“Your Highness, the First Princess has just arrived outs──”
Elaine, the First Princess, was faster than sound—at least in most cases. Before Agent C’s warning could even reach Irid, she had already appeared in his small, shabby office.
One could say that the most noticeable change in Elaine after Crazy Wizard’s therapy was her silence. Her mastery over wind manipulation had reached such a level that she moved with absolute stealth.
Which meant it was already too late. Too late to activate the thirteen layers of security measures in Irid’s office!
“Irid, my dear brother!”
“Let me remind you, I am already twenty-one. I will no longer tolerate being treated like a child without proper respect for mutual⋯⋯ mph!”
“It’s been ages since we last met, and this is how you greet me? Come here, you.”
The Imperial Centrifuge maneuver was executed with surgical precision—applying just enough respiratory compression to spin him thirteen times.
⋯⋯⋯⋯.
Irid pressed a hand on his aching back and grumbled with a sulky face. (In his mind, he thought he was exuding a cold and icy. In reality, Elaine saw only a sulky brother.)“So, what is it?”
“Along with the latest report on the Eastern Front, I think it’s about time we start laying the groundwork behind the scenes. While we have agreed that you will become Emperor, our vassals haven’t, have they?”
Elaine rested her chin against a finger, watching as Irid gave a slow nod. Weren’t they supposed to be siblings who didn’t get along in public?
The rough plan was simple: maintain the illusion that they were opposing each other, only to suddenly reconcile at the perfect moment and push Irid onto the throne.
However, not everyone would accept that without resistance. Political strife was inevitable, and their staff would likely suffer severe mental whiplash.
Why choose Irid, who supposedly lacked the charisma to rule as the Emperor?
VS
Why choose Elaine, whose reputation was built on bloodshed as the Emperor?
The factions would tear each other apart—only to be informed overnight that the siblings were now on the same team. Naturally, there would be pushback.
So, a soft buffer was necessary.
At the very least, their closest aides needed to be in on the plan. Furthermore, they had to create an undercurrent of potential cooperation among their factions. This meeting was the first step in that direction.
“Irid, could I ask you for a favor?”
“Speak.”
“I have a knight I care for deeply who wishes to participate in the Hero Selection Tournament. She’s a bit unstable, so I’d love to accompany her, but I can’t abandon the Eastern Front.”
“A good excuse. Given your well-known devotion to your knights, it wouldn’t seem odd for you to seek even an ‘enemy’s’ assistance on her behalf.”
Elaine chuckled softly. Her laughter was warm, but beneath it, Irid detected a faint trace of bitterness.
“I’ll admit, it is a convenient excuse. But I genuinely wanted to ask for your help. As you know⋯⋯ many who reach the stage of Metamorphosis tend to be unstable.”
“I’ll offer as much support as I can. Am I to help her win the Hero Selection Tournament?”
“Eueung, no. Quite the opposite, actually.”
Tuck.
Elaine tapped a stack of papers before sliding it across the desk. At the top of the document was a portrait of a blonde-haired woman and an extensive list of achievements.
Deputy Commander of the Eastern Front Purification Squad in the 『Azure Wind Knight Order』, Cicel Yurensto.
Eight solo closures of demonic dimensional gates. Participation in 132 purification missions. Single-handedly eliminating Metamorphosis-class demons. The sole survivor of the Fortress of No Return.
Her record was nothing short of extraordinary. She was even listed as a potential candidate for Sublimation.
Cicel Yurensto’s power was among the greatest in the vast Empire. Or at least, it had been.
Elaine’s finger stopped at the very bottom of the glowing record. There, clinging to the page like stubborn mold, were the words:
“Three-month deployment suspension due to illness.”
Irid noticed a pattern the moment he read those words.
Cicel Yurensto’s once-brilliant achievements had gradually begun to fade. Despite her youth, her performance had steadily declined. It was odd.
If it wasn’t out of complacency, then there could only be one explanation⋯⋯.
Tuck.
Elaine flipped the documents over, revealing the blank backside of the brilliant career. It looked empty. With heavy eyes, she spoke from the heart.
“I want Cicel to fail the Hero Selection Tournament… and retire.”
===============================================================
Clop clop, neighhhh.
The soft whicker of a horse accompanied the arrival of a small carriage in front of the modest inn, 『Bear and Song』. From it stepped a tall woman.
She stood at 176cm, her poised stance and long, elegant legs exuding an unmistakable strength.
Everything about her—her sharp brows, dignified purple eyes, and presence—made her seem like a knight plucked straight from the pages of a fairy tale.
