Fall (1)

Though Azadine and Karzen were absent, Manza-Jadek still had many guards by his side.

The regular troops of Vthuma guarded the royal castle in three shifts, while warriors from various provinces and cell sword guild members entrusted their safety to the Golden King.

Persecuted shamans, blood mages, and necromancers by the King’s Church flocked to the Golden King’s court, and he welcomed them as guests, making his castle an impregnable fortress no assassin dared approach.

But the invaders today were of a different story.

In the royal audience chamber, Manza-Jadek, whose massive body resembled that of a walrus, sat on the throne when a middle-aged man swooped in like a bird and landed lightly before him.

Outside, rain and wind howled, but the man had not a single drop of water on him. Beside him stood black-masked shadows holding long umbrellas.

The man had hair streaked with gray and emanated a soft golden glow from his eyes.

“Who dares enter the Golden King’s presence unbidden?!”

The royal guards shouted at the sudden intruders… but instead of a response, corpses and a waterfall of blood poured in through the windows.

The corpses were the castle guards. Astonishingly, the Messengers had silently eliminated most of the royal guards.

After the deluge of blood and bodies, a dozen shadowy figures had landed inside the royal audience chamber.

Each wore a bird-like mask and carried quivers on their backs, identifying them as members of the Messenger Clan.

The middle-aged man who landed first declared:

“I am Hathir, son of Emperor Yaeslat, rightful heir to the Eight Thrones. I have come to claim what is mine.”

“Rightful?”

Manza-Jadek chuckled bitterly.

“The King’s Church teaches that the Emperor is not the rightful sovereign. And isn’t it more important to prove you are truly his son first?”

“Are you insulting my birth?”

“We must begin there. Still, let’s skip the pointless insults. I acknowledge that you are the Emperor’s son.”

Manza-Jadek already knew Hathir’s identity, so he did not deny his bloodline.

“But aren’t you a bastard?”

“How dare you! You mock me again.”

“No, a bastard is simply that. And in the end, true legitimacy is determined by the one who sits upon the throne. Yes, by the Light of the Crown.”

With that, Manza-Jadek pointed to his throne. Hathir’s eyes sharpened.

“Are you offering me the chance to sit, then?”

“If sitting there truly allows you to protect the world with the Light of the Crown, I’ll gladly relinquish my kingship.”

“Your Majesty!”

His retainers were aghast. If he allowed Hathir to sit and the Light of the Crown accepted him as king, it would be over. The Yaegas royalty never let others near the throne.

If a rightful king sat, the throne itself would decide.

So it was for the Yaegas God tribe—but human politics didn’t work that way. Hence, no one who could threaten royal authority was allowed near the throne until now.

But was Manza-Jadek truly offering it?

Of course not.

“But anyone who brings Nagas, conjures this storm, and summons Nether emissaries with magic cannot be a rightful king.”

Manza-Jadek grabbed the royal scepter placed beside the throne.

It looked more like a roof beam than a scepter, but in the hands of Manza-Jadek’s fleshy bulk, it resembled a regular baton.

With arms thick like elephant legs, Manza-Jadek lifted the scepter and inhaled sharply. His body swelled even more, and bulging veins appeared under his skin.

“What do you plan to do with the throne?”

“Only to reclaim the rights we were denied under persecution.”

“What a vile spirit you have. You think nothing of those suffering because of your actions.”

“And did your kind ever care for our clan’s suffering?”

“At least I did. That’s why one under your command joined my forces.”

In truth, Manza-Jadek had lifted the Curse of Servitude and promised a future, which was why people like Karzen had left the Messenger Clan to become crows of the Golden King.

But Hathir only scoffed.

“And you claim legitimacy with traitors of our clan?”

“If they weren’t traitors, would they still follow your beliefs? This discussion is pointless then, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. Manza-Jadek. Surrender the throne.”

“You’ll have to step over my corpse first.”

Manza-Jadek swung the royal scepter. The massive rod split the air with terrifying force, targeting Chieftain Hathir.

But Hathir invoked the Twilight Step of Flowers, Birds, Wind, Moon. Dizzying shadows danced, effortlessly evading all of Manza-Jadek’s strikes.

Then he clapped his hands—and at that moment, jet-black steel arrows flew at Manza-Jadek from all directions. Remarkably, Hathir had his Messengers attack without lifting a finger.

“Ghk!”

Manza-Jadek swung his scepter to deflect the incoming arrows and used holy magic to raise a barrier, but—

Crack!

The roof beam-like scepter broke under mere arrows. The black arrows tore through the barrier and pierced his flesh.

“Y-Your Majesty!”

“H-How dare—!”

The guards drew their swords, but none lasted a single clash against the Messengers before falling.

“What a boring fellow. To take down the Divine King of Yaegas like this… no sense of flair, is there?”

