Chapter 47
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Coronation and Secret
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Time had passed since the war's end, but nothing had really changed.
The common folk knew nothing of the war's hardships—it had ended so swiftly that it was simply dubbed the "Subjugation of the Barbarians" in the public eye.
And those who had endured that war? What were they up to now?
"Jenia, do I look okay?"
"You look even more dashing today! Don't worry, Your Highness. Should I start calling you 'Crown Prince' now?"
"Veronica, how do I look?"
"Sigh... You look so cool, my lord! It's like a blessing from the gods..."
I turned away from the two who would praise me even if I stood on my hands clapping my feet, and asked Lancelot instead.
"Hey, what do you think?"
"Tsk tsk, a scaredy-cat like you as Crown Prince... Just go already."
"Tch."
The guy's no help at all.
Today was the day of the Crown Prince's coronation.
It was a position I'd naturally ascend to in time, but now that it was right in front of me, I felt tense.
But who am I? A 7th Circle mage.
I couldn't afford to chicken out from the starting line, so I took a deep breath and calmed my nerves.
Man, so much has happened lately... I'm exhausted.
And no wonder—even the academy, ground zero for all the incidents, I hadn't enrolled in yet.
If someone asked what I could possibly learn at the academy at my level... I'd say I just had to go because I had to go.
Plus, enrollment came with one ridiculous perk.
No work required!
Just imagining it was thrilling—even Sebastian was counting down the days to this event.
There was a reason all adults said, "School days were the best..."
Of course, it wasn't just for playing around; there'd be plenty to handle...
Why bother with demons? Just catch the heretics, right?
Having resolved never to become a "lucky exorcism tool," I turned to everyone.
They'd all dressed to the nines for the occasion.
Jenia flaunted her looks in a red dress adorned with black frills.
Veronica had stirred up a storm at the temple after the war, but with a saintess already appointed, the church hadn't dared to venerate her as one—they'd just sent ceremonial robes.
She wore pristine white priestly garments embroidered with dazzling golden threads.
Lancelot, having received a hero's medal, sported a sharp uniform with it pinned on.
He didn't show it, but he'd been thrilled and wore it out often since.
And me? A crisp white uniform with gold threading, my own medal affixed, and a red cape billowing with dignified authority from my back.
"Your Highness~ It's about time to head out."
At Lily's call, we opened the door and made for the coronation hall.
"Alright! Let's go!"
With my spirited shout, everyone followed behind.
The vast front courtyard of the imperial palace's grand cathedral was packed with commoners and nobles alike.
A long red carpet stretched over the white marble steps, leading to the imperial throne.
The empire's banners fluttered from the high ceiling in the breeze, while choirs filled the air with hymns.
At the center sat my father and mother.
The Emperor held the empire's sword, the Empress the goddess's holy scripture.
And I, amid heavy tension, stepped onto the stage.
The priest's clear voice rang out.
"Today, the blood chosen by the gods and the will of the empire shall be etched upon this land. Here and now, a new Crown Prince is born!"
Father rose, lifting the imperial crown.
As it descended upon my head, cheers from the people and nobles erupted like thunder.
The gemstones etched into its golden frame sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight.
Father declared in a solemn voice,
"This man is now my heir, the Crown Prince of the empire. In his name, the empire endures, and from the edge of his blade, order shall reign eternal."
In that moment, the choir's song swelled, and fireworks painted the sky.
I gazed down at the kneeling nobles and cheering masses, swallowing hard.
It wasn't mere glory—the weight of the entire empire settled on my shoulders—but a smile crept onto my face.
So what if it was heavy? I could bear it.
Someone might say, "Aren't you taking it too lightly?" But as always, I'd carve my path through.
To achieve what I want, I at least need to claim the top spot on the continent.
Glancing back, I saw Jenia clapping with a beaming smile, Veronica with hands clasped, lips smiling but eyes brimming with tears, and Lancelot grinning.
What more could life offer? Doing your best in the situation you're given, with the people you love—that's the peak.
Smile at my happiness, rejoice in theirs. That was enough.
As we exchanged glances, our smiles amplified each other's joy.
Making the whole world happy was too grandiose, but in the places I see, hear, and know, I'd extend my power as far as it reached.
How could I keep something this good to myself?
Wishing happiness upon all who watched me, I raised my hand high with a broad grin.
And so, my coronation came to an end.
In the palace depths, two men descended ancient stairs into a hidden dark chamber, illuminating it with light.
Today was the day the Imperial Bloodline's secret would be unveiled.
What they hid so fiercely, why the protagonist went berserk to conceal it—it was all about to be revealed.
"It's time you learned."
His tone carried a hint of bitterness, so I asked,
"Father, this place exists?"
