41. Sunset of the King (1)
*
The walls of the corridor, adorned with the dazzling legends of gods and heroes, shimmered ominously under the green glow of the arcane vision.
Fernandez and Kirhas strode confidently down the corridor, hands resting on their sword hilts. There was no sign of life, but the thickening concentration of magical energy guided their way.
The corridor was hazy, as if shrouded in mist, due to the dense natural magic.
Yet, Fernandez relied on his arcane vision to illuminate the surroundings, while Kirhas perceived the world through her innate senses.
Thus, the dark, tilted corridor beneath the waterline posed no obstacle to them.
From the moment they descended below the waterline, the deep, dark, and muffled sounds of the abyss filled their ears.
“…Your Excellency.”
Kirhas’s pupils sharpened. She stepped forward, her hand tightening on the sword belt.
At that moment, a blue flash streaked past her feet.
-Whizz.
At the end of the corridor, before the massive doors of the sanctuary, stood an elf. With a black eyepatch over her left eye, she held her sword hilt as if ready to draw and strike at any moment.
The pressure emanating from a master swordsman, along with the sharp aura unique to elf swordsmen, was palpable.
She was a swordsman who had reached the realm of manifesting magical energy within her body. The elf’s eyes opened.
Her sharp, glowing green eyes scanned Fernandez and Kirhas before closing again. She slowly adjusted her stance.
“Step over that line, and I will cut you down.”
“We are here on direct orders from the Serpent King. Wild Prince. I am Angelo, an Inquisition Officer of Vaitas.”
At those words, her eyes narrowed slightly.
“I’ve heard of you. You are not permitted entry. If you have a letter, hand it to me.”
“Do you have the authority to verify the Serpent King’s personal letter?”
Wild Prince. The strongest knights among the elves. In human terms, she held authority and skill comparable to the royal guard.
Facing such a figure, Fernandez quickly assessed his own situation.
His condition was at its worst due to backlash, and his internal injuries were unhealed. The Bronze Throne was nearly overloaded. Meanwhile, Kirhas was still far from reaching that level…
-Thud.
Kirhas took another step forward, stepping over the line the elf had drawn. The elf’s eyebrow twitched at the sight.
“…Did my warning seem like an empty threat?”
A sword strike, faster than even Fernandez’s Diemonica-enhanced reflexes, flew toward Kirhas’s neck.
-Clang!
Sparks flew as the clean line of the sword strike was severed at Kirhas’s wrist. The elf swordsman sheathed her blade in an instant and adjusted her stance. Her expression grew serious.
Kirhas had drawn her blade just enough to block the strike, moving at a speed barely visible.
Against those who held the upper hand in strength or technique, Kirhas was still of little help.
But within her lay a ‘talent’ that Fernandez did not possess. The seed of an absolute being, honed through countless battles in a past life, rested within her.
Chieftain Kirhas Hearttaker. From a slave of a heretical sect to the great chieftain of the western Great Wilderness. For her, life had always been a struggle.
Was her skill the product of experience? Or the result of talent? Fernandez could not be sure. But as he looked into Kirhas’s sharp eyes, he realized something.
Her technique was still immature. Thus, she could not face opponents who overwhelmed her with skill.
Her strength was still lacking. Thus, she could not face opponents who overwhelmed her with brute force.
But her reflexes. Her talent and senses were like a peak just beginning to rise. Her innate qualities…
Were the perfect counter to the elf swordsman, who determined the outcome of a duel in a single exchange!
After a moment of silence, the elf’s lips twisted.
“A fine prayer. My name is Meladia, third seat of the Wild Princes. And you?”
Kirhas glanced nervously at Fernandez. Her eyes burned with pride and desire.
‘Please allow me.’
Fernandez nodded. A cheerful smile spread across Kirhas’s lips.
“…Kirhas Hearttaker. Torchbearer of the Inquisition Office. And…”
Once again, Kirhas glanced at Fernandez’s eyes.
“…his subordinate.”
“…In a way, I too am a servant of the royal family.”
A competitive gleam shone in Meladia’s eyes. She looked at Fernandez and spoke.
“Go, Sovereign. I grant you permission to greet the King.”
-Click.
She exhaled slowly and lowered her stance. With the expression of a beast ready to pounce, she fixed her gaze on Kirhas. A heavy sword aura descended, making it hard to breathe.
“Your Excellency. I will follow shortly.”
“Don’t get hurt, Kirhas. Your body is my asset.”
“…Yes.”
At Fernandez’s words, Kirhas’s face flushed slightly. A warm sensation tickled her chest.
Fernandez gently patted her shoulder and pushed open the sanctuary entrance that Meladia had stepped aside from.
-Thud.
-Clang!
As the door closed behind him, the sharp sound of clashing swords echoed from beyond.
– Useful tool, huh?
‘Don’t ever call her like that again, Faijashi.’
– Why, you wanna play king or something?
Fernandez ignored Faijashi’s teasing and stepped inside the sanctuary. As if completely unrelated to the chaos outside, the sanctuary was peaceful and beautiful.
