Chapter 15
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Bewilderment
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The air in the underground dungeon had grown even heavier overnight. Every time the dampness rising from the cracks in the stone floor seeped into my lungs, it carried the metallic tang of blood.
The only clock in the place was the irregular drip of water droplets forming in the corner of the ceiling.
I sat with my back against the wall, eyes closed. All premature hope and anxiety had been wiped away. I simply waited in the silence for the sound of approaching footsteps.
Clang.
The heavy iron door swung open with a rougher grind than usual. The footsteps that followed were steady but subtly quicker in pace. They were in a hurry. Silver armor reflected the torchlight, pushing back the darkness. It was Duke Karls.
He stopped in front of the iron bars. His face was bare without a helmet, revealing dark shadows under his eyes and chapped, bloodless lips.
He looked a decade older overnight. A faint dusting of dirt clung to the silver cloak draped over his shoulders—proof he'd been at a frontline command post or atop the walls where messengers came and went, not in his office.
I slowly opened my eyes. Our gazes met in the air.
"It's begun."
Karls's voice was hoarse, low and dry as if he were suppressing his emotions.
"This morning, a magical barrage struck the first defensive line of Argent territory. Roselia's mage unit."
He paused, swallowing a ragged breath. Here in the capital, no cannon fire or screams reached us. It was just a cold, quiet morning.
But in Duke Karls's blue eyes burned the image of his territory's walls aflame.
"Queen Helena ordered the attack the moment she crossed the border. My people are spilling blood even now."
I said nothing. No gloating with "I told you so," no explanations. What was needed now wasn't glib words.
The weight of silence would only elevate my value. Karls took my silence as assent, or at least recognition of the crisis's gravity.
"Your proposal."
He bit his lip. I could almost hear his pride shattering.
"I accept."
In the end, he knelt—not to me, but before the wall of reality.
"We're going to the Oath Room. But remember this."
Duke Karls gestured, and four guards waiting in the shadows stepped forward. In their hands, they carried something heavy and long.
The clinking metal grated on my nerves. It was crude black iron chains, not ordinary handcuffs. These were restraints for vicious criminals or beasts—thick rings the width of fingers linked tightly together.
"You are no emperor. You go as the criminal who plunged the Empire into crisis."
The iron-barred door creaked open. Screeech. The rusted hinges wailed. The soldiers entered.
Their faces were stiff, eyes filled with a mix of hostility and fear toward me.
I offered no resistance, extending my hands.
Clack.
The cold iron bit into my wrists. It clamped tight, pressing flesh and threatening to crush bone. But the soldiers didn't stop there.
Ankles next, then a thick chain around my waist locked behind my back. And finally, my neck.
The chill metal ring touched my nape. My breath caught. The chain around my neck linked to those on my wrists and waist, binding my body into one massive iron clump.
Every movement brought the crushing weight bearing down. Dozens of kilograms of metal coiled around me.
"Walk."
Duke Karls commanded.
I tensed my core to stand without stumbling. Clank. The chains rattled loudly against each other. Each step scraped the shackles across the floor.
My appearance as I left the dungeon was pathetic. Matted hair from days without washing, filthy prison garb, and black chains wrapping my entire body. No trace of imperial dignity remained.
But I didn't bow my head. Instead, I lifted my chin and stared straight at Duke Karls.
As we passed down the corridor, I spotted Patrol Captain Adella standing aside, helmet tucked under her arm.
Her gaze lingered on the chain around my neck. A complex look—pity or relief?—flickered in her brown eyes.
I passed without meeting her eyes. Now was no time for personal sentiments.
We began climbing the stairs. From the fifth underground level to the surface, then to the palace's uppermost floor.
It was a long journey. The chains dug into my shoulders. Sweat stung my eyes, but my hands were too bound to wipe it away.
Palace attendants and officials gasped and cleared paths as they saw me. Their whispers reached my ears.
"The deposed emperor..."
"Look at him. Like a beast."
"Where are they dragging him?"
Duke Karls strode ahead, ignoring the stares. His back was straight, but his steps betrayed urgency. Every minute, every second mattered.
With Argent's walls crumbling now, even this humiliating march must have felt like an unbearable waste of time to him.
At last, we reached the massive double doors. Oak adorned with gold, the Empire's twin-headed eagle emblem intricately carved on the surface, blue mana circuits glowing faintly around the frame.
'The Oath Room.'
