Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: Abandoned Prince
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When Lena Rubel shattered the Decapitation Strike, Rubid felt something crumbling inside him.
It was an impossible event. Something that couldn't, and shouldn't, happen.
'What kind of power is this...'
The Decapitation Strike was the power that had allowed Plenus to reign as king of the North for the past century.
To break it so easily, so simply, so casually.
Rubid's body grew ice-cold at the unacceptable sight.
The shock didn't fade easily, and he remained dazed and frozen even as thunderbolts rained from the sky.
Thus, he was helplessly trapped within it.
— The trial begins.
Rubid snapped to when a raspy voice battered his eardrums.
— The trial begins.
— The trial begins.
The voice was as noisy and grating as claws on a grindstone.
Jolted awake by the irritating sound, Rubid belatedly realized he was somewhere isolated.
No sky, no ground.
All sides walled in, Rubid surrounded by massive shadows.
The shadows peered down at him and cried out.
— Confess your sins.
— Confess your sins.
They repeated the same phrase like cascading water, and under the pressure, Rubid instinctively unleashed his Decapitation Strike.
"Get lost!"
The shadows scattered like smoke where the Decapitation Strike grazed them.
Then they reformed, squeezing him even tighter.
— Sin of spreading plague at the devil's behest.
— Sin of lasciviously seducing men.
— Sin of convening a witches' gathering.
— Be judged.
"What the hell are you lunatics babbling about!"
Rubid swung his sword again, to no avail.
The shadows only grew larger, whirling chaotically around him.
— Judgment.
— Judgment.
— God's mace.
Rubid clamped his ears shut against the swelling roar.
Then something thudded onto his head from above.
An alien emotion immediately wrapped around his entire body.
"Urgh, aaagh!"
Fear engulfed him.
Indignation. Despair.
And bottomless emptiness.
Tears welled up unbidden from the vague ache.
Unaware of what was happening, Rubid writhed in torment.
He crumpled helplessly to his knees.
— Verdict.
The shadows swarmed the broken Rubid.
— The sinner's freedom is confiscated.
— The sinner's power is confiscated.
— The sinner's time is confiscated.
The shadows pierced his body like phantoms, scraping away pieces of him.
At the sensation of being torn apart, Rubid screamed in futility.
Emboldened, the shadows sought to strip him of everything.
The moment he thought he could bear no more—the moment he felt death closing in—the horrific tribunal abruptly collapsed.
Lena Rubel appeared next, and Rubid, freed from the agony, blacked out briefly.
When he opened his eyes again, Rubid was a child.
. . .
Lena gazed at the dazed, slumped Rubid and fought back the glee rising to her lips.
Rubid—shrunken to Uni's size, draped in his own clothes like a blanket—looked utterly adorable.
But it wasn't his cuteness that amused Lena.
It was the awkwardness of the situation.
'Probably meant for me...'
The King of Burning and Scorch had warped space to recreate his own witch trial.
Rubid had been unjustly stripped and debilitated, just like those women of old.
Such sorcery was possible only in this time- and space-twisted tomb—a trap painstakingly crafted by the King of the Wraiths.
And Hiems Grasha had bothered with it not for that madman, but for Lena Rubel.
'Would've been a hassle if I'd fallen in.'
Rubid's earlier swagger had let Lena dodge the trap.
And the one who'd blundered into it was now in a state perfectly primed to crush his pride.
Either way, it was a windfall for Lena.
So with a touch of mirth, she whispered to the slumped Rubid.
"You okay?"
"Does it look okay?!"
Rubid shrieked the instant she spoke.
Even shrunken, his prickly temper was intact—leaving Lena once more at a loss.
"Seems fine. You're still full of yourself."
"What?"
"If you're not actually brainless, how about sizing up the situation first? This isn't the time for tantrums. It's time to beg for help."
Anger flooded Rubid's face at the jab.
On a child's features, it just looked like pouting.
"Who do you think you are, lecturing me?"
Rubid spat the words like gravel.
Ignoring his plight, he postured with his usual arrogance—finally wearing Lena's patience thin.
"Didn't expect gratitude anyway. Totally thankless."
Lena tsked, massaging her throbbing wrist.
Then added,
"Must be because you're so sure of yourself, right? Fine. I won't meddle anymore. You couldn't even get in the way looking like that."
Expression blank, Lena coiled her whip and pocketed her dagger.
Back turned, she said,
"Then we're done here. Anything to say? Now's the time."
Her tone was neither warm nor icy—just flatly businesslike.
A final chance, offered plainly.
