Chapter 276
Chapter 276
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 276
Chapter Title: One Empire, Three Legends (35)
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Whiiiiiing—
[What a sight. As expected of the Empire.]
“Even for the Empire... this scale is just...”
Up close, the imperial citadel loomed even more massive and majestic, and as a mage, his senses screamed that every building, wall, arch, and spire surrounding it was blanketed in grand magic and spells beyond anything he could have imagined.
Professor had come to a halt before the massive moat separating the capital All Amperia from the citadel.
A fissure so vast its far edge was barely visible.
Professor yanked an oil lamp from the house behind him and hurled it straight into the chasm.
Whiiiiiinnnnng—
“...No sound of it hitting bottom?”
[The light vanished too. Not just flickering out—it got sucked away from sight. This is no man-made moat. They built the citadel here because of it. If they could dig that deep into the earth, stacking up that height above makes sense. Just to the point where the light disappeared, that's two apartment buildings high.]
“A setup like this smack in the capital's heart? Founding emperor's taste?”
To eyes versed in strategy and tactics, it was an utterly inefficient defensive feature. They already had that insane wall that might barely crack under a barrage of aura from hundreds of knights. And right in front of the citadel—not far from the wall at all—a sheer drop where you'd never recover a body if you fell? Sure, if it were a wall you could fall back to and hold, maybe.
“Big earthquake or something?”
[Most reasonable guess.]
Whatever the full story, the key point was the colossal fissure—like straight out of a disaster flick—barricading the way to the citadel.
Regeneration depleted from the prince fight.
Cartilage and joints shattered from reckless exertion.
Muscles wrung to their limit, fraying apart—and all that right in front of him.
“...Roughly 400 meters across. Think I can leap it?”
[On a normal day, you could've done it upside down. Right now? If you're lucky, you might trace a nice big arc and dangle from the cliff face about a kilometer below ground level. If you can claw your way up with mangled arms and stalled regeneration, be my guest. Sharpen those snapped bones into ice axes and go to town.]
“Ughhhh...”
Hyd's biting tone drew a choked groan from Professor's lips. The aura he'd just awakened had vanished without a trace, his body a total wreck, regeneration and stamina tapped out.
Lucky the area was eerily quiet, or if berserk knights like those at the wall had swarmed him, he'd have been forced into a no-holds-barred final blaze—future be damned.
Wandering in helpless limbo, Professor's keen gaze caught the cross-section at the cliff edge.
Worn smooth by time or not, no natural force could shape that sleek, straight line.
“...Not entirely natural.”
His hand traced the edge. Simple craftsmanship layered with magical engraving. Tied magically to nearby houses. Following the flow...
“Here?”
Clunk.
His hand grazed a subtle indentation where magic pooled thickest. Complex relief, size of two thumbs.
The Empress's lion-head ornament flashed in his mind.
It slotted perfectly into the protruding stone, that magic-charged groove.
Groooooan—
[Oh. We got something.]
“Think about it—makes total sense. Moat means drawbridge. Can't expect everyone hitting the citadel to tote a wind mage for flight. Emperor can't just zip around like some commoner. There had to be a bridge spanning this gorge...”
Groooan.... Groooan....
“Uh... bridge...?”
Thud.....
Thud.... Thud.... Thud.... Thud....
Groooargh! Graaaaaawr.... Groooaaaah....
Thud.
Professor nailed it. The ornament triggered a torrent of magic between the cliffs, and moments later, a colossal stone bridge—wide enough for an army—materialized.
“...Hey. For a sec there, I kinda wanna try being Emperor.”
[Same.]
Slightly off-script: he'd figured a magic bridge, but these were statues marching out of the abyss, forging the span with their titanic hands.
“What's the point of those things.”
[Don't ask me—your 1-year-6-month life versus my 25 years.]
“How the hell are you 1 year 6 months.”
[Blend time here and there—about that.]
Exhaustion amplifying it, maybe. Outlandish shit hit harder.
Surface weathered but flawless bridge—no functional flaws. Golems cradling it reverently bore monstrous solid-metal arms: swords, spears, axes. Imperial seal gets you the bridge; intruders get pulverized—a defense mechanism.
Boom—!
Bridge set, the palace's colossal gates swung open, baring the Empire's core.
Crunch.
Bloomed to bursting, yet parched like desert blooms, cursed flowers.
Charred near to cinders, they crumbled on the faintest breeze, pale purple-laced gray winds whipping through them.
