Chapter 550 - Art of Blade

In the heartland of the Latias Kingdom stood a great city. It was aptly named the Crimson Capital, the biggest city in the whole kingdom.

Its history stretched back a thousand years; it was founded by Athos, the legendary first king. Knight and dragon themes were prominent in the city’s aesthetic, fitting for a kingdom with a pronounced knightly culture and reverence for dragons. The walls, streets, houses, fountains, and monuments told a silent story of centuries past.

Few could claim to be this city’s equal, even across the Human Dominion.

Of course, the greatest symbol of the Crimson Capital, bar none, was the Royal Castle, where the Kings of Latias had reigned since the dawn of the kingdom. It was a structure that symbolized strength and authority. In a world of monsters and demons, the castle’s visage brought stability and ease to the common populace.

But things hadn't been exactly peaceful the last few years.

It began with the death of the last monarch, Lahar Ludwig Latias. The king’s mysterious death brought great instability. Not only had the king let the kingdom’s condition deteriorate during his reign in pursuit of debauchery and pleasure, but he had also failed to name a successor.

Meanwhile, many young princes and princesses were out and about.

Human nature took over, one bad thing led to another, and now nobody even knew what was what anymore.

Some said Latias was in a civil war, after having already been invaded by the detestable old enemy, the Harkelan Empire, no less. Hard to deny, even if every noble seemed to have their own agenda. The failed Grand Prix was not helping.

Some said it was a sign of the times. That Doomsday was near. Everything bad was because of the demonic cultists, and only those who kept their faith in the Goddess would be saved once Judgment Day cometh.

Some said this was a call for change. The old ways could no longer be relied on. It was time for the new to replace the old, to rise up against the antiquated fossils and light the fire of revolution.

Whatever the case, the citizens of the Crimson Capital held a sprout of unease in their hearts as they went about their daily lives. They went to bed hoping and praying things would be better tomorrow.

It was not to be.

Tonight, the people couldn't sleep. They looked at the Royal Castle with even more worries.

The castle wasn't on fire, but the sound of battle, the pulse of mighty Artes, and the tremor under their feet all pointed to one thing: something that was the antithesis of peace and stability was happening behind the castle walls.

An ordinary woman looked upon the castle and joined both of her hands.

“O Goddess... deliver us.”

She wasn't the only one. For the powerless, oftentimes, praying was their only course of action as the powerful shaped the course of history.

***

In the castle, there was an old man in a chapel. The weight of grief on his person was almost visible to those who set eyes upon him.

This man was Chancellor Soren. In the absence of the king, the highest authority in the Latias Kingdom could be said to rest in his hands. He had held the chancellorship for a long while. He still did after the crown of the king changed heads twice. He was an able, powerful, and respected man.

There was no trace of such a man tonight. The sadness around him was life-draining. He looked nothing like the powerful chancellor he was known the day before. Instead, he was like an old man who had one foot in the grave.

The reason for his drastic change was the news he received earlier today: his granddaughter's death by poison.

“...Sophie.”

In the chapel, the Chancellor stared at the symbol of the Goddess Estelle. He looked at it, but his gaze was hollow. He softly whispered the name of his recently departed loved one.

“Chancellor, the night is late. Please, you must rest. Let me escort you to your room.”

The knight had been watching the Chancellor since he returned, never letting him out of his sight, out of concern. A few days after Lady Sophia’s passing, the Chancellor had not turned for the better.

The knight’s name was Havelock, First of the Twelve Royal Knights.

That said, seven of their ranks had gone to the afterlife today, at the hands of the formidable Countess Grace of Stormberg.

Out of the five survivors, only three were able to walk around and not bedridden, including him. Even so, the bandages on Havelock’s neck and his broken arm in a sling told the tale of what kind of nightmarish battle it was. To the point that it could reduce a Level 5 peak to this sort of state.

Chancellor Soren didn't respond but he didn't refuse either when Havelock gently escorted the man to his chambers.

“May you have a good rest, Chancellor.”

Havelock said that to the Chancellor after they arrived. The words he spoke were also meant for himself and many others. Today had been a trying day, and that was an understatement of the century.

