Chapter 97

Like everyone with a certain position, Ardein also had her own schedule.

In the hidden square at the center of the Imperial Palace, Ardein staggered as she arrived at the heart of the Dragon Vein for training. She hadn’t even started her training yet, so it wasn’t due to exhaustion.

Why? Her chest felt hollow and suffocating. Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on her sword, but the Dragon’s Sword, with its hilt made of dragon leather, was sturdy and showed no signs of damage. Instead, her hand ached as if she were gripping a stone.

“Ouch…”

Feeling the pain, Ardein let go of the sword and realized she had done something foolish. She banged her head against the wall. As she gripped the sword again, a surge of immense magical power began flowing into the blade from the Dragon Vein.

The Dragon Vein is like a highway for the magical energy of the planet Pyros. The density of magical power here is far greater than anywhere else.

This wasn’t naturally formed. Long ago, dragons who came to this land created this structure to quickly recover their magical power. It’s a massive magical structure built with knowledge beyond human comprehension!

In any case, the ancestors of the imperial family were dragons, a unique species that could even have children with humans. They pulled out their own teeth to forge swords and used their skin to make the hilts.

As if that weren’t enough, they even extracted parts of their most powerful organ, the Dragon Heart, and embedded it into the sword. The Dragon’s Sword, containing a fragment of the Dragon Heart, can freely draw magical power from the Dragon Vein, just like a dragon.

Having realized this secret, Ardein tried to start her training properly, but what was this feeling on the very first day?

Kyle had left her. She couldn’t follow him, nor could she even stop him. Now, she didn’t know what to do. She had come here, but she didn’t feel like doing anything.

‘I want to sleep.’

Even though she hadn’t done anything, Ardein, who had risen to the rank of Master, felt an overwhelming fatigue.

‘I want to sleep deeply.’

Maybe when she woke up, he would be back? Even though she knew it was an impossible fantasy, she couldn’t help but think that way.

The farewell had been too sudden and abrupt. Was she only that insignificant to him? Was their relationship so shallow that he could just announce their separation today?

For a moment, anger surged within her, and she even entertained thoughts she shouldn’t have.

She thought about overpowering that arrogant wolf with its wagging tail and imprisoning Kyle. She didn’t even know why she was so angry.

But that anger cooled as quickly as it had boiled up.

Thinking about it, what relationship did she have with the Saint? They had merely traveled together because their paths aligned. Before, he was a stranger, and he would remain one afterward.

Yet, the reason she felt such deep betrayal was simple.

She had thought he wasn’t a stranger. Even if he was, she thought he was at least somewhat important to her. She believed they had built some kind of relationship, but were the citizens of the Citadel Republic, whom she didn’t even know, more important to him than she was?

Those people who might or might not be saved—no, who almost certainly couldn’t be saved—were they really more important than her? That’s what truly angered her.

What had those people ever done for the Saint?!

‘Come to think of it…’

But as she thought that, a question naturally arose.

‘I haven’t done anything for the Saint either.’

She didn’t want to think about it, but perhaps she was no different from them.

That thought suddenly crossed her mind, and she let out a deep sigh.

-Your Highness, you look like a wife who just sent her husband off to war.

-That’s right. Why get so hung up on one man? Cheer up a bit…

She didn’t want to hear the maids’ comforting words, so she made an excuse about training and fled, but her unease only deepened.

Her sword cut through the air without meaning or purpose. This wasn’t training; it was just swinging a sword.

She knew this wouldn’t dispel her inner turmoil, yet she couldn’t stop the meaningless swings. As if she could cut through her suffocating feelings, she swung the sword fiercely, but while this strike could cleave a mountain, it couldn’t cut through her heart.

No. There’s no need to be so pessimistic.

Look at the situation in the Citadel Republic. The Saint probably knows there’s no solution there and will return soon.

As she tried to comfort herself, she sensed a presence. It wasn’t so much a presence as a feeling of emptiness.

If she were outside, she might not have noticed, but this was the Dragon Vein. A place saturated with immense magical power, so the sudden emptiness was immediately noticeable. Like a white sheep standing out in a pitch-black space.

‘Who… who’s in the Dragon Vein…?’

This was a place only the imperial family could enter. If an intruder had come, it would be a serious matter. Ardein, without lowering her guard, pointed the Dragon’s Sword in the direction of the presence.

Moments later, an old man appeared without a sound. Ardein remembered him. He was the Master who had blocked her path when she reunited with her father. His name was…

“Madlen?”

“There’s no need to be on guard. His Majesty sent me.”

Madlen. Yes, that was his name.

But somehow, he looked very different from when she had seen him before. Had he been hiding his power back then? Even with the Dragon’s Sword in her hand, she felt overwhelmed.