Warm sunlight bathed the green meadow. Thick magical energy, carrying a refreshing scent, swirled gently around the sun.
Priests dressed in ceremonial robes knelt and prayed towards the center of the sanctuary. And right in the middle, facing the sun directly, an elf man was pointing out a beastman.
‘Serpent King…?’
A being of that caliber should have been free from physical form… but his aura and appearance were subtly distorted.
Fernandez’s vision flickered, illuminating his body. As his blurred vision gradually adjusted to the overwhelming spiritual presence, the truth soon became clear.
– Huh, no way?
‘Seems like it is.’
– Step.
Fernandez slowly approached the Serpent King, who was focused on the ritual. An instinctive disgust churned within his veins.
“…You came at a bad time. I’m quite busy.”
“I’ve fulfilled your request. Is my reward ready?”
“Ah, the request to find someone? Of course.”
Guimerin looked at Fernandez with a face full of fatigue. Even as their eyes met, his eyelids and lips twitched occasionally.
A strange, eerie distortion was reflected on his face.
– Thud. Thud. Thud.
Fernandez bit his lip at the sight. His heart burned with disgust and anger. Guimerin responded with a twisted smile.
“The war your human nations are waging in the far west. You’re caught in the middle of it. Though it may still be distant for her, her life is like a candle in the wind. I had guessed as much. What her existence truly means.”
The war in the west. It must refer to the century-long war between the Leviathan Empire and the Kirazat Sultanate. At this point, the western war would still be called the ‘Fifty-Year War.’
Fernandez waited for Guimerin’s next words.
“You are a priest of Vaitas. For someone like you to seek a ‘being born with spiritual energy,’ the metaphor is quite blatant.”
Greed dripped from Guimerin’s eyes. Godslayer. Fernandez recalled the nickname of the Elven Serpent Kings from his past life.
When civilization stood on the brink of destruction, the Elven Serpent Kings hunted the minor gods of the Temple of the Gods within their domain.
Hence the nickname Godslayer. They sought divine energy to escape their race from the collapsing material world.
Whether their attempt succeeded or failed remains unknown. The elves disappeared from the world at some point.
But one thing was certain: Guimerin had both the ability and the desire to collect divinity. They were the closest beings to gods in this era’s material world.
“A being born with the divinity of Vaitas. Or at least something equivalent. Hehe. That’s why I intend to reward you. You didn’t come to request information from me, but rather to provide it. So, what do you desire?”
Fernandez slowly lowered his stance and placed his hand on the sword hilt. He barely managed to spit out the words stuck in his throat.
“Then let me ask. Is your scheme to resurrect the dragon driven by your desire for divinity?”
“Hehe. You noticed? Indeed, you’re no ordinary human. Yes, I tolerated Franzrit’s petty schemes.”
Madness flickered at the corner of Guimerin’s mouth.
“Indeed. You performed your role splendidly. You resurrected the dragon for me and thwarted Franzrit’s meddlers.”
– I see. So that’s how it was.
‘Not yet. One more thing is needed.’
At Faijashi’s words, Fernandez shook his head. If the dragon had fallen under Franzrit’s control as planned, it would have been a significant threat to Guimerin.
Fernandez had disrupted Franzrit’s plan. The difference from his past life lay precisely in this part. But it still wasn’t enough. Fernandez’s intuition was screaming.
There was something about the twisted aura of King Guimerin. Fernandez spoke with difficulty.
“King Guimerin. Whose body is that?”
“…Hehe. Hehehe. Indeed. Truly delightful. Conversing with you has been a great amusement for me. Are you truly human? Your thoughts are not far behind mine. Impressive.”
Guimerin’s eyes gleamed threateningly. He had no intention of letting Fernandez leave alive. Fernandez’s value ended here.
On the chessboard Guimerin was drawing, the piece named Fernandez no longer held any value.
“My one and only precious son. Ainard’s. Human Inquisition Officer.”
As he spoke, Guimerin pointed at the beastman. Fernandez’s eyes analyzed and read the beastman. It was an instinctive action. The instinct of a mage who understood the manifestation of magic.
– Swoosh.
But Fernandez’s reason chose to grip the hilt of the greatsword and draw it.
– …Right. Fernandez.
‘Right. Faijashi.’
That strange distortion. It must be because he hadn’t fully taken over the body. Faceless ones, or parasitic species like him, often showed such appearances.
Instinct cooled down, while reason burned hot. Fernandez analyzed Guimerin’s strength, compared it to his own, and calculated his moves. But at the same time, he was furious at Guimerin.
My son. My poor child. Fernandez closed his eyes.
Your screams still echo in my ears. You and I have been apart for sixty years.
I remember the day you were born. Even the moment you grew cold in my arms.
– Nothing but regret.
Fernandez opened his eyes. He spoke in a voice that resonated like a wounded beast.
“Pray, King Guimerin.”
“What?”
“To any god, with any words. Sincerely.”
On the chessboard Fernandez was drawing, the piece named Guimerin no longer held any value either.
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