Chapter 448: The King and the Slave(2)
Chapter 448: The King and the Slave(2)
Starting with King Morgan’s preemptive strike, a desperate struggle began between the two men.
Their bond had once been deeper than that of blood, but through a series of wrong choices, everything had twisted into this—a confrontation between a king and his slave.
As both King Morgan and the slave had declared, they were no longer family. There was only a slave who had declared rebellion and a master standing against him.
[Hmph!]
Boom!
King Morgan stomped his foot heavily, shaking the very foundations of the earth. Not only did the sound thunder through the air, but the ground of the royal palace actually trembled.
The wraiths were merely reenacting the past; they should have had no physical effect on reality. Yet, the ground shook as if a minor earthquake had struck.
Just how powerful had he been in life, and how potent was the lingering grudge for it to affect the physical world?
Furthermore, the countless screams they had encountered on their way here—those shrieks had shaken their minds as violently as any evil spirit.
Something was definitely still here. Deimos felt it instinctively as he watched the scene unfolding through the wraiths.
Flutter!
As King Morgan shook the earth, the slave took to the skies, wings suddenly sprouting from his back.
They were massive, leathery wings like those of a bat—a feature that, like his horns, served as a symbol of a demon.
Hovering in the air, the slave flapped his wings for a moment, looking down at King Morgan. Then, he spoke in a haughty voice.
[All this time, I have looked up at you. Now, I can finally look down. Everything, including you, looks so small from here.]
It was a perfect provocation for a slave to hurl at his master, especially a king. To a monarch, there could be no greater humiliation.
But King Morgan was not easily shaken. He snorted, gripped his double-edged axe firmly with both hands, and slowly twisted his torso.
[The higher you fly, the more painful the fall.]
Whoosh!
With the sound of the wind tearing apart, King Morgan swung his axe with immense force, utilizing the full power of his twisted waist.
Since they were wraiths, it was impossible to see exactly what had been unleashed, but seeing the slave frantically dodge in mid-air, it seemed the King had fired a blast of energy similar to a sword aura.
A large hole now gaped where the slave had just been, allowing clear sunlight to stream through. That was likely the trace of the attack.
Crash!
The slave stopped flapping and dove straight down, swinging his axe. King Morgan barely managed to block it with the haft of his weapon.
The fact that the wooden haft didn't shatter under the weight of the massive axe blade and the slave’s demonic strength suggested it had been infused with mana.
According to historical records, King Morgan was a conquering monarch who personally led his troops on the front lines, so his use of mana was hardly surprising.
[Why won't you understand my heart? I only wanted to make you the King of the World! Not just over the humans of the West, but over the beastkin, the dwarves, and the elves as well!]
The slave shouted loudly, beginning to press King Morgan. The King seemed barely able to keep up with the slave, whose strength had grown even greater after his transformation.
[Is that something worth obtaining at the cost of your humanity? Do you truly believe that destroying the world is the same as ruling it?]
However, he wasn't being completely overwhelmed. As mentioned before, King Morgan was the slave's master in the martial arts.
He saw through all of the slave's combat patterns. While the demonic transformation was a variable, for some reason, the slave was unable to use magic.
Had he been able to wield magic freely as well, King Morgan would have been helpless.
King Morgan maintained a defensive stance, slowly wearing the slave down, while the slave used his newfound power to keep the pressure on.
[You gave me everything! Power I didn't have! Honor I didn't have! Dreams I didn't have! A family I didn't have! So why... why did you give up on your own dream? Why?!]
Perhaps his long-suppressed emotions had finally exploded, for the slave’s pressure became more frequent and intense.
Even when he sustained wounds in the process, his demonic regeneration healed them instantly, and his stamina had increased significantly since his transformation.
King Morgan, on the other hand, could not escape the boundaries of being human, no matter how strong he was. Even if he had consumed the souls of hundreds, it was difficult to overcome his innate limitations.
Thud—
After a long battle, King Morgan finally fell to one knee. He avoided collapsing completely by leaning on his axe, but his body was already covered in blood.
The slave was not unscathed either. Because he had neglected defense in favor of pure offense, he actually had far more wounds than King Morgan.
He was only holding on through the regeneration granted by his demonization. However, that regeneration had drained his mana and stamina.
His breathing was so labored that his face had turned pale. Yet, his expression was still filled with an incomprehensible rage.
[......I beg of you.]
Thinking the fight was over, the slave spoke to King Morgan in a much more respectful tone than before.
[The sorcery has already been performed. The people of the Kingdom of Gerios will be reborn as beings stronger than elves. We can rule the land, the sea, and eventually, the entire world.]
