Free Web Novel"Forgot something?"
The moment Celicia said that, Albert immediately became wary, sweeping his attention around while replaying his own omissions in his head.
Even though he had already seized final victory and held the dignity of the Emperor now, he also knew this ice-cold woman in front of him was, in truth, extremely insidious and crafty. Who knew what disgusting tripwire she might set for him.
But...
No matter how he thought, Albert couldn't come up with anyone who could still threaten him at this point.
One faction after another was crossed out in his mind. Even the Indra King was no match for him—everyone else was even less possible... Could it be that old Emperor who couldn't even get out of bed anymore?
That thought surfaced, and Albert sneered and shook his head.
How could that be? That old thing was practically at death's door. Was he going to hop out of bed and—
Bzzzz—
At that exact moment, an ear-piercing buzzing tore through the sky.
No—rather than a buzz, it was more like a shriek, because the sound was so sharp it felt like it could rip a person's eardrums apart.
Like... a wail.
A furious wail.
Albert's mind instantly tightened—yet when he looked around, he discovered in horror that the shriek...
Was coming from the King's Sword in his hand.
"This..."
The King's Sword shrieked first, then began to tremble violently. Albert almost couldn't hold on. And then, fresh red liquid began to run along the blade, flowing over those golden patterns that proclaimed the Emperor's noble status.
The stench of blood assaulted the nose. The sacredness was gone. The vivid red quickly smeared over Albert's entire body.
"So it really is...?"
Watching this, Celicia's expression grew even more sorrowful. She turned toward the palace and bowed deeply in respect.
"Don't worry. I'll fulfill your last will, Father."
Her voice scattered into the wind, as if it briefly raised the outline of something indifferent and imposing—nodding slightly, then gently patting the girl's head.
"Last will? What does that mean? What did you do? Or... that old thing? What did that old thing do?"
Feeling the living spirit inside the King's Sword writhing with rage and pain, Albert ground his teeth and forced down the violent tremor. But now that he was almost completely connected to it, he was instead quickly swallowed by the spirit's emotions, nearly unable to suppress his own fury.
"Answer me! What did you do?!"
"What did I do? Haven't you already noticed yourself?"
Celicia's eyes held a pity frozen past the point of ice.
Albert's already twisting face stiffened.
Notice—of course he'd noticed.
If he could clearly feel even the living spirit's emotions inside the King's Sword, then naturally he could feel that the King's Sword right now was like a creature that had abruptly been hacked off from some vital part—bleeding nonstop, no longer whole.
And even more, he suddenly realized that lofty sensation from earlier—of holding the heavens and earth in his palm, of looking down upon all of Belrand and even the entire Empire—had vanished as well.
It was as if, in a single instant, the King's Sword had been severed from its right to take root in the Empire.
It lost the status it was meant to have. It fell from the throne.
"Now, the King's Sword is no longer the 'symbol' of the Emperor. By legitimacy and law, you aren't a rightful Emperor anymore either."
Celicia said coldly.
"Get down from there, Albert."
"No... damn it... how could you... how could you?!"
Albert clutched his head and howled in berserk rage. Another piercing roar—coming from the King's Sword—overlapped with his, to the point it was impossible to tell whether the one roaring in fury was him, or the King's Sword in his hand.
In that near-maddened wrath, Albert raised his hand again, drawing upon boundless golden light.
"So what if that old bastard used his Emperor's authority to chop off the throne-status for the moment? He's probably dead already. As long as you die too, I'm still the only heir who fits legitimacy and law—I'm the Emperor of the Empire! I'll be able to forge the King's Sword's status anew!"
The golden giant tree swayed, and countless dazzling golden lights flared.
Albert lifted the King's Sword high, about to pour out the Emperor's wrath again—letting the blood of those who defied him decorate the royal seat before the King.
But...
In that instant, the golden light did not follow Albert's command and become slaughter in his hands.
Star-like gleams suddenly sifted down from the branches—one after another—fluttering like autumn leaves falling from a forest, no longer gathering at Albert's will.
The killing intent was gradually dissolved by that exquisitely beautiful, almost unreal scene.
Bathed in this rain of falling starlight, Celicia suddenly lifted her head and stared at something.
The golden giant tree swayed. Endless light stretched out, then covered her entire field of vision, gradually constructing a phantom of the past...
...
...
"What the hell... where the hell is this?!"
Muen snapped his eyes open and realized that for some reason, he was standing in a bizarre place he didn't recognize at all.
Under his feet was lake water smooth as a mirror—clear, yet he couldn't see the bottom, and he couldn't see any other living thing.
