Chapter 602: The King of Pride (Part 6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 602: The King of Pride (Part 6)
High in the heavens, the fierce battle between Indra King and Albert raged on.
Lightning scattered across the sky as golden willow catkins drifted through the air. The Ninefold Black Rings collided with the massive branches of the Golden Sacred Tree, the thunderous impact echoing like the beating of ten thousand drums.
Yet, despite the seemingly equal intensity of the clash, Indra King was gradually falling into a disadvantage.
"Indra King, I truly admire you. If you are willing to submit to me once more, I can overlook everything that just happened!"
Albert laughed uproariously. Seated high upon his throne, he looked down upon the world with ease.
Even a Crown Bearer like Indra King, who could normally crush those of the same rank with peerless arrogance, was now nothing more than a clown performing before the imperial presence. He was no threat at all. From the beginning until now, Albert had merely toyed with this grand power, summoning heavenly wrath with a flick of his fingers. Indra King, meanwhile, could not even get close to him.
How elegant, how liberated he felt. With a mere gesture, endless celestial light tore through the darkness; with a single thought, thousands of subjects bowed their heads and chose submission.
This... was an Emperor! The Emperor of the Empire!
"Do you see, Indra King? That brat isn't fit to command you. Why throw away a brilliant future for the sake of some petty favors? Or are you waiting for reinforcements?"
Albert’s laughter was wanton. He swept his gaze over the surroundings, his eyes glinting with mockery.
"No one is coming to help you. Who would dare stand against me? Who would dare oppose their Emperor? The Campbell family? The Royalist Faction? The Adventurer’s Association? The Academy? Or perhaps the Church?
"Haha, give up. It’s impossible... Those people only make choices based on profit. Now that my ascension is set in stone, why would they defy me? How naive!"
"..."
Indra King did not answer.
Or rather, he gave his answer in his own way—with a fist!
A colossal force slammed into the Golden Sacred Tree once again, causing the thick branches to shudder violently.
"Foolish beyond belief!"
Albert snorted coldly. At his whim, the celestial light dimmed and ten thousand thunders roared. The entire nation seemed to shift in response to his emotions... This was the wrath of an Emperor.
He raised a hand, and the branches of the Golden Sacred Tree drooped, intertwining and twisting into a double-helix spear. An even more massive surge of golden radiance gathered, pouring into the weapon.
In an instant, the spear pierced through the distant space, leaving ink-like streaks in its wake. It seemed to move slowly, yet Indra King had no way to retreat; he could only swing his fist to block it head-on.
But the gold-plated spear possessed peerless might. In a flash, it tore through Indra King’s defenses and buried itself deep within his flesh.
"How was that for a move?"
Albert’s anger turned back to a smile. After all, he possessed the magnanimity of a true monarch; he couldn't stay angry for long. Currently, he felt as though he held the rolling thunder within his breast while maintaining a calm, effortless exterior, manifesting great power with a mere wave of his hand.
Yes, he felt he was already an excellent Emperor. Under his leadership, the Empire would surely reach new heights of prosperity.
"..."
Blood flowed. Indra King’s face turned slightly pale as he stumbled back a few steps, pulling the spear from his chest before crushing it.
Golden radiance lingered in the wound, preventing his nearly immortal physical body from regenerating.
He looked down... From the moment he had intervened tonight, from the initial three-on-one to the two-on-one, and finally to this duel, this was the first time he had been truly, seriously injured.
"I see."
Indra King’s expression didn't change. He wiped his hand across his chest, catching a smear of golden light in his palm.
His clouded eyes scanned the surroundings. In his gray-tinted vision, he saw countless motes of gold—identical to the light in his hand—gathering from beneath his feet, from this city, and even from the depths of the nation’s soil. They flowed along a dense network of roots, finally merging into that golden tree, making it blindingly bright.
"So, your power is entirely derived from squeezing it out of the people of this country? The King's Sword... and here I thought it was something impressive. To squander the strength of those poor citizens so recklessly while acting so smug—have you no shame?"
"...Shut your mouth! As the Emperor of the Empire, what is wrong with me using their power? It is the honor of those peasants!"
Albert’s face darkened instantly.
The "magnanimity" he thought he possessed vanished without a trace. The golden light in the sky trembled, manifesting his imperial fury once more.
