Free Web NovelInside the exquisite, luxurious crystal coffin was an old man dressed in plain clothes.
His eyes were slightly closed, his expression calm, as if asleep, and there was even a faint flush on his face like that of a living person, as if he might rise from the coffin at any time and wake from this brief nap.
His hands were crossed over his chest. On his fingers he wore a ruby ring engraved with House Dion’s crest, and under the refraction of the dim light it highlighted a trace of the majesty of someone long seated in a high position.
But if you looked from another angle, as the gem’s rainbow sheen faded, you could see another kind of approachable, peaceful temperament on the old man’s face.
A familiar... peace.
Memory turned back. This kind of temperament seemed to have also appeared on a young, handsome face.
"Even playing dead, you don’t forget to put on a mask. Should I say you’re terrifying, or pitiful?"
Muen muttered in mockery.
No, for this old bastard, those several masks on his face had probably already grown completely into the flesh. He couldn’t even tell which was real and which was fake anymore.
"But even if you put on a mask, I think you should still be able to hear the wailing of those poor people, Speaker."
Muen’s expression turned cold and severe. He reached a hand toward the Dion marquis in the coffin, and black flames like those of an elf leapt out from his fingertips.
The flames swayed soundlessly, yet it was as if countless painful shrieks from souls echoed within them. This was the sound of sins a millionfold, the fire of sins piled up from innumerable souls.
And before long, the wailing echoing within would gain one more.
"Stop."
A cold shout suddenly rang out. The black flames instantly vanished from his fingertips. Muen raised his head, brows lifting slightly, as if he hadn’t expected an uninvited guest.
At the other end of the cellar, Sharp stepped out of the shadows.
His face was gloomy to the extreme. When he saw the old man’s body in the coffin still intact, he let out a long breath of relief, and when his gaze fell on Muen again, his expression grew heavy once more.
"You are..."
A faint flicker passed through Sharp’s eyes. Everything he had learned these days unconsciously gathered in his mind, making him almost blurt out that name.
"Bruce from the Lower City? That so-called Dark Emperor, and... the Campbell family’s dog?"
"I didn’t expect the famous new head of House Dion to know the name of a nobody like me."
Muen tipped his hat in greeting. On that deeply set, cold, Slavic-featured face as always, a trace of a smile appeared.
"This truly leaves me flattered."
"A nobody? Your reputation before was terrifyingly big."
Sharp’s tone was mocking. freёwebnovel.com
"However, we all thought that after that, you would hide like a turtle with its head tucked in, obediently waiting for the dust to settle. I didn’t expect you’d still have the guts to poke your head out. What, temporarily unable to use the Campbell family’s power, so you latched onto the princess’s thigh instead?" ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
"We...?"
Muen didn’t respond to Sharp’s sarcasm, only chewing on those two words that seemed extremely ordinary.
"So House Dion is also a member of the Inner Council."
"Nonsense."
Sharp sneered in rebuttal.
"I never said House Dion had anything to do with this so-called Inner Council you’re talking about. This is the noble Upper City of Berland, not your stinking gutter. Even slander needs evidence, Dark Emperor."
"No evidence is needed, Mr. Sharp."
Muen smiled.
"With things having reached this point, many things are already understood by both of us. After all, once some cards are flipped over, it’s hard to flip them back again. For example, the Campbell family’s power I’ve revealed, for example whether House Dion is truly a member of the Inner Council, and for example..."
Muen lowered his head, staring at the aged face in the coffin.
"Under the young, handsome skin of our outstanding First Prince, what kind of filthy, sordid soul is hidden... hmm?"
"You..."
Word by word, like sharp blades, Sharp’s face turned faintly pale. He narrowed his eyes with a hostile tone.
"So you really already know?"
"That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?"
"Where did it go wrong? Princess Celicia? Did she see something last time? Or because..."
Sharp ground his teeth as he pressed him.
"Are those things important? Anything that’s been done can’t leave no traces. Such a shallow, obvious truth—Mr. Sharp can’t possibly not understand it."
Muen adjusted his hat.
"Of course, that trace might be a cup of fragrant coffee, or it might only be a wisp of lingering resentment left behind by a useless dead man, but as far as the conclusion goes, you may have played a lot of people, yet this trick wasn’t perfect."
"So... it looks like you still want to do this pointless struggle? Hehe... foolish!"
Magic began gathering in Sharp’s naturally lowered palm from within his sleeve, and the hem of his clothes was stirred by a slightly chilly /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ current of air.
"I can give you one last chance, Mr. Bruce. We admire you. Leave from here, rot everything you know inside your belly, or swear loyalty to us. I can guarantee you’ll still have the qualifications to hold a place in the Lower City! Otherwise..."
"Otherwise you’ll kill me?"
Facing Sharp’s death threat, Muen shrugged indifferently.
"In the end... the ones who know nothing are you. How about I set a condition too? Take your arrogance and conceit and hurry up and roll into hell yourselves. That way I won’t have to work hard to do it."
"Is that so? That’s your answer? Very good."
