IBHJ 1197

Bedivere's passionate words echoed in his mind. "The one on the imperial throne is not our Emperor! We both have seen what happened, how can you deny what you know in your heart?"

Agravain shut his eyes. ‘Of course I know the truth, Bedivere. I may know it even better than you. But what you don't realize is that person is also the Emperor!’

Even Agravain who had pledged his very existence to the Eternal Empire when he became an Apostle, had one memory that haunted him through sleepless nights. A memory that could shake even this cold-blooded man.

He couldn't imagine what his counterpart in Pan-Human History was like. How could they be anything alike? Growing up in such radically different worlds had surely shaped them into entirely different people.

One hundred million years. An empire that had endured for eons. Most citizens now treated the "Tale of the Holy Sword" as just another dusty chapter in imperial history if they remembered it at all. But Agravain knew better. He knew the truth was far simpler and far stranger.

There had never been a Hero. No White Dragon Vortigern. The very concept of "nations" hadn't even existed.

Before the Emperor unified everything, this island had been nothing but scattered villages, barely surviving on their own.

In those days, the island was defenseless. No government, no soldiers, no one to protect them. The barbarians would sweep in from across the sea at will, destroying everything in their path - trampling crops, murdering the men, and dragging away the women and girls.

Young Agravain could only watch helplessly from his hiding place in a grass hut. He saw them kill his father as he tried to fight back. Watched them brutally assault his gentle mother until she died. Saw his friends' heads roll beneath their blades. And the girl he had loved in secret... they threw her to their beast for sport, forcing him to hear her screams as it devoured her alive.

Rage and despair consumed him. But what could he do? In the end, the barbarians found him too. Yet unlike his family and friends, fate had other plans - the man who would become Emperor happened to be passing through, and saved his life.

By then, Agravain had lost everything. All he wanted was to die.

The Emperor, uncertain how to comfort this broken child, simply held out a bundle of papers. "Here. Please... don't cry anymore?"

"What... what is this?" Agravain asked through his tears.

"It's a story. One I wrote myself. My favorite story."

That story the Emperor wrote would later become the famous "Tale of the Holy Sword."

The hero's adventures didn't lift Agravain's spirits, but something else in those pages ignited a spark within him. A single, powerful idea.

A nation.

If they'd had a proper government, a real army, an organized society with clearly defined roles... would his family still be alive? Would any of it have happened?

Finally, Agravain had found something to live for. He would help build a nation strong enough to protect its people. One where no child would ever have to watch their world burn as he had.

But he was just one person. He couldn't accomplish this alone. So he turned to the Emperor, his savior.

"Build a nation? No, no, I couldn't possibly. Ask someone else," the Emperor responded hesitantly.

"But why not?" Agravain pressed. "You're so powerful! If you were king, everyone would follow you. You could have anything you wanted—the finest food, every luxury imaginable!"

"But I'm not interested in any of that," the Emperor said gently. "Besides, a kingdom would mean no freedom."

"Then what does interest you?"

The Emperor smiled softly. "The little touching moments in life. And traveling to new places."

Though the Emperor refused his proposal, Agravain wouldn't give up so easily. He followed him stubbornly on his travels, eventually becoming the first Apostle to join the Emperor's journey.

Looking back now, he remembered how the Emperor, despite being troubled by his constant pestering, never once turned him away. And gradually, others began to join their unusual group. Each of them carried their own wounds. Garand who had been shunned all his life for his appearance, Aife who had fled into exile after accidentally killing her sister, and Bedivere, a boy seemingly empty of all emotion.

Yes, the Twelve Apostles who now stood at the Empire's pinnacle had once been just like him - lost souls the Emperor had saved, who chose to walk beside him on his endless journey.

The Empire wasn't born in a single moment. It grew naturally from their journey together, built piece by piece from countless small decisions.

What began as a tiny island nation slowly expanded until it encompassed the entire world. Then came the Emperor's ascension to divinity, granting immortality to all—and transforming his loyal followers into Apostles.

Yet even as a god, the Emperor never lost his wanderlust. He would vanish without warning, sometimes within the Empire's borders, sometimes beyond their world entirely.

Agravain used the Emperor's absences as motivation to strengthen the Empire, determined to make it last forever. He understood that what really divided people wasn't their strength or circumstances, but their different histories and beliefs. So for the Empire's sake, he methodically wiped out other cultures and histories, eliminating any space for alternative viewpoints.

And just as he had predicted, although some resisted at first, as memories faded and generations passed, everyone forgot what came before. They became one people, united in thought and purpose - all citizens of the Eternal Empire.

The Empire flourished in peaceful monotony. Some complained that the years stretched on too long, too uneventfully. They had no idea how much blood and sacrifice it had taken to create such peace.

Time might have erased those memories for everyone else, but not for Agravain. The Empire was his life's work, born from his deepest personal wounds. It was his obsession, his path to redemption, his entire world. And the Emperor—his Emperor—had made it all possible.

Perhaps that was why he did what he did that day.

Agravain would never forget it. Bedivere was away inspecting the territories, while he was in the capital going through reports from Lucius and the others.

Then the explosion happened.

The sound rocked the imperial palace, causing Agravain and the nearby Apostles to rush inside. What they saw there made their blood run cold.

Two Emperors stood facing each other.

Two beings exactly alike in every way. Same powers, same existence, same memories... but somehow completely different from each other. Both were already beaten up and bleeding from fighting each other.

"Perfect timing, everyone I need your help!" one of them called out with genuine concern. "Help me hold him down!"

"Don't listen to him!" the other shouted forcefully. "My Apostles, kill this impostor!"

Agravain and the others just stood there frozen in confusion. They had no idea how to tell which Emperor was the real one. But then something clicked for them. Their true Emperor—the one who had traveled with them and helped them through their darkest times—would never shout commands like that. Their real Emperor would never see them as mere servants.

"Listen well, the Empire will crumble unless you accept my divine authority!"

In that moment, this arrogant version of the Emperor revealed everything: the true nature of their world, the existence of something called Pan-Human History, an organization named Chaldea that interfered across different realities, some mysterious Council... and the shocking news that their Empire was doomed to collapse.

The truth hit them like a physical blow. To save everything they'd worked for, they needed to choose a side. And according to this Emperor, their kind friend and leader wasn't capable of saving them - it had to be this harsh, demanding version of him instead.

The Apostles remained motionless, completely torn. How could they possibly turn against their Emperor - the one who had walked alongside them, built this Eternal Empire with them, and reached into their darkest moments to bring them into the light? That compassionate soul who had rescued them couldn't be more different from this cold ruler now demanding their loyalty.

In the end, they faced an impossible choice: stay loyal to their beloved Emperor, or sacrifice him to save the Empire.

They were caught between two different kinds of betrayal and two different kinds of loyalty. Everyone stood paralyzed under the crushing weight of indecision.

When Agravain finally stepped forward and walked toward the gentle Emperor who had saved his soul, none of the other Apostles were surprised. After all, he was the first one their Emperor had rescued and the first to pledge his loyalty. No one understood or loved their Emperor more than Agravain did.

But then came the soft whisper of steel, followed by the sickening sound of a blade sinking into flesh.

"Agravain..."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty." Agravain looked into his Emperor's eyes one final time, his sword still buried deep in that gentle heart. Then, without hesitation, he turned and knelt before the other Emperor, bowing his head in submission.