Chapter 113
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Dank Underground
-----------------------------------------------------------------
It's a dank place.
Princess Lilian unconsciously muttered to herself.
Her breath caught in her throat, as if she were truly realizing they had descended underground.
'The air is stifling.'
In the old days, they lacked the means for magical ventilation, leaving them reliant on man-made structures.
Even if magical ventilation systems existed, it was hopeless to expect them to function properly after centuries.
More than that...
"Uh, whoa!?"
"I know it's dark, but watch your step."
The princess glanced pointedly at Professor Aiden, who had seized her arm, then nodded.
'It's dark.'
Once they descended the stairs, it was pitch black.
Light sources existed here and there along the passages, casting faint glimmers between them.
Yet the gloom persisted unchanged, the meager light far too insufficient for navigation.
Splash splash splash.
Water poured from everywhere—perhaps cascading from the first underground sewer level.
Droplets splashed upward from the drop, occasionally dampening their clothes.
But worse was the darkness brimming with water sounds, robbing her of any sense of direction.
She could only proceed like this because Professor Aiden led the way, clearing the path.
Otherwise, Princess Lilian could never have mustered the courage to advance.
She might have chosen to crawl instead.
The stone tiles were slick from seeping moisture, and she nearly slipped countless times, only steadied by frequent supporting hands.
"Th-thank you."
"No big deal."
Professor Aiden strode on calmly, unperturbed by the harsh conditions.
Unable to contain her budding curiosity, Princess Lilian asked.
"How on earth do devil worshippers move around in such darkness?"
"They've trained here endlessly, so they're used to it."
"Being used to it doesn't make the unseen visible."
"It does for them."
Princess Lilian momentarily furrowed her brow.
"Pardon?"
"If they're skilled enough to infiltrate a place like this, they're likely direct subordinates of the devil church. If they've received grace, it's safe to assume they can see."
"Th-then."
We see nothing, yet the enemy sees us clearly?
'Infiltrating enemy territory like that?'
Just as she moved to insist they turn back, Professor Aiden raised a hand, signaling her to hold still.
That gesture usually meant something lay ahead.
Devil worshippers, most likely—patrolling ones.
She swallowed hard, and in that instant, Professor Aiden vanished completely into the darkness.
They had been side by side moments ago, but the slight separation bred a creeping terror of isolation.
"Grk."
"Guh!"
"Guhk."
Unlike the pairs patrolling the first floor, from the second underground level, they moved in threes.
In a near-simultaneous instant, three dying gasps echoed.
The sewer splashes matched—three times.
"...Professor, can you see in the dark too?"
He greeted her with the same fresh demeanor, as if he hadn't just slain people.
"As if."
"But how are you stealthier than them, with their clear vision..."
"I'm a Master, aren't I."
Master. The weight of that word made the princess swallow her brief turmoil.
'......'
Her father—no, His Imperial Majesty—had once whispered to her about them.
Likely when she was still a child.
* * *
"You are the sun of the Empire, Father?"
"That's right. What piques my daughter's curiosity enough to ask her old man?"
Unlike her nursemaid, his touch was rough and ungainly as he stroked her hair.
Mid-stroke, he pressed down firmly, quickly turning her locks into a frizzy mess.
Oblivious to the maids' heroic styling efforts, the emperor chuckled heartily, deeming even the bird's nest adorable.
Princess Lilian shot him a mildly sulky glare.
The emperor of that time was younger than now, more boisterous, brimming with vitality.
These days he wielded shrewdness and measured force, but back then he poured power into forging unyielding imperial authority.
"But why do you fawn over Sir Oshua?"
"Fawn...?"
His expression suggested volumes to say, yet he sighed and gently patted her young back.
"Masters aren't human to begin with, my dear."
"They communicate just fine, though?"
"That's what makes them terrifying. Non-humans mimicking humanity, thinking like us."
Clear differences remained, all the same.
Lifespans beyond mortal reach. Prowess to shake heaven and earth. Movements akin to incomprehensible natural disasters.
Most felt an aura upon beholding a Master that forbade approach, but...
The emperor sliced through that notion with a single stroke.
"It's merely aura."
"Really?"
Yes, merely that impression.
For those who could topple nations single-handedly, it felt all too human.
Thus did people deceive themselves.
No way they're that strong. Life's tales are exaggerated. They look human, wield the same words, think and speak like us—so the delusion took root.
Once that dismissive mindset embedded, they appeared as 'fellow humans,' breeding envy and covetousness for the deference Masters received.
"And the resulting calamities are well chronicled in history books."
Jealousy when mistaken for equals, rejection upon realizing the truth.
No matter the pretty packaging, humans fear the unlike.
Thus, unlike the dawn eras illuminated by Masters, the shadows they cast stretched long and murky.
Toppled dynasties. Disasters with countless dead. Master-sparked rebellions.
One common thread: belated realization, futile attempts to halt them—never once successful.
Save when fellow Masters intervened.
"Despised at times, shunned at others, but only after rivers of blood did they grasp it."
Ah, impossible to stop.
No deed at our level can bar them.
"If force fails, what then?"
"Um......"
The princess clutched her small head.
"Talk?"
"Yes—dialogue and appeasement. Nothing else availed. And yet the harms linger."
The Master born in the beastman lands, clashing with the Holy Kingdom.
