Chapter 597: The King of Pride (Part 1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 597: The King of Pride (Part 1)
The Imperial Palace, Throne Hall.
The once majestic and glorious hall was now shrouded in deep shadows. The Royal Knights who once stood guard had long since vanished, leaving only faint traces of blood on the magnificent walls and pillars.
At the highest point of the hall, Albert sat upon the throne, dressed in opulent finery. The shadows carved a cold arc across his profile as he listened intently to something, his fingers tracing the gold-and-jade-inlaid armrests of the throne with obsessive infatuation.
Beneath his feet—the very spot where countless people had once knelt in prostration—a long, drawn-out chant echoed. It was like a ghostly whisper, chilling to the bone yet laced with a strange, seductive quality that made one want to sink into its depths unconsciously.
A group of figures in black robes sat side-by-side in a circle atop an array of complex, crimson patterns. Their hands were raised high in bizarre gestures as they chanted words that defied written description, their gazes fixed with fanatical intensity on a withered branch floating in their midst.
It looked like a perfectly ordinary withered branch, the kind one might pick up anywhere.
Yet, under the fervent ministrations of the black-robed cultists, the branch’s charred, wrinkled bark began to peel away. Specks of brilliant golden light spilled out from the cracks.
The gold dust danced and swirled before suddenly vanishing into the darkness of the hall, its destination unknown.
"Found... I found it!"
One of the black-robed men suddenly screamed in ecstasy, "I found it!"
"Found it? Good. Very good."
A sharp glint flashed in Albert’s eyes. Even his decades of refined composure could not hide his current excitement.
"Quickly, take me there!"
The pious chanting grew louder and more high-pitched. The bark fell away from the branch bit by bit, and the golden light grew increasingly radiant.
Albert, growing impatient, made a beckoning gesture. Another black-robed man approached, carrying several exquisite vessels.
A thick, crimson liquid was poured onto the crimson patterns. A surge of monumental power followed, and a rootless, chilling wind blew from nowhere, adding to the macabre atmosphere.
The chanting cultists began to tremble violently, blood leaking from their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths. Their bodies withered away second by second, yet they seemed entirely oblivious, their hands still raised high and their eyes filled with fanaticism.
Finally, the last of the bark fell away, revealing a holy gold. In an instant, the gloom and eeriness seemed to be purged from the room.
The branch vibrated, emitting a low hum, as if resonating with something elsewhere.
Albert stepped forward quickly.
He strode over the corpses of the black-robed men who had collapsed on the floor. Guided by an instinctive pull and needing no instruction, he reached out and gripped the branch with trembling, excited hands.
Crack.
Crack, crack.
The sound of something shattering echoed in Albert’s ears.
His vision plunged into darkness, followed by a violent sensation of vertigo. He felt as if he were falling from the clouds, then swept up by a gale, spinning through an endless void.
It took a great effort for Albert to suppress the nausea and push himself up from the ground.
When he opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings, he realized he was no longer in the Throne Hall.
No, that wasn't right.
This was still the Throne Hall.
The pillars that seemed to reach the heavens, the magnificent walls and ceiling, and the supreme throne that overlooked the entire Empire... there was no doubt. This was the Throne Hall.
Except...
It was in ruins.
Albert ran his hand over the dust-covered floor. It was as if a century had passed in an instant; everything here was ancient and dilapidated. The surrounding walls were riddled with massive holes, through which he could see a pitch-black city of darkness outside.
And... the roiling grey mist.
"Is this... the Shadow of Belland? A fragment representing the palace? I’m the only one who entered, which means there’s a restriction based on royal blood?"
Albert looked around, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.
"The old man certainly knew how to hide things. I should have realized sooner. After all, I once had the same thought—a place completely isolated from the outside world is the safest place of all, isn't it?"
"Unfortunately... hiding is useless."
Albert looked up toward the throne.
In this decaying Shadow of Belland, it was the only thing that remained regal and majestic.
The throne sat high above. It was as if a noble king had once sat there in silent contemplation, resting his chin on his hand.
And every time his thoughts reached a critical juncture, he would instinctively reach out toward the object at his side... that sword.
Thus, a seemingly ordinary sword leaned casually against the side of the throne.
The King's Sword!
"Ah... ah... finally... I’ve finally found you."
Looking at the sword, Albert trembled with excitement.
All the effort he had spent, the long years of plotting, the immense risks he had taken... everything he had done to reach this point was for this final piece of the puzzle.
And now, the piece was found. It was right in front of him, within reach.
"Heh, to treat the symbol of the Imperial Emperor with such negligence... how disrespectful."
As he approached step by step, Albert noticed the sword seemed to have been left there haphazardly. He couldn't help but feel another surge of contempt for the old man who was about to become the former Emperor.
"Don't worry. Soon, very soon, I will set things right and return everything to its proper course."
Albert reached out to grasp the King's Sword...
"Set things right?"
