Chapter 226
Chapter 226
"Only three days have passed since I heard the news of your rebellion, yet those days felt unbearably long. Logan MacLaine."
The king seated on the throne raised his wine glass, his face flickering with something akin to madness.
The MacLaine knights surrounding him might as well have been invisible—his gaze was fixed solely on Logan.
Meeting that stare, Logan stepped forward with a hardened expression.
Step. Step.
He stopped directly before the king and looked up into those blue eyes.
Though bloodshot, they were steady—unlike the glazed eyes of a man intoxicated.
Which naturally led to the question:
"...Why did you do this, Your Majesty?"
Because of you, everything nearly fell apart.
Though Logan maintained a composed demeanor, he made no effort to conceal the killing intent simmering within him.
If he isn't drunk on poison...
If he orchestrated this in full control of his senses, then the problem was far worse.
"Your Majesty? Even now, you still address me as such? How honorable."
Despite facing the killing intent of a Transcendent head-on, the king—pale-faced—continued to sneer.
Something no poison-addled man could manage.
Logan's expression grew increasingly rigid.
"...Had this not happened, you could have continued to be addressed as such indefinitely."
"Perhaps. If I had lived as your puppet."
"It was for the sake of the kingdom."
"The kingdom? You mean for your sake. Don't spout such pathetic excuses."
"Do you truly believe it's just an excuse?"
His calm, hardened face.
The blazing intensity in his crimson eyes.
Confronted once more with the aura of a Transcendent, the king's pallor worsened.
But—
The king gritted his teeth and raised his voice.
"A subject seizing all power under the pretense of serving the kingdom? Ha! Do you know what history calls men like you? Exactly what you are—!"
His once-pale face now flushed crimson as he glared at Logan before continuing.
"...A treacherous minister!"
The unexpected accusation made Logan freeze momentarily—but the king spat out his next words like blood.
"Or shall I call you a tyrant, Logan MacLaine? The treacherous minister who will now kill me and crown himself king! Kehahaha!"
The king laughed behind his hands, his demeanor revealing the madness of a man who had given up everything.
But Logan remained unshaken.
"A tyrant...? The true tyrant is the king who plunged his realm into war simply because his subject defied him."
Had the king been too intoxicated to reason, Logan might have spared his life and settled for imprisonment.
But if not—
Sssk—
Then he dies.
Flames flickered in Logan's crimson eyes as golden aura erupted from his drawn sword.
Yet, even with a Transcendent's blade before him, the king showed no fear—instead bursting into laughter as if something were unbearably amusing.
"Kekeke. Yes, that's your true nature. You'll kill me simply because I stand in your way. How refreshing it would be if your words were as honest as your actions. Kikikiki."
"...You brought this upon yourself, Your Majesty."
The king's mocking expression stiffened at Logan's words, laced with suppressed fury.
"Ha?! I brought this upon myself? Don't make me laugh, Logan MacLaine! Let's speak plainly—was this truly for the kingdom? Or was it just your own greed?"
But the response that followed was as cold as steel.
"Had I been driven by greed, I would never have placed you on the throne to begin with."
"You needed a puppet! Even if I hadn't forced this situation, wouldn't you have killed me eventually? Why? Because I refused to obey your will!"
"It wasn't refusal—it was scheming! You were the one who crossed the line first, Your Majesty!"
The two men stood face-to-face, shouting at each other.
Flames burned equally in their crimson and blue eyes.
"The line? I crossed it? The king? No—you crossed it! Look at yourself! Is that how a subject speaks to his sovereign?!"
"What words can't be spoken to a monarch who would mutilate himself just to trap his own subjects?!"
"Don't jest! You wanted this kingdom for yourself! Had I continued defying you, would you truly have spared me? Because I'm king? Huh? Answer me, the great Sir Logan MacLaine!"
Those words stoked the flames in Logan's eyes.
-You don't intend to become king yourself?
His fallen master's final question.
The one he couldn't answer easily at the time.
Before his journey to the Empire, he could have answered without hesitation.
I have no intention of becoming king. We need only work together to stop the Empire.
But now?
There's no time for that. Anyone who hinders our preparations against the Empire must be removed—even if...
Even if it's the king.
He would tolerate no obstacles.
The fire burning in his chest gave him a clear answer.
It was only natural.
Having witnessed the Empire's might firsthand, hesitation was unthinkable.
But the king couldn't possibly understand his reasoning.
"Even if I had obeyed you, wouldn't you have turned on me eventually? How long was I supposed to cower in fear inside your cage?!"
The king's furious, maddened eyes bore into him.
The king he had placed on the throne.
And now, the king he would drag down with his own hands.
Was I truly such a threat to the king?
He understood.
But so what?
Logan gritted his teeth and stepped forward.
There's no turning back now.
Having come this far, there was no other path.
Reconcile with the king now and cooperate?
Install another puppet while seizing real power for himself?
What would be the point?
He knew the cause of this tragedy.
And so, to ensure it never happened again—
I will take control of everything myself.