Walls screaming Empire—vast, magic-wreathed. The citadel within...
“This... the Empire's heart, the Emperor's seat?”
....Empty.
No, "empty" overstated it. No imperial finery, carpets, grand halls, soaring pillars. But filled with something.
Palace walls enclosing something shy of a city, bigger than a village: homes.
Dirt lanes shabby next to Allamperia's servant slums. Compact sturdy fences. And the Empire's might-heart. Citadel's nucleus.
A modest stone-and-timber keep beamed radiant gold aura from the mini-city's core.
“Show due respect, visitor. You tread the path of every master through the Empire's ancient history.”
Disbelieving, rubbing eyes—blurring from fatigue mid-bridge-crossing—a gravelly voice hit Professor's ears.
Clank. Clangor. Clank.
That plate-mail knight-rattle, now familiar. Interspersed: metals shattering on clash.
Old knight. Bursting the serene purple gale.
White-haired, bearded; armor battered, rusted.
One hand: sword. Other: armload of decrepit blades, spears, halberds, shields, axes—tattered arms.
“My sword.... my aura.... all memory, all life staked—I vowed to guard solely my lord, His Majesty...!”
Crunch!
“Galahad, house-less knight. Great Majesty's servant, slave. Imperial Guard's lowliest—now Captain. His final command, fulfilled.”
Screeeeech!
Rusted relics—once knights' treasures—slammed earthward.
His mark: blood-and-rust-crusted greatsword gripped two-handed, tip on Professor.
“Not. One. Step. Further. Sans His word! By Imperial Guard oath... none pass!”
Knight's vow fused aura into self-binding spell on gates and bridge.
Palace: Emperor-power, witch-curse thickest. Power-storm sentinel, lone survivor—reason long gone like comrades he'd mercifully slain.
Yet sword. Aura. Life-vows past and future—vivid, puppeteering his husk.
Professor eyed wrecked self against condensed aura shivering at old guard-captain's blade, wry grin.
Mountains beyond mountains.
Felled prince wielding Empire-proxy; now mad Guard Captain bars path.
“Captain... shoulda taken another route.”
[Backtrack? Doubt it's the sole palace path. Same trick elsewhere, maybe.]
“Nah. Too late. Can't shake that knight fleeing now.”
Professor scowled at statue-still red-aura elder, dipped hand in subspace pouch.
Two options left usable.
Pick: lower risk, higher yield.
Drew small glass vial, vortex-wind shard inside.
Single-use unique consumable. Rare combat-grade, whispered legend. Storm Hill reward. Hoarded for mutt apocalypse finale.
“...Monster.”
Old knight's aura hit: unwinnable sans it.
Gainax's majestic; this baleful.
Killing intent—dense, forged unknowable grind-life—no desire to fathom.
Sword-honed slaughter gazed: Professor unleashed ace, [Handful of Storm].
....Crack!
Right hand crushed tiny vial fierce.
Whooo.
Shards parted; wee wind leaked.
It beckoned: beard-tossing breeze one mote. Golem-dust frolicker another.
Alley-sweepers, gorge-wailers converged on it piecemeal.
Whooo— KWAAAAA!
Wind-lord's blessed: right-arm hub, gale erupted.
“Handful of storm... fist literally clutches tempest.”
[Handle it? Your state wielding that...]
“Blown clean off. Best case elbow; worst, shoulder socket rips whole. But... short of that, no clearing this knight from the gate.”
Regen zilch. Scratches fine; shoulder-gone? No instant fix.
Item-fueled body-burner duel. Professor's math: this fight caps it. Post-this: pray Emperor-power holds; crew stalls drama.
“Key bit... eyes-front problem? Solvable!”
Crrrrunch!
Fist vise-grip hand-crush verge; storm—rock-tree-uprooting mass—condensed thereon. Skin splitting, storm-suck brink.
Professor, last dregs braced stance.
“...Polite heads-up, Knight Galahad! Your Emperor's in dire straits—so move or get moved to reach him!”
“...Knight obeys command alone!”
“No dice, as expected.”
Knight-courteous, Professor crouched ground-hug low, storm-right-arm hauled back.
Scarce power lingered—but strike? His? Nah.
Residue just steered hand-storm's vector.
Creeeeak—
Bowstring taut: foe-left-arm thrust; right-limit yanked counter.
Counter: sky-still. Old knight blade up, red-aura honed.
Fwoosh—
Ash-wind veil 'twixt signaled.