A restful sleep was what everyone needed.

It was not meant to be.

A loud noise rocked the castle. Their suspicions were proven true once they heard the warning shouted by those near the scene.

“INTRUDERS AT THE GATE!!!”

***

Eight people walked into the castle as if they owned the place. Guards and magical defenses barred their path, but the eight laid waste to every obstacle.

Of the eight, seven of them were Level 5! An utterly terrifying force had come.

However, even seven Level 5 should not have been able to invade the most important location in the Latias Kingdom this easily. Inexplicably, they seemed able to circumvent the various defensive measures.

As if one of them knew the ins and outs of the defenses, but it shouldn’t be possible, right?

For a soul-maestro as adept as Viers, it was.

The eight weren’t rushing despite being in the middle of hostile territory. They were led by Viers, whose steps were steadfast, as if nothing could shake his confidence.

Brave knights, or foolish depending on one’s perspective, threw themselves at the intruders, heart-blazing and Arte-dripping. It was all for naught. Viers’ cohort’s travel speed wasn’t slowing down.

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“Here we are,” Viers said before a great door, fallen knights on the floor in their wake. “I want you all in your best look. We’ve got a welcoming party, and you know what they say: first impressions are important.”

“Killing everyone is a more powerful message,” half-demon Raha'ak said.

As he said, Viers’ party hadn’t killed anyone yet. It was the leader’s orders. It would be easy, but Viers was looking ahead. Massacre wasn’t on the menu today. He also told them to refrain from damaging the castle.

After all, these people could reduce the whole castle to rubble rather easily.

“Now, now. This will all soon belong to an ally of mine. Killing all of his people is a no-no. Ready? Get your game face on.”

“We’re all wearing a mask, though.”

Viers pretended he didn't hear Clarissa’s words and entered the room with style: by kicking the ornate gate open so hard it flew off its hinges.

The welcoming party numbered about forty people: Chancellor Soren himself, along with the three Royal Knights, and a number of high-ranking knights. Their expressions were grim and battle-ready.

Viers was fully intent on making an impression.

Thus, the music.

As he approached the big room, music started playing. He had no instruments, but a touch of soul sorcery took care of that.

“I am the one, I'm here, Infiltrated.”

“Your time has come to be downgraded.”

“I've already won as far as I can see.”

“So keep your eyes on me.”

Truly, a powerful lyric, and it couldn't be more fitting. Viers patted himself on the back for his refined taste.

Enemies and allies alike look at him as if he was a star. A weird star, perhaps, but a star nonetheless.

It was peak!

“Vile hooligan scum! This is not a place the likes of you can enter! Identify yourselves, before your summary execution!”

One of the three royal knights, not even the leader, spoke with commanding authority. He was used to people obeying his words.

Viers assessed his welcoming party. Out of twelve, only three were Royal Knights, and they bore wounds from the earlier battle. The Chancellor remained in the back, behind his guards. The old man looked frail, but his eyes still showed a flicker of wisdom.

All in all, what a sorry state. That said, Viers attacked precisely because he anticipated this development.

These people were standing behind Viers and his objective. Floating on a marble dais, showered with a golden light, was a crown.

The crown of a king.

It was Croix’s father’s, and his father’s before him, all the way up to the first king, Athos.

Tonight, Viers was stealing a crown.

One day, the moon.

Hopefully.

Viers kept walking forward. He didn't answer the inquiry. He just hummed to the beat.

The royal knight who asked felt slighted. Viers was just a Level 4 while he was a Level 5. Not only that, a nobody treated a royal knight like this? Crimes upon crimes. His blade would correct these transgressions!

“Wait!”

Havelock, the First among the Twelve, tried to warn his brother. Not that he doubted the ability of his fellow royal knight, but the situation was too strange.

Why did it seem the Level 4 was the leader of the group? These Level 5s had auras that were truly threatening. Despite being outnumbered, they were outclassed. They only had three Level 5s while the invaders had seven, and they were all injured, no less.

This did not bode well, Havelock grimaced. Also, why wasn’t the nonchalant singer perturbed at all when his brother knight’s crushing aura bore down on him and a blade was on its way to his neck?