Manza-Jadek slumped beside the throne without removing the arrows lodged in him.

If he pulled them out, he’d die from the bleeding.

Perhaps due to his immense body, the wounds barely bled.

But these arrows were Shadowsteel Blades—cursed—and would kill him even if left inside.

Feeling death approaching, Manza-Jadek let out a hollow laugh.

Surprisingly, his heart was at peace.

Back when he had struggled so hard to preach the joys of the flesh to the ancestral gods of Yaegas, no matter how drowned in pleasure his body was, he could never endure the pain…

Yet now, after doing all he could and failing simply because he lacked the strength, he found it refreshingly liberating.

“The arrows embedded in your body are Shadowsteel Blades, each worth a thousand gold pieces. To have so many fired at you alone… consider it a fitting honor.”

Chieftain Hathir spoke as he gathered magical energy before his chest, forming ominous runes. These runes, written in the language of the Nether, exuded a dark malevolence so intense that none dared even to look at them.

Manza-Jadek, who had already abandoned thoughts of life or death, clicked his tongue as he beheld the wicked Nether runes.

“You call yourself the Emperor’s son, yet you do this…?”

Manza-Jadek was appalled, but by then, no one could stop Hathir.

Hathir ascended the throne.

The throne of Vthuma had been constructed from massive ebony to support Manza-Jadek’s walrus-like frame, as though it were a platform sturdy enough to bear an elephant. When Hathir raised his hand inscribed with Nether runes and brought it down, the ebony shattered as if laced with explosives, revealing the quartz throne beneath.

As the power of the Nether script infused into the quartz throne, it began to emit light.

“Ah…”

The light flickered. The throne’s native glow was being consumed and extinguished by darkness.

The Golden King Manza-Jadek’s Light of the Crown had been among the most powerful of any king.

It was thanks to his sacred presence that people could even live in Vthuma, the heartland of the Naga Empire.

But now that radiance was gone.

In its place, sinister Nether energy poured from the quartz throne.

“What could possibly drive you to do this?”

Manza-Jadek asked Hathir, who had seized the throne and was corrupting it with dark power, in sincere confusion.

“With your talent and ability, you could have claimed the throne legitimately and made Vthuma your own. True, this land suffers from plague… but even a mere occupation would’ve brought you great profit. Why destroy it? Is Vthuma’s wealth and splendor worth nothing to you?”

Now that Hathir had tainted the throne with Nether magic, Vthuma would no longer be protected by the Light of the Crown. Already devastated by plague, it would soon become uninhabitable.

Why go so far as to annihilate it?

Then Hathir spoke.

“In the beginning… I thought that once I took the throne, I would rule justly and create a paradise here. I was even prepared for reverse discrimination. Because unless I cherished and loved the people of Hubris more than my own clan, they would never accept someone like me, born of Aragasa.”

“Yes. When a conqueror wishes to unify with the conquered, they must provide better conditions than before, even if it feels like favoritism.”

“That’s exactly the problem.”

Hathir crossed his legs atop the throne.

“There are too few Aragasa. Our people arrived here with only five immigrant fleets. Our blood has mixed with the locals; our hair, skin, and race have already blended. And if we go so far as to apply reverse discrimination for smooth governance, wouldn’t that erase the Aragasa entirely?”

“So that’s why you bound them with the Curse of Servitude?”

“Yes. Restrictions breed unity. If I hadn’t placed such constraints, they would’ve already discarded the name Aragasa, their pride, and melted into the people of Hubris—our nation lost forever.”

Hathir confessed, even in front of the Messengers, that he was the one who maintained the Curse of Servitude.

“Don’t you pity those who’ll be sacrificed for your nationalism?”

“It’s something I do to survive. When we slaughter cattle or pigs, we feel bad, but we still must butcher them, don’t we?”

Hathir had clearly made up his mind and answered without hesitation.

Hearing this, Manza-Jadek, still wounded, gasped for breath. The cursed power of the Shadowsteel Blades coursed through his veins like poison, gnawing at his nerves as if melting his flesh from the inside.

But still, he stood.

“I cannot allow you to go unpunished.”

“Don’t be foolish, Golden King. Honestly, I rather liked you. Among the Divine Kings of Yaegas, you were one of the few with a sense of propriety. I’d prefer to send you off without pain… Must you hasten your death?”

“Yes. At the very least… I must buy time.”

“Pointless.”

Hathir sneered at Manza-Jadek and drew a dagger atop the throne.

But at that moment, a black arrow flew toward his temple. A Shadowsteel Blade aimed straight at Chieftain Hathir.

‘Tch!? So that’s why!’

Only then did Hathir realize why the battered Manza-Jadek had suddenly risen to challenge him—but it was already too late.