The Rehearsal
Wolrang, fully synchronized with its distant master at maximum capacity, swiftly scribbled letters across the Sword Emperor's palm. Glen whispered any missing details into his ear, ensuring the information was conveyed completely. The Sword Emperor's eyes nearly doubled in size as he absorbed it all.
However.
"A consumable artifact without mana? Does that even make sense? And with that kind of power…." The duke's hushed whisper carried a tone of bewilderment. The story seemed to shatter conventional wisdom, and even he struggled to accept it.
So Wolrang hurriedly moved its paws again.
[I experienced it. Nearly died.]
The moment he confirmed the message, the Sword Emperor's face hardened, and he bit his lip tightly. He urgently scanned the entire audience hall.
"Damn it, black orbs? How the hell are we supposed to find them here! You have a plan, right, Tiny?"
The Sword Emperor's gaze shifted back to the tiny puppy on Glen's palm.
Even a glance at the chandeliers hanging from the hall's ceilings revealed countless glittering crystal orbs dangling like clusters of grapes. The stage prepared for the wedding and its surroundings were adorned with even more round orbs.
At that moment, the puppy, following the Sword Emperor's line of sight, froze. Tiny, linked with it, rolled his eyes in panic.
'No black orbs…?'
It made perfect sense upon reflection. This was the crown prince's wedding, after all—no one would leave drab black orbs out in the open. They must be disguised somehow….
'Damn it. I didn't think of that!'
For once, he had no choice but to concede to the Sword Emperor's earlier insult about his thick skull.
"Don't tell me you have no way to find them?"
"Grr." Wolrang instinctively shrank back from the duke, who growled as if ready to devour it.
Then, an unfamiliar voice interjected.
"Your Grace, if I may have a word."
"…What is it?"
A middle-aged knight, vice-captain of the Royal Guard. True to the imperial court's subtle policy of neglecting its knights—which had led to a decline in their skills—he was merely a Blader despite his high rank. He might seem strong to outsiders, but to the Sword Emperor, he was a nobody whose name didn't even register. And yet, this man dared interrupt a conversation between the duke and his son.
Moreover.
"I have a suggestion regarding the palace's outer perimeter defenses. Could you spare a moment?"
At those words, the duke smirked and glanced at Grirwell, the Royal Guard captain standing far off. The man flinched and turned away, as if guilty of something. But there was no reason to heed the words of men already branded traitors by the crown prince.
"My knights will handle it. The rehearsal is about to begin—return to your seat."
"B-but if something goes wrong, His Highness the Crown Prince might…."
"Blame you lot. So if you're that worried, go check yourselves."
The vice-captain's face darkened at the icy refusal. He shot a desperate glance at his captain behind him, but Grirwell—already aware of the Sword Emperor's gaze—had turned away and couldn't see. Facing forward again only showed the Sword Emperor, who had completely averted his eyes and was now surveying the hall.
But he couldn't back down here.
He gritted his teeth.
'For the knights' betterment, the palace must be flipped right now.'
The vice-captain had staked his fate on this coup. He knew full well the massive impact Duke Valentia's presence could have.
'If that's how it is….'
Resolved, he channeled a surge of mana into his hand and slapped his own cheek.
Crack!
"Guh! Y-Your Grace, why suddenly…?"
Blood spewed from the vice-captain's mouth as he collapsed, several teeth flying out. His aggrieved glare at the Sword Emperor was the finishing touch.
The Sword Emperor, his direct heirs, and even the lone puppy all stared at him in utter bewilderment.
"Why are you doing this?!"
His shout perfectly drew the hall's attention once more.
"What's going on?"
"Duke Valentia?"
"Trouble with the Royal Guard?"
"Why?"
As the royals began murmuring.
"Ha, you mad bastards?"
The Sword Emperor's face flushed red as he unleashed a murderous aura. The superhuman's rage pierced the imperial barrier's mana freeze, chilling the surroundings.
"Your Grace, this is problematic here."
"Mind your dignity, Your Grace."
"On the eve of such an auspicious day…."
Royal Guard knights immediately swarmed in.
'Hah, so they're all in on it….'
These squad leaders—top brass of the Royal Guard—pretended concern for him while fanning the duke's fury.
"…We'll pause the rehearsal briefly. What is the matter, Duke?"
With even the grand archbishop on the stage turning attention here, the crown prince—the ceremony's star—stepped forward.
"What is the matter? Duke."
"The vice-captain suddenly self-harmed and collapsed. Now he's claiming I struck him."
Their eyes met, and the duke's cold smile turned toward the Royal Guard knights.
However.
"We saw it clearly."
"Your Grace called the vice-captain rude…."
"I stake my knight's honor on it!"
The squad leaders and senior knights shielded the vice-captain in unison.
"I-it's because I was rude that Your Grace flew into a rage. Punish me."
The vice-captain said this while kneeling on one knee toward the crown prince, his face the picture of injustice for all to see.
'No matter how much I distrust them, I can't sort truth from lies right now. He'll send the duke and me out.'
On the day before an auspicious event, mediating privately was standard for such scuffles. So thought the vice-captain.
But.
"If you ask for punishment, then you shall have it. Sir Estrwell, Royal Guard vice-captain, return home immediately and go into confinement. We'll investigate and hold you accountable later."
The crown prince's verdict was far from his expectation.
"Your Highness!?"
"Your Highness, how can you…."
"Then…."
The Royal Guard knights shot aggrieved glances at the duke, their gestures implying that if punishment was due, the other party should face it too—though they couldn't say it outright.
But the crown prince merely scoffed.
"Didn't the vice-captain just admit his fault? Sir Estrwell, obey my command. Knights, return to your positions."
