Chapter 163
Chapter 163
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 163
Chapter Title: Balancing the Powers
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“……”
In the audience chamber of Byzantium, Luna—who had entered the palace alongside Jerome—could hardly believe the situation unfolding before her.
Just before they stepped inside, she had asked him point-blank: with public opinion shifting and Ibarella's power fracturing as a result, whose side would he back—the military or the people?
She herself believed funneling it all to the First Prince would be the smart play, but that was merely her own view.
She had figured the Jerome she'd come to know must have some brilliant scheme up his sleeve.
But never in her wildest dreams had she imagined he'd make a choice like this.
Touching all three of them at once.
In this audience chamber, more suffocating than anywhere else on the continent, he had so casually opened his mouth.
Jerome had chosen all three.
To the Emperor, he offered praise for his wise rule, declaring him entirely uninvolved in the incident—while simultaneously evoking pity for how the emperor had been sidelined from such a monumental event.
To the First Prince, he granted the glory of being the first to officially spread the Empire's faith—and its unique Golden Lion Faith—to a foreign land.
And to the Second Prince, he handed a golden opportunity: a bridge for the Empire's merchant houses to forge massive trade ties with the kingdoms via Fatima.
In short, he had ensured that everyone except Ibarella could claim an equal share of the people's support.
But that also meant none of the three could swallow up Ibarella's power alone.
After all, people's loyalties varied wildly.
To fully absorb Ibarella's strength...
The three of them—excluding Ibarella—would have to band together.
Luna hadn't held out much hope. Four of the Twelve Archbishops were gone, along with two of the Four Marquises.
No matter who got the boost, it was only a matter of time before Ibarella crushed them.
But now, things had taken a fascinating turn.
With the Emperor's legitimacy bolstered by the princes' combined might, even Ibarella couldn't dismiss them lightly.
Proof positive: since Jerome had strode into the chamber, Ibarella's impassive face—unchanging until that moment—had gone rigid.
What an incredible man.
As Luna marveled, Jerome smoothly wrapped up his exchange with the Emperor and the princes.
This cleared his path to depart boldly for the Ikenia Kingdom.
Even better, with the Second Prince's merchant caravan tagging along back to Ikenia, Ibarella's monstrous forces would be off-limits too.
A total victory for Jerome.
“...Hahaha. Well played. I have to hand it to him.”
Back in her palace after the audience adjourned, Ibarella let out a hollow, incredulous laugh.
Her mind replayed the fresh-faced youth she'd laid eyes on for the first time in the chamber.
The Shield Family runt, the so-called Third Young Master, Jerome von Carviot.
The brat who'd thwarted her plans time and again. She'd sworn off underestimating him and resolved to crush him for good.
Yet that kid—no, that shrewd foe—had pierced her intentions like they were glass, always peering one step beyond.
“To force those three into an alliance... Never saw that coming.”
“Third Princess, this isn't the moment for admiration.”
Livia, standing before her, thumped her chest in frustration.
“That cursed heretic isn't your run-of-the-mill fool. He's methodically unraveling you alone—like he knows your every scheme...”
Jerome von Carviot. He'd meddled in countless Empire affairs, but every thread led back to tripping her up.
True, she drove most of the Empire's grand designs, so clashes were inevitable. But Livia's gut screamed otherwise.
The “black, unyielding wall” from the Lord's oracles—it had to be Jerome.
Ibarella knew it too.
“Jerome von Carviot. Far more dangerous than I gave him credit for.”
Handing out the power she'd quietly stockpiled for years—splitting it evenly among her father and brothers.
It sounded fair on the surface. But for settling the next Emperor? The absolute worst outcome.
Even if they allied now, destiny demanded they'd fracture eventually.
If Jerome truly backed someone else for the throne, he'd have funneled everything to one—even if the odds were slim. That was the safest bet.
But no. His moves were laser-focused on boxing her in.
She'd long suspected ties to rivals, but today's display confirmed it.
He's certain I'll claim the throne someday.
And hell-bent on delaying it.
Nothing else explained his gambit.
“Amusing. Truly amusing. But I won't keep playing the fool.”
Her words rang light, but her face was stone-cold.
“Livia, fetch the communication orb.”
“Pardon? The orb, out of nowhere...?”
“He's absconding with Archbishop Luna as his 'missionary' and leading Second Brother's caravan, right? They'll swing wide toward Ballista—safety assured, after all.”
Bound to happen.
Practically a peace treaty in hand, courtesy of the Empire.
Ibarella's eyes flashed icy blue.
“Contact Duke Kamil. The instant they clear Ballista Fortress, slaughter every last one. No exceptions.”
“...You sure about this?”
Livia—who'd just pressed if she'd let Jerome walk—now voiced real concern.
Ibarella was crossing the line, no turning back.
Livia ached to drag him to the pyre herself, but this was bigger.
With the Emperor and both princes buying into Jerome's pitch, his crew might as well be their allies.
Massacring them post-Ballista? Open war on all three.
“Doesn't matter. They were marked for death anyway. Might as well accelerate things.”
She flashed Livia a razor smile.
“Get ready. Not just Kamil and Kaiser—tip off the Eastern Demon ahead of time too.”
“……!!”
As she relayed the order, Ibarella glanced at sunlight spilling into the palace.
