The Quartz Throne (8)

“Hiiik!”

“Aaagh!”

The retainers and maids screamed.

Ansethus IV sat alone on the throne, bearing their screams on his back. He had drawn all the magical energy from within himself, desperately trying to rekindle the Light of the Crown to resist the invaders, but the throne didn’t so much as budge.

‘Is this… the result of my lack of virtue?’

After winning the grueling succession battle, Ansethus IV had completely let himself go.

Due to the nature of the Yaegas God tribe’s descendants, once the throne had a designated master, they could typically keep the position, no matter how much of a wastrel they were.

Even if the other siblings writhed with jealousy and bitterness, once the decision was made, there would be no second chance for them.

And so, Ansethus IV relished in victory. The status of a king, the power of a king—he indulged in all the pleasures he had to forgo as a prince.

Was this the result?

“Your Majesty! The outer wall can no longer hold!”

“The Naga, fused with the Nether beasts, are pushing fiercely…!”

“The Holy Knights are losing strength, and the white magic has weakened—they say it can no longer be used!”

“What should we do?!”

The soldiers brought in wave after wave of grim news.

“Deploy the reserves and rotate the units. Abandon every odd-numbered gate in the inner wall.”

The multiple layers of Coral Sahar’s walls were strong enough to be defended even if some gates were sacrificed. The problem was that the soldiers were far too exhausted.

“It’s only been four hours since we rotated with the reserves.”

“Then I suppose we’ll just have to suck on our fingers until we’re annihilated!”

“Your Majesty.”

“So this happened because of my lack of virtue. Who would’ve thought the end of the long history of the Yaegas God tribe would begin with me? The only thing protecting us now is the multilayered walls of Coral Sahar, crafted through our ancestors’ wisdom? Hahaha.”

Ansethus IV burst into a hollow laugh.

That the prophecy of the Age of Jupiter would begin its fulfillment by toppling his throne—Coral Sahar—first was beyond belief.

Then suddenly, one of the maids stood and began to walk forward.

“Forgive my impertinence, Your Majesty.”

She tore off her maid’s attire and stepped in front of Ansethus IV.

A stunning beauty with black hair and deep violet eyes. She stood a head taller than the other maids, yet had remained completely unnoticed until just now.

With that height and figure, she should have drawn attention already. If she hadn’t, then some sort of magic must’ve been at play.

“May I be so bold as to try sitting on the throne?”

“Hmm…”

The royal guards stepped forward, but she was entirely unfazed and walked forth.

“Are you Arael? The one accused of impersonating a living goddess?”

Ansethus IV wasn’t a fool. He could easily guess the identity of the woman standing before him.

“Traitor!”

“Your Majesty! If you command it, we’ll deal with her immediately.”

The guards were shocked and enraged to learn that the woman who had infiltrated as a maid was Arael. If word got out, they might be blamed for their lax security.

Had this been the Ansethus IV of the past, heads might have rolled.

But the current Ansethus IV had no intention of persecuting the guards over such a matter.

When he held a firm grip over the throne and wielded unrivaled power, he could yell and scold his subordinates as he pleased. But now, he too had to mind how he appeared to others.

Experiencing the transience of power firsthand, he looked carefully at the woman claiming to be Arael, and for a moment, felt the urge to hand the throne over to her entirely.

But surrendering without resistance would strike at the pride he held as the last heir of the Yaegas God tribe. If he yielded now, wouldn’t he be remembered in history as a fool of a king?

“I don’t recall impersonating anyone… but if people must believe that to find comfort, I suppose that’s not so bad. Isn’t faith and reassurance what people need most right now? Even Your Majesty, perhaps?”

“Then why not give the people that faith and reassurance right now? Dispel this storm and deal with those Naga. Do that, and the people will naturally come to admire you. Then I’d even consider sharing this throne inherited from my ancestors. Or… would you become my queen and share the crown?”

When Ansethus IV said this, Arael smiled.

She raised her hand as if signaling someone behind her to stand down. Clearly, she hadn’t come alone.

‘Seems her followers were angered by the suggestion to marry and share the crown. And yet… I’ve become so worthless that they’re offended on her behalf, not mine, even though I’m the one proposing.’

How low must they think of him, to react with such fury?

At that moment, Arael spoke.

“An honorable offer. But if Your Majesty allows me to sit on the throne for a brief moment, I can resolve this without further bloodshed. If I fail to do so, of course, the throne shall return to its rightful owner.”

“Haha, how generous. Very well. But as the final heir of the Yaegas God tribe, I will not hand over this throne so easily.”

Then one of the maids—clearly one of Arael’s followers—stepped forward and jeered.

“Admit it—you’re afraid! That if someone else sits on the throne, the Light of the Crown might actually awaken!”

“H-How dare you!”

The captain of the royal guards couldn’t hold back any longer. Speaking without permission in front of the royal court could result in a severe sentence.

But those blasphemous words had struck too deep a nerve to be ignored.

