Chapter 200
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 200
Chapter Title: Sometimes It's Worth Making Bad Friends
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The bell that should have heralded the onset of twilight shattered into silence. By the time the fog rolling into London had fully dissipated, a single man was watching the scene with cold eyes.
From the mask concealing his face to the drab cloak draped over his shoulders, every inch of his attire screamed suspicion. And yet, he naturally slipped past the gazes around him.
Inside, he muttered to himself.
“Success.”
Of course, failure had never been an option.
This was all the result of guidance from the Great Star. It had been destined to succeed from the very beginning.
“Idiots.”
A cold sneer formed on his lips.
The Magic Lord, obsessed solely with eradicating the twilight hours, had charged ahead recklessly, shackled by the past.
The citizens of London were cheering, unaware of what was soon to come.
To him, they all looked equally foolish.
If they had possessed the sense to question why the Cis-Serpent Earl family—guardians of the British Empire for generations—had opposed eliminating twilight until the very end, they would not be celebrating so blindly.
Then again, perhaps it was only natural.
They were the masses, after all—vulgar and foolish beasts who would roll over for anyone offering immediate gain.
Thanks to them, the obstacle blocking his path had vanished, and everything had proceeded according to plan.
“Now all that remains is to find it and claim it.”
The man slipped a hand into his cloak and withdrew a small bell. Placing it in his palm, he stepped into one of London’s grandest and most historic buildings.
There was no need to worry about prying eyes.
Twilight was the hour when London grew quiet and sparse. Even if someone happened to be nearby, they would never notice him while he wore the Hermes’ Cloak of Invisibility.
Ding.
“So this is the place.”
Not long after entering the building, the bell rang out. A cold smile crossed his face.
Following the bell’s guidance, he turned his steps.
He would claim the Seven Axes slumbering here, just as the Great Star’s prophecy had foretold.
However, the moment he tracked the chime to a hidden chamber concealed deep within the building—
He froze.
“Well, well. You finally showed up. Took you long enough, considering all that effort.”
The chamber should have remained undisturbed by outsiders for at least half a century.
Yet a figure stood planted squarely inside.
The man swallowed involuntarily.
“Why are you here…?”
“Why do you think? For the same reason you are.”
A black-haired man with sharp, insolent eyes stood before him.
Rimon chuckled.
He was standing firmly before a statue positioned at the center of the chamber’s sprawling magic circles. His gaze was chilling as he fixed it upon the masked man.
“A specter of the Liberation Brigade.”
It was one of the primary reasons Rimon had come to London.
The mastermind behind all this chaos.
He spoke the name in a frosty voice.
“Or should I call you Prince Edward?”
He was one of the Liberation Brigade’s Twelve Specters, ranked tenth among them.
The masked man known by the codename Kaiser.
As Rimon looked at the faded blond youth who stood in line for the British throne, a cold sneer tugged at his lips.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Perhaps it was fitting of a Liberation Brigade specter—or perhaps of a crown prince.
Edward’s shock lasted only a brief moment.
Soon, he regained his icy composure, removed his mask, and spoke in a frigid tone.
“…How did you figure out who I am?”
“It’s nothing impressive. Just simple deduction.”
“Deduction? You expect me to believe you pieced together my identity through mere reasoning?”
“Yeah.”
Rimon let out a faint scoff at Edward’s rigid disbelief.
Crossing his arms leisurely, he continued.
“At first, I suspected the Magic Lord might be a specter of the Liberation Brigade. He’s pulled enough suspicious stunts.”
Karl had relentlessly pressured Rose and schemed in the shadows. His desperate efforts to eliminate the twilight fog by any means necessary had made him an obvious suspect.
“But the more I thought about it, the less he fit the pattern.”
“The pattern?”
“Call it style. Or personality.”
The specter Rimon had been pursuing had summoned Claire to London yet never once made contact with her. Generously speaking, that was caution. Less generously, it was cowardice.
Would someone like that step forward as boldly and aggressively as Karl?
Having crushed countless villains, Rimon had developed a sharp eye for rotten personalities. Something about Karl simply did not align.
“So I considered the possibility that someone was manipulating him.”
Then Rimon asked himself who stood to gain the most if the Magic Lord clashed with the Seven Dragon Society.
The answer came quickly.
“Someone within the royal family.”
The Azure Dragon Clan and the Makers Guild effectively divided control of the Empire between them. In contrast, the royal family’s influence was minimal.
But if the Cis-Serpent Earls and the Makers Guild were to clash and suffer devastating losses, the royal family would gain a golden opportunity to reclaim power.
“If that were all, my uncle would have been the top suspect,” Edward said coldly.
“Robert? Sure, he was suspicious. He’s a Grand Duke–level player.”
All Liberation Brigade specters were high-level players, and Robert—the renowned White Cliffs Duke—fit the profile.
“But he didn’t match the pattern either.”
He was still a powerful regent who openly exercised authority. That did not align with the shadowy profile Rimon sought.
“So I looked for a royal who stayed out of sight. Someone who could scheme from the shadows without drawing attention.”
“And that was me?”
“Exactly.”
Rimon nodded.
“The frail crown prince manipulated by the regent. But viewed another way, he’s in the perfect position to shift any blame onto that same regent.”
That alone would not have convinced Rimon entirely.
What solidified his certainty was Rose.
“You were hailed as a prodigy in your youth. They say you merely became ordinary as you grew older.”
Edward remained silent.
“That’s a common story. But what if your talent never disappeared? What if you simply became better at hiding it?”
Rimon recalled Rose’s stories—the young prince’s interest in strengthening royal authority, his calculated display of indecision, and the subtle way he had encouraged tension between the Cis-Serpent Earls and the Makers Guild.
With the royal intelligence Rose provided and Rimon’s knowledge of the Liberation Brigade, the conclusion had become unavoidable.
“…So Countess Rose was your source,” Edward muttered. “Interfering until the very end.”
His usual meek demeanor was gone entirely. His glare was cold and sharp.
“If you knew that much, why did you allow the Magic Lord to destroy London’s barrier?”
“Because I figured out your goal.”
“My goal?”
“There’s only one reason a Liberation Brigade specter would kill a witch of the Twenty-Seven Magical Lineages, incite the Magic Lord, and destroy the barrier.”
Rimon tapped the statue lightly.
“To find the Seven Axes.”
Edward’s expression twisted instantly.
“How do you know about that…?!”
“Sometimes it pays to make questionable friends.”
Rimon had suspected Edward’s true objective the moment he learned that the Seven Axes functioned as a seal.
If it referred to something sealed within an existing artifact, the most likely candidates were divine relics—objects on par with the Heartblack Violin.
During the Demon God War, the witches of the Twenty-Seven Magical Lineages had gathered divine relics from across Europe and used them as focal points for London’s Grand Barrier.
The barrier, one of the mightiest spells of the Silver Age, could not have been restored by their power alone.
But binding those relics to the barrier had rendered them untouchable. As long as the barrier stood, no one could remove them.
“If one of those relics was the Seven Axes, then there was no reason to stop the barrier’s destruction. It would save you the effort.”
Edward clenched his teeth.
He finally understood why the Cis-Serpent Earls had remained eerily quiet after the ballroom incident.
They had not been powerless. They had simply chosen to use the opportunity.
“Even so,” Edward demanded, “how did you reach this place before me? Even I couldn’t identify which relic was the Seven Axes.”
Rimon casually lifted his smartphone and waved it.
“Mine has a radar.”
“…What?”
“You should’ve upgraded sooner. Using a bell in this day and age? That’s ancient technology.”
Edward stared at him in silence, feeling an overwhelming and utterly unreasonable sense of injustice.