Pure white spread from one end of the sky to the other, as if that was the boundary of heaven and earth, and this entire world contained nothing but this lake.
But...
Muen looked up and saw, at the very center of the lake, a golden giant tree that was extremely familiar.
That tree was still so enormous. Its trunk and branches were thick as mountains. Its foliage was dense as a forest. It seemed to be formed purely from flawless golden radiance—and in this white lake-world where nothing else could be seen, it looked even more noble and holy.
"That tree... what the hell. Why am I here? Tch... this isn't a dream."
Muen pinched his own face. It hurt enough that he hissed, and he grew even more at a loss.
By all logic, he should've split up with Celicia—Celicia going to deal with Albert, while he went to the palace to rescue the ministers holding the situation together, in case Albert panicked and actually inflicted irreversible damage on the Empire.
But he hadn't even gotten the chance to do a handsome hero-saves-the-men entrance for those ministers... the world went white, and he was here.
"Don't tell me this is another scheme."
With that thought, Muen grew even more vigilant as he observed the surroundings.
Then his gaze tightened. On the far side of the golden giant tree, he saw a silver-white figure.
"Celicia?"
Muen raised a hand and shouted.
"Hey—beauty—"
"Stop calling her 'beauty.'"
A lazy voice sounded.
"This is the same phantom, but the spaces between you aren't connected. You can shout your throat raw and it still won't do anything."
"Huh?"
Muen jumped, immediately lowered his gaze, and then saw—somehow—a certain white-haired little girl in pajamas who had appeared not far from him.
"Mela... no—wait! You demon! How dare you disguise yourself as an old little hag—eat my blade!"
Muen froze for a moment, then yanked out Elizabeth and launched a practiced cross-slash straight at the white-haired little girl.
And then...
His head flew off, exactly as expected.
"Kid, it's only been a few days and you've gotten bolder."
Mela, sucking on a strawberry lollipop, shot Muen a half-smile and hooked a finger, making his severed head spin in the air like a helicopter.
"What, can't wait to become a traitorous disciple who turns on their master?"
"Misunderstanding! Total misunderstanding!"
Muen's head, floating in midair, yelled in a panic.
"I thought you were someone disguising themselves as Teacher Mela, so I struck! You see, in this kind of clueless situation, you have to stay alert, right?!"
"That's your excuse for attacking your teacher?"
"Teacher Mela is wise and mighty, unmatched in strength, cute and cool—if it were really you, even if I went all-out, how could I possibly hurt even a single hair on your head?"
"Heh... I'll take it as sincere, then."
Mela flicked her hand casually, and Muen's head finally snapped back into place.
He hurriedly reached up and felt around his neck. When he found nothing wrong, he let out a long breath.
Still had no idea how that move worked. The only thing to say was: a Grand Archmage at the Origin tier really was terrifying.
"Why are you here too, Teacher Mela?"
Muen blinked, then quickly reacted.
"Did you pull me in?"
"Yes."
"Why?" ƒrēewebnovel.com
"I think... as my disciple, you should see this too."
"This?"
Muen looked toward the golden giant tree.
"Do you remember the legend about «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» the First King?"
"The First King... the founder of the Leopold Empire?"
"Mm."
"Celicia told me... I remember. He was someone who lived at the end of that great chaotic era a thousand years ago. Back then, chaos already showed signs of ending, but it wasn't completely over yet. So the First King stepped forward and prayed to the golden holy tree in the lake for power, hoping to end the chaos completely. In the end, he succeeded. He received the King's Sword bestowed by the holy tree, and with that he established the Empire."
Muen paused.
"So it's this tree?"
"This is only a reflection from a thousand years ago. But if you insist... you could say it is," Mela answered softly.
On the tranquil lake, beneath the golden holy tree, nine figures appeared at some point.
They were men and women, fat and thin, all different shapes—some even with nonhuman traits. Yet Muen felt...
They seemed familiar.
"These are... the Glory Knights who once followed the First King?"
That deep, weathered, battle-hardened aura made their identities easy to guess. As for the familiarity... it was because there were still statues of them in the Imperial Council Hall, and that long table in the council had once been where they and the First King discussed matters.
But compared to the beautified statues, these figures—each stained with blood, faces exhausted yet still resolute—felt far more real. They were no longer the flawless, halo-crowned perfection depicted by sculpture and legend.
And before those knights, at the foremost position, stood a silver-haired man.