"It's been here for the Imperial Bloodline since the palace was built."
At the stair's end loomed a massive door that swung open effortlessly at Father's touch.
Expecting intricate mechanisms, I felt a twinge of disappointment and asked,
"No locks or anything?"
"It won't open without sufficient caliber."
The goddess, Father—always this "caliber." Was it a measure of strength? It felt different somehow.
Following silently, we arrived at a space that wasn't shocking or grotesque, but oddly unsettling.
Mystical light emanated softly from the floor, and above it... a black fragment hovered, cracking space itself like roots piercing soil.
Towering around the fragment were crystals the size of a person's torso—the source of the unease.
Peering closer... people were sealed inside, eyes closed.
That's... Grandfather?
"Father... is this the Imperial Bloodline's secret? What is this place? Human sacrifice?"
My mind reeled.
I'd first thought maybe a demon was sealed here, but seeing the people in the crystals amplified the disgust.
Father began his slow explanation.
"...You know the empire's founding myth."
"Yes, the Goddess of Light, Ledia Nus..."
"A false myth. I'll tell you the truth now."
The founding tale I'd learned first in history class was a lie. The shock hadn't faded, but Father continued calmly.
"Once, there was an arrogant dragon who coveted a god's throne..."
Dragons had existed in the past. One came to the human world for leisure, met a woman, and fell in love.
The dragon and woman loved deeply, even bearing a child.
But human and dragon time flowed differently; the woman soon died of old age, leaving the dragon in anguish, cursing the gods.
To storm the divine realm, the dragon hid in the human world, secretly building its caliber.
Because no race shone as swiftly and brilliantly as humans...
Amassing deeds, the dragon reached divinity and tried to resurrect his lost mate.
But reviving a body without even a soul was impossible, even for a god.
Yet the dragon wouldn't yield; to ascend further, it touched what it shouldn't.
The origin of the world.
The very "concept" that existed wherever there were sentient beings across all worlds, dimensions, times.
What existed before creation? What made the sky endless? Could "being" arise from "nothing"?
The miraculous concept birthing causality from rootlessness—but despite its efforts, the dragon grasped not the origin, but a mere fragment holding its secrets.
That was it—the "Shard of the Origin."
But the fragment's immense caliber began collapsing our world.
For it brought something that shouldn't exist here.
Fortunately, it was tiny; even so, the world couldn't bear its weight.
The dragon gazed at the world it had nurtured. Only then did it realize—blinded by resentment and hatred, it had missed the world's beauty.
Then, the Goddess of Light, Ledia Nus, extended a hand: in exchange for the dragon's "karma," she'd sustain the shard.
The dragon offered its soul willingly, for the beautiful world it had built.
And it passed this truth to its descendants.
About the "karma" we must bear.
We are its descendants—that's why the Imperial Bloodline continually births prodigies.
They placed us on the throne even without talent.
Fear of variables; even a talentless mutant could arise.
The throne naturally carries history.
When the shard grew heavy, Imperial Bloodline members or heroes of equal caliber entered those crystals, sacrificing themselves.
No one knows when it'll happen next, but we're always prepared.
This is the Imperial Bloodline's "yoke" and "karma."
Father's words left my mind blank.
In simple terms, we're stuck holding the time bomb our ancestor fiddled with...
I'd resolved so much lately, brimming with confidence, but this? No clue where to start.
Accept fate or resist somehow? I didn't know.
"Is that... Grandfather?"
"Yes... The public thinks he died, but he entered voluntarily. Not sacrifice, more like evasion..."
"Then you too, Father..."
"Yes, when the time comes. Unless we find a way..."
I glanced at the crystal and Father, dreading the words to follow.
In there...?
Heat rushed to my head, imagining Father turned to crystal in this unjust collective punishment.
But Father's words shattered my thoughts.
"I'm sorry."
The first time I'd heard weakness from him.
What for? Being born into the Imperial Bloodline? Failing to find a solution?
I hated seeing Father apologize when he'd done nothing wrong.
Then it hit me.
Why mope like some pathetic loser?
Hadn't I decided to change things precisely because I hated the inevitable?
With resolute will, I told Father,
"Father, don't worry. I'll find a way somehow."
"This isn't that kind of problem..."
"Don't worry—I'm better than you, after all."
Father stared blankly for a moment, then burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! That's right—you are better than me!"
Finally, the words I'd longed to hear from him.
"I raised one hell of a son."
Gazing at his laughing face, I grinned back.
"Mother's the one who gave birth."
He'd laugh it off like it was nothing.
I'd never submit. Cosmic-scale fate? Bring it.
I needed to grow stronger, to never be swayed by destiny again.