State Funeral

"Blood Colonel" Hellman looked at the elderly man lying silently on the ground before him, no longer breathing, and his expression shifted slightly.

Clang—

He slowly sheathed his jeweled cross sword, then flicked his trench coat aside, placed one arm across his chest, and silently bowed to the old man's body.

This had nothing to do with sides. It was simply respect for a strong man... and respect, from the bottom of his heart, for a former companion who had died so heroically, whose will had remained so unyielding even while standing in an opposing camp.

After the fierce battle, the entire plaza was a wreck. The once-level stone pavement had been ruined beyond recognition, littered with sword marks, craters, and even deep, lengthy trenches.

At the edge of the plaza, the densely packed Federation troops looked at one another in silence. The senior officers' Adam's apples bobbed as they silently removed their berets and, following Blood Colonel's example, saluted the dead white-haired old man from afar.

The scene was silent.

Even Lady Barefoot, badly wounded and clutching her severed arm, could not help holding her breath at the sight.

Paracelsus...

The chairman of the Bremen Empire, Caesar's chief adviser, the greatest alchemist of the present age, a supreme powerhouse of the mystical realm...

At last, the curtain had fallen on his life.

His legendary life could be called an epic masterpiece. Over a lifespan spanning more than three centuries, he had nearly witnessed the end of the Dark Age of the Middle Ages and the arrival of a new era.

He had also witnessed the founding, development, and rise of the Bremen Empire, as well as the birth of many Hour-Gods.

Yet today, just now...

He had closed his eyes forever.

Setting aside positions and factions, putting slaughter and