Chapter 319 : Chapter 319

Chapter 319. The Eldest Prince, Dorg

Dorg ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍staggered up from the high-backed chair. Captain of the guards Nevira, who had been quietly standing behind him all this time, instinctively wanted to step forward and support him.

Her ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍hand had only reached halfway before Dorg gently pushed it away.

“I ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍am not so weak that I cannot even do this much.”

Dorg ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍gave Nevira a pale smile. There was a trace of apology in that smile, as well as an unyielding tenacity that brooked no argument.

He ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍took a thick stack of files from his Storage Ring. Waterproof oilcloth wrapped them layer after layer, making them seem heavy.

He ‍​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍gently placed the files at the center of the long table, where they formed a stark contrast with the congealed black blood on its surface.

“This is the list of every ‘remnant’ in the Royal Capital who colluded with their interests.” Dorg’s voice was low, carrying the breathlessness of someone long ill.

“Some of them did not come to tonight’s meeting. But all the evidence of embezzled military pay and disregard for human life is here.”

He raised his head. Those eyes, which seemed to have already seen through life and death, quietly watched Sylvia.

His gaze was deep and exhausted, yet it also contained a certain resolute expectation.

“When I was young, I once traveled the world as well.” Dorg’s voice was calm, as though he were recalling someone else’s story.

“I saw the magitech factories of the Meriga Confederation, vast enough to cover the sky, with steam roaring and machinery moving in rhythm.”

“I also saw the Valeria Empire’s battle mage corps, capable of destroying heaven and earth. The union of magic and steel was enough to rewrite the rules of the battlefield with ease.”

His fingers curled slightly, as though he had once again remembered that pain engraved deep into his bones.

“If Astrelia does not change, it will be crushed to pieces by the great wheel of the age.”

“I tried, but the result is obvious.” He spoke softly, as tides of memory surged.

“Eight years ago, after I received that fatal ‘gift’ from them—this damned curse—my body grew worse by the day.”

Every breath he took, every beat of his heart, came with piercing pain, like the despair of having life drawn away bit by bit.

“I knew my days were numbered, and I could no longer be as forceful as I had once been.”

He tugged at the corner of his mouth self-mockingly, his gaze dimming slightly.

“In those years, I invited every priest and alchemist in the Royal Capital, but all of them were helpless.”

Countless times, he had woken in the depths of night, his clothes soaked with cold sweat, facing his increasingly gaunt, ashen reflection in the mirror. That sense of powerlessness had almost swallowed him whole.

“Because I lacked the strength, I began to compromise.” Bitterness seeped into Dorg’s voice.

“I foolishly tried to maneuver around them through moderate means, attempting to realize a peaceful transition of power step by step without bloodshed.”

He had once believed that as long as he was patient, as long as he showed enough sincerity, those nobles would eventually see the direction in which the nation’s future lay.

He had even lowered himself and negotiated with them again and again, trying to find even the slightest opportunity for reform.

“But clearly, I failed.” He took a deep breath, his voice filled with profound exhaustion.

“Jackals will always be jackals. Moderation and concession only made them greedier. It only made them think I was weak and easy to bully.”

“They treated my compromise as retreat and my goodwill as a bargaining chip, gnawing away at the nation’s foundation step by step.”

“I simply could not change them. I could only watch helplessly, amid illness and despair, as this country walked step by step toward decline.”

He had once been that spirited, ambitious Eldest Prince.

Yet in the end, he had been worn down by this pack of worms and his own illness until all his edges were gone, leaving behind only endless exhaustion and pessimism toward the future.

“Until I saw everything you did in the Northern Territory.”

Dorg raised his head. For the first time, a true light appeared in those gray, defeated eyes. It was sincere relief from the bottom of his heart, and it also carried an almost fanatical sense of release.

“You purged the old nobles, implemented the Prefecture-County System, and established the Magitech Academy... Everything you did was what I wanted to do back then but failed to accomplish, and later, what I did not even dare to imagine anymore.”

