood of a prestigious martial family, and blessed with an insane recovery ability that might be a possession perk. I had all of that, and yet I still fell short. I just wanted to enjoy a life transmigrated as a noble, with no purpose or dream.

But these guys? They shone.

Despite being born commoners, despite not receiving proper education, and despite being ordinary humans who felt pain when injured—these guys moved forward with their own missions. For family, for faith, for their beliefs, and for peace. Unlike someone like me who dreamed of an easy life and got dragged into war, these guys were great.

To be honest, I was even jealous of them at first. As the possessor, wasn’t I supposed to be the protagonist? So why couldn’t I shine while these guys did? That was why I was happy when I was appointed as the Team Manager back then. It felt like recognition that I was better than them. Thinking back on it now, it was such a childish emotion.

You guys are the Six Swords.

I smiled again as I looked at the six gravestones standing side by side. The Six Swords that protected the empire. It was a name that fit them perfectly, and I didn’t have the qualifications to be part of that glory. It was too noble a title for a half-baked person like me, who accomplished nothing while stumbling around aimlessly.

That was why I declined the title of the Seventh Sword. I wasn’t worthy of that name.

After all, I was the one who monopolized all the glory they should’ve enjoyed, simply because I had the misfortune—or maybe fortune—to survive when they didn’t.

No, sometimes I wonder if maybe they would’ve lived in the original version of this world. Maybe it was my presence, an unplanned impurity, that caused them to die.

“Instead of this sinner.”

It felt bitter, but that was the reality. I was just a sinner unworthy of standing alongside them. If I had wanted to stand shoulder to shoulder with them, I should have died back then.

With that thought, I gently stroked the gravestones. Gerard, Oliver, Drake, Walter, Idrid, and... Hecate. My friends and my lover, whom I failed to protect and save.

“...But even this sinner wants to live.”

A faint, self-deprecating smile formed on my lips as I whispered the words. I failed. I didn’t belong here. I was an outsider in this world. But still, I wanted to keep living.

Maybe that was why I ended up with six lovers. They were people who proved I had the right to be in this world. These weren’t connections this body had built; they were bonds I forged after losing these guys—after becoming who I was now.

Perhaps I took lovers because I wanted the comfort of being a part of this world. Because I wanted to feel that even I, who had lost everything, could be loved.

“But it stopped right there.”

These relationships, built as a way to validate my place in this world, never went deeper. Whenever I tried to, a voice deep inside me whispered, ‘Do you really have the right to get closer to these people?’

I got scared. Maybe it was a trauma I didn’t fully understand, but I was terrified of taking that next step.

I shouldn’t be like this.

How rude was it to not even express proper affection to those who confessed to someone like me?

I wanted to be part of this world so badly that I reached out to them, but then I stopped, crippled by my own insecurities. How utterly pathetic.

“That has to change.”

I took a small, deep breath and turned around. It was time to unravel the knot I’d left tangled for too long.

I would kill Dorgon and bring true peace. I would achieve with my own hands the peace they wished for and the reason I came to this world, even though I couldn’t protect them.

And maybe, just maybe, I’d finally be able to release the chains I’ve wrapped around myself once it was over. Maybe I’d finally be able to live in this world—not as an intruder, not as an outsider, but as someone who truly belonged.

Not as a half-baked person, but as a whole.

***I made one last stop at the mansion before returning to the academy.

It’s been a while.

More specifically, I visited the storeroom at the mansion. My weapon, which I hadn’t touched in three years, was sleeping there. Calling it my ‘beloved weapon’ might sound a bit dramatic, but it was the one I’d used the longest and was the one that felt most natural in my hands. Thinking about it like that, maybe it was deserving of the title.

I reached for the sword resting next to those guys’ weapons. The expeditionary force wouldn’t be organized in a day, so I needed to stay at the academy as usual until the imperial family issued more specific orders.

That said, if my time at the academy dragged on for some reason, there was always the possibility that my determination could waver.

I should prepare it in advance.

So, I held the sword again for the first time in years. This wasn’t a training blade, nor a backup or practice weapon—it was the very sword I had wielded in the North.

I absentmindedly pulled it from its sheath. The blade gleamed red in the dim light, almost as if it symbolized the blood spilled in the north...

?

What the hell?

Why was it red?

Did it rust or something? No, that was impossible...