Chapter 200
Chapter 200
"Damn it!"
As Tris's sword flashed while retreating, a whirlwind erupted in the center of the courtyard.
But those watching were more focused on the scene revealed as the dust settled rather than the astonishing feat itself.
When the thick dust finally cleared, the crowd collectively gasped.
"Good heavens...!"
"This can't be!"
Jerome lay motionless on the ground, his sword dropped beside him. More shocking was the pool of blood spreading from his head—those with sharp eyes noticed it was streaming from his right eye.
At that moment—
"How dare you!!"
Tris roared like thunder, charging forward with two Transcendents at lightning speed. Unlike Jerome, who lay unmoving, Logan stood firm despite clutching his torn side.
Under the murderous intent radiating from them, Logan's face instantly paled.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
A giant's furious shout echoed, but his movements seemed sluggish in comparison. Gritting his teeth, Logan adjusted his sword stance.
Had he underestimated the Emperor's—no, the Empire's—pride too much?
'Even if I die, I'll take at least one of them with me!'
Fueled by desperate resolve, he forced out the last dregs of his strength. But his exhausted body refused to push past its limits.
BOOM!
As Luther Kyle was effortlessly flung aside by Tris's attack, the two Transcendents easily subdued Logan, pinning him to the ground.
'Damn it...'
Was this how he would die?
So pathetically?
He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, only for a crushing impact to slam his head into the ground.
THUD.
"Ghk!"
Tris pressed his boot against Logan's skull, coldly pointing his sword downward.
"For harming the Empire's talent, you will pay with your life."
The merciless voice pierced Logan's ears—
"What exactly do you think you're doing?"
A calm yet subtly imposing voice drew all eyes toward the imperial seat.
As if compelled by an unseen force, every gaze in the hall turned toward the source—the Emperor, whose slightly furrowed brow made Tris immediately drop to his knees.
"Your Majesty! This wretch dared harm the Empire's talent before your very eyes! He must be executed to uphold Your Majesty's authority and the Empire's dignity!"
"You would punish someone for an outcome I commanded simply because it displeased you? You make me look like a fool."
Shockingly, the Emperor's icy tone was directed at Tris.
The knight's face drained of color as he hastily pressed his forehead to the floor.
"N-No, Your Majesty! I acted only out of loyalty to the Empire—!"
"I am the Empire, and the Empire is me. Yet you defy my orders while claiming to serve me?"
The Emperor's detached tone made Tris tremble violently.
THUD! THUD!
He repeatedly smashed his forehead against the marble floor, not even using Force to protect himself. Blood streamed down his face from the broken skin.
"My deepest apologies, Your Majesty! This lowly servant failed to comprehend Your Majesty's will and overstepped!"
Still bleeding, Tris raised his head and shouted:
"I beg for punishment!"
"I beg for punishment!"
The Transcendents who had pinned Logan followed suit, prostrating themselves.
The bizarre sight froze Luther Kyle mid-charge, while Logan could only stare blankly.
The Emperor continued impassively:
"Hmm. Since you've realized your error before it was too late, I shall consider your lifetime of service to the Empire in determining your punishment."
The measured words snapped Logan back to his senses slightly.
'Just a show, then.'
But the Emperor's next words shattered that assumption.
"Tris, you are stripped of your position as Captain of the Imperial Knights and demoted in rank. Lunus, Fabian—the same applies to you both."
The punishment was excessively harsh for what could be seen as acting in the Emperor's interest, even if unintentionally defiant.
'What kind of—?'
Logan glanced around, wondering if he was the only one confused—
"We are grateful for Your Majesty's mercy!"
Instead, the Transcendents kowtowed again without hesitation.
Not a trace of resentment showed on their faces.
'No matter how absolute a monarch's authority, to command Transcendents like this...?'
As Logan gaped, the Emperor's gaze shifted to him.
Those strange black eyes that had unnerved him from the start gleamed once more.
"An unfortunate accident, but such things happen in warriors' duels. I shall not hold you accountable. Rather, I am impressed by the extraordinary martial prowess of this young hero, Logan MacLaine. Therefore, I declare his victory and shall grant him suitable rewards."
"Ooh!"
As if to erase the earlier disgrace, the assembled ministers cheered with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Then—
"Logan MacLaine, young hero of Grandia. Pledge your loyalty to me. Swear fealty, and I promise you power, wealth, and glory beyond anything that petty kingdom could offer."
The unexpected offer left Logan speechless.
-Whatever you can imagine, I will give you more.
The proposal itself defied imagination.
Even Logan felt tempted.
The Emperor wouldn't make empty promises before so many witnesses.
'A single nod here would erase all threats to me and my family.'
It would achieve his greatest goal since returning through time—ensuring his family's safety.
But...
'The moment I defect, I'll spearhead the Empire's invasion. To prove my worth, I'd have to... attack my homeland.'
He abandoned any hope the conquest might not happen.
Even without confirming rumors from his past life, the Emperor's black eyes brimmed with greed.
Though currently directed at him, that gaze belonged to someone who had never compromised—never needed to.
'This man doesn't listen to others.'
And then there was the turmoil in his own heart.
Memories surged the moment he imagined meekly bowing for his family's sake, screaming at him to refuse the easy path.
