Firsa was quite familiar with the palace environment, unlike when she was nearly lost in the cracked land.

He closed his eyes as if sensing something. The scene seemed to return to the Kingdom period, and the rise of the Silver Empire replayed in his mind like a theatrical performance.

Sherry followed Philsa through the main gate, then noticed him stop. She had felt a surge of anticipation and expectation as she stepped through—followed by profound disappointment in the dejected Falcon.

Outside the palace. Alphonse defied the king's orders, stubbornly insisting on completing the training, leading the Falcons to the south to fight, and in doing so, regaining their former honor.

In the training field. Alphonse and Finchley had two fierce battles on the bullseye of the target. The intense battles from those times were still vivid in my mind, and a sense of tension welled up inside me.

In the stables, Finchley gave Alphonse a valuable item: the silver mask once worn by the former captain as proof of leadership.

On the outdoor training ground, the two of them faced off once again.

Alphonse revealed the true form of the Ice Sword "Danrityl" to the Falcons for the first time, and also witnessed Finchley's Corona Sword "Milonsens".

Two outstanding samurai clashed, setting aside their nascent friendship, their so-called guild ranks, and the honors of their respective factions, both yearning for a pure duel without boundaries.

The two sides fought for a long time without a clear winner, and both collapsed to the ground from exhaustion.

Sherry asked her companion in surprise why she was so familiar with the structure of the Eagle Palace.

My companions never mentioned ever being here.

Even if you've visited once or twice, you can't possibly be as familiar with it as if you were strolling through your own backyard.

“Me…” Philsa smiled and explained, “Alphonse has been living here for almost half a year.”

“But…” Upon hearing this, Sherry seemed to remember that Philsa was actually the inheritor of Alphonse’s memories.

"Last night's dream brought me back here. Just one night's dream made me spend half a year in the kingdom," his companion said half-jokingly, but there was absolutely no falsehood in his words.

"No wonder you looked so exhausted when you woke up this morning, like you hadn't slept all night. So you were 'wandering' back in the kingdom!"

Shirley now understood the burden that the memories passed down from the hero had brought him.

In one person's heart and mind, there are memories of two people, like a kettle forcibly holding two portions of water, almost bursting the container.

This situation could be described as heavy.

For a while, Sherry was happy that Philsa had inherited the memories of the hero, but now that she has experienced his true situation, she can't help but feel worried.

"Hey... don't look so worried." His companion wanted to continue, but then, as if realizing something, he swallowed his words and simply said, "The enemy is here."

She became alert as well.

In the lobby, the ancient round table still stands, but the wood shows signs of decay and is somewhat broken.

Philsa and Sherry, Fred and Van met here.

A large round table separated the two groups of people.

Van cracked his knuckles, his entire body bursting into flames, preparing for battle. Meanwhile, Philsa had already unleashed the full power of his magical veins.

"Wait a minute—"

The demon lord Frederick commanded Brahma to stop.

"I have some questions for the person in front of me."

Brahma stared at the Demon Lord in disbelief, reluctantly withdrawing the scattered demonic energy of fire and taking a step back.

Philsa and Shirley were filled with doubt.

Fred chose a suitable seat and sat down facing them. A moment later, he drew the sword from his waist—

A sword shrouded in a bluish-purple demonic aura was revealed and placed flat on the table to show the two people opposite that it was not a trick.

As the Demon Lord Fred, he was capable of defeating his enemies even without resorting to trickery, preventing them from ever stepping out of the hall again. Moreover, given his noble status, such underhanded tactics would be an insult to the Demon Lord's reputation.

"Sit down," the Demon Lord gestured to the two young men.

Shirley hesitated, but then she saw Philsa unwrap the leather-bound sword and place it horizontally on the table. Philsa sat down, but the wariness in her eyes remained undiminished.

What he was wary of was not the Demon Lord, but the Flame Demon General who could pounce on him at any moment.

He doesn't need to lay down his weapon; his fists are the weapons he uses to take the lives of his enemies.

Instead of sitting down, Fan took a step back and stood behind the Demon Lord.

It was as if sitting at the same table as the reincarnation of Elfons was a colossal disgrace. The Demon Lord ignored the actions of his subordinates, his gaze, visible behind his mask, remaining fixed on his kinsman, Philsa.

The knight and the demon lord, two sworn enemies, sitting at the same table—this seems utterly absurd. Yet, at this moment and in this place, Philsa and Fred are indeed calmly facing each other, as if negotiating, sitting at the same table.

"In ancient legends, the round table symbolizes equality. Today, the two of us sitting at the round table are the same, at least at this moment, simultaneously," the Demon Lord said in a calm tone, as if making a declaration.

Philsa didn't speak, but continued to listen to the person on the other end.

“Here, I am not the Demon Lord, but Fred; you are not a knight, but Philsa.” When he said this, the Demon Lord changed his self-reference to “this lord”.

“Well then, Your Excellency—” Philsa also composed himself and addressed Fred with a polite form of address, but the extremely brief question that followed was anything but impolite: “What brings you here?”

My dear reader, there's more to this chapter! Please click the next page to continue reading—even more exciting content awaits!