Chapter 210
Chapter 210
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 210
Chapter Title: The Fall of the Imperial Princes
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At the very moment Mikhail's neck met Duke Kaiser's sword.
The situation facing the Second Imperial Prince, Kail, was not much different.
No, it was actually far worse.
Mikhail had been personally handled by Duke Kaiser, one of the three great dukes.
True to his dignified bearing reminiscent of Mount Tai, even as a political foe, he harbored no desire to humiliate Mikhail, an imperial prince of this empire.
However, the visitor who came for Second Prince Kail was no man of such refinement.
Drip!Drip!
"Th-this! The droplets of blood, symbol of the sovereign!"
As the enemies' blood trickled down the blade, the man startled and made a tremendous fuss.
He then closed his eyes and licked the blood flowing from the sword.
"Y-you mad bastard! Do you even know where you are, pulling such an outrage?!"
Second Prince Kail shuddered at the sudden ambush and the lunatic's antics unfolding before him, desperately fighting to suppress the tremor.
He was the Second Imperial Prince of the empire. A noble prince who had inherited the blood of the continent's supreme ruler.
In any circumstance, he must never lose the dignity befitting an imperial prince. That was Kail's pride.
But regardless of Kail's inner turmoil, the man only acknowledged his shout after slurping up the last drop of blood from the sword.
"Oh dear, oh dear. It seems Your Highness the Second Prince has been lax in his gospel studies."
"What?"
"Dawn Lion Gospel, Chapter 3, Verse 1... no, Verse 2? Er... or was it the Silver Lion Gospel... eh, whatever."
Heh!
The man, who had been spouting utter nonsense, curled his lips into a grin.
"Anyway, there's a passage like that. 'Blood is the essence of humanity created by the Lord, His very avatar. To witness blood is to behold the Lord's avatar, so meditate upon it always, and meditate again.' Killer words, right?"
Third Paladin Order Captain Judah fawned in exaggerated admiration, leaving Kail's mouth agape.
"I'd heard rumors that Captain Judah wasn't quite right in the head, but I never imagined you'd be this deranged! That passage means human life is infinitely precious—do not take it lightly! It's not some justification for your depraved behavior!"
Drip.
Judah's face, beaming with admiration moments before, turned icy cold.
The sheer eeriness of the abrupt shift made even Kail, mid-rebuke, flinch.
"No, no. That passage means if the Lord's avatar—'blood'—is spilled, you drink every last drop."
How could anyone twist it into such insanity? It was a cult through and through.
Kail was so stunned by the unhinged drivel that even in this desperate moment, he stood dumbfounded—as Judah drew the mace slung across his back.
"Looks like... Your Highness the Second Prince has fallen into heresy. No wonder you can't become the empire's sun. Hm."
Hee!
Judah muttered to himself, nodding in self-satisfaction, his lips twisting into a sinister smirk.
"Time for... some re-education?"
Thud!
That smile was so spine-chilling that Kail's legs buckled, and he finally collapsed to the floor.
"Your Highness!"
"You insolent wretches! His Majesty will never forgive you!"
Kail's knights invoked the emperor's authority, but the Third Paladin Order under Kail just erupted in guffaws.
"Kee hee hee hee!! His Majesty won't forgive us!"
Judah, mace slung over his shoulder, sauntered forward before vanishing and reappearing in an instant before the knight shielding the emperor's name.
"!"
Thwack!
The knight's head, alive just a heartbeat ago, burst like an overripe tomato.
Judah, basking gleefully in the spurting blood fountain from the stump, turned to the Second Prince.
"That very His Majesty—think this changes anything?"
"!"
"Kill them all."
Entrusting the knights guarding Kail to the Third Paladin Order, Judah approached Kail as casually as if on a stroll, then squatted down beside him.
Swish.
Gently clasping Kail's shoulder, Judah whispered into his ear.
"Ah, truth be told, I know what that passage really means. I just wanted to mess with you."