“His Majesty is curious about the sword’s power. I’m curious too. How much can a mere piece of metal compensate for the wielder’s skill? Your Highness, you seem down. How about crossing swords with this old man?”

This man is strong. Not just ordinarily strong.

Though he mentioned the Emperor’s orders, there was no guarantee they were genuine. The Princess gripped her sword tightly. As the Dragon’s Sword roared, the magical power of the Dragon Vein began to converge into the small blade.

“Hoho, this is interesting.”

Even a normal Master would have paled at the surge of magical power, but Madlen laughed heartily. He was as relaxed as if he were watching fireworks.

“One thing is clear. That won’t be enough.”

“What won’t be enough?”

“That sword would be less than a toothpick against the Primal Demon King. A sturdy toothpick, perhaps.”

Even Grimudo’s Polaris Fortress stands above the Dragon Vein, but relying on that alone to go to the Arctic would be suicidal. The old man could almost guarantee it.

The Demon King’s magical power is as vast as the sky and as deep as the ocean. Compared to that, the Dragon Vein’s power is just a large river. Even if Ardein drew the maximum power her skill allowed, facing Grimudo would be like playing with fire in front of lava.

“Well then, let’s see if it works on me.”

Madlen, no.

The serene Leyman spread his arms wide. Anyone who had survived against the Demon King had the right to be confident.

He had earned that right.

*****

“He left? Beyond the gate?”

“It seems he received help from Rowena, the Elvenheim ambassador.”

A priest of the Hilrae Church bowed his head as he relayed the news to Archbishop Armata. Among the Three Divine Gods, the priests of Hilrae, the Goddess of Healing, are inseparable from nobles and those of similar status.

Any family of significant influence would have Hilrae priests stationed under the guise of being guests, staying as part of the household.

No matter how much they tried, they could never match the popularity of Nemi and Elysia, so they made minimal efforts to win public favor like the other two churches.

Instead, they ingratiated themselves with the powerful. Starting as guests, they became honored guests when the young master or lady of the house got injured.

When the family head or his father fell from a horse and broke a bone, their status rose to almost that of a family friend. Gradually, they became one with the powerful.

These priests scattered throughout the world are the Hilrae Church’s greatest resource and information network. Of course, even so, unless they marry into the family, they remain outsiders.

They don’t obtain information crucial enough to determine the fate of a power, but that was never the goal. The level of information gained through connections is sufficient.

Some priests even marry into powerful families, becoming part of the household. Of course, their true family remains the Hilrae Church. In this way, the Hilrae Church, while perpetually third in influence, has built a capacity beyond that in money, information, and power. Archbishop Armata pondered deeply.

“Should we destroy the gate and let them die there? Such an opportunity may never come again. It might be the only chance to eliminate the Ancient God’s priest as an accident.”

The Archbishop fell silent. No matter how ruthless he was, severing the last hope of survival for the Republic’s citizens was a heavy burden. If it became known that the Hilrae Church was behind this, the backlash would be unimaginable.

But it was also a worthwhile endeavor. If Kyle died in a volcanic eruption, the Hilrae Church wouldn’t have to fear the Ancient God’s retaliation. After all, nature killed him, not them.

Silence was affirmation. Armata said nothing, but the priest understood his intent. He nodded and left.

Now, the Archbishop’s chamber was shrouded in darkness. Only a single statue emitted light. A golden statue, a gift from long ago when he was just a lowly priest.

Despite the passage of time, it shone as if new, a testament to how meticulously he had cared for it.

“Goddess, I wish to ask your will. Should I commit this sin or not? No matter how high I stand, I am your servant, and I will follow only your will.”

As the Archbishop knelt in prayer before the statue, an inexplicable light swirled above him. Those who serve Hilrae exist in the Citadel Republic, but their numbers are few.

And even if the gate were left open, no one knows how many could be saved. Leaving it open would mean losing most, while destroying it would mean losing all. After calculating all this, the Goddess approved, or at least condoned, Armata’s actions.

“Only as the Goddess wills.”

Archbishop Armata rose calmly. He was the hammer in the Goddess’s hand, the mace.

If the Goddess wielded him against solid iron, he would swing with a smile, even knowing it would shatter. It was this resolve that allowed him to rise to the position of Archbishop.

That hammer had now found its target.

‘If it is the Goddess’s will, then my task must be of great importance.’

He quietly picked up a coat and stepped outside. Even though it was night, early summer was approaching.

Though it was warm enough to wear just a thin layer, the Archbishop paid no heed, donning a brown fur coat before heading out. It seemed the time had come to awaken it.

The Hilrae Church’s secret weapon, which would drive both the Princess who defied fate and the Ancient God’s priest who healed her to their deaths, was finally about to see the light.