About Picking up a Princess and Raising Her to Be a Tyrant

My name is Elijah, the Wolf of the Border, the Immortal, the Son of the Curse—whatever you want to call me, names are worthless after death and resurrection. This year, the northern border fell. The Black Flag Army crushed Dragon's Breath City, and Augustus' 700-year-old throne was shattered into pieces. The church watched with cold eyes, the allies watched from the other side, and the three generals defected in the face of battle. Men who once swore allegiance to the royal family were now paraded through the streets with their heads on pikes. This year, I took on a loss-making transaction. Pull out from among the dead a princess whose name is not even written on the family tree. This year, I told that little girl who was abandoned by the whole world, to restore the country? Glory? Justice? It's all bullshit. "From today on, this sword belongs to you. The bastards who stand in front of you belong to me."