Since 『Bear and Song』 was a disguised base, a fully armored knight would have drawn too much attention. Thus, Cicel had opted for casual attire instead of her armor.
Even so, her disciplined body and the aura of sheer power she carried made it obvious to all that she was a knight.
Despite sharing the same lineage, her presence was completely different from a certain mage in the Violet Tower. It was like comparing the sun to a shadow.
Her chestplate had always been pretty slim—but then again, why would a seasoned executioner of war need the excess weight, especially from an unnecessary clump of fat? It would only hinder her movements.
The First Princess was an exceptional anomaly who achieved great things despite such hindrances—not because of her chest, but because of her sheer capability.
Cicel Yurensto looked up at the shabby façade of the inn and murmured to herself:
“So, this is the Second Prince’s residence. How humble. It seems he values practicality over aesthetics, just like the First Princess. They do say blood runs thicker than water⋯⋯.”
Elaine had always shared tents with her knights, sleeping in the same barracks, leading them through the bloodiest of battlefields. What other ruler could claim such dedication? It was why Cicel had pledged her loyalty so completely.
Did Irid possess that same spirit? If so, the empire’s future would be bright indeed.
“Thank you. You may go now.”
“Yep.”
The carriage driver nodded.
Clip clop.
The carriage rolled away, leaving Cicel standing alone. She took a deep breath and turned toward the⋯⋯.
“Eum.”
Something felt off.
What was this strange emptiness gnawing at her?
Was it the absence of Lady Elaine at her side, leaving a void in her heart?
Or was it the unease of leaving the Eastern Front, worrying about the comrades still fighting on without her?
Or…
Her hands and shoulders felt oddly light.
“Ah.”
Her armor. Her zweihänder.
She had taken off her armor, but of course, she had packed them—stored neatly in the wooden box inside the carriage. Along with the rest of her belongings.
And just now, Cicel had personally sent that very carriage away without unloading her belongings.
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
Cicel Yurensto suddenly jolted back to her senses, then broke into a tearful run in the direction the carriage had disappeared.
“W-Wait! Driver, wait! There is something I forgot to unloooooaaad⋯⋯!!”
In the end, it took Cicel thirty minutes to chase down the carriage and retrieve her things.
When Irid received word that the knight had arrived outside the inn but still hadn’t entered even after half an hour, he frowned, thinking, “Is she trying to play mind games with me?”
If Crazy Wizard had seen this, he would have laughed and said, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
===============================================================
“Victory to the Eastern Front! This is Cicel Yurensto, Deputy Commander of the 『Azure Wind Knight Order』. It is an honor to stand before the Empire’s most noble bloodline and rightful heir to the Dragonheart.”
“Keep it brief next time. I hate wasting time.”
Translation: I hate wasting time, so why were you late by thirty minutes?
“Yes, as you command.”
“It’s nice that you at least respond quickly.”
Translation: Why can’t you move as fast as you speak?
Irid, fluent in the unspoken language of noble etiquette, attempted to weave subtle jabs into the conversation. However, Cicel Yurensto remained steadfast in her knightly composure, seemingly oblivious to his jabs.
It had to be one of two things—either she was a straightforward martial artist with no ties to the world of political maneuvering, or she was a highly skilled player pretending ignorance behind an impenetrable “I know nothing” façade.
Testing the waters, Irid casually posed a question.
“I heard reports of you chasing after a carriage.”
“⋯⋯Uh, there was a slight mistake there.”
Blush.
Her knightly demeanor remained intact, but her face flushed red, almost like a boiled octopus. Come to think of it, the Purple Magic Tower Master wasn’t great at controlling her facial expressions either. Must be genetics.
If she couldn’t even mask her emotions properly, this was likely an honest mistake rather than some calculated ploy. With that thought, Irid silently decided to let it slide.
“Do you understand why you’re here—the real reason?”
“Ah, yes. I was told Lady Elaine extended this opportunity to me. That there will be many strong contenders gathering for the Hero Selection Tournament, and that with so much happening outside of combat, it would be difficult for her to manage everything alone⋯⋯.”
So, Cicel only knew the surface-level reason.
She was unaware that Elaine wanted her to retire. She had no idea of the political undercurrents at play. Her sole focus was on the tournament.
It was strange.
The Yurensto family was a relatively new noble house, but still prestigious enough that Cicel should have received a proper education in political affairs.
Irid recalled a past encounter with another daughter of the Yurensto family during a diplomatic meeting. She had been eager to secure a marriage alliance with the Imperial Family to elevate her status, so Irid had swiftly cut the meeting short after exchanging a few formal pleasantries.
