The Nightmare of King Carlos II
King Carlos II had tossed and turned all night. He rose from his bed in the early dawn, haunted by the shocking revelations he had heard the previous day. He tried to convince himself they couldn’t be true, yet every piece fit together far too neatly. Though he shook his head in denial, nothing felt certain anymore.
‘There could be upheaval within the royal capital itself. That… is entirely possible.’
The royal capital was the heart of the kingdom and the center of the continent. As such, it was a target that anyone seeking to sow chaos would inevitably aim for. The chances were extremely low, but what if it actually happened? It would mean far more than his name being recorded as the worst tyrant in the kingdom’s history. The fragile stability of the entire continent would shatter completely. The extreme chaos that followed would summon a vast darkness, and that darkness would devour everything in its path. Those who barely survived would be trapped within its shadows, slowly consumed.
Because he had dreamed of being buried alive in that very darkness, Carlos II found himself awake before dawn, clutching his face in both hands. After a long moment of inner conflict, the king summoned several people.
“Go to the residence of the Mage of the Magic Tower and deliver this message. Tell her that I wish to meet with her again.”
A king’s command was absolute. Especially here in the royal capital, where his power held direct sway. Even nobles could be branded as traitors with a single word. The knights who received the order immediately set out for the Mage of the Magic Tower’s quarters.
The courtiers of the royal palace naturally assumed that the Heroes—and their so-called master—would come running at once. While the Heroes were not strictly bound to obey the king, maintaining a good relationship with the royal family made their work far easier. Everyone knew the Heroes had been offering just enough deference for that very reason. So both the king and his subjects expected the same this time.
“…What did you just say?”
But that expectation was utterly shattered the moment the knights returned.
“The Hero of Protection, ‘Holy War,’ said that since she answered the summons once before, it is only fair that this time they come when they deem it necessary. Then she immediately sent us away… Yes…”
Watching the knights stand there frozen stiff, Carlos II stared blankly for a moment before slowly lowering himself onto the throne. He gazed up at the audience chamber’s ceiling, then let out a hollow chuckle.
“Heh heh heh…”
At the king’s reaction, both the reporting knights and the surrounding courtiers lowered their heads to the floor and dared not speak a word. It wasn’t simply out of fear or pity for their ruler. They all knew about the incident currently being hushed up inside the palace—and just how precarious the king’s mental state had become because of it.
“Your Majesty, please send someone again.”
“Indeed. No matter how great a Hero she may be, this cannot be overlooked.”
Several courtiers hurriedly stepped forward, trying to soothe Carlos II’s mood. But the king waved his hand as if to say enough and spoke.
“Do not speak such foolishness. Unlike us, they are the ones truly shedding blood and sweat for this kingdom. They owe us no loyalty, yet they serve anyway. Therefore, it is only right that we treat them with respect. If we act like their superiors, who knows what might happen?”
To make an enemy of one Hero was to alienate all the others. At first, Carlos II had wondered why the Heroes seemed to compete with one another while simultaneously appearing so close. Yesterday, that question had finally been answered. Though there was a slight time gap between them, they all shared the same master. It was only natural they would feel a sense of camaraderie.
The way the Hero of Protection and the Hero of Martial Arts had treated that man with such utmost respect was something even the king himself had never received. Carlos II had inwardly let out a disbelieving laugh at the absurd scene.
“Do nothing foolish and simply wait. In any case, Holy War is a Hero who understands propriety. She will surely visit again before long, so do not mention this matter to anyone.”
“…Understood, Your Majesty.”
“Now leave me. I wish to rest my eyes for a while.”
At Carlos II’s command, the hesitant officials all withdrew from the audience chamber. Once silence had settled over the hall, the king slowly leaned back against the throne. He closed his eyes, hoping to catch the sleep that had eluded him all night.
—Kyaaaaaah!!—
—You beastly bastard! What do you think you’re doing!!—
—What’s the problem? I haven’t done anything wrong.—
—Shut your mouth! You beastly wretch! Disappear at once! Get out of here!!—
The king’s body, which had only just begun to drift off, jerked violently. His trembling eyelids and hands betrayed his utter terror.
—I’ll be back soon.—
—You think you’ll be allowed to?—
—Don’t worry, Father. I will return. And on the day I do… my sister will be mine.—
“Ughhh…”
Carlos II let out a pained groan. It was as if he desperately wanted to flee from the horrific memory, as if he never wanted to face it again. Yet the nightmare refused to release its grip on him.