Madness swirled in Judah's eyes as they locked with Kail's.
"I'm excited. Second Prince, you'll be different. Right? You have to be. I believe it."
Desperately clinging to his dignity, Kail's eyes finally clouded with terror.
Byzantium's imperial audience chamber.
Despite the palace exterior ablaze, the old man seated quietly upon the jade throne wore a look of utter ennui, as if oblivious to it all.
As if the chaos outside bore no relation to him whatsoever.
But that was merely the old man's delusion. On this night when the heavens themselves had turned upside down, no minister possessed the composure to idly linger in the chamber.
Naturally, the old man sat alone in desolate solitude.
Perhaps the faint moonlight filtering through the windows, illuminating the chamber, only accentuated the pathos of the scene.
Bang!
A woman flung wide the doors to the audience chamber, where the old man sat alone.
Right behind her trailed a young priestess, followed by a line of knights.
Was it the flame-tainted air from outside, or the blood staining the knights' armor?
The once-serene chamber swiftly filled with the stench of burning and gore.
Thud, thud.
Ibarella, the woman wielding a shamshir—the curved sword favored by island pirates—approached the old man slowly, her face splattered with blood.
"Father, it's time to step down. You've held on long enough."
"...Ibarella."
The old man's face—Emperor Pedro's, hitherto expressionless—began to crack.
"...Did it truly have to come to this?"
The question carried layers of meaning. Seated in the audience chamber or not, he was the emperor who gripped this mighty empire in his fist.
He who surveyed half the continent from his throne could not possibly be ignorant of the events unfolding outside.
Ibarella sighed at Emperor Pedro's query.
"Do you think I find this enjoyable? If only you'd handed it over willingly from the start."
The battle had effectively concluded ages ago, when countless paladins and the three dukes had chosen Ibarella.
Yet even for a woman of iron like Ibarella, butchering her own blood kin was no simple task.
Thus, she had endured patiently. Waiting for her brothers to recognize the vast gulf and surrender.
Waiting for her capable yet small-souled father—too meager a vessel for this empire, this continent—to voluntarily relinquish the throne.
"But in the end, you and my brothers chose to band together against me. Refusing to accept that abandoning the impossible is the key to a long life. So foolish."
Splatter!
Ibarella swung her shamshir lightly, scattering the caked blood onto the chamber's carpet.
"I can't afford to squander more time—time that could decide the continent's fate—trying to persuade a few foolish kin."
"Sophistry."
Emperor Pedro rejected her words outright.
"This seat is the noblest and loftiest in the continent. If brute force alone sufficed, I would have yielded it to you long ago."
"Do you think I lack everything but force?"
Emperor Pedro refused to bend.
"An emperor does not act first—he listens and judges. For if the emperor acts preemptively, who bears responsibility when judgment proves flawed?"
Then, in a voice belying his age, he bellowed.
"You!! Should have persuaded me and your brothers to the bitter end—not with the sword!! Not with fleeting, worthless words, but with dignity and true competence!!"
Ibarella's lips twitched faintly at the emperor's roar, but she held firm.
"...History will vindicate me. I am not wrong."
Swish!
At Ibarella's raised hand, the waiting knights encircled Emperor Pedro.
"I don't want to treat Father harshly. Remain in quiet confinement. I'll release you once the clamor dies down."
"Hah!"
A long sigh escaped Emperor Pedro's lips.
He had intuited his sons' deaths from those very words.
"This glorious empire has met its doom."
Even as the knights dragged him away, Pedro could not stem his laments.
"......"
In the chamber's ensuing silence, after the knights had escorted the emperor away, the young priestess Livia of White Sheep Palace addressed the remaining Ibarella.
"The former emperor was merely shocked into poor judgment. You're not wavering, are you?"
"......"
"It was Your Highness who planned Heaven Overturn. Don't forget—we all follow Your Highness, beholding her dream at her back. Your Highness bears the dreams of us all. Never forget that."