At that moment, as if deliberately contradicting him, a second voice rang out in the deathly silence of the ruins.
"I think you have it backward, Brother Albert. You are the one who is out of place, aren't you?"
Crackle.
A bone-chilling frost suddenly surged forth, freezing Albert’s feet in place. Though the King's Sword was inches away, he could not take another step toward it.
"You... Celicia?"
Albert first looked down at the ice that had frozen everything, then whipped his head around to glare at the silver-haired figure in disbelief.
"How are you here? How is this possible?"
"Are you surprised to see me?"
Celicia stepped out from the shadows. Her pure white dress swayed gently, her flawless black stockings seemingly treading upon the darkness itself.
She brushed a strand of hair aside, her ice-lake eyes reflecting Albert’s furious face. A cold, rare smile touched her exquisite features.
"Seeing that ridiculous look on your face is truly delightful, Brother Albert~"
"Impossible... impossible... impossible!"
Albert’s face darkened as he growled, "My arrangements were perfect. The entire palace interior is filled with my people. How could you have broken through the palace guards so quickly? Even with outside help, it’s impossible. The palace gates are reinforced. By my calculations, even if you gathered every military force in Belland, the earliest you could have arrived was tomorrow morning..."
"True. If I were to launch a frontal assault, tomorrow morning would be the earliest. And by then, everything would have been settled, wouldn't it?"
Celicia tilted her head slightly, a mocking curve to her lips.
"But... it seems you don't know the details of the palace very well, Brother. Even though those details are related to 'you'."
"What do you mean?" Albert froze.
"It’s quite simple. A long time ago, my dear big brother—the first in line for the throne, Prince Albert—was held in very high regard when he was young."
Celicia tapped her temple.
"The world knows that Prince Albert suffers from a brain affliction, leaving him with the intellect of a seven or eight-year-old... but that condition wasn't apparent when he was a small child."
"Back then, Brother Albert bore the halo of the First Prince. Everyone had great expectations for him. He was constantly surrounded by people, but the playful little Albert hated that oppressive atmosphere. He always wanted to escape."
"So, he secretly dragged his younger siblings along, intending to dig a tunnel out of the palace... Ridiculous, isn't it?"
"A tunnel?"
Albert’s expression shifted. "Could it be..."
"Yes. A tunnel was actually dug. It took months... though calling it a 'tunnel' is an exaggeration. It was really just a hole through a few palace walls. Nothing impressive, and Father discovered it soon enough."
"We all thought we would be punished, but..."
Celicia looked at her hand, her expression turning nostalgic. "Father wasn't angry. He was happy. He saw the tunnel as a symbol of my brother's cleverness and tenacity. After praising Albert, he ordered the tunnel to be preserved."
"Unfortunately... that was the last time Father ever praised him."
At this point, Celicia let out a soft chuckle. "It seems you’ve truly forgotten everything, Brother Albert."
"You... you snuck in through that tunnel?" Albert spat through gritted teeth.
"Though it’s a trivial tunnel, it was enough for me to bypass your 'impenetrable' blockade alone."
Celicia’s hand moved gracefully, her parasol spinning in her palm like a plum blossom blooming in the snow.
"After all, just like your struggle with Brother Andrew, the essence of this storm is a contest between the two of us. In reality, it has very little to do with anyone else.
"Therefore, I am enough on my own."
Celicia stepped forward, reaching the throne.
Albert—or rather, this body—was merely an ordinary human. He had no power to break free from the ice.
Celicia raised her sword and lunged at Albert.
However, a brilliant light suddenly flared up, blocking her strike.
"A life-saving charm? You really are a coward."
Celicia, who had intended to finish Albert off in passing, wasn't bothered. She continued forward.
If she couldn't kill Albert directly, obtaining the King's Sword would yield the same result.
Albert wanted that seat, and the King's Sword represented the legal authority and qualification to take that final step. For Celicia, who also possessed royal blood and succession rights, the sword was an equivalent substitute.
Moreover, once she held the King's Sword, she could use its power to instantly quell the current chaos.
Everything was, in fact, very simple.
"Stop... stop! That’s mine! It’s mine!!"
Ignoring Albert’s frantic roars, Celicia lowered her gaze and reached out, finally closing her hand around the sword.
A wave of coldness washed over her palm.
The scabbard of the King's Sword didn't look particularly special; it was merely black, carved with a few elegant patterns symbolizing the royal family.
Then, there was the sword itself.
Celicia applied a bit of pressure. With a sharp shing, the sword that symbolized the Emperor of the Empire slid easily from its sheath.
The cold, sharp glint reflected Celicia’s face.
And then...
Clang.
The King's Sword fell to the floor.
Celicia’s beautiful eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at her slightly trembling hand.
This was...
"Ha... hahaha..."
Albert was stunned for a moment, but then, as if realizing something, he burst into laughter.
"As a Princess of the Empire, you were actually rejected by the King's Sword! Haha... I see. So that's how it is! That's how it is!"