The ancient witch sprouting in the great plains, expelling all life.
The rebellion by the Middle East's grand warrior Master.
And the Sword Saint, interring his blade in the rocky peaks of Sword Seal Mountain.
The beastman great hero unified tribes to found a nation. The Middle Eastern Master shattered a dynasty through sheer force.
Blood enough to fill vast lakes amid it all.
"The Empire endures safely because the Sword Duke holds firm."
Those wielding such might rarely pledge loyalty to others or factions.
Unbound, they can claim true freedom.
"Then why does the Sword Duke?"
"Blood ties, my dear."
Even if he claimed the throne outright—who would dare protest? Yet he shunned it, becoming a silent knight.
That is the Empire's legend, the root of its golden age.
"Were Sir Oshua to turn traitor, the Empire—with the Sword Duke—might win, but the nation itself would shatter."
The Sword Duke had grown frail with age.
Oshua, by contrast, was young and at her peak.
Her title of Magic Emperor was no jest: she unleashed vast magics in mere minutes, consigning lands to seas of flame—prime suited her perfectly.
Such a clash would yield casualties beyond reckoning.
"Hence, we prove our necessity to the utmost. If they deem this system convenient, even in crisis, they'll stand at the fore to safeguard that convenience."
* * *
Having somewhat steadied her breath, Princess Lilian fixed Professor Aiden with a straight gaze.
"Truly fortunate you're not the enemy, Professor."
Had a heretical mage or devil worshipper among them been a Master, the affair would have spiraled beyond control.
Professor Aiden let out a scoffing chuckle at the abrupt remark.
"Then relay to that emperor to quit pestering me."
"...His Majesty isn't truly trying to coerce you, Professor Aiden."
"I know. He dangles honors and medals, but what can he refuse if I balk? Accepting just means they'll shove sweets down my throat till my teeth rot."
"Then why..."
"Duty calls. Mostly sweeping trash like this."
As he spoke, Aiden dispatched the devil worshippers who had spotted them and lunged with counters.
His motions were so fluid and seamless, they resembled a choreographed routine.
Yet those who had extended hands ended in wretched heaps on the floor.
The darkness obscured details, but they bore gashes from something razor-sharp—limbs sundered without the slightest catch.
Inconceivable precision for a barehanded spell, sans sword.
"Even so, one must tidy the front yard. I can bolt if needed, but you lot? Can't have you rousing the truly dangerous ones."
"...You called it providence."
"Indeed. Great devils, dragons, giants. World trees. Cycles of history, fate's wheel—all encapsulated as providence."
Princess Lilian gnawed her lip.
The sheer scale left her at a loss for words.
"...Is your refusal of honors because you're guarding the Empire in secret, Professor?"
"A touch exaggerated, that. Merely..."
Devil worshippers barring the path to the device spotted Aiden and threw themselves at him.
By now they must grasp his identity, yet they hurled themselves moth-like into the flame—utterly horrifying zeal.
"The honors the emperor offers? Near-zero responsibility, pure authority. Ideal for idling."
"I... see."
"Put bluntly, what does Oshua even do? Erect one barrier around the palace, then decades of budget-gobbling indolence."
"Is that something you can say?"
"Sure. It's fact, and she knows pitching a fit would just make her look ridiculous."
The princess's lips parched; she smacked them.
"Then you, Professor..."
"I've these to block. Honors mean reporting every twitch to the emperor. Shall I report the great devil's revival and mass death if unstopped?"
"......"
"Reporting and mustering troops isn't awful. But solo yields more than any gains from that. At this scale, rank-and-file soldiers help little."
They'd only hinder.
Haa...
A parched thirst burned in the princess's throat.
"Then Sir Oshua..."
No—hold on.
Why not enlist Sir Oshua's aid?
Princess Lilian turned sharp-eyed on Aiden.
"Like at the heresy church before—don't tell me you're feuding over rank?"
Aiden booted a charging worshipper aside, restoring silence.
Professor Aiden queried in bemused tones.
"Feud over rank?"
"Yes, well..."
"Already settled."
"Ah—Sir Oshua ranks higher? Fair enough; it's not long since you attained Master..."
"She got bothersome, so I neatly half-severed her neck."
Princess Lilian froze solid.
'Where have I heard this before?'
She had.
That day at the imperial ball, facing the Sword Duke and Sir Oshua.
"Shall I slice that pretty neck again? Eyesight bad, and now memory too?"
Her hand flew to her chest.
Never dreamed it was literal.
No wonder the palace had flipped two years back—Aiden's doing.
The感動 that had stirringly shaken her heart ebbed away like a receding tide in belated shock.
Eyes shut, she offered silent late regrets to His Majesty, who must have slaved to contain it.
"To answer your doubt: if they swarm like in the tunnels, perhaps. But no need to borrow strength for this."
Put simply—can handle solo, so why bother? Professor Aiden waved dismissively.
"Sword Duke's too frail to matter. And that lead-bottomed Oshua? She'd demand a king's ransom to budge."
"...Forget it. I spoke out of turn."
"Anyway, time you pulled your weight."
Before Professor Aiden lay a magic circle etched in indescribably intricate patterns.
Princess Lilian dredged it from memory's scraps.
"...Bloodline magic."
Only proof of imperial blood would unseal the descent.