"...I know."
Ibarella briefly shut her eyes, then opened them. They no longer wavered.
The heavens had flipped, and she was the new sky. Yet why did that nagging unease persist?
-You!! Should have persuaded me and your brothers to the bitter end—not with the sword!! Not with fleeting, worthless words, but with dignity and true competence!!
Her father's final roar echoed relentlessly in her mind.
Grip!
The skin on her shamshir-gripping hand split under the pressure, blood droplets staining the floor in spots.
The path to emperorship had sailed smoothly for so long. As planned, her brothers inside the empire should have fully raised the white flag by now, overwhelmed.
Outside, she should have secured Philador's royals to preempt the alliance's rear, with monster legions and Heterogenous Power-implanted paladin forces in full production.
Realizing it all, her father would have voluntarily ceded the throne.
Where had it gone wrong?
Ibarella's brooding was brief.
'It's all that bastard's fault.'
Jerome von Carviot. That accursed whelp had thrown every one of her meticulously laid plans into chaos.
For that reason, she had been forced into this worst-case scenario: Heaven Overturn to claim the throne.
"...You alone. I will strip the flesh from your bones and burn you alive in the heart of Vatican Square."
Vicious killing intent poured from Ibarella's eyes—so sharp that Livia, standing behind her, involuntarily stepped back.
But Ibarella did not know. In other histories, everything had unfolded precisely as she had planned.
And there had been no need for such a drastic gambit.
The outcome was the same—she had become emperor—but whether this altered path left her unscathed remained to be seen.
"How much hardtack?"
"Enough to hold us until Olivia."
"The voyage will be long—pack extra fruits and vegetables. We can't have the baron or knights coming down with scurvy."
"No worries. We've already secured plenty through the elves..."
The Cimaria and the newly built ships anchored along Elrunheim's western shore.
Crews bustled atop the massive galleons, ample to carry the Blizzard Knight Order and the entire group, meticulously checking voyage supplies.
"You've arrived, Baron."
Blizzard Knight Order Vice-Captain Ravins spotted me amid his gear maintenance and hurried over.
"You've worked hard, Sir Ravins. Nothing out of the ordinary while I was away?"
"Haha, Princess Millia's excellent care let us rest splendidly. As you can see, supplies are loaded methodically."
His words rang true, yet the dirt and scratches marring his sword and armor told another tale.
They'd trained right up until our arrival.
"Take a half-day rest after maintenance. That's an order. Stamina is key for a long sea journey."
"Busted, eh? Understood, haha."
I thanked Millia and Ash for their guidance as Ravins sheepishly returned to his knights.
"Thank you for hosting our large group so well, Millia. The ships are in magnificent shape."
From afar, I spotted Elder Ibein bestowing water blessings at the prow.
"Think nothing of it—mere drops compared to what Jerome has done for us. And soon, we'll have a favor to ask in return?"
"Haha, naturally. I've sent word to Acting Viscount Met; he'll prepare without a hitch. Banten's staff have skill to spare."
A few more documents piling up would barely register for my brother.
"Won't be seeing each other for a while."
As my conversation with Millia wrapped up, Ash interjected abruptly.
"Yeah, probably? Not just me—the rangers are deploying to Sharon Kingdom for a stretch too."
Ash couldn't sit out the ranger deployment. No one bore deeper grudges.
Swish!
Ash extended his hand.
"I'll do as you said—try to understand humans better. Thanks. For giving me a shot at direct revenge."
I smirked at Ash's proffered hand.
Far softer than the slap he'd once dealt me, yet still his trademark stiff gesture.
'Yeah, that's Ash.'
After Sharon, he'd change again. Anticipating it was its own pleasure.
"Right. One last time: be careful. It won't be easy."
I clasped his hand firmly, not forgetting the final caution.
And at last.
Flutter!
Half a day passed. The Cimaria and galleons, blessed by water spirits, finally set sail.
Let's go.
To Olivia.