From a Broken Engagement to the Northern Grand Duke's Son-in-Law

It all began with a single letter.

While my squad and I were deep in our training regimen, a messenger arrived from the capital bearing correspondence sealed with the Imperial crest.

The letter was addressed not to Lea, but to me personally.

Rustle.

I unfolded the parchment and scanned its contents.

“Well, damn.”

The profanity escaped before I could stop it, followed by a long, weary exhale.

The letter’s message was brutally direct:

Grand Duke Praha’s regular communications have ceased for over one month. This cessation indicates probable misfortune has befallen him. The Imperial Crown therefore intends to dispatch a rescue expedition.

Louis Berg is hereby commanded to serve as vice-captain of said rescue force and prepare for immediate deployment to the Demonic Realm.

A verbose way of saying: prepare to march into hell itself.

I folded the letter and clicked my tongue in frustration. So it had happened after all.

I’d hoped that providing the Grand Duke with Master’s location would prevent this catastrophe.

Apparently, his disappearance had been inevitable from the start.

“What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

Lea noticed my troubled sigh and turned toward me with questioning eyes.

I faced her directly, the words refusing to come easily. How do you tell someone their father has vanished without a trace?

But I couldn’t hide the truth forever.

Drawing a steadying breath, I forced myself to speak. “The Grand Duke has gone missing.”

“What? My father?”

Her question carried genuine bewilderment rather than denial—as if her mind couldn’t quite process what I’d said.

“It’s probably just a temporary communication breakdown. Father disappearing? That’s impossible.”

“He’s missed his regular reports for an entire month.” I kept my tone measured. “I don’t believe anything catastrophic has happened to the Grand Duke either… but I believe we’ll need to organize a rescue force regardless.”

My careful words seemed to finally penetrate her initial shock. Lea’s expression grew increasingly grave.

“No regular reports for a month? That can’t be right. Are you absolutely certain this information is accurate?”

“It’s a direct communication from His Imperial Majesty himself. Given that it was sent through covert channels, this is likely a classified operation.”

Lea’s eyes trembled with barely contained anxiety. Grand Duke or not, a father was still a father. Her worry was written plainly across her features.

“I understand. Then we need to prepare immediately.”

“You’re planning to accompany the expedition?”

“It’s a mission to rescue my father. Did you honestly think you could leave me behind?”

What a stubborn woman.

I sighed, watching Lea display both deep anxiety and unwavering resolve in equal measure.

Part of me wanted to tell her to remain here in safety, but I knew she’d probably head to the Demonic Realm alone if I refused.

Better to travel together where I could watch over her.

“Fine. We’ll go together.”

“Should we begin preparations now?”

“First, I need to inform Master Martel and the others. They’ll be joining the rescue expedition as well.”

I turned to observe the rest of my squad, still deep in their training exercises. Six months had transformed them beyond recognition—almost too dramatically to believe.

“Hmm? Why are you staring at us like that?”

Though that particular bastard’s attitude hadn’t changed one bit.

I released a soft sigh at Lancelot’s characteristically blunt question.

“Shut up and start packing. We’re departing soon.”

“What, just like that?”

“A message arrived from the Imperial Palace. The Grand Duke has disappeared.”

News of the Grand Duke’s disappearance drew the same shocked reaction from everyone else as it had from Lea. But it didn’t take long for them to grasp the situation’s gravity.

Soon they were frantically preparing for immediate departure.

While the squad bustled about gathering their equipment, I approached Martel to deliver my farewells.

“I feel I should have learned more from you. I apologize for departing so abruptly.”

“These circumstances can’t be helped. Don’t trouble yourself over it.” His weathered face showed understanding. “Besides, they’ve all developed considerably over these months. At their current level, they won’t perish easily in the Demonic Realm.”

“I hope you’re right, but I can’t help worrying.”

I scowled bitterly. No matter how powerful they’d become, they still looked like children to me.

After six months of fighting alongside them, I'd started to feel something resembling genuine camaraderie.

“You’re probably the only person who’d express such concern about them,” Martel chuckled at my words—and he was right.

Their current abilities would rank them within the top fifty fighters across the entire continent. Lancelot alone had achieved Master rank just recently.

Kai’s approaching Thief Master level, and Roxen stands on the verge of Master rank himself. As for Hans... well, he’s a lost cause. But his throwing techniques have become formidable.

All else aside, Hans was becoming increasingly versatile. While he couldn’t engage in direct combat, he’d become indispensable to our squad’s overall effectiveness.

“Fair enough,” I acknowledged Martel’s assessment with a nod.

Just then, Enoxia descended into the basement workshop, blinking in confusion at the flurry of activity.

“What’s all this commotion? Where are you going?”

“It seems we need to travel to the Demonic Realm.”

I explained the Grand Duke’s disappearance once more. Enoxia clicked her tongue and smiled grimly.

“The Demonic Realm lives up to its reputation. Considering what it would take to make that particular man disappear…”

“Small wonder why it’s called the Demonic Realm. You’ve experienced it yourself—you know how ruthless those Twelve Nobles can be.”

“I know all too well… Absolute bastards, every last one of them.” Enoxia ground her teeth as she muttered the words.

After a moment, she fixed me with a serious stare.

“Be careful out there. Don’t get yourself killed trying to play the hero.”

“I plan to outlive everyone present, so don’t worry about me.”

“Damn... six months of training and you’ve lost all your manners.”