The knights exchanged bewildered looks. The vice-captain, head bowed, could only grimace in horror.
'The crown prince, known for utmost fairness…? Something's wrong.'
Glancing sideways while bowed, he saw the captain had approached. The man's flushed, panicked face knelt on one knee as he bellowed.
"Your Highness! How can you punish only one side on the eve of such joy? Are you discriminating against us Royal Guards too?!"
Not logic, but an emotional appeal. Even the elite guards on duty grimaced faintly, sharing their comrades' pain and rage.
Yet the crown prince shook his head with a sneer.
"As the star of that joyous day, I command it. If you find it unsatisfactory, the Royal Guard may leave the hall entirely."
Grirwell's face drained of color at the shout meant for all to hear. Their eyes met briefly.
- The crown prince knows something.
Mutual understanding flashed between them.
- Give up. The coup's doomed.
Unlike the head-shaking vice-captain, Grirwell couldn't yield easily. The vice-captain might escape as an attempted crime, but if the crown prince knew of his demon worshipper ties, execution awaited no matter the outcome.
'No choice. Right now….'
Resolved, Grirwell's hand slipped into his bosom.
"Hm, this is getting too rowdy. May I make a suggestion, Your Highness?"
The grand archbishop raised his voice, drawing the hall's eyes.
"Speak, Archbishop."
"As one temporarily granted authority by His Imperial Majesty and His Holiness the Pope, I recommend this: Both parties seem heated. Why not have them step outside the palace to cool off? The rehearsal is already much delayed."
As the parties' fortunes diverged at the archbishop's kindly smile.
No one paid mind to the little silver puppy slipping from the Sword Emperor's palm, darting frantically through the hall amid the distraction.
With so many eyes around, it couldn't tear up the marble floors to plant Thunderbolts en masse. The answer lay among items brought in for the rehearsal—especially orb-shaped ones.
Crunch.
- Whine.
'Not this one….'
With no way to distinguish them, the plan was to smash orb decorations one by one. Not all, of course—just one of each type.
He didn't yet know the Thunderbolt's destructive principle or traits. But he had faith in one thing.
'I remember that acrid smell.'
The problem: Hundreds of orb decorations filled the hall.
'Damn, at this rate, it'll take too long.'
Were the royals just that extravagant, or had the demon worshippers hidden them expertly? The sheer abundance was maddening.
'Buy a little more time, old man.'
As he hustled, glancing at the Sword Emperor while synced with Wolrang, a sudden doubt arose.
Checking corner decorations to avoid eyes, something felt off about his approach. From the Karina experience….
'To blow up the whole palace, a few wouldn't suffice. If they've hidden that many, one should've surfaced by now.'
Not the entire palace—targeting people only.
'To kill people, hide them nearby.'
Such insane bastards!
'Why didn't I think of this sooner?'
That realization shifted its gaze, swiftly pinpointing suspects.
First, chandelier orbs overhead. Then, serving trays on the royals' tables and crystals embedded in their chairs.
These three.
Transparent chandelier orbs, reflecting light via magic, were unlikely—too see-through.
So….
'Crystals on chair backs or tray orbs.'
He dismissed other possibilities—time was short.
As it prepared to relay this deduction to the Sword Emperor.
"…If the archbishop says so, no choice. Duke, step outside to cool off."
The crown prince replied to the archbishop with a shit-eating grin. The Sword Emperor looked torn between flipping the hall or not.
At the crown prince's whisper, he nodded, then ground his teeth and stormed off, dragging his sons while feigning rage. He clearly grasped the crisis.
'Why leave!? In this situation!?'
With the barrier intact, only he and the superhuman Sword Emperor could intervene.
'No matter what the archbishop says, you should've dug in your heels, old man! What the hell!? Protecting just your kids now!?'
But their eyes met as the Sword Emperor glanced back.
[I trust you.]
The meaning came through, but the intent baffled him.
'So why are you leaving!!'
What the hell did the crown prince say!?
Tiny's gut burned with frustration at the inexplicable action.
In the end.
'No choice.'
Tiny amplified his senses through Wolrang's body to the max. He couldn't cause a ruckus near the royals as a puppy.
'Handle it all at once.'
His transcendent mana sensitivity—once shocking all—dragged the barrier-frozen mana upward, bending it bit by bit to his will.
And.
"What's this, wind from somewhere?"
"Did a window open?"
"Servants slacking off."
"Leave it—probably some magic effect."
Royals frowned at the hall's shift.
Tiny used his soul power—recently mastered—to link his mana faintly to suspicious orbs.
Applying Storm Swing's principle of sweeping wide areas with dispersed mana, via soul force.
Invisible mana threads extended faintly from Wolrang's tiny form, clinging to orbs on royal chairs and tables.
'A bit more, just a bit more.'
To neutralize them all at once before detection, link as many as possible.
But piercing the barrier while synced with Wolrang was grueling even for him.
Then.
"Now, let us begin the main ceremony. Please extinguish the lights."
At the archbishop's words, chandelier lights vanished, plunging the hall into darkness.
And.
"With the guests' blessings in mind, we shall light quiet glows at each seat."
Servants behind tables moved in unison, igniting small artifacts against the tray orbs.
"Ooh."
"Beautiful…."
Seven orbs per table glowed soft crimson, illuminating the dark amid gasps. The sunset-like hue was indeed lovely.
But the puppy sensing changes inside via linked mana could only furrow its brow.
'Damn it all!'
Unaware, the archbishop continued leisurely.
"Now, today's other star: Enter Lady Cloi von Valentia, Crown Princess-to-be!"
With his cry, the hall's doors creaked open heavily.