Jerome's band had left Banten for Vatican; seasons had shifted to summer's blaze.
“Summer... fine season. Come next spring's return, we begin.”
Cloudless skies reflected in eyes alight with quiet madness and hunger.
“Heaven-Flipping.”
That same night, as Jerome worked his magic on the Emperor and princes in Byzantium...
“Guh...!!”
In the Lord's Sanctuary, Karma battled his inner demon. Veins bulged grotesquely across his body—enough to turn the stomach just watching.
Veras's mineral poison had flared up.
Veras couldn't touch Karma's level, but their powers were utter counters.
Thus, the toxin dug in deep, unyielding.
“Master! Pull yourself together!!”
Rampang fished out the healing potion Jerome had gifted—from his pocket—and trickled it into Karma's mouth.
“Hah... Heok, heok.”
True to Luna's support-magic prowess, color crept back into Karma's face, slow but sure.
Rampang's mood stayed grim.
This was just a band-aid.
For the man wielding nature's might like no other, Veras's synthetic mineral brew was poison perfected.
Without Paeonia...!
Rampang gnashed his teeth. Word was Ishwar of Osiris Kingdom suffered the same curse.
He yearned to rip every Black Lion from the archipelago to shreds, Osiris first.
Blood dripped from Rampang's vise-like fist—nails carving into flesh amid rage.
Years of this? Master and Ishwar both doomed to Veras's plot.
“What the hell do we do...!”
“……”
Saladin—guarding Rampang and Karma at Jerome's behest—watched the agony, torn on spilling what he knew.
Should I mention Jerome's gunning for the archipelago? With his sense of duty, he'd shoulder this.
The heartbreaking scene tugged at him, but he shook it off.
Nah. He'll spill it himself later...?!
A strange aura prickled nearby. Saladin looked up—to find Rampang already glaring that way, face set.
How long has he sensed it?
Worthily the White Wing, Black Lions' apex. Saladin had leveled up plenty, but Rampang still outclassed him.
Who was babysitting whom here?
“Prince Saladin, mind covering my master a moment? We've got flies buzzing.”
Before Saladin could reply, he blocked Rampang's lunge.
“...And what might this mean?”
Chilling!
That killing glare on a blank slate? Like baring himself to a predator—bladder threatening mutiny.
“...White Wing's flash is a dead giveaway. Broadcasting wings in the capital's gut?”
Saladin rose. Mimi and Nene—propped against the wall—stirred to life, eerily human.
“Flies are mine. You watch over Azure Wing, White Wing. Your master's orders.”
Only then did Rampang's bloodlust ebb.
“...Apologies, Prince Saladin. Got a bit jumpy.”
That smile after the slaughter-aura? Zero warmth. Pure terror!
“Right. She's all yours.”
“Ahem! Leave it to me, Rampang-nim! Quiet work—back before you know it!”
'Nim' slipped out unbidden, but Saladin dashed off oblivious.
Purely honoring Jerome's ask. Not Rampang phobia.
Definitely not.
Osiris Kingdom's east coast boasted endless jagged cliffs—a natural wonder.
Myriad sea caves tempted the curious, but sheer drops and lurking sea beasts barred all humans.
The deepest held a realm beyond mortal fancy.
Priceless luminous pearls studded the walls like daylight; ornate carvings evoked palaces.
“Urk...!”
Clang!
At the heart of this uncanny cavern, a youth clutched his chest—dropping his bowl.
“Wing! You alright?!”
“...Fine.”
“The wound's dire. We must get you inside—!”
“I said fine!!”
The youth—irked by the servant woman's fuss—waved her off.
Whoosh!
Greatswords erupted from the floor, pulping her into bloody mist.
“...Tch.”
Another flick. The ground stirred, whisking the meaty remains away.
Hiss...
A shadow materialized before the youth's grimace.
—...Wing, your state...
“Can't see? Still garbage. Getting worse by the day.”
Black Wing Veras snapped, venom plain.
“That bastard geezer's Yggdrasil seed he planted? Blooming bigger. Archipelago status?”
—...No change.
“Fucking bald prick. How much payoff before he shuts it and coughs up Paeonia?”
Archipelago master in mind, Veras gnashed—blood pressure spiking.
—...Punish them now...?
“You nuts? Body's primed maybe, but tangling with Baldy now? Suicide pact. Mass grave.”
Crow—the shadow—bowed mute.
—...Forgive me.
“...Tch! Old fart and that bitch—whereabouts?”
—Tracking suspects.
“Spill.”
—Holy Empire. Vatican.
Veras's eyes ignited at Crow's report.
“Vatican... Clever. Tough nut for us to crack easy.”
Thud!
Mid-sentence, the relentless Yggdrasil seed struck—twisting his face.
Easy purge? It clung like a curse.
“Nngh... Relay to our tails there: observe only. No prods, ever. They'll chase Paeonia too. Strike if they snag it first.”
Crow bowed deeper at Veras's command.
—But her strikes—my men hold...?
“Forget it.”
Grinning through agony, utterly assured.
“Rampang's power? Gaudy. Brutal. Vatican stealth? Impossible.”
Not without freakish subtlety—and they had none like that, right?
They had no clue.
Karma's crew had linked with Jerome.
Or that one of Jerome's held power stealthier than sin.