—Your Majesty. The prince is said to be returning.—
—He has eradicated all the monsters and demonic creatures and is marching back in triumph.—
—The nobles and even the common people of that region already believe in him and follow him.—
—Since the prince himself fought on the front lines, the public sentiment in the capital may soon…—
He had been unable to bring himself to kill his own son. Even though the boy had abandoned his duty as a human being, a parent’s heart remained the same. Instead, he had sent the prince to a place from which he could never return. He had hoped the heavens would sever the blood tie he himself could not. But for some reason, heaven had not cut that bond—it had twisted it into an even more terrible curse.
—Father. I have returned.—
“Haaahk!”
Carlos II woke from the hellish nightmare with a ragged gasp. He was drenched in cold sweat, and his entire body ached as though something had crushed him. His hands and feet trembled so badly he could neither grasp anything nor take a single step. He couldn’t tell whether the emotion overwhelming him was fear, foreboding, or regret. The king, who neither knew nor wished to know, could only breathe in shallow, desperate gasps.
“…Oh god…”
He did not believe in gods. If gods truly existed, then every outcome in the world was simply their will. Thinking that made everything far too tragic and absurd, so Carlos II preferred not to believe in any deity. And yet, there were moments when—even though he did not believe—he still wanted to cling to that transcendent being.
When he faced a situation he could do nothing about. When he wanted to run but could not, when he had come too far to turn back. In those moments, he wanted to bow his head and beg that higher power.
“Just what… just what am I supposed to do?”
There was a monster slowly approaching with its maw wide open. Should he give it everything it wanted and calm it down? Or should he resist even if it meant everything would burn to ash? In a situation where nothing was certain, he wished someone would give him the answer. No, he wouldn’t even ask for an answer—just a little advice would do. The urge to cling to anything at all grew stronger by the second.
“Your Majesty.”
At that very moment, as if in some cruel joke, the god he had been seeking truly gave the king an answer.
“What is it?”
“The Mage of the Magic Tower has urgently come to see Your Majesty.”
“…The Magic Tower has come to see me?”
Compared to the Heroes who rarely visited the capital or showed themselves at all, Daisy Blossom was the only one who had maintained a consistently good relationship with the royal family. Thanks to her, the palace, the court, and the entire capital had benefited greatly. While the other Heroes captured the people’s hearts through their heroic deeds, Daisy Blossom of the Magic Tower had solidified her popularity by offering convenience and utility. However, because she caused so many accidents, she rarely ventured outside. For her to suddenly visit the palace was no ordinary matter.
“Did she come alone?”
He asked, half in disbelief. And Carlos II soon learned that his suspicion had been correct.
“No. The man who visited the palace yesterday has accompanied her.”
“You mean the one who is the master of the Heroes?”
“Yes. What shall we do?”
“What do you mean, what shall we do? Escort them to the audience chamber at once. With the utmost respect—extreme respect!”
One could call it a vain hope or wishful thinking. But Carlos II felt that something very good was about to happen. At the exact moment he had been seeking divine guidance, the Hero and her master had suddenly returned? This had to be that god showing him the way.
On the way to the royal palace, and even after entering the palace and heading toward the audience chamber, I organized my thoughts and pieced the situation together. First, the so-called prince had been wandering outside and was now returning. According to Daisy, he had slain a great number of monsters and demonic creatures. The people of the capital and other cities beyond were talking about it.
One thing felt off. There was no reason for a direct descendant of the royal family to leave the capital and engage in such activities. He wasn’t a collateral relative—he was a direct heir. The escort force required for someone of his status would be enormous. They didn’t even detach internal personnel from guarding the capital itself. Yet they had sent a direct prince out to subjugate monsters and demonic beings? The logic simply didn’t add up. It was extremely strange.
Another suspicious point. If they had truly used a direct royal heir in that manner, the royal family should have publicized it on a massive scale and taken full advantage of it. Wasn’t that exactly why they were trying to distance themselves from the Heroes? The prestige and justification that came from protecting the peace of the continent—if the royal family could obtain that, why were they staying silent?
—Perhaps the reason it began wasn’t truly good at all.
For some undisclosed reason, they had sent the prince far away from both the palace and the capital. The word “sent” here didn’t mean they simply let him go—they had driven him out. Whatever had happened must have been serious enough to expel a direct heir. And to protect the royal family’s honor, they had probably glossed it over by claiming the prince had stepped forward for the sake of the people. Those loyal to the royal family would have kept their mouths shut accordingly.
But the prince, who should never have returned, had come back. And what’s more, he had returned bearing the unexpected praise and support of the common people. To some, it might look like the return of a hero. To others, however, it could be seen as the descent of a vengeful spirit.
“Your Majesty.”
Therefore, I decided to ask directly.
“Please tell me in detail about this prince who is returning.”