Hendrick could not possibly disregard the opinions of Florent and Ferras.
One was the captain-commander of the Royal Knightly Order, while the other was an authority in the world of magic.
Respectively, they could be said to represent the two pillars of Jinas’s combat power—the knights and the magicians.
Florent belonged to the Borley family, a lineage of Sword Saints that had endured for over seven generations.
Ever since the founding of Jinas, the Borleys had rendered great service to the kingdom and held an irreplaceable position within it, so if someone of such standing offered his opinion and Hendrick were to dismiss it outright without even listening, it would most certainly provoke the knights’ dissatisfaction.
Especially the 1st Knight Division of the Royal Knightly Order—not only was it the strongest among all the knight divisions, but its members were also intricately connected to the Borley family.
They were either collateral relatives of the Borley family or vassals sworn to them, so if Florent, the head of the Borley family, were to express his displeasure publicly, this elite knight division would likely respond drastically.
For this reason, Hendrick could not ignore Florent’s opinion.
As for Ferras, it was even more impossible.
One should know that this venerable old magician had already been appointed as a court magician during the reign of Hendrick’s father and had even been granted a noble title—even the previous king had shown him great respect, let alone Hendrick.
If not for Jinas’s possession of a Strategic-Class Magician, the position of Chief Court Magician would have undoubtedly belonged to this highly esteemed father of the world of magic.
If Florent’s standing stemmed from the Borley family’s generations of effort—from one Sword Saint after another who had built their glory through sheer merit—then Ferras’s prestige, authority, and influence were earned through his own lifelong devotion.
If Hendrick were to disregard this man’s counsel and do so without reason, then more than half of the court magicians would likely rebel on the spot—and beyond them, countless magicians of Jinas would also turn against him.
Should their dissatisfaction erupt, Jinas’s magic industry would effectively come to a halt—no one would be willing to craft magic weapons, armor, items, or potions, all of which were essential to the kingdom’s survival.
Such a consequence would be disastrous.
Now that the pinnacles of these influential figures had spoken to him with caution, how could Hendrick not feel as though he were riding a tiger, unable to dismount?
Yet, having been pushed this far by Riezel, Hendrick found himself unable to back down—unless Riezel took the initiative to yield.
Hendrick’s gaze turned toward Riezel, but it was at that moment that Riezel suddenly spoke.
"I’m glad to hear that from the two of you." Riezel said calmly, his expression indifferent. "But this matter can’t simply be resolved by lifting the confinement."
Meeting Hendrick’s eyes, Riezel’s face remained unreadable.
"I still need an explanation." Riezel continued. "I want to know why His Majesty the King confined my attendant without cause. I mean, there must be a reason I’m not aware of, isn’t there?"
It was an obvious point.
Any sane person would agree there was no way Hendrick would risk offending Riezel—a prodigy he had long sought to win over—without a reason.
To confine Lizbeth, knowing it would draw Riezel’s ire, was far too reckless and foolish.
Moreover, to deter Riezel from pressing further, Hendrick had even gone so far as to orchestrate today’s confrontation, at the risk of clashing head-on with him—something entirely at odds with the cautious deference he had previously shown.
Clearly, something had happened.
Something that had compelled Hendrick to confine Lizbeth, no matter the cost.
Riezel wanted to know the reason, or he would not be at ease.
Hendrick, who had been hoping Riezel would back down first, could only let out a furious, bitter laugh.
"Hahaha, so if I don’t give you an explanation, you will continue to raise your hand against me, Sir Brynhart?" Hendrick asked coldly.
If Riezel failed to answer this question carefully, the conflict’s level and scale could very well escalate.
Hendrick was, after all, still a king—and not just any king, but the king of a great kingdom.
If a king of a small, weak kingdom were to bow to a Sword Saint, it would not be shameful, but Jinas was one of the four great countries on the Akasha Continent, home to more than one Sword Saint and countless other powerful forces.
As the one seated at the pinnacle of such a country, if Hendrick were to lower his head so easily—even to suffer public humiliation at the hands of a Sword Saint—then he might as well abdicate the throne altogether.
It was exactly for this reason that both Florent and Ferras spoke up.
"Your Majesty’s confinement of a Sword Saint’s attendant without cause is indeed improper." Florent said evenly. "But you drawing your blade against His Majesty within the royal palace is also a crime worthy of capital punishment, Sir Brynhart."
"Why not have both parties take a step back? Let’s end it here for today." Ferras followed in a gentle tone of persuasion. "If Sir Brynhart still feels wronged, you may later submit a formal appeal and request an audience—there’s no need for such a severe confrontation now."
Meanwhile, Rohm, who had been saved by Florent and had finally regained his senses, struggled to his feet while glaring sharply at Riezel.
"Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Lightning Sword Saint." Rohm said coldly, clearly resentful of his miserable defeat. "Keep this up, and the only one who’ll end up looking foolish is you. With the Light of Heaven’s protection, even without our intervention, you’d never be able to harm His Majesty. Even if you defeat us here, the kingdom’s army still awaits outside."
