Chapter 233 - The Handkerchief

Meanwhile, among the imperial army...

"The inner castle's barrier is collapsing!" shouted the mage monitoring it. Just as Ferda had said, all the totems had fallen, and the absolute barrier had lost its power.

Ureas, who had been taking a strategic rest with his arms folded, questioned the adjutant beside him.

"What about the coalition?"

"Their strategy is similar to ours. They appear ready to charge when the barrier falls."

"So whoever gets there first claims the prize."

Greed flickered in his eyes. Those around him already knew why he intended to enter the inner castle, but no one dared offer a word of counsel. Ureas would summarily execute anyone who displeased him, even when the battle was going badly.

He rose and shouted, "Prepare yourselves, men! Soon we will put that Demon lackey's head on a pike!"

Ureas drew his sword, and his personal guard made their final preparations. They were not the only ones.

Shortly afterward, another barrier around the inner castle collapsed, revealing the entrance before them.

"Good, men! Forward!"

The spearmen entered first, sent ahead like lab rats to test the situation. As expected, demonic creatures ambushed them the moment they entered. The place was packed with demonic creatures and Demons.

"Let there be Alte's light!"

Armed with chivalric resolve, the knights drove the enemy back. Even Knight-class Demons, which had previously held their own against several knights at once, could put up little resistance.

Then something came charging toward them from among the Demons and demonic creatures.

"May the void be with the king of Heinkel!"

It had the form of an ordinary human, its head radiating red light. Just as a knight tried to shove it back with his body, it exploded.

BOOM!

Blood and flesh sprayed everywhere, painting a grotesque scene.

"Damn it!"

Their helmets and armor left only minimal gaps to stop sharp blades and arrows. But they could not keep the fanatic's blood from seeping inside.

Feeling mildly disgusted, one knight was about to rejoin the fighting when...

"Huh...?"

He had reached for his face as though merely bothered by the mess, only to sense something wrong and tear off his helmet.

"Aaagh! Aaaaaagh!"

His companions, puzzled by his sudden loss of composure, recoiled at the sight of his face. His skin was falling away as though dissolving in acid. The damage spread faster and faster from the spots splashed with blood. In less than ten seconds, nothing remained but bare bone.

That was not the end.

"Heh-heh-heh...!"

CLACK!

Death was only the beginning. Those who set foot in this domain of dark magic were stripped of all agency and remade. The knight became a bone knight, a Dark Mage's slave, and swung his sword at his allies.

"Watch out for the blood! They're using it to create undead!"

It was a suicide tactic commonly employed by dark-magic fanatics. A warning to be careful would not solve the problem. Here, dark sorcery in its most concentrated form had settled into the very ground—a darkness no single torch could pierce.

Unable to simply watch, the knight captain brought out his trump card: a scroll.

"Filthy, wicked creatures! Alte's light shall fall upon you!"

He tore the scroll, and the magic circle within rose into the air and shone.

Sacred Sanctum, a high-tier light spell.

A soft glow rose from the floor around the knight captain, illuminating the dark interior.

GRRRRK!

GACK!

It was a powerful light that purified undead by stripping away their magic. Yet Legion's magic was so strong that it could do no more than make them falter. Even that was enough.

"Behold! Those wicked creatures are losing their strength!"

"Great is Alte!"

"The Arken Empire is eternal!"

"Light upon the emperor!"

Emboldened by the mighty power of faith, the knights shouted their battle cries. In a war where men hurled themselves into death, everyone was bound to go mad.

"Find the sources of the king of Heinkel's power! Kill every last one!"

Ureas prepared to head for the audience chamber, smiling at how smoothly everything was proceeding.

Until he heard that voice.

"Brother!"

The smile vanished from his lips. He knew that woman's voice well.

"Olivia?"

Ureas could not understand it. She was supposed to be waiting in the rear, as planned. He could not possibly be hearing Olivia's voice.

'Am I hearing things, then?'

He already knew that Demons used illusions to bewitch their enemies. He had to stick to the plan.

"Aaaagh! Brother! Save me!"

"Olivia!"

"Commander?!"

But none of that mattered anymore. If he could hear Olivia's voice, Olivia was here. Frenzied, he began running toward the sound.

"Everyone, follow the commander!"

To protect him from his own reckless actions, the guards had no choice but to break formation and race after him.

Ureas charged headlong into the enemy.

"Out of my way, you scum!"

Ghoul demonic creatures blocked his path and Demon Followers lunged at him, but he smashed through every obstacle with agile movements. In the end, his personal guard could not keep up.

He reached what appeared to be a castle storeroom. When he peered through a small hole, his fears became reality.

"Brotheeer!"

Some thugs were trying to rape Olivia.

"Aaaaah!"

CRASH!

With superhuman strength, Ureas smashed through the door. Before they could react, he hurled his sword at one of them. The spinning blade struck the man's head and pinned him to the wall. Ureas threw himself at the other, seized him by the collar, and slammed him to the floor. Then he straddled him.

THUD! THUD!

"Keep your hands! Off my sister!"

He pounded the man's face with his tightly clenched gauntlet until its features were utterly obliterated.

The frenzy that had swept over him like a wave subsided, and he freed Olivia.

"Olivia, are you hur—"

"Brother...!"

She threw her arms around him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Thank you... for saving me."

Ureas could not believe it. His sister, who would not even let him hold her hand, was in his arms. Something surged within his chest. But when he tried to return the embrace, she pulled away.

"I'm so relieved. I... thought I'd never be able to face him again..."