Enoxia scratched her head in exasperation.

“Anyway, remember what I taught you and employ it wisely. The technique is only usable at Grand Master level, so don’t overextend yourself.”

“Of course.”

I nodded as the squad finished gathering their equipment.

Facing both Enoxia and Martel, I bowed deeply. “We’ll be taking our leave.”

My farewell carried heartfelt gratitude for everything they’d done for us. Enoxia looked uncomfortable as she responded curtly.

“Travel safely.”

“We will.” I offered a faint smile.

And so our time in Diva came to its end.

* * *

As we boarded the passenger vessel, the ship’s horn announced our departure with a mournful wail.

“Safe travels!”

“Come visit us again!”

Diva’s citizens waved and called out to us from the dock, their voices carrying across the water.

“Farewell, everyone!”

“…Bye.”

Lancelot and Kai waved back at the gathered crowd. They’d clearly grown attached to the port city during our extended stay.

The farewells were brief—soon the ship was cutting through the waves at full speed, and Diva shrank to a distant speck on the horizon.

“Finally leaving this place behind.” Lancelot came to stand beside me at the railing, muttering under his breath.

From his steady posture, seasickness didn’t appear to be troubling him.

“What, feeling nostalgic already?”

“Nostalgic, my ass. If everyone knew the absolute hell we endured these past six months, they’d be amazed we didn’t mutiny and murder you, Captain. Anyone else would’ve been plotting your assassination by now.”

“…Sounds like you’re just voicing your own thoughts.”

Lancelot cleared his throat pointedly while gazing at the distant mountain peaks.

“Anyway, are we heading directly to the Demonic Realm? Or to the Imperial Palace first?”

“If we venture into the Demonic Realm by ourselves, we’ll simply die pointlessly. Since this is an official Imperial rescue expedition, we need to report to the capital first.”

“I see. That makes sense.” Lancelot leaned against the ship’s railing as he spoke.

His posture—chin resting thoughtfully on his hand as he watched the rolling waves—looked almost contemplative.

Studying the ocean swells, Lancelot spoke again. “It is strange, though. Even people like them are traveling to the capital.”

His gaze shifted sideways toward several rough-looking individuals who sat quietly nearby, apparently dozing.

“Maybe they just appear dangerous but are actually ordinary citizens?” Lancelot mused aloud.

Ah, I hadn’t mentioned this detail yet, had I?

Without changing my expression, I spoke carefully.

“We’re not traveling directly to the Imperial Palace.”

“What? Then where are we going?”

“We need to make a little detour.”

Proceeding straight to join the Demonic Realm rescue expedition would likely result in our deaths.

No matter how much stronger we’d become, that strength was measured by human standards—not by Demonic Realm standards.

Maximum preparation was absolutely essential if we wanted to avoid a meaningless death.

Proper weapons, Death Veil’s divine artifact Hasilan, and… I need to collect that woman as well.

I stared beyond the horizon, mentally cataloging everything that lay ahead. We’d need to move with extreme efficiency—at least if we wanted to avoid perishing for nothing.

Shaking off these grim thoughts, I addressed Lancelot directly. “We need to acquire proper weapons for you and the others, don’t we?”

The blacksmith, Python.

My final comrade, still locked away in Lovan Tree Prison.

And Death Veil’s divine artifact—the Unbreakable Thread, Hasilan.

All of it waited in a single location.

“The Land of Punishment—Lovan.”

“Sorry what?”

“That’s our destination.”

“Wait, what do you mean exactly?”

Lancelot blinked at me in confusion, and his bewilderment was entirely justified.

The Land of Punishment, Lovan—it was simply another name for a lawless wasteland where civilization had utterly collapsed.

* * *

Meanwhile, at that precise moment, absolute chaos had erupted in the underground depths of Lovan Tree Prison.

BANG! BANG!

“Shit! Open this cursed thing!”

“Motherfuckers! We’re all gonna die in here!”

Prisoners pounded desperately on their cell bars while screaming in uncontrolled terror.

Outside their cages, blood had pooled thickly across the stone floor.

Guard corpses lay grotesquely scattered throughout the crimson lake, their bodies twisted into impossible angles.

Splash.

Someone—or something—stepped casually through the blood as they moved between the cells.

“The stench of criminals carries so far…”

Slurp.

A grotesquely long tongue shot into one of the cells, instantly devouring a prisoner whole.

Gulp.

The owner of that tongue—a creature possessing a massive frog’s head—patted his distended belly contentedly and began humming a cheerful tune.

“Hmm~ shall I call it a day?”

The frog-faced being delicately removed a white napkin from around his neck and nodded with satisfaction, like a nobleman concluding an elegant meal.

The sight of something so utterly inhuman affecting the mannerisms of civilized society filled the surviving prisoners with disgust alongside their terror.

Fear and revulsion mingled thickly in the blood-soaked air.

Croak.

Making distinctly amphibian sounds, the creature descended deeper into the underground prison complex.

“What delicacies shall I sample tomorrow~”

His humming echoed through the corridors as one surviving guard whispered desperately from beneath an overturned desk.

“Please... somebody help us...”

Disaster had struck Lovan Tree Prison, where the continent’s most dangerous criminals were locked away.

One of the Twelve Nobles of the Demonic Realm—Ram, the Count of Gluttony—had arrived.

The devourer of all living things descended on the prison like a plague made flesh.