Chapter 149
Chapter 149
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 149
Chapter Title: New Phase #2
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Sunday morning.
Those who’ve woken up early on a Sunday morning have probably all felt it.
An unusually cool hush settling into the air.
The one-of-a-kind peacefulness of a Sunday morning, something you can only know if you don’t sleep in.
Amid that peacefulness, a picture-perfect figure sculpted from beautiful lines lay asleep between the sheets.
Snooze, snooze.
“…….”
As if reluctant to disturb that slumber, not even the birds sang, and not a breath of wind stirred outside the window.
She really is pretty.
Did the princess in the sleeping forest look like this? No, I changed my mind right away.
This felt closer to Snow White, her life perfected after biting into the poisoned apple.
That shiver-inducing beauty unique to something not quite alive had me unconsciously reaching out toward her perfectly straight nose.
Rustle, rustle.
A faint breeze like the flutter of a baby bird’s wings brushed my fingertips. Proof that Aira was still breathing. Proof that Aira was still alive in this world.
A life that should have vanished by now.
You could say I was the one who saved it.
I’d twisted her fate, pieced together a life that was meant to end in misery. So doesn’t that mean I could claim a share of this beauty?
Doesn’t that give me a stake in Aira’s life? It’s a fun thought—like I’m Aira’s majority shareholder or something.
“Mmm.”
Rustle.
Aira stirred and rolled onto her side. Her half-slipped blanket and the edge of her black blouse revealed the soft, pale skin of her breast.
For a queen to be this defenseless.
It made me want to play a mischievous prank, so to suppress the playful urge—and the lust—creeping up inside me, I parted my lips slightly.
“Lady Aira.”
Rustle.
At my words, Aira slowly opened her eyes. She blinked her long, dark lashes a few times, then spoke in a voice thick with drowsiness and reluctance.
“I see. So it was a dream.”
“What kind of dream?”
“Who knows. It was just in my head a moment ago, but now that I try to recall... it’s gone.”
“I see.”
Dreams are volatile by nature. Disturb your mind even a little, and they dry up bit by bit, scattering away on the wind.
Rustle.
Aira straightened her clothes and sat up.
“But it was an interesting one.”
“Good to hear. Shall I help you change now?”
“Yes. Today’s color... Nymph Black, I think.”
“Nymph Black it is. Understood.”
Rustle, rustle.
Aira stretched out her arms and legs with a yawn. It reminded me a bit of Kungkung’s yawn from yesterday—made her feel a touch more endearing.
I quickly dressed the still-groggy Aira and brushed her hair.
Like a living doll, she didn’t resist my touch, just obediently let me tend to her. Probably because she’d lived a life where others dressing her was the norm.
Even Elga, Mirna, and Professor Stella had all grown up nobly.
But Aira was the epitome of a flower raised in a greenhouse.
To think such a girl had ended up on the gallows.
Suddenly, I wondered what she’d been thinking right before her execution. The original story stuck strictly to the protagonist hunter’s perspective.
What thoughts had crossed the mind of a girl who didn’t even change her own stockings, there at the end of her life? I had no way of knowing. Hell, I didn’t even know what she was thinking right now.
How did the world look through the eyes of this young queen?
And what did I look like in those eyes?
“Why are you staring like that?”
Aira met my gaze and stroked my head and cheek.
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
It felt like a mother soothing a child. Or an affectionate owner petting a big dog.
Just concern bestowed from above. Unilateral affection.
Affection with no strings or ulterior motives.
* * *
I walked the slums of Arc alongside Aira.
No entourage of attendants, no red carpet strewn with flowers. But just her walking turned these rundown cobblestone streets into a queen’s procession route.
─It’s Tarentera.
─Out for a stroll?
Early-morning pedestrians stopped in their tracks or stepped aside to watch our passage.
Even I, used to the stares when out with Aira, felt a flush of embarrassment under such one-sided attention.
Of course, Aira ignored the interest and gazes focused on her as if they were her due.
Rustle.
She tucked back a lock of her swaying black ebony hair as a breeze blew through.
“By the way, a messenger bird arrived from the capital last night.”
“A messenger from the capital? From Sir Reinhardt?”
“Yes.”
Elga’s father—the current regent ruling the kingdom—had sent a bird to the queen.
It was natural enough, but something felt off about him sending it directly to her, bypassing me.
“What did it say?”
“The usual dull reports on trends. Bandits swarming the countryside. Pretentious nobles whining. Boring stuff.”
She’d burned it after reading because it was so dull.
Just a formality, then.
I hadn’t seen the letter myself, but from what Aira said, it seemed like nothing major.
Well, with Aira—the root of Angmar’s troubles—away, the country should manage fine on its own.
“And I think there was something about reinforcing the Wall.”
“Reinforcements for the Wall?”
“They said the Shadow Legion’s assaults have intensified a bit. They’re deploying Lioness’s Golden Legion from Borja.”
I see.
The massive wall north of the Great Forest was the first bulwark protecting civilized society from barbarism and horror.
After Aira’s death in the original story, it fell at some point, and the Shadow Legion poured into the kingdom and across the continent.
By the original plot, Aira would’ve been executed around this summer. Soon after, the Wall crumbles, and the world ends.
With rebellions and incidents popping up everywhere, Angmar’s forces couldn’t spare attention for the Wall.
Leaving them open to the Shadow Legion—remnants of the Demon King—and dooming the world.
But now.
