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Chapter 130
She hadn’t brought her sword. Naturally so—no one would be allowed to wear a weapon in a place like this.
So in that moment of life and death, the first thing she extended was her hand.
“Kyaaaah!”
A scream rang out from somewhere. Armed knights surged toward them, murderous intent so sharp it prickled the skin.
Instead of letting go, Sillia tightened her grip. The Crown Princess’s eyes widened in shock. She clearly hadn’t expected this—no matter who she was.
‘I didn’t expect it either.’
The knights, flushed with excitement, shouted furiously:
“Remove your hand!”
“What are you doing? Seize that woman at once for high treason!”
Treason. There was no other way this could look. Sillia’s hand was at the Crown Princess’s throat. To others, it looked as though she had suddenly lunged and begun to strangle her.
Sillia ignored the shouting and focused instead on the flow of magic through her hand. The Crown Princess had only just swallowed it—whatever poison or curse lurked there—and Sillia’s grip was preventing it from passing down her throat.
“You must not move.”
“……”
“If you move even a little, the wine will go down immediately.”
The Crown Princess rolled her eyes, then lifted her hand—a signal for the royal knights to stand down. They froze mid-rush, startled. Some flinched, unable to stop their momentum, until someone behind them calmed them.
“Your Highness, are you unharmed?”
It was Swordmaster Ozka. He looked toward Sillia, voice tense.
“What is happening?”
“The celebratory wine Her Highness just drank was poisoned. Don’t let anyone from the Church leave this place!”
The high priests who had escorted Sillia onto the stage were already trying to slip out behind the platform. Ozka hurled his blade and shield without hesitation, knocking them unconscious with force so great it looked like he might have killed them.
“Can you spit it out?” Sillia asked.
The Crown Princess blinked slowly, then tapped the hand clutching her throat.
“That… will be difficult.”
Her voice had turned coarse and rough, as though something inside was scraping it raw. Speaking itself seemed painful. After a moment of silence, she continued:
“I sensed it the moment I drank. Something was in it.”
“I think I know what it is—I’ve seen someone affected by something similar.”
Sillia focused her magic. She could feel the sinister pulse of the blood-beast creeping into the Princess’s body—feeding on vitality, claiming a host, multiplying. The Princess shuddered violently, as if she felt it too.
“You intend to save me?”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
“If I die here, it would benefit you—and that child.”
“……”
“Wasn’t your intent to place that child on the throne?”
Ozka, standing a step behind, let out a strangled sound. But Sillia remained steady, meeting the Princess’s eyes.
“If Your Highness dies now, I’ll be accused of regicide. Even if the Church stands behind me, I handed you the goblet. That alone will be enough.”
Sillia glanced toward the nobles’ box at the colosseum. Guards had surrounded Diamanga’s seats. Fleur’s eyes were fixed on her, though Sillia couldn’t see what expression lay behind them—resentment, suspicion… perhaps distrust.
Or perhaps the same steadfast gaze he always has…
Despite everything, she clung to that hope—that at least one person still believed in her. And somewhere, unseen, Krondele would be watching too.
“…And if I’m accused, my people will be condemned as traitors and executed. I don’t make stupid decisions.”
“So you’ll save me to prevent that?”
“And because I have something to ask you. We need to talk.”
“Heh.”
Sillia sharpened her magic. If she pushed it further, it might even sever the Princess’s throat. The royal mages stirred uneasily, but the Princess firmly signaled them back again.
“If you neither wanted nor coveted that throne in the first place…”
Sillia remembered Molly and Jerry. Those she had saved—and those who had died before she could. Those erased by royal experiments.
And she remembered what the Tower Master once said:
“To tame blood is to tame the beast born from it. If perfected, it’s like creating soldiers who can regenerate forever.”
Had they needed an army that badly?
Sillia whispered:
“Why did you kill people just to keep your seat?”
“To kill people?” The Crown Princess chuckled softly, lips curling faintly.
“You’re right. We do need to talk.”
“Not now. The more you speak, the deeper the toxin spreads.”
Her voice was calm despite the chill creeping into her heart.
“Don’t speak—use your eyes. Blink once for ‘yes,’ twice for ‘no.’”
The Crown Princess blinked once. Her fingertips trembled—clearly the blood-beast’s influence.
“It will hurt. May I proceed?”
Blink.
Without hesitation, Sillia cast a spatial barrier, including Ozka within it to reassure the others. Understanding, he stepped forward, placing a hand on each of their backs.
“This may get dangerous.”
Without waiting for an answer, Sillia activated the counter-sigil.
She felt the magic tear through the Princess’s body.
‘I haven’t been idling either.’
Like everyone else, she had grown—through hardship, through battle. She was no longer who she was in Leman.
As Sillia pressed harder at the throat, the Princess winced. Sillia tried to pull back, but the Princess gripped her wrist tightly, eyes saying don’t stop.
Sillia nodded—and carved her magic like a blade.
Crack.
Something snapped. A thick black mass gushed from the Princess’s mouth. The moment Sillia released her, her body collapsed like severed string. A knight rushed in to catch her.
“His Majesty!”
Someone screamed. Sillia’s head jerked up.
If the Princess drank, the King must have as well. And not just him—others had toasted with her—
Gurgle.
Something writhed beneath the King’s skin. Screams erupted everywhere.
Those earlier screams…
She had thought they were simply shock at her attacking the Princess.
But what if they weren’t?
The cries grew louder. Sillia ran toward the King—
“Hahahahaha!”
A massive laugh thundered through the arena. It was impossible to believe it came from someone so long ill. Sillia froze mid-stride.
“To taste this here… How strange. I feel better than ever.”
“Your Majesty?” Sillia whispered.
The King’s voice rasped like metal scraping stone:
“Unexpected, yet delightful. All together, is it?”
His gaze slid toward a struggling priest restrained by knights. The priest screamed:
“We have waited long! You will pay for ignoring the Church—!”
“Give it to me.”
“…What?”
“What you placed in the cups.”
The priest blinked in confusion.
“You want… the poison?”
“Fools. You think it was an ordinary poison?”
“Your Majesty?” Princess Marcella whimpered beside him. Even the drained Crown Princess stared in disbelief.
“It is done. This was always the path. As my final decree as King—”
He removed his hand from his belt.
“Those who follow me shall gain eternal life.”
Something shot from the King’s body, striking the priest. His body crumbled instantly. Gasps rippled across the arena.
In slow motion, Sillia blinked. One word stuck in her mind:
Eternal life.
A lifespan without end, so long as mana fed the beast.
That had been the goal—not immortal soldiers,
but immortality itself.
The name erased from the secret archive had left only a family name: Ahaim. It could have been any of the royal line—Krondele, the Princess, the Crown Princess…
Even the King.
That was it.
What was happening in the palace wasn’t something a mere royal mage could fail to see. The Crown Princess couldn’t have done this alone.
She recalled the shard she found at the masquerade—the one she assumed belonged to the Crown Princess, who stood beside the throne.
But what if it belonged to the one who sat upon it?
Only the ruler could weaken the Tower’s wards, weaken Jotun’s protective magic, summon troops at will, call hearings so easily—
All this time, she had believed the Crown Princess manipulated the King.
She had been wrong.
“You…”
The word left her lips at the same moment the King’s body began to swell.