[......]
[This is the result you wanted, isn't it? Otherwise, you wouldn't have consumed hundreds of souls to obtain this red hair and these golden eyes. I don't understand what the difference is.]
Inferring from the conversation, it seemed that red hair and golden eyes were traits that could only be obtained through sacrifice.
Otherwise, the expression "consumed hundreds of souls" wouldn't have been used.
Furthermore, the world three thousand years ago must have been far more cruel and inhumane than it was now.
From the slave's perspective, sacrificing people to become a monster and becoming a demon probably seemed like the same thing.
[......Is there a heart in that future?]
[......]
[A king must be able to read the hearts of his people to truly rule a kingdom. But if there is no heart, what is the point? A nation without a heart is destined for ruin.]
Unlike the slave, King Morgan had not crossed the 'final line.' Even with hundreds, thousands, or tens of thousands of souls within him, he still valued the 'heart.'
Boom!
Having said that, King Morgan slammed his weapon into the ground. The impact was so strong that dust swirled in the real world.
Then, placing a hand on his knee and using the axe as a support, he slowly stood up. Even with his body in tatters, he exuded a pressure as imposing as a towering mountain.
Finally gripping the axe with both hands, King Morgan spoke proudly to the slave before him.
[A person is a person because they have a heart. Even if their face and body change, if they have a heart, they are human. Therefore, even you can still be called a human.]
[......]
[But those things outside? Can they truly be called human? They are not people. They are beasts. Fiends filled with evil... We shall call them 'Demons.']
The expedition realized after hearing King Morgan's words where the word 'Demon' had originated.
[......Then what am I? I have the form of a demon, but as you said, do I not have a heart?]
[The Demon Race. You have the form of a fiend, but you are strictly included among the 'races' that possess a heart. Though even that will likely not last long.]
And they realized where the etymology of 'Demon Race' came from.
Through the conversation of the wraiths, the entire truth was revealed.
[......I wish I could have stood in the same place as you and looked down upon the world.]
Slide—
Realizing that King Morgan would not bend his will, the slave muttered quietly and gripped his axe.
[From now on, I shall look down upon the world alone. My King.]
Creeak—
The slave gripped his weapon so hard it seemed it might shatter, preparing for the final blow. His thick, muscular arms throbbed with power.
King Morgan watched him and likewise gripped his axe firmly with both hands, a mysterious smile playing on his lips.
[If you still have a heart, then I have no regrets.]
[......]
[So come. Try to overcome your greatest wall.]
At those words, the slave's eyes wavered slightly, and the strength in his hands weakened for a moment.
But it was only a fleeting instant. The slave shook his head violently to clear his mind and charged at King Morgan.
With every step he took, the world seemed to vibrate. King Morgan stood his ground, watching the slave rush toward him.
[Hyaaaaaah!]
The slave raised his axe high into the sky. He let out a roar fierce enough to split the world apart.
That roar contained the will to put all his strength into the strike, but it also felt as if he were hiding something.
Thud!
In response, King Morgan stepped forward with one leg and swung his axe in a wide arc. Using that momentum, he pulled the axe back behind his head.
Every muscle in his body coiled, and even his breath stopped for a moment in preparation for this final strike.
[Haa!!]
Finally, the King’s weapon swung down.
Clang!
The slave also brought his weapon down, and the two collided.
BOOM!
"Agh!"
"Ugh...!"
"Everyone, watch out!"
The moment the weapons of the King and the slave clashed, a massive shockwave erupted. It felt as if they were being hit head-on by a gale.
The paladins managed to hold their ground, but Cardinal Deimos and the archaeologists were sent tumbling across the floor.
How powerful must they have been in life for their wraiths to exert such influence?
Usually, royal palaces are built sturdily to withstand natural disasters, but there was a reason the Audience Chamber was in such a state of ruin.
The massive hole in the ceiling was likely caused by this very collision. Deimos, who had fallen to the floor, managed to stand up with the help of the paladins.
And what he saw was...
[......]
[......Cough.]
Surprisingly, it was King Morgan, who had buried his axe blade more than halfway into the slave's body. The slave's double-edged axe had its blade completely shattered.
King Morgan had clearly been on the verge of collapse, so how had he managed to defeat the slave? Especially a slave whose physical abilities had been enhanced by demonization.
[You hesitated.]
[......]
King Morgan immediately resolved that question. His voice held no joy of victory, only bitterness and sorrow.
Because they were master and slave, a rebellion could occur, but ironically, because they were more than that, he could not cross the final threshold.