It was only then that he realized the second half of that sentence... didn't seem to have come from Indra King.
The tremors of the Golden Sacred Tree subsided instantly. Albert’s brow arched in slight surprise as he looked behind Indra King.
"Oh? How unexpected. I didn't think you’d have the courage to return, my dear sister."
"Why wouldn't I? Is this place some kind of inescapable hell?"
Celicia was still dressed in that ethereal white gown. Her cold profile, illuminated by the golden light, looked as holy as if she had been blessed by angels.
"So, have you finally come to submit to me?" Albert craned his neck, mocking her.
"You are nothing more than a rat who usurped the throne. What right do you have to demand submission?" Celicia retorted sharply.
"Bold!"
Albert clapped his hands and grinned savagely. "I wonder if you'll still be this stubborn when I'm crushing every bone in your body."
"Talk when you've actually managed to do it."
Before the sky-blotting Golden Sacred Tree, Celicia’s slender figure appeared frail and weak. Yet, standing there alone, she showed not a hint of cowardice.
She turned to look at Indra King.
"Thank you for your assistance, Lord Indra King. You may step back for now."
"Step back?" Indra King looked puzzled. "You intend to face him alone?"
"Yes."
"You will die."
"I won't."
"But..."
"This is also Muen’s instruction. I assume you won't disobey his orders for the time being."
Celicia said, "Withdraw. Leave this to me."
"Then... very well."
Indra King pressed his palms together, offering a sincere prayer for Celicia. "Though I do not know what plan you have, I hope you both live long enough for me to repay my debt."
"Don't worry about that. Villains have a way of living forever; that guy’s life is probably long enough to make your debt feel like a bad investment."
Celicia turned, facing the towering Golden Sacred Tree without fear. "As for me... I'm not so easily defeated either."
*
Indra King withdrew, leaving only Celicia and Albert to stare each other down beneath the massive golden tree.
"So... after all that talk about not losing easily, did you really just come back to die?"
Albert leaned back on his throne, resting his chin on his hand as he sneered.
"I thought you were smarter than this. I thought you'd hurry off with Muen Campbell to find his old man—maybe then you could have clung to life a bit longer. Or did that blow I dealt you earlier damage your brain, making you just like your 'brother'?"
"Unfortunately, I am not here to die, nor am I doing anything foolish."
Celicia’s expression was solemn as she spoke each word coldly.
"As I said, I am here to kill you and put everything back on the right track."
"Oh? And how? With your strength as a mere Fifth-Tier Martial Artist?"
Albert laughed incessantly, as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world.
"Naturally, I'm relying on..."
Celicia’s voice, previously flat and expressionless, suddenly shifted. She tilted her head toward a certain direction.
"After all this talk... if I'm not mistaken, things should have begun over there."
"Over there?" Albert frowned in confusion.
"Yes."
Celicia lowered her eyelids. Within those slightly veiled, lake-like eyes, a profound sadness suddenly began to brew.
"Albert, you are immersed in the joy of becoming the so-called 'Emperor.' You believe victory is in your grasp and that you are omnipotent. But before that... have you forgotten something?"
*
Outside the quiet imperial bedchamber, a brief commotion broke out.
But it was quickly silenced.
The faint scent of blood drifted into the chilly night wind.
It dissipated soon after.
The doors to the bedchamber were opened silently. A sliver of light spilled into the now desolate and empty room, casting a somewhat comical, bear-shaped shadow.
"Still holding on, I see."
The blood-stained Pink Bear casually tossed aside the corpse of a maid he was holding, then strolled brazenly toward the imperial bed, his footsteps making a wet, squelching sound.
He dragged over a chair and sat down with his legs crossed. Facing the man who was once the most noble elder in the Empire, he began to pick his nose with an utterly unrefined posture.
"You look terrible, Audrich." The Pink Bear flicked his finger, sending a bit of filth flying who-knows-where.
"Is... that so?"
The withered, skeletal old man on the bed spoke slowly. His voice was raspy, like two pieces of raw cloth rubbing together, stripped of all its former majesty and dominance.
However, in the dim light, his eyes appeared remarkably bright. There was no trace of the cloudiness one would expect; it was like the final flare of a dying candle.
