Chapter 69
Chapter 69
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: Blood for Blood
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It's still etched into my mind.
The sight of the Immortal King—known to have been born alongside the elven race—tearing apart the knight order and the elite Northern Army.
He wielded a single sword as if it were an extension of his own hand, and he unleashed aura, which others trained a lifetime to master, as effortlessly as a gust of wind.
If a living god existed, would it look like that?
I could feel down to my bones why the elves called him the Son of the World Tree.
But in that moment when everyone had steeled themselves for death, a human stepped in front of the Immortal King.
It was the Knight King—the symbol and hope of the North, and stronger than any other.
He had drawn his sword on behalf of all humanity.
'Impressive. Is that really a human?'
The Immortal King was genuinely shocked.
He never dreamed a mere human, who couldn't even live a century, had reached such heights.
That desperate, life-or-death clash dragged on for more than half a day, and under the gaze of the world, the war between races came to an end.
The Knight King died that day.
Of course, the Immortal King was forced to slumber beneath the World Tree, wounded beyond recovery.
History's despair for humans, humiliation for elves.
No matter how many years had passed, we still couldn't forget that day.
The Gray Wolf spoke with a cold expression.
"We should cut off their heads and send them back."
Envoys between nations weren't supposed to be harmed.
But there was no way such an unspoken rule would hold between those elf bastards and us.
Daring to send congratulatory envoys? Using the same sea route they took to invade the North, no less?
It was provocation, plain and simple—treating our kingdom like a joke under the guise of congratulations.
Just as the Gray Wolf said, everyone gathered there was furious enough to chop off their heads and ears on the spot and send them packing.
But the Prime Minister, who had been quietly observing, calmed our heated tempers and restrained any rash actions.
"Please calm down. We can't fall for their provocation."
"Prime Minister...!"
"I know. I feel that rage just as deeply as you do."
No one revered the Knight King more than the Prime Minister; she couldn't ignore this insult.
She was just as enraged as we were, dying to tear the envoy apart right then and there.
But reality had its demands.
We couldn't split our front lines into two when we hadn't even reclaimed the White Gate.
For the future, we had to endure.
We swallowed our fury and bowed our heads before the Prime Minister, accepting the hard truth.
In the heavy silence that followed, Snow-Covered—who had been listening quietly—parted her lips with a faint breath.
"Summon them to the palace. I'll handle them myself."
"...However, Your Majesty."
"If I don't step in, they'll find some excuse. I'll send them packing as quickly as possible."
Snow-Covered knew it was time for her to act, all while showing consideration for the first-generation heroes.
The Prime Minister bowed deeply before the wise Knight King, her worries eased.
Then she rose swiftly and began preparations to receive the envoys.
Clack, clack, clack.
"Hmph, what a shabby place."
"Were you expecting something more?"
"Expect? Don't be ridiculous!"
The two elf envoys—a man and a woman leading the delegation—walked the palace corridors with faces twisted in disgust.
They fanned themselves with ornate fans, openly badmouthing the Northern Kingdom in loud voices.
Unlike their homeland's palaces adorned with every form of art, the Northern palace was stark and barren.
Humans, it seemed, had no appreciation for elegance or artistry, past or present.
No one would want to visit twice.
One envoy glared disdainfully at the bustling human servants and quickened his pace.
"Let's wrap this up and get out. Staying here any longer might give me hives."
"Agreed."
Nominally just a congratulatory mission, their task would end once they delivered the letter and gifts.
Eager to return home even a day sooner, the envoys hurried along.
"...This way, please."
At the end of the corridor stood a massive door.
The guards, spears at the ready, eyed the envoys coldly before opening the audience chamber doors on command.
Creeeak, thud!
The Knight King and ministers were already seated.
One envoy, about to lift his chin arrogantly, swallowed a grunt instead.
"Hmph."
The audience chamber was just as austere.
But the Knight King on the throne radiated a pure, white aura that transcended mere presence, filling the room with dignity and nobility.
Regal yet aloof.
The envoys, momentarily speechless, cleared their throats awkwardly and regained their composure.
They strode to the center and announced,
"We come to see the King of the North."
"Welcome, elves from the distant west."
Elves from the distant west.
Not rude, but not polite either.
The envoy furrowed his brow slightly, gave a perfunctory bow, and cut straight to the point.
"Our esteemed Queen of the Elf Kingdom has sent us with gifts to sincerely congratulate the founding of the Northern Kingdom."
"It's not a founding, is it?"
"...Pardon?"
"The previous Knight King and the Northern Kingdom already existed. We merely drove out the vile orcs, so if anything, it's a restoration."
Yes, we hadn't founded something new—we had inherited the previous Knight King's legacy and kingdom.
As if to remind them never to forget, Snow-Covered smiled innocently and made her pure, pointed remark.
It cut deep.
And from a broader perspective, it was undeniably correct, leaving no room for rebuttal.
Showing displeasure would only make them look like they were falling for the provocation.
The envoy forced a smile to match Snow-Covered's beaming one, desperately holding back.
Let's see how long you can keep that composure.
Gesturing behind him, the envoy dramatically presented the pre-prepared gift chest.
Treasures to dazzle the eye, rare herbs and fruits unavailable in the North.
All fit for an inter-nation congratulatory gift.
But the tattered flag in the chest's center twisted the meaning of every gift.