The cellar, already icy and bone-piercing, grew even colder along with those words that sounded like a sentence being pronounced.
The anger on Sharp’s face gradually calmed, replaced by a killing intent as deep as an abyssal gorge.
"Die."
Without any hesitation, Sharp’s five fingers moved slightly.
The magic patterns already constructed instantly melted into the air.
Faint white mist drifted. Along with Sharp’s hand clenching in the air, the air compressed to the extreme instantly turned into countless invisible blades, like a great net woven of razor edges, suddenly covering Muen.
No chanting. No spell construction process.
As the current head of House Dion, and as an outstanding Candescent-tier mage, Sharp Dion’s mastery of magic far surpassed those of his rank. Chantless magic and hidden-construction magic had long become part of his instincts. He had once been the dazzling favored genius of his generation, with few opponents on the path he walked.
Therefore, even facing this terrifying figure of rumor, he still had absolute confidence and certainty of victory.
Screee—
Clearly it was only a collapse of air pressure, yet it produced a horrifying sound like twisted steel. Where Sharp’s palm clenched in the air, white mist formed from dense magic spread, and space itself seemed to ripple with distortion.
Pft.
Pft.
Pft.
The sound of flesh tearing open, and a faint smell of blood began to spread through the sealed cellar.
Past that slightly distorted space was Muen’s grave expression.
In truth, because of the premonition of death’s existence, in the instant before the magic took effect, Muen had already withdrawn and retreated in advance.
But it was still too late.
The alchemical core burned hot, granting speed far beyond those of the same rank, yet the wind blades still left clear wounds on his body.
If not for that speed and the early warning, he would already have been shredded into pieces.
"More troublesome than I imagined..."
Muen lowered his gaze, looking at the bleeding wounds on his body.
Bone-piercing magic seeped into them. Although it was swallowed by the black flames inside his body in an instant, it still proved that this new marquis truly had the ability to kill him.
After all, the current him would find it somewhat forced to deal with an ordinary fifth-tier at full strength, let alone a Candescent-tier mage far surpassing ordinary fifth-tier.
Sharp clearly wasn’t comparable to the pair of mage sisters he had encountered in the Forest of Death.
And he was clearly extremely cautious. Even though he held an absolute advantage, from the very beginning he hadn’t given Muen a chance to get close.
If he couldn’t get close, then even if he used the black flames, against a powerful Candescent-tier mage, the odds of victory would still be extremely slim.
"What, you’re not coming at me?"
Looking at the focused Muen, Sharp smiled with a slightly ferocious expression.
"The place I’m standing right now is the cellar’s only exit. Or is it that you understand the gap between us and finally want to give up?"
More and more magic light flickered in succession behind Sharp. In Muen’s mind, the death warning had grown sharp like countless rampaging hives.
"Heh, giving up isn’t to that point."
Muen let out a long breath, shook his head, and temporarily suppressed the painful buzzing in his head.
"I admit it. In terms of raw power, I really can’t compare to you."
"But..."
Muen reached out and gripped the ancient relic, "Resentment of Being Single."
With a hard pull, a thin sword that had once belonged to some silver-white girl was drawn from the umbrella handle. It seemed to still carry the girl’s body scent, and... coldness.
"With this move of mine, how should Your Excellency respond?"
Muen stabbed the thin sword into the ground. Condensed frost spread toward Sharp at high speed, like a drop of ink falling onto white paper.
"Princess Celicia’s Divine Favor!"
Sharp’s pupils shrank.
He had thought that princess was only giving a little help because of that marriage contract with the Campbell family, but he hadn’t expected that she would hand over her own sword, along with a portion of Divine Favor’s power, to this guy in front of him!
Damn it—helping to that extent, had she really already started thinking she was the Campbell Madam?
"But even so, what of it? Divine Favor’s power isn’t invincible!"
Sharp growled.
A low, thick, rising-and-falling, operatic, arcane chant rapidly echoed through the cellar. The few spells Sharp had just constructed were quickly interrupted, and in an extremely short time they transformed into new magic.
"Explosive Ignition!"
Scorching flames burned out of thin air, yet were controlled extremely well. They didn’t burst out in this cramped space, but turned into a wall of fire, blocking the erosion of extreme cold.
And while resisting the power of Divine Favor, Sharp didn’t relax his vigilance toward Muen. He knew that an opponent hardened by battle, rich in experience, would never give up such an excellent chance. Therefore, in secret, the magic prepared to deal with Muen had long been ready, just waiting for him to proactively—
"Hm?"
But beyond the wall of fire, Muen didn’t seize this excellent opportunity to launch an attack.
Instead, he chose to turn without hesitation. Under Sharp’s gradually widening eyes, he swung up his fist and smashed at something with all his strength!
Only at this moment did Sharp understand the deeper meaning of Muen’s line, "how should Your Excellency respond."
He wasn’t trying to run, but rather...
"No!"
Sharp’s eyes turned red. He roared in fury at the man who was about to "destroy the evidence."
"Father!"