With those rebellions crushed easily, and forces free to deploy, they had the leeway to handle the trouble brewing at the Wall.
Good thing, too. If it fell, everything outside Arc would drown in chaos.
Unintentionally, I’d already saved the world once.
Theo Gospel, unsung hero.
As I amused myself with that thought, someone blocked our path.
“Pardon the interruption.”
He wore golden armor, gripped a massive lance, and donned a striking tiger helm. The brooch on his chest was platinum, shaped like the Roman numeral III.
Only one meaning.
He was the top-tier powerhouse ranked third even in Arc. Elga was fifth, Mirna sixth, I think.
Clank.
The man in golden armor—the third-ranked—knelt before Aira. He spoke with utmost humility.
“I am Verdonas, the Knight of the Windmill. Queen of Angmar. If it’s not too much trouble, might I request a lesson?”
Verdonas, Knight of the Windmill.
I’d heard the name. I’d already gathered info on Arc’s core figures—the top ten ranks.
They were famed warriors, impossible not to know unless you actively ignored it.
Word was, Verdonas wielded his massive lance freely, carving through beasts and foes like a superhuman. Righteous to a fault, the knight of knights, they said.
I glanced at Aira’s reaction.
“Hmm.”
Aira, ranked second in Arc, seemed mildly intrigued by third-ranked Verdonas’s request.
Aira showing interest in someone else. Because he was a powerhouse right under her chin?
“Very well. I’ve been wanting to test something myself. You seem sturdy enough to withstand it.”
She treated him like an experimental rat.
And with that, the promotion match was set in short order.
Those ranked below tenth—the Numbers—could challenge others once a month to steal their spots.
A battle between second and third. Rare enough to draw a crowd.
─A fight between second and third? Let’s see how strong they are.
─Technically first and second. First is vacant.
─Who wins?
─She’s a seventh-circle mage, so the queen, probably?
Quite the turnout for early morning. Their chatter rang in my ears like a buzz. But I was just as curious.
Third rank was sure to draw out Aira’s true power. Good to gauge her full strength.
That’s when I noticed.
Word had spread fast—old folks in colorful conical hats had slipped into the crowd.
The sages of the council, here for word of a duel with the ultra-high mage Aira.
The white mage Hynax spoke.
“This promotion match will be presided over by me, Hynax—chairman of the Arc Council and the White Magic Society.”
The rules that followed were simple: give it your all, but no killing.
Losing a single-digit ranker to infighting or severe injury would be a massive blow to the church.
“Then, when this flame rises, let that be the signal.”
Whoosh.
Hynax conjured a flame in his hand.
He launched it skyward. It whistled sharply—fizz—and burst into a beautiful bloom against the blue sky.
Squeeze.
Tension gripped my chest.
The duel had begun.
Rustle.
Verdonas moved first. He leveled his massive lance and lowered into a charge stance, horns lowered like a bull.
“Black Queen, I come at full strength.”
Flash.
He kicked off, thundering across the ground, becoming a single golden helix slicing toward Aira.
Rumble—.
His speed—unbelievable for heavy plate and lance—stole everyone’s breath.
That sharp, massive tip hurtled toward Aira’s belly. Pierced by that brute force, our princess-like queen would shatter.
As dizziness hit me with that thought—
Rustle.
“Aegis.”
Aira spread her palm into empty air, and the golden knight halted like he’d hit an invisible wall.
Pushing against nothing, he clanked like a rusty tin can.
“Grh. Why... won’t it—.”
Clang.
Verdonas groaned beneath his helm.
─Look, he stopped suddenly!
─What the hell?
As his lance tip sparked against thin air, the crowd gasped in awe.
“Mana barrier.”
Hynax, watching beside me, assessed calmly.
“Fixing mana into a wall or shield. Even a first-circle mage’s basic spell becomes that potent in seventh-circle hands.”
I nodded at his admiration.
I knew Mana Barrier too, somewhat. But with my mana pool, it only stopped incoming pebbles.
Blocking a ground-shattering knight’s charge? Impossible. It let me gauge Aira’s total mana.
Still leagues beyond me.
“Huff.”
Verdonas hammered and stabbed wildly to breach Aira’s mana shield.
Clang! Clang! Clink! Clang!
But each time, he bounced off the invisible wall.
After a frenzy of attacks, he slammed his lance deep into the ground.
“I yield.”
No path to victory without piercing it. Wise not to drag it out.
Aira was prepping an attack spell behind that barrier. He’d have suffered badly.
“I yield.”
His clear concession sent murmurs rippling through the crowd.
─Too one-sided? Is second and third that far apart?
─Attacker concedes unilaterally? What kind of match is this?
As tongues clicked in surprise—
As Aira withdrew her palm from the air—
Fwhoosh—.
Something sharp tore the air.
It streaked toward Aira, then—crack—shattered something.
“…….”
Something was visibly embedded in midair.
Piercing the shattered barrier—like a car windshield—was a slender projectile weapon.
─Arrow?
─No, that’s a crossbow bolt.
Bolt.
Just as someone said, a crossbow bolt.
A bolt piercing Aira’s mana barrier.
Only one implication.
“Lady Aira, are you all right?”
I rushed to her, eyes tracing the bolt’s path backward.
Far off, atop a tree, a tattered black cloak fluttered irregularly.
“Hmm.”
Aira eyed it with a long hum.
My vision blurred.
Hero and Witch Queen.
Protagonist and villain.
Were they fated to meet no matter what?