"No matter how high and mighty an Emperor is, at the moment of death, he is just an ordinary old man. My current state is only natural. There is nothing to lament."
"But you weren't supposed to die this early."
The Pink Bear looked at him. A hidden light flickered in his black, beady bear eyes—something resembling pity.
"You could have lived longer than me. You could have become an even better Emperor than you are now. And yet, you still chose this path."
"What would be the point of living longer than a profligate fellow like you? In the end, no one escapes their destiny."
As he spoke, Audrich III began to cough violently. For a long time, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of his hacking. The Pink Bear remained patient, waiting in silence.
"This was the only chance. After planning for so long, there is finally hope of ending the ill-fated karma of the First King from a thousand years ago. Sacrificing a few insignificant things is necessary; it is no great loss. I know you. If you were in my position, you would have done the same."
Audrich turned his head with difficulty, looking at the Golden Sacred Tree outside the window.
"Besides, if that thing isn't excised, the Empire will eventually meet a destructive end. Therefore, I, you, and Celicia... we must all fulfill the missions we were meant to complete."
"That mission is a bit too heavy, don't you think?"
"She will do a fine job."
"You know I wasn't talking about her."
The Pink Bear sighed and finally shook his head helplessly.
"Forget it. We've come this far; more talk is just a waste of time. Where is 'that'?"
"It was prepared long ago. Do not worry."
"You really are a piece of work."
The Pink Bear scolded him with a laugh, like an adult dealing with a mischievous child. Yet, there was no sense of discord in the moment, for he was indeed the only person in the world who could scold this old man—the man who, though forgotten by many, was still the true Emperor of the Empire.
"Then, let us begin."
As the Pink Bear beckoned, another figure stepped out from the shadows.
The Former Saintess.
Her expression was solemn as she held an exquisite, long wooden box in both hands.
The box was opened, revealing a black longsword that looked ordinary yet was impossible to look away from.
"The sword's name is Temperance," the Former Saintess said.
"Aside from the prototype that was melted down by a certain someone to make a toy for a child, this is one of the only three Holy Swords remaining in the Church. It is also the most complete one, still possessing the 'Miracle' bestowed by the Goddess. It holds a power opposite to that prototype—it can sever all intangible things in this world."
"My thanks," Audrich nodded slightly.
"There is no need for thanks."
The Former Saintess lowered her gaze. "The Church has no desire to see that thing reincarnated either. Providing the necessary assistance is only right."
"Agh, why all the nagging? At a time like this, all this 'thank you' and 'you're welcome' is annoying as hell!"
The Pink Bear suddenly stood up impatiently. Grumbling, he shed the bear suit.
Beneath was a silver-haired, middle-aged man. He possessed the handsome, cold features characteristic of the royal bloodline. His messy beard looked like it hadn't been groomed in ages, giving him a distinct air of weathered experience.
Oranriel snatched up the Temperance Holy Sword and moved to Audrich’s side, aiming the blade at the old man's chest.
He looked ready to thrust it down immediately.
But then, the tip of the sword trembled slightly and came to a sudden halt.
Oranriel stared at the man beneath him—a man who looked far older than himself, but whom he had actually watched grow up. His voice suddenly became shaky and hoarse.
He whispered, "I don't know what to say... so I'll just say goodbye."
"Yes. Goodbye."
Audrich nodded gently. "Help me look after Celicia. And keep an eye on that Muen Campbell kid. If he’s going to be the Imperial Prince Consort, being a philanderer won't do."
"Now you're just making things difficult for me. The women that kid hooks up with are scarier than the last. How would I dare interfere?"
Oranriel paused. "But rest assured. I will look after Celicia."
Then, the Holy Sword descended.
A holy radiance erupted from Audrich’s chest, brilliant and dazzling.
In the intangible realm, blood-colored patterns emerged... and were then severed.
Simultaneously severed was the mysterious connection between this Emperor and a certain object—as well as the unique status that connection had granted that object.
Indeed, even Albert had forgotten that this old man, whose life was fading away, remained the Emperor of the Empire until this very moment. And he was...
The true master of the King's Sword!
Dong.
A grand bell tolled, as if mourning this moment.
Oranriel closed his eyes and whispered softly:
"Then... farewell, noble Emperor of the Empire, great ruler of the realm... Audrich Leopold III."
"May your soul find eternal rest."