Battle for the Throne (5)
Muk. [Noun] A food made by grinding acorns, buckwheat, mung beans, and the like into a thick jelly.
Muksabal. [Noun] A bowl containing muk.
The kingdom boasts three prestigious knight orders. What does it take to join one?
For starters, rigorous training from childhood is a must. Then comes passing the entrance exam for the knight officer academy and enduring four grueling years of specialized instruction. Most applicants lacking mana talent—or even many low-year cadets—wash out here.
Only those who excel in intelligence, virtue, and physique can take the knight's oath, graduate, and submit applications to the kingdom's 1st, 2nd, or 3rd Knight Orders. (Of course, they need stellar extracurriculars, volunteer work, unique experiences, and all the other bells and whistles too.)
In short, serving in a royal knight order marks you as the cream of the crop—flawless specs, impeccable careers. The top 0.001% representing the nation, the backbone of its power, the strongest collective force. That's a knight order for you.
But—
BOOM!
A thunderous crash echoes as thirty-two knights go flying.
"Kyaaah! It's a monster!"
One knight from the notoriously brutal Red Bulls screams through teary eyes.
"Heh heh... cry... even... louder... for me~~"
A long shadow stretches before him. It's Hotse. A savage grin splits her face as she unleashes merciless fists on dozens of knights at once.
"Ho ho ho. How utterly fragile the human body is."
Unicef impales charging knights on her horns, then crushes their bones with her high-heel stiletto. Dozens more groan and writhe in her wake.
Beep! Muksabal. [Noun] A bowl filled with the thick jelly made from grinding acorns, buckwheat, mung beans, and the like. Or your current sorry state.
AlphaGo's eyes flash as she blasts knights away. Beams of light from her palm shatter their armor in explosions.
"Y-You bastard! What kind of nonsense is this...!?"
Colonel Caffeine, leader of the 1st Knight Order Red Bulls, bellows.
Before him stands Cliche, idly picking his nose.
Colonel Outdoor of the 2nd Knight Order Black Yack glares coldly at Cliche. "What absurd power. All our knights will be crippled. The orders will crumble! The kingdom will fall! Families will shatter!"
Then.
"...Hey."
Cliche jerks his chin lazily their way.
"Heh heh. My turn, huh."
Diablo, sucking on honey in the back, finally steps forward.
Flash!
Viscous darkness billows from her left hand.
Rumble!
A black storm sweeps the ground.
"Gasp!?"
"No way! I'm healed!?"
Knights beaten senseless by Hotse and Unicef rise fully restored, bones mended by Diablo's unfiltered holy power.
"I-Impossible... They're not human."
Colonel Fan of the 3rd Knight Order Gold Lion surveys the scene in disbelief. Every knight except the three colonels had been downed—and now revived. None dare charge Hotse or Unicef again.
"Let's wrap this up. Time for the commanders to talk."
At Cliche's words, the three colonels draw their swords in unison.
Rumble!
Aura blades ignite along the edges—liquid-thick, dense enough to drip onto the ground. Mid-level Sword Master prowess. Enough for one to face ten thousand alone.
"Aura!"
Colonel Caffeine snarls with bloodshot eyes. Outdoor and Fan close in, grips tight, radiating kill-or-be-killed intent.
But.
"Stop this!"
Roin halts them in their tracks.
"What kind of nonsense is this from knight order leaders!?"
"......"
"Three mid-level Sword Masters ganging up on a young boy!? You're not street thugs!"
Roin's sharp words leave the colonels sheepish as they sheathe their blades.
Truth be told, Hotse and Unicef alone had nearly annihilated the orders. Victory was all but sealed.
"......"
After heavy silence, the colonels holster their swords. Warriors and loyal soldiers, they weren't fools—they read the room. Caught off guard. Defeated. By monsters beyond reason. Even all-out from commanders and vice-commanders, no guarantees. With complacency? Obvious outcome.
"We concede."
"Lost."
"We accept it."
Colonels Caffeine, Outdoor, and Fan all admit defeat.
The sports festival champion was decided.
As was this kingdom's throne.
One day, the Pink Dragon Knights burst onto the scene alongside 1st Princess Roin like a comet! They smashed the other three orders and claimed top honors in the sports festival.
Roin and her Pink Dragon Knights calmly swept up every trophy and certificate, it seems.
The organizers had to frantically scrape off the pre-engraved knight order names.
"...I-Is that true?"
"Did that really happen?"
"Makes no sense. Fake news, right?"
The palace buzzes with rumors from maids to high officials—everyone huddles in pairs to gossip. Believers and skeptics alike, but the talk spreads relentlessly.
And sure enough.
The night the festival ends, 2nd Prince Int quietly summons his intelligence chief, Anne Desk.
"You called, Your Highness."
Desk is a sharp-jawed, mustachioed man in his forties. Broad shoulders hint at his sword arm; a cheek scar and piercing gaze intimidate. He's served Int since childhood.
A fearsome figure. He commands spies and shadows domestic and foreign alike, with early Sword Master prowess himself. Lacking mid-level like the other colonels, but for an intel chief? Terrifying. Peak strength and intellect.
Yet before Int, he's meek as a lamb.
Int sighs deeply, slumping onto the sofa. He downs rum from a crystal glass, lights a cigar. Thick smoke billows.
"No choice but hard measures now. Hated using it on kin, but so be it."
Desk nods silently at Int's words.
"Experts already summoned."
"Reliable?"
"Famous in the kingdom's underworld."
Then, bickering from outside.
"Tell me where Anne Desk is!"
"This is the info desk!"
"Not info desk—Anne Desk!"
"Lunatic! Guards!"
Desk opens the door to the info desk.
"He's a guest. Let him in."
The brawling man enters the 2nd prince's office at Desk's call.
"An honor to meet you."
He doffs his white fedora. White suit, monocle, bushy mustache.
Int asks approvingly, "What do I call you?"
"Phantom Thief Kid, head of assassination guild 'Sanwa.' I steal lives, mainly."
"Rings a bell."
"I'm infamous. Among my trophies: some of Your Highness's prized possessions... and lives."
"Water under the bridge."
Kid admires Int's boldness.
Int probes suspiciously. "But skill?"
Kid grins. His body twists like lightning.
Clang!
His rapier halts razor-close to Int's throat. Desk barely parries.
"Impressive guard."
"......"
Chills race down Int's spine. Desk is a Sword Master—yet struck before reacting.
Pop!
Kid sheathes cleanly. Aura threads slice air, scorching carpet as they drip.
Undeniable mid-level Sword Master. Assassin's aura honed for ambushes. Could lead any knight order.
Why a killer? Who knows.
"Hm!"
Int nods. "Not my concern."
He hands Kid a photo of 1st Princess Roin.
"Don't kill her. Kin and all. But wipe her followers."
"Ah, spare-target option? Extra fee."
"...Fees vary by option?"
"Yes. Agony level tweaks price too. Max pain! Min pain! More options, more gold..."
Int shakes his head with a sigh.
"Fine, extra for sparing Roin. And her retainers... painless as possible. More gold."
"A merciful client. As you command."
"How'll you do it?"
Kid tips his fedora with a sinister smile.
"We'll find a way."
Chilling from a guild master's mouth.
Kid bows, then vanishes in white smoke with a pop!
"Rude bastard."
Desk mutters. Int shrugs with a smirk.
"Stray dogs and jackals. Dispose after use."
"Wise, Your Highness."
"It's my kingdom soon. Can't let scum run wild."
Int chuckles, tilting his glass. A night brimming with anticipation for tomorrow.