The flames in his crimson eyes erupted as golden aura from his sword.
"That is no excuse for what you've done, Your Majesty!"
His roar, thick with killing intent, echoed through the Grand Hall, pressing down on the king—who burst into laughter once more.
"Your Majesty... Your Majesty... Hehehe."
Step.
"Enough of this nonsense about serving the kingdom—just admit it, Logan MacLaine! You wanted this land for yourself!"
Step. Step.
"Drop the pathetic hypocrisy and kill me already! Kekekeke. Yes—those eyes! Eyes burning with ambition! How refreshingly honest!"
"Are those your final words?"
The king's gaze wavered as Logan's blade closed in.
But then—
"Heh. I'd love to see what history's greatest tyrant—who even slew his own master—will do next. A shame I won't live to witness it."
Blood trickled from the king's lips as he spat his near-curse.
"Poison?!"
Watching shock flicker across Logan's face, the king smiled one last time.
"H-Hehehe... I will die as king. At least my end... will be my choice..."
His face darkened rapidly, and Logan—expression unreadable—could only stare silently at the dead king.
Inside a windowless stone chamber, Cleo retrieved a fist-sized orb from his robes.
The only source of light in the darkness, its blue glow pulsed as he channeled an encrypted mana pattern into it. Soon, the dim radiance flickered, projecting the familiar illusion of his sole link to the past—the man for whom he had toiled in exile for years.
The moment the image appeared, Cleo immediately prostrated himself and spoke softly.
"Crow Three. Mission report, Your Highness."
The illusion gazed down arrogantly at the prone figure before speaking.
[Speak.]
"The second Grandia civil war was resolved far quicker than anticipated. The worst-case scenario we prepared for ended much sooner, forcing me to flee."
He had prepared lengthy excuses, but the response was simple.
[...And the king?]
"...I attempted to extract him, but his stubbornness proved insurmountable. The situation didn't warrant deploying the 'Ghosts,' so force wasn't an option. My apologies."
[Hah. Failed...? Grandia's chaos will stabilize sooner than expected. This is problematic...]
"...Forgive me, Your Highness."
Cleo's head sank lower at the Second Prince's icy tone.
But the prince merely clicked his tongue, staring down at him.
The next words were even colder.
[Troublesome. Very troublesome. Am I to be satisfied with merely eliminating the Sword Duke...?]
The quiet reproach.
Any rebuttal would unleash hell.
Cleo remained motionless, head bowed.
For all we know, the Sword Duke might still be alive.
He kept that thought to himself.
There was no need to voice unfavorable possibilities.
Defiance means death. So...
For now, he would stay prostrated.
"The fault lies entirely with this humble servant. Punish me as you see fit."
Thud.
The sound of impact echoed through the stone chamber as Cleo pressed his forehead to the floor—blood soon staining his face red.
Yet he did it again.
Thud.
"I beg forgiveness for disrupting the Grand Scheme!"
Even as blood dripped past his eyebrows, Cleo didn't blink.
Perhaps his fervent plea worked.
[Tch...]
The Second Prince's expression softened slightly.
[Enough. Your success in assassinating the late king and inciting the first civil war offsets this failure. Though come to think of it, that war also ended prematurely because of him. Logan MacLaine. Where did such a man come from...?]
Thank goodness.
Not requiring a response, Cleo simply bowed deeper—
When suddenly, the prince asked:
[You left no traces, I trust?]
A question dropped into what he thought was a safe moment.
But it was an expected one, so his reply came swiftly.
"Of course! Suspicion may linger, but evidence was erased. The Crows' principles were upheld flawlessly."
[And the Temian powder? The king's corpse would have borne traces.]
This might have been the real test all along.
If I admit mishandling it, I'm dead.
But he was confident.
For the first time, a smile—unintentional, born of genuine assurance—touched Cleo's lips.
"I never used the poison to begin with."
The prince seemed taken aback.
[...You didn't? Then how did you control him?]
The reply came slower this time, the prince's face alight with curiosity.
"This king harbored deep-seated fear of Logan MacLaine. Merely stoking and amplifying that was enough."
[Oh? You manipulated his fear?]
"Yes. The king believed Logan would kill him eventually."
[...True. Logan MacLaine tolerates no obstacles to his goals. It's unsurprising the king feared his blade would turn on him one day.]
"Precisely. So the king's paranoia needed no encouragement. He likely never realized I manipulated him—even in his final moments. The poison was unnecessary."
Cleo had intended to showcase his skill—
[Indeed. Entirely plausible. Power itself is the most terrifying poison of all.]
But the prince's reaction was disappointingly lukewarm.
Still, Cleo refrained from recklessness, bowing cautiously instead.
After a prolonged silence—
[...Gather all mission-related materials and report to Ruspellheim. I'll issue further orders after review.]
As the prince's voice rang out, Cleo responded without delay.
Thump.
"At once, Your Highness!"
With one final bow, the stone chamber plunged back into silence.