Indeed, even though everyone present in the throne room was a major figure within the kingdom, the palace’s total combat strength extended far beyond this chamber.
"The 1st, 2nd, 4th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 12th, 15th, 18th, 19th, and 22nd Knight Divisions of the Royal Knightly Order are all stationed in the royal capital—that’s twenty thousand elite knights in total."
Rohm continued, then let out a cold laugh.
"Besides, the palace also houses court magicians who aren’t present here, numerous powerful figures led by the royal family, and the special unit known as Shadow."
"Lightning Sword Saint, this is the might of a country—not just any country, but one of the great countries."
"With layers of magic defense systems, control formations, countermeasures, and countless hidden traps, do you truly believe you alone can stand against an entire kingdom?"
"You’re strong, no doubt, but you’re only one man. Even a Sword Saint cannot single-handedly wage war against a great country."
Rohm’s implication was clear—if things continued like this, the royal family might indeed lose face and suffer significant losses, but in the end, the one who would truly lose would be Riezel.
To stand alone against an entire country—even the Dragon Sword Saint, once hailed as the strongest Sword Saint in history, had failed to accomplish such a feat.
In the end, that very man had perished, surrounded and slain by multiple Sword Saints, proving that no matter how powerful one might be, sheer numbers would eventually exhaust and overwhelm them.
Not to mention, within the royal palace at this very moment were Florent, Rohm, and the Old Sword Saint still lurking in the shadows.
If the three of them were to strike together, could Riezel withstand them?
He actually could.
It wasn’t as if he had never fought against three powerful foes at once.
In the Great Tomb of Nazarick, Riezel had battled not only Rubedo—known as the strongest NPC—but had also faced the ultimate defensive mechanisms of the 8th Floor, the endless armies of heteromorphic races, and numerous Floor Guardians and Area Guardians.
He had fought ceaselessly, through stretches of time measured in days rather than hours—it had been miserable and desperate, but he had endured to the end.
In the Lostbelt of Faerie Britain, Riezel had also faced Gawain, Lancelot, and Woodwose all at once—each of them beings on par with, if not greater than, a Sword Saint.
They were all stronger than someone like Rohm, capable of matching Florent or even the Old Sword Saint, and in certain respects, they even surpassed them.
Yet even then, Riezel had fought those three to the bitter end, until madness consumed the battle.
For that reason, even if Jinas were to mobilize its entire military might against him, Riezel would not retreat a single step.
He might suffer, he might fall into a pitiful state, but he would never collapse.
Of course, one should remember that he was now within the royal palace—under the domain of the Light of Heaven.
Not only was he unable to use magic, but his strength was also being suppressed, leaving him with barely seventy or eighty percent of his full power.
Under such conditions, facing three Sword Saints—two of whose true power remained unknown—there was no guarantee Riezel could last to the end.
However...
"Who said I was alone?"
Riezel suddenly smiled, meeting Rohm’s mocking laughter with one of his own.
Everyone froze in astonishment.
In the very next second, a change occurred.
*BOOM!*
Following a loud, roaring sound, the doors to the throne room suddenly burst open, as though blown away by an unseen force.
Outside, a lone figure slowly stepped into the room—into this sealed battleground.
"Egh..."
"Argh..."
Behind the figure, the knights who had been standing guard outside—arranged in tight formations—now lay sprawled across the floor, groaning in agony.
With her back turned to that carnage, the figure advanced steadily into the throne room, bringing with her a suffocating wave of bloodlust and pressure that filled the air in an instant.
"You?!"
Every face in the throne room changed color.
Not only Hendrick and Rohm, but even Florent and Ferras looked visibly shaken as their eyes locked onto the newcomer.
It was a beautiful woman, so beautiful that she seemed beyond the limits of any mortal understanding, enough to make any man lose himself at first sight.
Yet such a beautiful woman now walked forward indifferently, her slender hand dripping with blood, until she stood beside Riezel.
"Allow me to introduce her..." Riezel said calmly, without turning around, as if he had foreseen everything from the start. "She’s my new attendant."
Needless to say, the newcomer was none other than Euryale.
At some point, she had dispatched all the knights outside and, responding to Riezel’s call, entered the throne room.
"Say hello, Euryale." Riezel said softly.
Euryale lifted her head, her crimson, jewel-like eyes locking onto the one she despised the most—Rohm.
"!!!"
Rohm felt his heart tighten instantly, then recalled the Shadow Sword without hesitation—but in that very instant, a figure had already appeared before him.
*Swish!*
*Pu-chi!*
As Euryale’s jade-like hand swept through the air, blood sprayed across the room.
"AAAAAAAAAGGGHHH—!!!"
Rohm’s agonized scream echoed throughout the throne room, lingering endlessly.
===
[A bonus Chapter for every 500 Power Stones.]
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