Sniffling, Olivia could not continue. Ureas comforted her.

"Do not worry. Who can hide beneath Lord Alte's light? Even if you had suffered that humiliation, Alte would never abandon you."

"I wasn't talking about Lord Alte," she said, wiping away her tears.

"I meant Regent Ferda."

"... What?"

Ureas was shaken to his core. Words caught in his throat, leaving him gasping. Olivia continued as though his expression meant nothing to her.

"The man who takes my virginity... has to be Regent Ferda. No one else."

He was reeling. At last, he managed to speak.

"B-but doesn't he already have a fiancée? A dragon, no less?"

Even as he said it, Ureas knew imperial law. Multiple marriages were permitted in the Empire, and he already had three wives: a duke's daughter and two counts' daughters. He could do it, as could most nobles, but surely Ferda could not.

Ferda was human, and Valdrova was a Crimson Dragon. She might be treated like a watchdog, but she was still a dragon. She was more likely to take additional men herself than let Ferda keep a concubine.

"That's not true."

Olivia's lovely voice rang clearly in his ears.

"Lady Valdrova is very generous."

With every syllable, another piece of his heart crumbled.

"You know how it is, don't you? In a dragon's life, humans are only a passing amusement. They seem to be nothing more than pets. And you can't share that sort of love with a pet. So what else can you do? You find your pet a suitable mate."

"S-so..."

"Yes."

Olivia laid a hand on her chest.

"I'm going to marry Lord Ferda."

She tore Ureas's heart apart.

That could not be true. Olivia would never say such a thing. He knew she had no feelings for him. He knew she had feelings for Ferda. Even so, she was not the sort of girl who would say it so openly and tear his heart apart.

And yet those words had buried themselves in him like a dagger, still slowly working toward his heart. Why? He knew perfectly well that Olivia was not here, that the story was a lie, that none of this was happening. Yet it was unbearably painful.

Then, as Ureas sat slumped on the floor, he noticed the object in Olivia's hand. The source of this delusion—the single truth that proved thousands of lies true. The decisive object that would strip him of his last shred of reason.

It was a handkerchief.

But it was not Olivia's. Ureas knew what her handkerchiefs looked like: frilled, with a delicate scent of roses. As an imperial princess, everything she owned had to be pure white or gold.

Yet this handkerchief was black. A black handkerchief embroidered in red could not belong to the princess.

Ureas knew who owned it.

'Ferda Valdrova.'

It belonged to that man.

The princess never carried the same thing two days in a row, yet she had kept that one item for days. She had no intention of returning it to Ferda. When something troubled her, she would secretly finger the handkerchief or carefully lift it to her nose.

Even someone as dim as Ureas understood exactly what that meant. Olivia had feelings for Ferda. What she felt for him went beyond affection, and her eyes never let him go.

"Olivia..."

He called her name. She was his only sister. As her older brother, it was his duty to support her love.

He could not.

"Olivia..."

Ureas did not want to let her go. Time and again, he had seen their mother in her and used her to soothe his loneliness. He knew it was ugly. He knew he should stop. But he never did.

Why? Why was he so obsessed with Olivia? Because he missed his mother? He did, but he was no child.

Conflicting emotions tormented him, leaving him bewildered. Then, amid anguish that threatened to drive him mad, something astonishing happened.

"Ah..."

Those tangled emotions began to intertwine even more tightly. Like strands twisted into a rope, the confusion found its grain. The feelings bound themselves firmly together, becoming one long, unbroken emotion.

"Olivia... is mine."

It was love.

When the shackles of blood ties and social convention could no longer hold him, Ureas felt something come unbound within his heart. It was overwhelming power, the very source of his being.

If it had to be given a name, it was the golden bloodline.

"Commander, you cannot stay here. Please, come..."

The adjutants who finally caught up with him forgot what they had been about to say.

"Lord Alte preserve us..."

Nothing that could be called Ureas remained there.

* * *

"Hmm..."

Unable to resist the invitation spell, Ferda had been dragged away. He opened his eyes.

He was deep within the dark inner castle. Barely a ray of sunlight reached this place, but now that he had attained the 5th Circle, his eyes could pierce the darkness. He appeared to have been summoned to the king of Heinkel's bedchamber.

'Any signs of life...?'

None. He extended his shadows and searched every corner, but there was nothing here. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he reflected.

'So Legion really isn't something to underestimate.'

Before Gokma's invitation took effect, Ferda had attempted no fewer than three measures to disrupt the formula: Mana Flare, a spatial transference formula, and activating an artifact.

In an ordinary duel between mages, his opponent would have delayed the spell or used a supporting spell to counter the interference. Gokma had done neither. Tricks like those simply did not work against Invitation.

Wasn't it said that winning a siege required three times the defending force? Apparently, mages were no exception.

'But why invite me here, of all places?'

He could sense neither life nor magic.

'If he meant to kill me, he would have dropped me into a room crawling with demonic creatures.'

Could even this be an illusion? Ferda considered it carefully. Had he looked at a Trauma, even for an instant, when he opened his eyes? He went over it again and again, first rationally, then assuming the worst. But he had not met any such eyes.

'Then he means to use me as a piece on the board.'

That raised another question: whose piece—the king of Heinkel's, or Gokma's? Perhaps Gokma's.

'Demon King.'

Suddenly, he remembered what Alberto had told him when he came to see him. Ferda was a man who could become the Demon King, and Gokma was the one who had said it. His aim was likely to make Ferda the Demon King for the glory of the Demons.