He had once been crushed by those obstructions until he could hardly breathe, while Sylvia was like a sharp blade, severing all the rotten vines cleanly and decisively.

“Only at that moment did I finally remember completely that what Astrelia needed was never a weak idealist like me, someone who tried to beg for peace through moderate means.”

“It needs a true wolf, one capable of biting through every obstacle!”

He looked at Sylvia, his tone incomparably solemn.

“The facts have proven that you are more suited to this crown than I am. What I can do for you is use this broken body of mine to clean out the most stubborn, most rotten garbage in one stroke.”

At this point, he turned his head slightly and looked at Nevira, whose eyes had already reddened. A rare warmth and guilt flashed through his gaze.

“Unfortunately, you have suffered because of me, Nevira.” He sighed softly, his voice filled with deep helplessness.

“You followed a short-lived master like me, and at the end, you still have to accompany me down this final road covered in filth.”

“Nevira swears to follow Your Highness unto death! Even if the road leads to hell, I am willing to clear the way for you!”

Nevira could no longer hold back. Tears spilled from her eyes. She dropped heavily to one knee, biting her lip hard. Her voice was choked yet incomparably firm, like an untoppling statue.

Dorg smiled with relief. That smile was very faint, yet it was enough to warm the heart.

Then he slowly spread his arms and calmly leaned back against the chair.

There was no fear in his eyes, only a heartbreaking sense of release, as though he had finally set down a burden weighing thousands of pounds.

“Come, Sylvia.”

“Take me away.”

“The history books will record it this way: First Prince Dorg, driven insane by many years of severe illness, set a poisonous banquet at Redleaf Manor on the ninth day after the state funeral and slaughtered the kingdom’s core nobles. His younger sister, Princess Sylvia, made a decisive judgment and led her personal guards to restore order.”

He looked at her, the corner of his mouth pulling into a pale smile.

“This will be the most perfect, most unimpeachable stepping stone for your coronation as king.”

Sylvia looked at her elder brother’s gaze, so resolved in its readiness to die, and at his open, undefended arms. She felt an enormous grief seize her heart.

After a long while.

Sylvia took a deep breath, and complex emotions flashed through her silver-gray eyes.

She slowly released her tight grip on 【Star’s Judgment】’s hilt. Her fingertips rubbed against the cold hilt, feeling those ancient and resilient patterns, hoping to draw the former kings’ decisiveness from them.

“No.”

One word, clear and firm.

Dorg froze.

Sylvia walked opposite him. Across the long table, her silver-gray eyes were now incomparably resolute, as though they had gathered the radiance of the stars.

“The history books will only record it this way—”

Her cold voice echoed through the deathly silent reception hall.

“The cornered traitor Prime Minister Moran launched a vile curse assassination against His Highness the First Prince before fleeing. The nobles of the Royal Capital unfortunately encountered the evil alchemical deadly poison Moran had left behind, and together with the First Prince... suffered heavy casualties.”

Dorg stared blankly at his younger sister, his eyes filled with astonishment.

Then he understood her intent, and could not help revealing a bitter smile.

“Why bother, Sylvia... I know my own body. At most, I have less than two years left before I go to meet the former kings.”

“To trade the ruined reputation of a dying man like me for your clean and spotless achievements through the ages is the most worthwhile deal for the country.”

“No, Brother. You calculated wrong.” Sylvia spoke word by word, without the slightest room for negotiation in her voice.

“A true patriot, a hero who burned away the last of his heart’s blood in the darkness for this country, should never be recorded in history with infamy.”

She reached out and picked up the heavy file on the table, the one stained with Dorg’s painstaking effort.

“You, Dorg Van Astrelia, will be remembered forever by the people as the Eldest Prince who fought the traitors until the final moment.”

Sylvia turned around, her figure standing as straight as a sword, her silver-white hair gleaming faintly under the dim light.

“This is my first decision as the future queen of Astrelia!”