Chapter 93
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: The Emperor's Spar and Celia's Reprimand
Karyan stared at Heinrich, wondering in that instant just what the emperor's face was made of—how could it be so thick? It took a good long while before he incredulously shook his head and sighed, “Your Majesty, you really are…”
Heinrich looked utterly innocent, even tilting his head in feigned confusion.
Karyan finally threw up his hands in helpless surrender, giving a thumbs-up to show his defeat. Then he rolled up his sleeves and ordered, “Bring Lord Celia’s platinum sword.”
At his own investiture ceremony, Karyan had publicly asked Celia for a gift: this very platinum sword. Celia hadn’t seen it coming at all and hesitated instinctively, but with all eyes on him, he couldn’t outright refuse. So he had it brought over and handed it off.
But the moment the platinum sword left his hands, Celia realized what was happening: this was the sword he’d used in his early days as a general. After becoming marshal, he’d switched to the dual-S mecha Phoenix, and the sword had been gathering dust ever since. For Karyan to publicly claim something from his general days at the investiture was no different from publicly rejecting the marshal’s position.
With everyone watching, though, Celia couldn’t take it back. He could only stipulate that it was a temporary gift and that once better weapons were developed, the sword would have to be returned.
Karyan said nothing at the time, happily agreeing and thereafter keeping the platinum sword on him constantly, like a talisman.
“Marshal.” His adjutant hurried across the hall, presenting the anti-magnetic case.
Karyan seized the longsword from the case and drew it with a sharp *clang*. Blue light instantly swept across the entire platinum blade like flickering flames. Karyan strode into the arena and said gravely, “In that case, Your Majesty, if you please!”
Heinrich smiled, wasting no words. He flicked his wrist and thrust at Karyan!
The strike unleashed nearly full power. The 3S Bi’an spear immediately traced a brilliant black arc, sweeping out in a fan shape! Karyan retreated at once, only to hear a deafening *clang* as the longsword clashed against the spear tip. The impact nearly shook the hilt from his grasp!
—Holy! Fucking! Shit!
In that moment, Karyan mentally cursed every ancestor of the imperial family several times over. Their fine descendant Heinrich pressed the attack, and in an instant, countless metallic clashes enveloped the arena like a storm of rain on pear blossoms!
The alliance delegation collectively sucked in their breath. The civilians were stunned, but the generals erupted in fury—how the hell was this fair!
Was this a spar? A friendly match?! Using a 3S weapon was one thing, but going for blood like this—what did it mean? Never mind that his opponent was the alliance’s commander-in-chief; even against one of their own empire generals, this was too much!
“Watch out!” The emperor bellowed suddenly, lightning-fast as he withdrew the spear and thrust again!
A black-gold beam shot from the spear tip. Karyan had no time to dodge and could only raise his sword to block. A piercing *ding* rang out—the electromagnetic flames from the longsword were snuffed out cold. At the moment of impact, cracks spiderwebbed across the blade, followed by a *crack* as chunks shattered off!
“Fuck—” Karyan cursed aloud. In a flash, he circled past the sweeping spear’s vortex of light and charged right up to the emperor!
The spear was a long-range weapon. Even shortened in close quarters, it was still nearly 1.5 meters long. With high-voltage electromagnetics coursing through it and wielded by someone as overwhelmingly powerful as Heinrich, it was utterly unstoppable—a living artillery platform.
Though the meter between Heinrich’s hand and the spear tip was relatively empty, it wasn’t something you could just charge into—the lethal black-gold flames danced everywhere, and one touch meant a nasty burn!
Karyan had been wary of that, holding back. But after taking that beating, rage blazed in his eyes. He steeled himself, rushed along the spear shaft, endured the black-gold flames engulfing his head and body, and roared as he slashed heavily at the emperor’s chest: “You fucking—watch out—”
*Boom!*
Karyan was no slouch as former guard captain; when he unleashed, he had real skill. Heinrich swiftly withdrew to parry and barely blocked the earth-shattering strike!
Even so, the immense force sent him staggering back half a step, veins bulging on the hand gripping the spear: “—Well done!”
His roar shook the earth, less a compliment to his foe than a shockwave that left Karyan’s ears ringing! In that instant, Heinrich slid the spear down along the sword, sparks screeching in the grating clash of metal. He swung his arm and flung Karyan flying!
*Clang!*
Karyan crashed heavily several meters away. The alliance delegation shot to their feet, but General Abel barked, “Stand down!”
The generals gritted their teeth and halted. Karyan struggled to his feet, throat bobbing—he’d just swallowed a mouthful of blood.
Everyone in the hall saw it clearly. Heinrich’s ice-blue eyes narrowed slightly, a dark gleam of satisfaction in them. He leveled the spear at his side, looming over Karyan with a cold stare. “All right, Marshal Karyan?”
“Impressive…” Karyan staggered but steadied himself, wiping blood from his mouth. “Who knew His Imperial Majesty was so adept at close combat? Honed while fleeing battles, was it?”
No need for close quarters in victory—the commander orchestrated from the rear. Only in defeat, with the army routed and enemies storming the flagship, did the marshal need to fight and flee under guard protection. A bit of skill wasn’t surprising.