-Why not adapt? What's the difference between the rotten nobility's tyranny and the Empire's oppression?
-Let me answer clearly. It's the difference between those who see people as people and those who see them as objects.
-I will die fighting to live as a human!
Louis Hyon.
The Sword Duke's right hand and leader of Grandia's Liberation Front in his past life.
Back then, consumed by vengeance, Logan had dismissed such ideals—but most of his comrades had embraced them, dying to live as humans.
'Cathy, Lyman, Tray...'
Dozens of names flashed through his mind.
Comrades now under his family's banner or living as wanderers elsewhere.
Even as Force or Mana users who could've become the Empire's second-class citizens, they'd refused, choosing death over submission.
Though half-mad back then, he still remembered each of their deaths.
And the images of Grandian refugees, bound like fish hauled to the Empire's heart.
The war-ravaged homeland.
'In my past life, I didn't fight for ideals like they did.'
And these events hadn't even occurred yet.
He'd never considered himself particularly patriotic.
'But...'
His past life, fueled solely by rage, still remembered that fury.
No—couldn't forget it.
Call him a fool if you will.
An idiot, even.
As long as that hatred remained, he couldn't choose the easy path.
Even if it led to ruin.
'I'll protect my family and house with my own power!'
So—
"Your generous offer humbles me, Your Majesty. But I am Grandian to my bones and cannot serve another nation's ruler. I beg your gracious understanding."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall.
The Emperor's expression stiffened slightly.
"Oh? I could grant you territory matching Grandia's size—wealth surpassing that entire kingdom. Is this truly your answer, knowing that?"
Gasp!
Shocked breaths echoed throughout the chamber, proving how unprecedented the Emperor's leniency was.
But Logan's resolve didn't waver.
"My apologies, Your Majesty. But I will never forget the kindness you've shown me today."
He simply knelt respectfully, head bowed.
Surely the Emperor's dignity wouldn't permit further insistence—
"Hah... Hahaha! Refusal? A refusal! How refreshing. But that only makes me want you more."
What?
"Well, today's spectacle was entertainment enough. You shall remain at the palace awhile longer. Experience more of the Empire—learn what you could gain here. Then your mind may change."
Murmurs spread.
The Emperor's extraordinary offer wasn't over yet.
Logan sensed something ominous, but refusing now was impossible.
"...I am grateful for Your Majesty's grace."
"Good. Summon the bishop to treat Jerome and our guest! Let the festival commence! Show our guest the Empire's prosperity!"
"By Your Majesty's command!"
With thunderous cheers, the commotion in the hall subsided.
"I am Phentas, servant of Ageron. The honor is mine."
A somewhat pale, middle-aged priestess clasped her hands before Logan.
Her modest attire seemed underwhelming for a bishop of Ageron, second among the Nine Deities, but the tall mitre on her head marked her rank clearly.
"The honor is mine, Your Grace. My injuries are minor—I hate to trouble you."
"His Majesty paid handsomely for this service, so think nothing of it, brother."
Bishop Phentas smiled, true to her deity's nature.
Summoning a bishop—not just any high priest—for mere wound treatment must have cost the Emperor dearly, but Logan needn't concern himself with that.
'The bishop wasn't called for me anyway.'
Which made him curious.
"How is Sir Jerome, Your Grace?"
"Ah, sadly, Sir Jerome's right eye could not be restored."
"What?!"
Logan feigned shock.
Phentas gave a bitter smile.
"Divine Power often struggles against a Force user's energy, but Sir Jerome's wound was peculiarly resistant. No doubt due to my own inadequacies."
Logan's fist clenched involuntarily.
Flame Severing—the secret thrust carrying the power to split supernatural abilities had critically wounded the future monster.
While inwardly cheering, Logan sighed outwardly.
"...What a tragedy. No wonder you look so troubled."
"His Majesty seemed unperturbed, but Sir Jerome... Well, perhaps I shouldn't say. Let me examine your injuries."
"Oh, mine are trivial—"
"Nonsense. Force-inflicted wounds risk lingering effects. What seems minor now may cause complications later."
The pale bishop began praying immediately.
"O Nine Deities who watch over this world, your humble servant prays..."
Simultaneously, a profound energy—closer to the source than anything Logan had felt in ages—rippled through the air.
The shimmering power soon suffused his entire body.
Unlike the white radiance he'd seen at Stella's naming ceremony, this golden Divine Power worked unmistakably.
Not only did his minor wounds vanish instantly, but even the internal injuries from being subdued healed completely.
"Amazing! Your Divine Power is extraordinary, Your Grace."
As Logan marveled, Phentas studied him curiously.
"I've treated many Force-inflicted wounds, but never seen them vanish so easily. Your robust constitution must be exceptional."
Unaware Logan had already expelled the residual Force, her assumption was natural.
He simply smiled and bowed.
"Thank you for your grace."
"No need. As I said, it was a fair exchange."
As she smiled, Phentas suddenly remembered something.
"Ah, you're from Grandia, correct? I heard you hold considerable status there...?"
"...Why do you ask?"
It seemed unlike her to inquire about rank.
"Yes, well... Strange rumors have reached us from Grandia's diocese."
"Strange rumors?"
"Mm. Whispers of babies being born there... immune to Divine Power. Have you heard anything about this?"
Huh?
What kind of nonsense was this now?