Rubid's eyes flickered at the dispassionate question.
He'd snapped out of habit, but he grasped his predicament objectively enough.
Shrunk in the heart of a wraith-infested tomb.
Unfamiliar, undersized limbs. No knights at his side. The horse he'd ridden long fled.
In this state, battling Hiems Grasha was out of the question—he could barely fend for himself.
Relying on Lena was the smart move now.
Swallow his pride first. Lean on Lena Rubel's mercy.
She was kinder than most; play reluctant, and she'd take him along.
"...No."
But Rubid refused to yield.
He glared at her sharply, hostile, shoving her away.
"No—so scram."
"If you insist."
Lena nodded, unsurprised.
Without further wait, she turned decisively.
As Lena's back fully faced him, Rubid's lips twitched despite himself.
His tiny hand fidgeted, as if to snag her cloak.
But he held back.
Voice, gesture, anxiety, desperation—he stifled it all.
Chose pride, as always.
. . .
'Damn it, crap!'
Rubid cursed nonstop, hiking up the baggy pant cuffs.
No choice but to walk back.
So he thought.
The Northern Knights would follow behind; link up midway.
He stripped off the eye-catching uniform coat, rolled the dangling sleeves and legs.
Cinched tight at the waist, gearing up to hike for real.
'Rapier.'
He spotted the rapier on the ground and went to grab it.
No—tried to.
"Urk..."
Too heavy to heft.
Could he even use the Decapitation Strike like this?
Experimentally, Rubid gripped it two-handed.
Swung with all his might to test.
"Uwaaak!"
The rapier flew off instead of unleashing the strike.
His puny hands couldn't control the hefty blade.
Rubid gawked as it sailed away clattering.
Sword too heavy to swing—he felt his plight anew.
Different conclusion from right before they'd parted.
'In this state? No way.'
Determined this time to redeem himself, Rubid chased Lena Rubel.
But slinking back like a clown? Worse than staying out.
"Damn...!"
Fuming, Rubid stomped—kicking the hapless rapier.
Then flopped down right there.
Hopeless.
In the despair, his brother's icy gaze surfaced—frustrating him more.
Frustration spent, heat pricked his eyes.
Gritting teeth, Rubid mashed his sleeves over them.
The King of the North, Iura Plenus Grasha.
The golden boy was five years Rubid's senior.
They ignored each other now, but childhood hadn't been so bad.
Age gap kept them apart mostly, yet young Iura would drop by now and then—teaching, playing with his little brother.
Father's death warped that ordinary bond beyond repair.
The Late Northern Duke perished in the war against the wraiths.
When Rubid was eleven—just like now.
Father's abrupt death laid Mother low too.
All duties and burdens fell to the eldest, Iura.
Young Rubid had only Iura to cling to.
He wanted his brother at his side.
But Iura abruptly distanced himself.
No visits. Ignored him on sight.
Drove him off if he approached. Deaf to any words.
Fed up, Rubid confronted the cold brother outright.
Demanded why he was left alone.
Iura finally met his eyes after ages.
Said, 'Stay away. I might slit your throat.'
That was when Rubid's execution obsession took root.
He mastered the Decapitation Strike around then too.
Losing his father, brother changed, plagued by beheading fears—the boy found the strike his lifeline.
Emperor-granted power. Bestowed only on those fit to rule as imperial blood.
With it, Iura wouldn't dare touch him—he believed.
Yet the phobia that a slip could mean his brother's blade also burrowed deeper.
Rubid hunkered down, biding time.
Wary cub eyeing the predator, awaiting the day he could defend himself.
Two ways to shield from his brother, the North's king.
Strike first. Or claim the Emperor's aegis, stronger than any brother.
Either way, Rubid had to grow mighty.
Better the Emperor's side than fratricide, he judged.
Faint sibling bond lingered.
But that faded too.
Years on, he learned Father's death sprang from Emperor Nihil's whim.
***
"Stay here."
Rin urged Uni as she mounted up.
Uni, now under Eastern Knights' guard, gazed at Rin anxiously.
"Bring the Young Lady back with you!"
Rin gave a small nod to the little maid's plea.
Then wheeled her horse toward the red fissure.
Lena was alone in the tomb now.
Rubid had tailed her, and soon the Northern Knights would follow him.
Leaving Lena cut off inside.
So Rin rushed her preparations to stay at Lena's side.
But just as she was set to go, the castle entrance erupted in commotion.
'What now?'
Glancing back casually, Rin spotted an unwelcome face.
Iura—who'd shown up hearing Do-um Palace was in chaos.