“Indeed,” Heinrich replied flatly to the obvious jab. “That’s exactly how I honed it—fleeing until I founded an empire.”
The words sounded casual, his tone even and emotionless, but they carried a complex undercurrent. The alliance fell silent for a beat. Then an alliance guard hurried from the hall’s entrance, saluted sharply nearby, and announced loudly, “Marshal Karyan! Legion Commander Celia sent me with a message. May I deliver it now?”
The hall buzzed, but the messenger’s voice cut through. The alliance went dead quiet in an instant—even Karyan whipped his head around.
And then the fun part happened: just as Karyan opened his mouth to let the soldier speak, every empire general snapped bolt upright, spines rigid. The emperor said, “—Go ahead!”
Karyan: “…”
The alliance: “………………”
The messenger’s mouth twitched twice. He turned, saluted the emperor. “Your Majesty, Legion Commander Celia heard you’re sparring in the hall and asks if Your Majesty has prepared any stakes?”
The question was simple. The emperor replied amiably, “By empire tradition, the victor receives an imperial commendation and a diamond fruit branch… Does your legion commander like diamond fruit?”
The messenger shook his head. “Thank you for the kind offer, Your Majesty. The legion commander says Marshal Karyan is a strategist at heart—decent at tactics, but mediocre in personal combat. He’ll never beat Your Majesty, so the alliance concedes.”
The hall—from alliance to empire—erupted in murmurs. The messenger pulled a folded paper from his pocket, unfolded it, stepped forward, and presented it to the emperor:
“This is the legion commander’s commendation. Please accept it, Your Majesty!”
Dead silence.
Utter silence in the hall.
“Pfft!” A laugh burst from somewhere, and soon the entire alliance was chuckling, even the upright and honest General Mowen hiding his face in his arm, shoulders shaking.
The cheekier ones like Karyan couldn’t hide their grins at all, coughing into his hand while laughing: “The legion commander’s so diligent even from his sickbed… Cough cough cough! Hahaha…”
The empire generals’ faces, though—indescribably精彩. The emperor stared at the commendation in bemusement. Sure enough, it read in bold, flourishy script: “To Emperor Set Heinrich of Gemini, for extraordinary martial prowess. Hereby commended and encouraged.” Sealed with a gold-embossed alliance emblem, and in the bottom right: Gavin Celia’s signature!
“Celia, this is…”
The emperor didn’t finish before the messenger cut in: “The legion commander says no other prizes for now, but he’ll send some from the alliance later. Please don’t mind.” He snapped a salute to Karyan. “Marshal! The legion commander has words for you and the generals!”
Karyan and the alliance straightened at once, all business. The messenger continued: “The legion commander says: You’re here for peace talks!”
“Dark Star Hall’s still rampaging through empire territory, about to hit White Heron Star, and you’re here playing with big knives! If you’re so tough, why not go brawl with Dark Star Hall?! Grown-ass men who can’t tell priorities—any random civilian’s sharper than you. What kind of generals are you? Back to military academy for retraining!”
The messenger bowed and said coldly, “That concludes the legion commander’s message.”
Karyan affirmed each line with a “Yes, sir.” When done, the alliance saluted in unison, faces full of genuine shame. The empire side didn’t know where to look—some turned away, others buried their heads. Their earlier triumphant cheers vanished without a trace. After a long pause, General Aaron twitched his lips: “Marshal… Marshal Celia’s right…”
The empire squirmed in embarrassment. The emperor glanced at the alliance, then the commendation in his hand. After a moment, he grinned disarmingly and drawled:
“Your legion commander has beautiful handwriting—”
He carefully folded the commendation and tucked it into his breast pocket like a treasure, then waved them over. “Come on! No more sparring! Let’s drink!”
··
The banquet raged lively. The alliance, beaten black and blue, and the empire, scolded into the dirt, set aside their grudges and drank to mutual goodwill.
By evening’s end, many couldn’t stand straight, leaning drunkenly on comrades, wailing as they staggered out: “Why don’t I have a wife—”
“So lonely—”
“No wife, no wife, no wifey—”
Karyan’s brow twitched. *How could you have wives? With the empire’s unequal policies dragging on, Omegas would soon be defecting to the alliance in droves.*
Imperial attendants led the alliance delegation to the inner palace, assigning rooms with utmost respect. The New Kremlin Palace was vast and opulent—the emperor hadn’t skimped. Everyone got lavish royal suites; VIPs like Karyan and Abel even had indoor gardens.
Karyan had his doubts about the emperor’s arrangements at first, but seeing Celia housed with them—and right upstairs—put him at ease.
That night, drained from drinking and fighting, the delegation skipped their internal meeting and turned in early. Even Karyan just chatted briefly with Celia over secure comms before lights out, sinking into deep sleep from booze and exhaustion.
Under the starry sky, the Winter Palace gleamed silver-white. In the state guest building, all was silent. The emperor’s steps on the thick carpet were soundless, like a stalking predator. Moments later, he halted before the spacious, elegant suite at the corridor’s end.
A slot silently appeared on the otherwise blank wall. He swiped his keycard; the door clicked open.
“Who’s there?”
Celia’s head snapped up from the living room sofa. Heinrich leaned gracefully against the doorframe, teasing, “Your lawfully commended spouse—the prize still pending… What’s that?”