Where past emperors governed the Empire and debated the continent's fate. The place where one of the founding emperor's bloodline could summon continental leaders by oath.
Duke Karls stopped before the door. "Prepare." I placed my hand on the mana orb by the door.
The heavy doors swung open. An empty circular hall. At its center, a massive crystal orb gleamed iridescently in the morning sunlight streaming through the windows.
I dragged my chains into the room.
Duke Karls spoke lowly from behind me.
"If you fail, I'll sever your head on the spot."
'I've died dozens of times already, you bastard.'
I ignored him, placing my hand on the crystal orb before me.
At the same moment, I felt Duke Karls's gaze piercing like a dagger from behind.
His hand would be on his sword hilt, ready to strike without hesitation at any foolish move.
His taut killing intent mingled with the dusty air, pricking my nose.
'Failure means the end.'
I swallowed hard. My parched throat made the gulp echo loudly. I couldn't reach with my hand.
The wrist chains were too short. Instead, I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to the orb's cold surface.
Whirr.
A faint vibration of mana swirling inside the crystal traveled through my skull. It felt like the pulse of a massive slumbering beast.
'Fusion.'
I activated the skill in my mind, forcibly drawing up the sticky, fluid essence of [Persuasion] lurking somewhere within me and shoving it into the cold mineral.
It was an alien sensation. Unpleasant, like my tongue and vocal cords melting into the stone—mingled with an omnipotent thrill as my will took physical form and expanded.
For a moment, the orb's hard surface felt soft as flesh.
Humm—
[Fusion Success]
[Target: Oath Room Continental Conference Resonance Crystal Orb]
[Effect Granted: Persuasion (Lv.1)]
[Details: Mana waves will infuse your voice. If you offer 'forced summons cancellation' as a condition, persuasion efficiency will skyrocket. Additionally, mana can implicitly implant your will into the target's subconscious. However, success rate varies with the target's mental strength and mana resistance.]
"Ha."
The corner of my mouth curled up involuntarily. A faint tremor lingered at my lips.
It worked.
This wasn't just better speech. 'Implanting.' It meant directly seeding images or emotions into their minds via mana.
No guarantees on success, but in this cliff-edge situation, no better weapon existed.
Even if Queen Helena had ironclad mental fortitude, she was emotionally agitated now. There was an opening.
I opened my eyes. The orb's surface filling my vision looked different now. The shimmering light particles within felt as familiar as words dancing on my tongue.
"What did you just do?"
Duke Karls's sharp voice came from behind. He'd noticed the color shift.
"Tuned it up. Old thing was dusty."
I replied brazenly, adjusting my stance. The chains clinked.
Now it begins.
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs fully before slowly exhaling, mapping the continent in my mind.
I narrowed the orb's continental scope. No need for northern bearded King Gras or eastern Elder Sage King Eldric this time. No spectators. Just one person.
Empire's southern border, beyond it, plains with red flags flying. One single coordinate there.
Queen Helena of Roselia.
I searched for her mana signature. The sharp, scorching wavelength I'd memorized from the last conference registered within the orb.
I focused my mind, blocking all noise, projecting my will solely toward that red wave. The [Fused] Persuasion power surged unimpeded through the orb's mana amplification circuits.
Weeeing—!
A high-pitched whine like tearing eardrums burst from the orb. The room's air vibrated. I heard Karls draw his sword but didn't turn.
The screen crackled with noise. Rejection. Helena was blocking the connection. But the 'forced summons' authority was absolute. And the [Fusion]-enhanced signal would pierce walls and slip through cracks.
'Accept it. Answer.'
I glared at the orb, muttering like an incantation.
Crackle, crackle.
Purple noise crawled across the massive orb's surface like a neural network, bridging continental distances with threads of mana.
As the ringing in my ears faded, the foggy interior cleared, revealing a sharp image.
A red tent.
Blood-red velvet curtains filled the screen, unsteady flames flickering on metal candelabras. And at the center, her.
Helena.
She was armored. Silver breastplate over Roselia's royal emblem on a red cloak, sword at her waist.
Her face was etched with shock. She'd dismissed even Duke Karls's envoys, yet here she was, defenseless against the Empire's innermost forced signal.
Her emerald eyes swept over me on the screen, the black chains binding me, and Karls's silhouette behind.
"You bastard."
Helena's lips twitched. Even through the orb, her voice carried raw fury as if screamed in my face.
"How the hell did a guy who should be rotting in a dungeon crawl his way into the Oath Room?"