He vowed to hold her accountable. However…

Before the guard captain could even draw his sword, Arael lightly waved her hand.

She stood two steps away, yet—

A black shadow slashed across the captain’s neck.

“Wha?”

The guard captain saw his vision go black.

His armored body suddenly seemed to soar upward.

No—it was his head that had been severed, falling from his body to the ground below.

“Hiiik?!”

“Ugh…”

The guards who had just denounced Arael recoiled in fear at the sight.

That guard captain had been the strongest warrior among them and a renowned knight even within the capital.

Those who saw such a man killed in a single blow, without resistance, were reminded once again of Arael’s terrifying reputation.

‘This can’t be…’

‘What kind of tragedy is this in the royal court!?’

And yet, amidst their fear, a sliver of hope emerged.

‘Could this woman actually be the one to resolve all of this?’

Outside the royal capital stood an army of Naga so fearsome that it would not be an exaggeration to call it the day of annihilation. The situation was dire.

In this moment, King Ansethus IV had effectively proven that he was unfit to occupy the Yaegas throne.

No matter how loyal one was to the king or how devout a follower of the King’s Church, the doctrine itself contained justification for criticizing the monarch.

“I have committed a discourtesy in the royal court. I ask for your gracious forgiveness, Your Majesty.”

Arael smiled.

It was a truly captivating smile.

“As a descendant of Emperor Yaeslat, I too have a right to claim the throne. Please reconsider. There is no need for innocent blood to be spilled, is there?”

Just then, the doors to the throne room swung open and a booming voice echoed inside.

“Deceit! Do not lend an ear to her words!”

The one who entered the audience chamber was Azadine.

“Hmm?!”

All eyes among the retainers turned to Azadine.

“Speak. What deceit do you speak of?”

“Those colluding with the Naga infiltrated the underground and conducted a wicked ritual. They were draining the white magic from the throne to weaken its power.”

Murmurs of suspicion rippled through the gathered retainers.

‘Of course. A member of the Messenger Clan demanding the throne, claiming descent from an emperor? There had to be a trick.’

‘But… the one saying this is also from the Messenger Clan, isn’t he?’

‘And is there even any proof? What evidence is there that a ritual was performed?’

A desire not to trust the Messenger Clan clashed with the desperation to be saved from the current crisis.

Ansethus IV hesitated, then asked Azadine a question.

“Do you have proof?”

“There’s no need to ask.”

Arael scoffed.

“If you’ve broken their ritual, then surely you can resolve this crisis with the Light of the Crown, can’t you?”

It seemed Arael had given up on even feigning false reverence. She was openly challenging the king to solve the situation on the spot.

“Yes! Please, resolve this at once!”

At that very moment, with everyone’s eyes on Ansethus IV—

Thwack!

A pitch-black steel arrow pierced the chest of Ansethus IV. The Shadowsteel Blade had run straight through his heart.

“Ah!?”

“Assassination!”

“Ugh…”

Azadine furrowed his brow at the sudden incident unfolding before his eyes.

‘They killed Ansethus IV!? Are they insane?’

Arael’s plan was surely to take the throne after proving the king’s incompetence—not to assassinate him.

To kill the sitting monarch and then sit on the throne herself would make it nearly impossible to be recognized as a rightful ruler, no matter how brilliantly the Light of the Crown manifested afterward.

After all, since the time of the Yaegas God tribe, the Light of the Crown had never failed to shine when one of their bloodline took the throne.

Everyone believed the Light would appear for any Yaegas heir. To eliminate the current king and take his place would be seen as a reckless and illegitimate act.

Curious, Azadine looked to Arael. Surprisingly, even Arael appeared startled.

‘This wasn’t Arael’s doing?’

“Kill the Messenger Clan!”

“Soulless murderers!”

The furious royal guards drew their weapons and charged.

“Damn!”

Realizing the situation had turned, Arael assumed a defensive stance to protect herself. But then—

“Return to your posts.”

A clear, commanding woman’s voice rang out. A tall woman with long silver hair tied back had silently approached the throne.

“…….”

“No way…”

Azadine’s eyes widened at the sight of her. Even Arael was caught off guard by the unexpected figure.

“Aldis!?”

A woman like a godmother to both Azadine and Arael—Aldis Jedaha—stood before the throne.

And she wasn’t alone.

“This is the royal court of Aldis Jedaha, direct descendant of Emperor Yaeslat. All shall show respect.”

An elf of tall stature, whom Azadine recognized, stood at Aldis’s side. He held a bow in hand—it was likely he was the one who had loosed the arrow that felled Ansethus IV.

“Master?!”

The very person who created the Kazas Grimoire and gave Azadine his strength—Elder Kazas—grabbed the corpse of Ansethus IV and flung it aside.

The man who just moments ago had been the most exalted person in Coral Sahar now rolled across the hall floor like butchered meat.

“……”

“Ah.”

The shock was overwhelming—even Arael was frozen stiff. While Arael’s faction of Messengers hesitated in confusion, Aldis sat upon the throne.