The slave's feelings for King Morgan were sincere. And that was what had held him back.
Even as he turned others into demons, he himself could not truly become one. All because of his desire to see King Morgan become the ruler of the world with his own eyes.
Slash!
King Morgan pulled his axe across the slave's torso in a diagonal slash. Naturally, the slave's chest was split open, and he collapsed powerlessly to the floor.
Looking closely now, there were traces of dried blood where the slave had fallen. The slave must have died right there.
It was a tragic end befitting a member of the Demon Race—perhaps it was the battle that signaled the beginning of the Demon Race itself.
[Huff... huff... Gasp...]
Despite his torso being split in half, the slave displayed a tenacious life force. However, his breathing was ragged, and his focus was slowly fading.
Even for a member of the Demon Race, such a fatal wound meant the outcome was essentially decided.
King Morgan looked down at the slave with pitying eyes and slowly knelt on one knee. The slave turned his gaze toward the King.
[Your heart... no, I know. That greed can also be called a human heart.]
[Cough... I am... now...]
[Do not worry. I will carry the weight of your sins myself. My grandson, your son, shall live not as the child of a criminal, but as the child of a slave.]
[Why... why...]
Why go so far? I betrayed you, and furthermore, I put the kingdom and the world at risk.
Though he couldn't speak clearly as his life flickered out, King Morgan understood the slave's heart.
He gave a gentle smile and stroked the slave's face with a trembling hand.
[Because you are also my child, my beloved son.]
[......]
[As a king, my name and honor will be tarnished. But no one else shall be a 'criminal.']
[Fa... Father...]
The slave breathed his last, unable to finish the word 'Father.' King Morgan quietly closed the eyes of the slave who had died with them open.
[My foolish son. I will carry your sins to the very end.]
Saying this, King Morgan suddenly began to strip off his clothes. His garments had been reduced to rags from the bloody battle with the slave, so they were easy to remove.
Then, he dressed the slave in his clothes. Since the slave wore nothing but short trousers, it was easy to change him.
Finally, with the slave dressed in the royal robes and King Morgan dressed in the slave's attire, he cut the fabric of his new clothes to match the diagonal wound on his chest, just in case.
He didn't stop there. He cut the slave's hair short like his own so they couldn't be easily distinguished.
It wasn't perfect, but in the midst of the massive 'chaos,' it would be enough to deceive.
[The King shall take all the filth upon himself...]
Muttering this, King Morgan—no, Morgan—gripped the double-edged axe firmly.
Due to the earlier impact, one side of the blade was completely broken, making it look like an ordinary axe. Much like the Kingdom of Gerios on the brink of ruin.
[And the kingdom shall perish due to the King's wrong choices.]
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Leaving the corpse behind, Morgan headed out of the Audience Chamber. As he drew closer to the exit, the screams that had been cut off began to ring out loudly once more.
[But no one else shall be a criminal.]
The 'King' who committed the ultimate sin was killed by the 'Slave's' own hand. There were no more 'criminals.'
There was only a single slave stepping out of the Audience Chamber to witness the end of the kingdom.
[From now on, my name is Arthur Maishal!]
Boom!
Morgan stomped his foot as he spoke the slave's name. As he did, the screams outside momentarily ceased.
Since it was a spectral reenactment, the exact details were unknown, but perhaps that action had drawn the attention of the demons.
It was only a guess, but the fact that the screaming stopped made it highly plausible.
In the meantime, Morgan gripped the axe with both hands and let out a lion-like roar.
[The King's slave!]
Fshhh—
With those words, the wraiths dissipated into the air. The reenactment, which felt both long and short, had finally come to an end.
The expedition members let out the breaths they had been holding all at once. They had been so focused they had forgotten to breathe.
"......Is it over now?"
"......It seems so."
Deimos spoke as he wiped the streaming cold sweat with his sleeve. The immersion had been so incredible he couldn't look away for even a second.
But at the same time, he felt a chill. Just how powerful must the lingering grudge be to show such a vivid reenactment?
He wanted to investigate further, but he was certain his mental strength would hit rock bottom if he did.
First, rest. It seemed better to go outside and take a break.
[What do you think? Of my end.]
"Well, naturally—"
Wait. Whose voice was that? Deimos was about to answer automatically but had to clamp his mouth shut.
The voice was incredibly similar to the one he had been hearing until just a moment ago.
At this, not only Deimos but the entire expedition turned their gaze from the entrance of the Audience Chamber toward the back.
And there...
[You are the first I have shown this to since my descendant.]
The King who had been roaring in the Audience Chamber just moments ago, Morgan, sat proudly upon the throne.