The Power He So Long Coveted

"What in the world...!"

KRA-KOOM!

From beyond the collapsed wall, the legion soldiers revealed themselves. The escort detail immediately tensed and closed ranks around the Emperor, my sister.

"What is the meaning of this outrage! Drop your weapons and stand down!"

"Captain! Their eyes—there's something wrong with their eyes!"

Even as the savage warnings continued, the soldiers only pressed closer instead of discarding their arms. Their eyes held no trace of reason; their movements were stiff and unnatural, as if someone else were pulling the strings.

Brainwashed by sorcery.

Most likely the culprit was that so-called traditional elven liquor. The legion had been drinking it steadily for five years, and the brainwashing had taken root. Which meant these men would never surrender—they would keep charging even if it killed them.

The situation was already sliding past anything ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I had anticipated.

"My lord Count! Look out!"

"...!"

One soldier slipped around the escort's defensive line and lunged. Yuri stepped into his path. With sharp, precise movements she disarmed him, twisted his arm, and forced him to his knees—then raised her blade to finish him with a single stroke to the neck.

"Silvi— ugh-gh-ghk!!!"

I started to shout Silvia's name in alarm, but she already knew what order I was about to give. She yanked the sword from my mouth and shot forward. An instant before Yuri's edge could sever the soldier's throat, Silvia's own blade intercepted it. Then she slammed the pommel into the man and dropped him cold.

"W-why...?"

"Look carefully. Do those soldiers look like they're moving of their own free will?"

"Ah...!"

Yuri's gaze flicked toward the rest of the legion. Understanding dawned; her mouth slowly fell open. If she had killed that man, the moment she realized they were being controlled rather than acting freely, the guilt would have crushed her. I couldn't let her carry a regret that was so easy to prevent.

I pressed the sword she had dropped back into her still-trembling hands, then turned to the escort captain who stood facing the enemy line.

"Captain. From this moment I am assuming command of the escort detail."

"Wh-what!? Count, have you lost your mind?!"

"Follow Count Belmont's orders, Captain. He is the secret escort I mentioned to you earlier."

"Y-Your Majesty...!?"

"Captain, you and your men haven't touched that liquor, have you?"

"N-no, sir. Not a drop."

After a brief moment of confusion the captain switched to formal address and answered me. True to his post, he had stayed sober even amid the festival. Thank the heavens. With the entire Fourth Legion turned against us, having to fight the escort as well would have left us with zero hope.

They laced the wine with something.

Around us, nobles who had managed only a few cups were already closing their eyes and collapsing into sleep. A few glasses had been more than enough.

At that moment Reinhardt drew his sword and stepped forward.

"You bastards! You dare raise blades against my sister!? Surrender at once!"

"..."

"Damn it! Sister, you must evacuate! I'll hold them here!"

"We should follow the Fourth Legion Commander's advice and withdraw for now, Your Majesty."

"But against so many soldiers there's no way they can—!"

Compared with the tide of legionnaires pouring in, the thin line of escorts and Reinhardt looked pitifully small. My sister herself was about to draw her own sword when the ground rumbled and skeletal soldiers began surging up from below.

"Undead as well!?"

"Ah. Those are on our side, Your Majesty."

"What...?"

"Skeleton grandpas! Please stop the people with the swords! Try not to hurt anyone if you can help it!"

"Clack!"

At Yulia's order the skeletons answered as one and formed ranks beside the escort and Reinhardt. Their numbers could not match the legion, but they were more than enough to seal the corridor completely. That would do. No matter how many times the undead were cut down they would simply regenerate and rise again, clinging to the enemy's ankles.

"Your Majesty. Is there a safe place?"

"There is a panic room in my bedchamber, but..."

"We're going there at once. Silvia! Yuri! Cover us!"

"W-wait! We can't just leave them— khhk!"

The Emperor staggered the moment she tried to step forward, her brow knitting in pain. The liquor she had drunk earlier—the sorcery was already working on her. Her legs trembled and refused to obey. I had Silvia scoop her up, and we made straight for the bedchamber.

"Kahahaha! Capture every last one of them unharmed!"

"Sir!? That's impossible!"

"Captain! I won't demand the same of you—but I simply cannot bring myself to kill my own men with my own ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hands!"