The envoy smiled as he spoke.
"A congratulatory gift from our Queen."
"...A flag?"
"Haha, you recognize it. The Knight King's flag, lost in that unfortunate incident. We've kept it safe..."
Bam!
The Gray Wolf slammed the armrest, unable to hold back.
Ignoring the Prime Minister's restraint, he rose and bellowed with aura laced in his voice.
"Unfortunate incident? Since when was the war you started just an 'unfortunate incident'?"
"Ah, no, such rudeness...!"
"Hah! Rudeness? Did you just say rudeness? Shall I show you rudeness forged in blood?"
It was a chilling threat.
The rippling aura in his hand proved the Gray Wolf's fury was real.
The envoys paled under the primal menace, while the Prime Minister held back this time.
I reluctantly opened my mouth to intervene.
"My lord, please stop."
But in that moment, a pleasant voice rang out from the throne once more.
It was the irresistible voice of the king.
"...Your Majesty."
"Isn't the jest a bit too cruel?"
It was none other than Snow-Covered.
Reminded who truly led this room, the Gray Wolf quickly quelled his rage.
He bowed courteously to the king, then inclined his head toward the trembling envoys.
But it wasn't a sincere apology—it was playing along for Snow-Covered.
"My apologies."
"Y-You...!"
Such humiliation was unprecedented.
No, what infuriated him more was that he, the lead envoy, had cowered before the Gray Wolf's aura and killing intent.
Was it mere impulse, or intentional?
The envoy subtly glanced at the young Knight King, who smiled quietly.
Beneath that pure, adorable exterior lurked an inscrutable sly fox.
Did the Queen know about this?
Snow-Covered spoke again.
"We gratefully accept the Queen's generosity. We've prepared a banquet—please enjoy it before you go."
"...My apologies, Your Majesty. We're concerned about the currents and must hurry back home."
"Ah, what a pity."
I don't want to stay a moment longer.
Having faithfully completed the Queen's mission, he would report every insult and the Knight King's demeanor in detail back home.
The envoy gave his final bow and left the audience chamber with his entourage.
As the massive doors closed, Snow-Covered's smiling face turned ice-cold.
Everyone knew.
The Knight King was angrier than anyone behind that smile.
Step, step, step.
Snow-Covered rose from the throne.
She brushed aside the treasures piled with the chest as if they were worthless, grasping the Knight King's flag lying lonely at its center.
His legacy was stained with blood and time.
But Snow-Covered gripped it tightly with both hands, vowing never to lose it again.
"I'm worried."
"Speak, Your Majesty!"
"Many barbarians still lurk in the North. I fear the envoy procession might be ambushed by them."
There were no barbarians on the road to the coast.
Even if there were, none would dare attack an elven group with escorts.
But that wasn't the point.
Reading the cold fury in Snow-Covered's eyes, the ministers rose as if on cue.
"Shall we not send them off properly?"
They had tried to let it slide.
Tried to endure with a smile.
But worms gnawing at the roots of the Northern Kingdom couldn't be sent away unscathed.
"My lord, muster the cavalry."
Snow-Covered approached me.
She handed me the Knight King's flag, commanding what banner I should raise tonight.
"We must escort them safely."
Your Majesty, live long and prosper.
I placed my scabbard over my heart.
"Hurry and load it!"
"Fresh water over here!"
At the temporary pier on the Northern coast, the elf envoy group rushed their departure preparations under torchlight, even in the dead of night.
They should have waited for the morning sea breeze, but the lead envoy, back from the palace, had ordered them to leave immediately.
The slaves and elf guards, weary from the sudden labor without rest, grimly loaded food and water.
They worked diligently, dreaming of a single drop of liquor.
But unlike their toiling companions, the envoys from the palace lounged in fine chairs, sipping expensive spirits.
The drunken envoy muttered,
"...Arrogant bastards."
"Calm down. They'll pay for it soon enough."
In his spare time as envoy, he had recorded the route to the capital, the soldiers' quality and numbers, and his conversation with the new Knight King.
Stewing over the humiliation from the capital, the envoy drowned his anger in strong liquor, awaiting departure.
The repulsive mountains, the frigid sea—truly, a Northern Kingdom he never wanted to see again.
Slosh, slosh.
"?"
But as he tilted his cup, the liquor surface trembled violently.
They were on land, not a ship—where was the shaking coming from?
Shaking off his drunken haze, the envoy glanced at the flickering torches behind him.
There, beyond the tedious mountains, a hill sloped directly to the pier.
Slosh, slosh!
The tremors intensified.
Vibrations rose through the ground beneath their feet.
The startled elf guards turned toward the hill, where fierce winds howled.
There it was.
Something rippling in the darkness.
Whoosh!
Hellish crimson flames erupted on the once pitch-black hill.
White fur, white horns, riders in pitch-black armor—the Northern Cavalry, fully armed.
They charged toward the pier.
Rumble rumble rumble—!!!
The envoy's last sight was the previous Knight King's flag fluttering proudly—the one he had brought.
Blood for blood.
Insult for insult.
Half a month later, the ship arriving in elven homeland wasn't carrying the envoy delegation.
It was a masterless wreck.
And in that wreck, barbarian corpses fetched by the Sword Saint himself tangled inseparably with thoroughly trampled elf bodies.
They had perished en route home, denied their "escort."