Chapter 297: Why Lost In Time?

"Brother... I still don’t understand." Princess Zinnia frowned, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why was none of this ever taught in our history classes? Our tutors spent years teaching us about the monarchies of every era, yet not once did they mention the Kromwel Dynasty. I didn’t even hear its name until a few months ago—and from a novel, of all places."

Crown Prince Yohannes fell silent. His lips parted as if to answer, but no words came. Even he had no explanation.

Persius stepped forward instead.

"There once was an emperor who ruled the eastern hemisphere," he began. "He was ruthless, driven by an insatiable ambition to conquer. Kingdom after kingdom fell beneath his armies until nearly the entire Southeast bowed to his banner."

His expression darkened.

"But there was one people he could never truly subdue—the Kromwells. They refused to bend the knee, and for that, he came to despise them."

He paused, as though recalling a memory too grim to speak aloud.

"Then fate dealt Azuverda a cruel hand. During the height of his reign, Mount Etna erupted with unimaginable fury. Rivers of fire consumed the land while ash swallowed the skies. The catastrophe unleashed a monstrous tsunami that crashed into the eastern shores, devastating Estalis and Zura countless coastal settlements."

"The destruction was beyond measure. Only Northem and Westalis escaped the disaster relatively unscathed."

Persius’s voice grew colder.

"But instead of helping an empire and its people through the tragedy, Emperor Gringo Han saw opportunity. Amid the chaos, he ordered a merciless purge of every Kromwell he could find. Men, women, children—it made no difference."

"And when the bloodshed was over, he ensured their memory died with them."

"He erased their names from the records, destroyed their histories, and silenced anyone who dared speak of them. Generation after generation grew up believing the Kromwells had never existed."

Persius paused, his expression softening.

"But the Kromwells were a resilient people, and they were deeply loved by those who remained loyal to them. Many risked everything—their homes, their families, even their lives—to hide the survivors from the emperor’s reach."

He drew a slow breath.

"That is how the Kromwell bloodline endured. Not through armies or power, but through the courage and sacrifice of ordinary people who refused to let them vanish from the world."

Silence settled over the room.

"So... that’s what happened." Erina lowered her gaze, struggling to absorb the revelation. "I never knew... not even a single word of it."

Lara blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears welling in her eyes.

She had spent countless hours searching for the truth behind the disappearance of the Kromwel Dynasty. Every account she found spoke only of the Catastrophic Eruption and the devastating tsunamis that followed. None mentioned the purge. None spoke of the massacre that had erased an entire royal house from history.

Amelia had told her the truth before, but hearing it from Persius was different. His solemn voice gave life to the horrors she had only imagined. What had once been fragments of a forgotten tale now felt heartbreakingly real, and the weight of that lost history settled heavily upon her chest.

Emperor Gringo Han had been as cunning as he was ruthless. He had not merely destroyed the Kromwells—he had buried them beneath layers of fear, silence, and carefully rewritten history.

Yet no secret remains buried forever.

Ares, however, heard little of the conversation that followed.

The color drained from his face. A dull ache spread through his chest, tightening with every breath. Ever since he had set foot inside Hevenfort, something had felt... wrong. Every corridor he walked, every chamber and grand hall he entered carried echoes he couldn’t explain.

Fragments.

A throne room bathed in golden light.

The weight of a jeweled crown.

The voices of ministers kneeling before him.

The sound of children laughing somewhere beyond the palace gardens.

His pulse thundered in his ears. They weren’t dreams. They were memories.

His knees nearly gave way as the impossible truth crashed into him.

He had lived in this palace. Not as a servant. Not as a noble.

Not even as a prince.

He had once ruled this empire.

He had been...

Alaric.

...

Lara’s gaze drifted toward Ares.

He stood motionless, his face drained of color, his eyes fixed on nothing. Yet there was something in them she had seen once before.

Long ago. In another lifetime.

A chill ran down her spine.

No...

The thought came unbidden, absurd even to her own mind.

It can’t be...

Then Ares looked up.

Their eyes met.

For a single heartbeat, the world around her disappeared.

The palace... Persius... Erina... everything faded into silence.

All she could see was a dimly lit chamber bathed in the glow of dying candlelight.

A man lay on her arms, his breathing shallow, his once-powerful frame weakened by years.

Alaric.

She remembered clutching his trembling hand, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.

"Don’t leave me..." she had begged between sobs. "Please... don’t leave me."

Despite the agony etched across his face, Alaric smiled.

It was the same gentle smile.

The same smile Ares wore whenever he looked at her.

With the last of his strength, Alaric raised a trembling hand and brushed away her tears.

"My love..." he whispered.

His voice was little more than a breath.

"If the heavens grant us another life..."

He paused, fighting for each word.

"...I will find you again."

His fingers slowly slipped from hers.

"No matter how long it takes..."

A faint smile lingered on his lips.

"...I promise."

The warmth in his hand faded.

The candles flickered.

And the emperor who had once ruled the greatest empire in the world breathed his last.

The memory shattered.

Lara staggered back as the palace came rushing into focus once more.

Her heart pounded so violently she thought it might burst.

She looked at Ares again.

The familiar eyes. The same quiet warmth.

The inexplicable bond she had felt from the moment they met.

The promise.

It hadn’t been an empty comfort spoken to ease a dying woman. He had kept it.

A tear rolled silently down her cheek.

"Alaric..."

The name escaped her lips as little more than a whisper.

"...You really came back."