"This is bad... We can't leave the captain... or Reinhardt..."

My sister forced her heavy eyelids open and mumbled in a fading voice. For now we had to trust those two and the undead legion and get her to safety first. If she died or was seriously hurt, I would be in danger—and with no other heir the entire empire would plunge into chaos.

"Damn it... I should be fighting too..."

"With that body? Stop talking nonsense and worry about staying alive."

"A-Aslan! Soldiers behind us!"

At Yulia's panicked cry I spun around. Another wave of legionnaires was pouring in through the opposite corridor. Unbelievable. They just kept coming. I was still wondering how we would stop this new flood when a whooshing sound cut the air and a gigantic dung-brown mass smashed through the wall.

"Heul-heul-ie! You came!"

"Keep those soldiers from reaching us! If you do, I'll bake you a cake...!"

"I'll make it a chocolate cake!"

The instant Charlotte crashed onto the scene and mentioned chocolate cake, Heul-heul-ie flipped completely and planted itself across the corridor. In a heartbeat the wide hallway was packed solid with its massive brown body—not a single gap left. Reliable as ever, Heul-heul-ie!

"There... Place my hand on the door behind that wardrobe..."

Once we reached the bedchamber my sister pointed weakly at the wardrobe. I flung it open and frantically yanked out the clothes crammed inside. Soft, fluttery garments went flying in every direction. So this was the sort of cute thing she wore when she was alone in her room.

When the last garment was cleared away, a thick iron door appeared. I carefully pressed her hand against it; the barrier reacted and began to glow.

"It's open!"

The iron door finally swung free with a heavy clunk. I carried her inside at once. Just when I thought we were safe, her breathing turned ragged and shallow—this was not good.

"Kh-hhk! Haaah...!"

"Your Majesty. Are you all right?"

"Damn it. Doesn't feel like poison, but something's wrong with me."

"It's probably sorcery. The wine you just drank is the medium; it's altering the mana inside your body so they can control you."

"My own mana? Then this could kill me! Damn it—I have to force the corrupted mana out right now—!"

"Y-Your Majesty!"

Without warning she drew a dagger and was about to drive it into her own chest. I lunged, seized her wrist, and wrenched the blade away. The moment my frail strength overpowered her, her face twisted in open disgust.

"If I die like this, what then...?"

"I have a way to break the sorcery. If it fails, you can still carve your chest open and extract it the hard way—it won't be too late."

"Fine... Whatever it is, just do it..."

She slumped against me in resignation. I had spoken with confidence, yet even I wasn't certain. The method relied on a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠skill that had never been properly tested.

The neodymium in my body lets me push mana away. If I use that...

The skill Death's Touch repels mana. Through research with Yulia I had learned I could fine-tune both its intensity and its point of activation. So what would happen if I triggered it at maximum output inside a human body?

In theory I could blast every scrap of mana out of a person—provided the output was strong enough to force that mana straight through their skin.

If it worked, I could expel every last drop of mana inside my sister, including the portion corrupted by the sorcery.

"Your Majesty. Forgive the liberty."

"Khh..."

At present the only activation points I could choose were those extremely close to my own body. I therefore loosened her clothes and laid my palm on her sweat-slick chest. For a split second I thought I had grabbed her back instead, but a quick check confirmed my hand was exactly where it needed to be.

Focus. Fail this and that beautiful body is going to end up with a knife scar.

Activation point: the area around her heart. Output: far beyond the maximum I had ever attempted during research. No more hesitation.

The instant I invoked Death's Touch, black radiance erupted from my body and writhed outward. The entire area was instantly reduced to a mana vacuum.

A translucent window flared before my eyes.

The moment the skill evolved, my senses sharpened dramatically. Where I had once been forced to guess at the activation point, I could now lock onto the heart with perfect precision. At the same time the output soared without limit—high enough that even Heul-heul-ie, not merely some lesser spirit, would have been in mortal danger.

"Did it work?"

I cut the skill off at once and pulled my hand away. My sister was already breathing the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠soft, even breaths of deep sleep. Classic mana exhaustion. Gone was any trace of the agony from moments earlier. I had successfully expelled every last scrap of the corrupted mana.

Skill window.

Black Magic.

The power that Aslan Belmont had so desperately coveted in the original story now rested in the palm of my hand.