Red-aura slash met storm-tornado.
Cliffs quaked; magic-blessed citadel cracked on sonic boom sword-storm lashed peak.
“...My king. Emperor-king mine.... Galahad, all given at last....”
KWAAAAAAA!
Wall-topping citadel-rushing storm; old knight's ember-whisper guttered.
Then.
“...Hack, bleeech!”
All-shock toll: armless, innards-jostled man's foot.
Crunch!
Gate-crossed. Royals-unknown palace portal breached; inner court bound.
****
Limp, limp.
Rustle, sss.... crunch!
“Shit. This far... can't end like...”
Clotted gore flecked purple ash.
Paths, walls, roofs, rickety millwheels.
Citadel-veiled mini-city. True Emperor-ville: threadbare, curse-flower choked dense.
Touch-dry blooms dust; eye-murk purple haze? Clumped ash airborne.
“Power drain... way past projections.... everything...”
Dozens master knights projected; First Prince Gainax bonus boss.
Handful-storm thrift-path opener? Power overshot; blast alone shoulder-popped, bone-muscle wrenched.
Outcome.
Professor hill-crawled barren shabby turf.
Recovery? Aye: arm's-reach titan-power. Handful-topping strong, dicey. Stamina-zero blur-vision thirst-stoked.
“Not yet. Still... walkable...”
Thump.
Teeth-grind, Professor crested curse-bloom-wither loop silent ville.
Tap, tap.... tap.
At last: endless-seeming hillcrest. Palace-walled secret ville vista, house atop.
Crude timber door, lion-knocker faced: Professor door-slumped, knocked.
....Creeeaaaak—
Thump.
Ajar? Friction-grate swung. Emperor-den? Spartan uncanny.
“Head up. House and name.”
There. Bandit-holt vibe—save that throne: imperial-glory beaming.
Phantasm: him.
Empire's Emperor.
Incident-root.
People-father, mentor, headsman.
“I, Agdan IX. By Kalesiax til Agdan. Would behold face of self-invited Emperor's guest.”
Aged, withered—voice clear, thunder-deep.
Voice-power hoisted Professor's ruin-body kneel-unwilled. Empire-ruler Emperor's, doubtless.
Gazed robust-despite-frail Emperor: prime-form vivid. Gainax-like—no, sterner vaster.
“Toiled getting here. Queer bond. Saint, hero, mage, knight, merc—yet hither-purpose? Unlinked all.”
Click.
Dry imperial grip radiant scepter. Lazy eye half-cocked; gold gleam stabbed Professor's.
“Aye, no blood-royal nor noble. Throne thine—if claimable, wilt thou?”
Fwooooosh—!
Truth-proof: rays gold instant low-gathered. Command-pending, scepter-head-touch cloak-wrap ready.
Professor long-stared void-eyes emotionless. Cracked lips voiced.
“...I decline.”
“Decline... vast earth, subject-lives deaths wield. Their existences thine lash... decline?”
“...Apologies—free rover o'er chained thrall.”
“Thrall. Chain-thrall... Hah, hahhahaha! HAHAHAHAHA!!”
Throne-face refusal—essence-blaspheme: eyes flashed; clamped lips gaped roar-laugh.
Boomed swelling—ville-shake, citadel-quake. Prostate Professor gasped, ears clamped power-ripple.
‘This... Emperor!’
Irrefutable authentic. Initial drab sparked fake-doubt; power-echo nuked it traceless.
“That... ages since heard. Thrall, bound-thrall... aye.”
Smack!
Laugh-halted; scepter floor-slam.
Wink: hovel-fort grand audience befitting.
“Question burns... hither.”
“Doubts. Emperor solo-audience chase curiosity-quench. Aye... see. Questions whirl. Yet chance: singular.”
“One... query?”
“Aye. No yea-nay—tale-rooted depths inclusive. Choose sage. Thrice-questions vortex thee.”
‘...Three? Mine?’
Emperor-word brain-ache probed; self-conjured trio? Blank.
[I dunno how Emperor knows. Con outright?]
‘...Nay. Emperor true; palace Empire-core. Power-whirl peak. Feet planted? Power-immune nil—even me.’
Clear eyes gut-read seeming. Steel. Read? Fine. Pivot: query. Empire-chaos-end lore-need. Puzzle-gone shard.
“...Witch. Why Emperor-exclusive power hers wield?”
Triad-first picked: emotionless lips smiled anew.
“...Foolish child.”
Maw parted.
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