Chapter 598: The King of Pride (Part 2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 598: The King of Pride (Part 2)
"I was... rejected?"
Celicia looked at her hand in disbelief.
As the Sovereign’s Sword that symbolized the Emperor, anyone possessing the royal bloodline should, in theory, be qualified to wield it. As for whether it would acknowledge her... she had confidence in herself. She believed that, by any metric, she was superior to the skin-clad imposter standing beside her.
And yet... the dramatic reality stood before her eyes. The lingering sting in her palm confirmed that she had indeed been rejected by the sword and the living spirit dwelling within it.
"Why?"
Is it because my bloodline is impure?
That was Celicia’s first thought. But as her silver hair brushed against the corner of her eye, she saw her own reflection in the cold ice—an exquisite face that bore a striking resemblance to Albert’s. These traits were undeniable proof of the purest royal blood flowing through her veins.
If there was nothing wrong with her blood, then why?
Celicia’s eyes narrowed. She noticed several blood-red streaks suddenly flash beneath her fair skin, but as she instinctively condensed her frost, those lines were instantly dispelled.
"Is this... a side effect of the rejection? Does that sword truly loathe me to such an extent?"
"As a Sacred Artifact of the Empire, the Sovereign’s Sword naturally doesn't loathe you. It simply sees that you lack the qualification to be King."
Albert let out a cold sneer, which quickly spiraled into a jubilant, doubling-over laughter. In all his decades of life, he seemed never to have been as happy as he was at this moment.
It was the joy of someone who thought they had fallen into the abyss, only to find the sun still shining upon them! In contrast, he could not wait to see the expression of grief, indignation, and misery on Celicia’s face.
"That’s right! You have no qualification! In the eyes of the Sovereign’s Sword, you are utterly unworthy of being Emperor. It’s as simple as that. And so... it rejected you!"
"The qualification... to be King."
Celicia murmured softly, her cold expression betraying neither sorrow nor joy.
"What exactly is this so-called 'qualification'?"
Age?
Temperament?
Wisdom?
Breadth of mind and character?
No... those things were too vague. Moreover, if every generation of Emperor had to undergo such rigorous screening and approval by the Sovereign’s Sword, the Empire would have conquered the entire continent long ago under a succession of brilliant rulers. Yet, looking back at history, the Empire had seen its fair share of fatuous and incompetent Emperors over the past thousand years.
In other words, was there some... invisible condition she didn't know about?
Gender?
Thinking it over, Celicia could only conclude that this was the one thing she could neither change nor fulfill.
But looking at it from another perspective...
No.
If the Empire could not tolerate an Empress, her father would never have said those words to her.
Celicia’s eyelids lowered as her memory drifted back to a conversation with her father before her house arrest—the very argument that had caused their rift.
【Celicia, are you interested in the Imperial Throne?】
【No.】
That had been her answer.
To her back then, the throne was undoubtedly a massive burden. She had no desire to be dragged into the feud between her two elder brothers.
But now...
Countless images flashed through her mind: weeping children, grieving mothers, and the poor souls who had been transformed into hideous monsters.
Celicia glanced toward the reflection of the Great City hidden beneath the grey mist. Those images were etched into her mind. Her current resolve and obsession should not be inferior to anyone’s.
Then why?
"Forget it."
Since thinking provided no answers, Celicia temporarily set her thoughts aside. She drew the rapier from her umbrella handle and walked toward Albert once more.
"Since I cannot master the Sovereign’s Sword, I’ll just kill you first. It’s merely a matter of sequence."
"You can't kill me!" Albert’s face stiffened as he spoke in a low voice.
"Not permanently, perhaps, but for now. Your magic devices won't protect you for much longer."
The cold condensed once more.
Celicia’s silver hair fluttered in the wind and snow.
Frost flowers crystallized upon the tip of her blade. As the snow fell heavily, every flake became imbued with a piercing sword intent.
The blizzard grew fiercer, and the sword intent became increasingly terrifying. The entire hall was enveloped in the shrill whistling of the wind, sounding like a realm of ghosts.
The protection around Albert was gradually whittled away by the sword intent, its radiance growing dimmer. He himself began to shiver violently in the biting cold.
When everything reached its peak, Celicia did not hesitate. With an elegant posture, she thrust her sword forward.
In that instant, every snowflake, carrying the massive sword intent that had been brewing for so long, surged toward Albert simultaneously.
Puchi. Puchi.
The protective glow of the magic device was finally torn asunder.
Next came the tearing of fragile human flesh and the spray of blood.
Albert slumped to the ground.
Crimson blood flowed out, staining the snow-covered floor.
It looked like a rose in full bloom.
It was over.
Everything settled into a silent peace. The "First Prince," who had stirred up so much trouble throughout the Empire, met an end that was remarkably quiet.
"Is this what it feels like to kill one's own brother with one's own hands? ...Though you aren't truly my brother."
Celicia’s eyes lowered. "How unpleasant."
The wind and snow howled again, sounding like a funeral dirge.
Celicia turned and walked toward the Sovereign’s Sword. She contemplated for a moment but ultimately did not try to seize it again. Instead, she leaned down and reached for the scabbard.
But just as she was about to touch it... Celicia’s hand suddenly froze.
A ripple appeared in her eyes, which were usually as still as an icy lake.
It can't be...
The thought flashed briefly through her mind. Before she could even process the possibility, she spun around without hesitation and swung her sword in a horizontal slash.
Clang.
This time, there was no spray of blood.
Instead, the sound of clashing metal rang out.
Specks of golden light rose like drifting fireflies, illuminating the ruined Throne Hall.
Golden threads, delicate and supple yet indestructible, wound around Albert’s body, effortlessly blocking Celicia’s strike.
And these golden threads came from...
The Sovereign’s Sword.
From within the scabbard Celicia had just reached for—a sheath barely two fingers wide—countless golden threads poured out. They followed the crimson trails on the ground and rapidly burrowed into Albert’s body.
His finger twitched.
Then his arm.
Then his leg jerked suddenly.
Finally, his entire body convulsed for a moment.
The golden threads acted like roots, weaving through his body like stitches repairing a rag doll. Very quickly, all his injuries were restored.
The lingering fear and pain on his face vanished, replaced by a haughty smile.
Albert opened his eyes and lunged upward. Laughing maniacally, he looked at Celicia with a crazed expression.
"Ha... Hahaha! I told you, Celicia... you can't kill me!"
The Sovereign’s Sword vibrated. Celicia’s eyes sharpened, and she violently swung her longsword down to suppress it... only to be sent flying by a terrifying, titanic force.
Celicia stumbled back, unable to contend with this powerful Sacred Artifact. She could only watch helplessly as the Sovereign’s Sword—the symbol of Imperial authority—unsheathed itself and flew into Albert’s palm.
Mystic runes were carved upon the blade; it was said they were the oaths of the First King.
"Do you understand now? I am the chosen one! I am the one with the qualification! I am... the Emperor of the Empire!"
Albert raised the Sovereign’s Sword. In an instant, the golden radiance intensified a thousandfold.
A massive golden tree erupted from the ground behind him, piercing through the Shadow of Belland that isolated the area from the world. Its vast canopy of branches and leaves instantly shrouded the entire city.
Albert sat upon a throne beneath the great tree, looking down coldly at Celicia at his feet.
"Traitor, why have you not knelt and prostrated yourself before the Emperor of the Empire?"