Calling it silver was almost inaccurate—it was closer to dead, bleak white. His complexion was equally pale. His armor was worn and battered, dust-laden from the road, yet it still couldn't conceal his handsome features, nor that leader's presence that seemed inborn.
"That... is the First King?"
"Yes. That's the First King. Not just the Empire's First King—if you count from that era of great chaos that nearly wiped out human civilization, he was also humanity's First King, the First King after the chaos ended."
"So the rumor is true."
"Of course it's true. It was never a rumor. It's the truth passed down through the imperial royal line, generation after generation. It's just..."
"Just what?"
"Keep watching," Mela sighed softly and said no more.
Muen's focus stayed on the First King.
"Revered holy tree... noble deity of supreme goodness... weaver of order within the unstained lake..."
The First King knelt on one knee before the golden holy tree and prayed sincerely.
"Please grant me the power to pacify this troubled age and bring chaos to an end."
Wuu—
Golden branches and leaves drifted gently, like a song drawn out and lingering.
As if receiving some kind of response, the First King and the Glory Knights behind him all cut their own wrists, letting their blood flow into the clear lake.
【We swear, here and now.】
【With our blood, we will reforge glory and order.】
【Life after life, a thousand lives, ten thousand generations, never-ending.】
【So long as my blood remains, so shall order and glory remain!】
This was... the First King's oath.
The solemn vow echoed, and endless sacred radiance descended from the heavens. freeweɓnovel.cøm
Golden branches lowered. Light gathered. Before everyone's eager eyes, it gradually took shape...
And became a sword.
The King's Sword.
The First King drew the King's Sword, and it was like dawn breaking through darkness.
Watching that scene, Muen's expression couldn't help turning solemn.
"The First King—and those knights—were incredible."
"Of course they were. Being granted the holy tree's power itself proves they were sincere enough, steadfast enough, and outstanding enough."
Mela said, "The holy tree gave them a sword, but in the end, the ones who swung that sword were still them."
"Like... devout believers receiving power from a deity? So the holy tree is a deity too?"
"Yes. A deity."
Mela's lips curved slightly, as if there was deeper meaning there.
"What a waste."
Muen shook his head.
"Our ancestors followed the First King and built the Empire, but the descendants of those Glory Knights have rotted into this. They even seem to have twisted their ancestors' oath, thinking that 'glory forever' means their privileges and wealth forever."
"They've enjoyed themselves for a few hundred years. If they didn't rot into worms, that would be weird."
"Fair..."
At that, Muen frowned, rubbing his chin.
"But... sorry. I still don't get what you meant by 'it's just...' earlier. You pulled me in just to show me how mighty and handsome Celicia's ancestor was, so that in the future it'll feel even more justified for me to kneel under Celicia's skirt?"
"Tsk. Kid, you really have no patience."
Mela rolled her eyes at Muen, crunched the lollipop in her mouth with a vicious bite, then pinched the wooden stick between her fingers and lightly tossed it.
"And did you miss the point completely?"
"What point—"
Muen was about to ask, but his words cut off abruptly.
Because as the wooden stick fell into the lake and ripples spread...
The reflection in the water changed.
Above the lake, the holy tree was still sacred and noble.
But in the lake's reflection, the blood that the First King and the knights had poured in earlier had settled—and it was...
Gradually turning murky and black, stinking and foul.
No—more than just a few streaks of blood. At this moment, at the bottom of this once-clear lake, countless blood-red stains appeared out of nowhere, then rapidly turned dirty, gradually...
Spreading toward the holy tree.
"Over these thousand years, what fell wasn't only the blood of glory."
In Mela's amber eyes, the old light and shadow reflected back. Her expression was complicated as she sighed.
"The holy tree governs order. In that chaos, it was already barely holding on. And the First King's prayer, too vast, too enormous...
In the end..."
Mela pointed at that wooden stick floating on the lake.
"It became the final straw that broke the camel's back."
Wuu—
A sharp, wailing howl rose up from the lake.
Countless corpses and bones surged in, climbing upward along the golden giant tree's root system. Rotting flesh wove itself into a cloak of death, draping carelessly over the soil where it took root.
Souls wailed and wept. They were pierced by sacred branches and hung high—dense, countless—empty, pained eyes staring into nothingness, mouths muttering curses at the living.
The most holy radiance was still dazzling. The crystalline trunk was still sacred.
But the pollution derived from that enormous prayer stirred the darkness that had long been buried at the lake's bottom, and in the end, here it sketched out this hideously monstrous reflection of a god.
Its name was—
The Evil God: the Fallen Holy Tree.