Too many things didn't fit in. But Havelock couldn't stop what was happening.

Instead of the Level 4’s head flying off, the royal knight backed away, screaming. A ghostly green fire scorched him from head to toe.

“I recommend you keep your distance – I'm combustible.”

“Keep on burning day and night – I'm unstoppable.”

“I'm searing hot – I am untouchable!”

Viers continued singing to the next verse. Oh, what a glorious feeling it was.

“Attack!” Havelock ordered. He gave the order before dread could seep into the rest of the defenders. The knights followed his command blindly. Naturally, Viers’ group didn't sit on their hands and intercepted. The battle had begun.

While the battle raged around him, Viers calmly walked forward, passing the writhing royal knight that was enveloped by his Soul Fire without sparing so much as a glance.

The burned royal knight saw the gesture as a higher degree of pain than the soul burn he suffered. He was about to assault Viers’ back but Clarissa sent him across the room with a slap.

Suddenly, the roof broke as four beasts crashed into the party.

Devakai Eagle, Devahu Turtle, Devanus Deer, and Devaros Lion.

All of them were Rank 5. The guardian beasts of the castle. The Chancellor activated them.

Their arrival was a great equalizer, but the Seven Warlords of Carnage met the challenge head-on. Only, Clarissa remained unconcerned. Her role was to safeguard Viers. Everything else was secondary.

During the chaotic battle, Havelock was squeezing his brain for how to salvage this situation. They were still in a disadvantageous situation. The singing man was still walking, toward the Chancellor!

Chancellor Soren was a Level 4 peak, so he was by no means a helpless man, but he wasn't a fighter. He never had to fight. People like Havelock existed to fight his battles for him. Meanwhile, the singing man had crushed a Level 5 royal knight with one move. Granted, his knight brother was already injured after Stormberg, but still!

Havelock was about to make a move but he was intercepted.

“Old friend. How I’ve longed to meet you again.”

Havelock’s heart skipped a beat.

“That voice... it can't be. You’re dead!”

Jordan removed his mask; murderous intent was burning in his eyes. “Not before you, friend. Now let's chat. There’s a lot I need to get off my chest. Especially about my wife and daughter that you left to die!”

Teslin frying knights in their full plate, Raha'ak transforming to his demon form, Guador crushing someone to a pulp, Yunis shooting four headshots with one arrow, Gosden painting the scene of hell, among all these cacophonies of murderous feast, Viers kept singing.

“Yes, I'm on fire!”

“Ignited by a burning desire!”

“Can't contain this ember though you try!”

“Despite all this time you try to stop me, I defy!”

“There's no bringing me down!”

“I am the one, I'll be bested by none now!”

“When all is said and done!”

“The day is mine!”

Finally, Viers came face to face with Chancellor Soren.

“...Are you with Princess Black, or with Prince Red?”

“...Did you not hear me, Chancellor Soren? I am the One.”

Viers passed him by and approached the dais with the crown.

“If you want to take it, you’ll have to go through me,” Chancellor Soren grabbed Viers’ shoulder before he went any further.

An iai slash cut the Chancellor’s torso and the man fell on his back. All his defensive Artes and items, as effective as wet paper.

“Ooooh, like frostbite permeates into your bones.”

“I'll be the thief that sneaks through, to topple all your thrones.”

“I'll keep on pushing all night through the storm – I'm insatiable.”

“Like an unrelenting swarm – insurmountable.”

“I'll outperform – I'm uncontainable!”

Viers tugged the crown with the tip of his sword, slid the circlet to the base before he rested the sword on his shoulder. He treated the crown not as a priceless relic that it was, more like a grocery.

“Good work, fellas. Time to go home.”

Viers flapped his cape flamboyantly as he turned. Walking the path back that was now wet with blood. There were still a lot of fighting, but he walked in the center of that battlefield like he was talking a stroll, utterly at ease.

“I am the one, I'll be bested by none now!”

“When all is said and done!”

“The day is mine!”

The Chancellor, lying on the puddle of his own blood, the song ringing in his ears, could only watch as Viers’s group went away.

The weight of his years, the weight of his failures. Soren did not know which was heavier.

“My King... I have failed you...”