Still, that woman had shown an understanding of political nuance and etiquette—skills that could be taught.
So why was Cicel so glaringly naive?
Now that he thought about it, the same could be said of the Purple Magic Tower Master. Was this difference intentional? A deliberate policy within the Yurensto household? Or⋯⋯ had Cicel simply never been educated in the first place?
No, that wasn’t what mattered.
Irid tapped his forehead lightly with a finger. The inner workings of the Yurensto family weren’t his concern. What mattered was Cicel Yurensto as an individual.
Her goal was clear. Now, only the deeper questions remained.
He went straight to the heart of the matter.
“Why do you want to become the Hero?”
“⋯⋯That, is because⋯⋯.”
For a moment, Irid couldn’t completely decipher the complex array of emotions flickered across Cicel’s face.
Unlike Crazy Wizard, Irid wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t capable of analyzing expressions down to the fraction of a second with expert insight. But he wasn’t blind either. He could sense things faintly.
His gaze fell upon the withering orchid in the corner of the room.
“I am ashamed to admit this, but I have fallen ill. My body is no longer what it once was, and my Metamorphosis output is weakening. Soon, I will no longer be fit to serve as a knight.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
Life and death. Every living being was born, grew old, fell ill, and eventually died. It was an inescapable fate all beings must eventually face.
But for some, that fate came far too soon.
“They say it is because⋯⋯ my Metamorphosis is malformed. I have been told that it consumes my soul. Neither a Priest nor a Wizard can heal the scars left behind.”
“My sister’s Metamorphosis had a self-destructive(自壞) function as well. Hers was limited to damaging her body, but… there’s something worse than that?”
“Yes.”
Was there a form of Metamorphosis capable of burning even one’s soul? If so, that would explain Cicel Yurensto’s extraordinary. It was an undeniable truth—sacrifice made one stronger in direct proportion to what was given up.
And so, Cicel Yurensto fought, even as she was dying.
Her fierce battles on the Eastern Front had nearly extinguished the candle of her life, leaving her as a knight with precious little time left. This was her final hope.
“But I’ve heard the Hero is granted unlimited Divine Power from the Goddess. The priests dismissed it as impossible, but perhaps the Goddess⋯⋯.”
“⋯⋯Might be able to heal your soul. That is what you are thinking. And that is why you want to become the Hero.”
“Yes, Your Highness. You are correct.”
Cicel nodded quietly.
It was understandable.
The yearning to reclaim what had been lost was a desire anyone might harbor. Yet, there was one fundamental truth that could not be ignored.
“Let’s say a miracle occurs, and your soul is restored. Then what?”
“I will return to the Eastern Front and fight for the Imperial Princess.”
“And in doing so, you will once again chip away at your soul. No matter how divine the Goddess’s power may be, an endless cycle of breaking and mending will inevitably lead to a predictable end.”
Nothing lasts forever; everything has its limits. Even if you pieced together the fragments of something shattered, it would never be as it once was.
It would be nothing more than a temporary fix.
“You don’t seem too ill right now. You can walk and speak just fine. It doesn’t look like you have trouble living. Why not simply stop using your Essence? You’re already a trained knight.”
“A knight without Metamorphosis is weak. And a weak knight is useless.”
“It is not the knight who determines their own worth, but the one who wears the crown and stands above all.”
“The Imperial Princess may still find a use for a dulled blade, but a blade that has known sharpness will always long for its former edge.”
There had always been those willing to throw their lives away for something they cherished. Irid understood that kind of devotion. He, too, had a guiding star in his heart.
He could lay down his life for Centra without hesitation. That was why he recognized the cracks running through Cicel Yurensto.
And so, as he looked upon those cracks, Irid asked carefully—
“Why do you risk your life?”
Any answer would have been enough.
To witness Elaine’s reign. To believe that purging the Eastern Front was her duty. That her dream was a short yet honorable life as a knight.
Irid had neither the intention nor the right to interfere with the noble resolve of one with unwavering conviction.
But Cicel’s answer was—
“⋯⋯ Because I had to.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
It was hollow.
She wasn’t risking her life for a purpose.
She was throwing it away because she didn’t know what else to do with it. Cicel Yurensto was broken—a lost soul.
“ Tsk. ”
What good had this kind of loyalty ever brought?
Irid now saw Elaine’s true intent in a different light. The true reason she wanted Cicel’s failure in the Hero Selection Tournament was not—
‘I want Cicel to retire.’
But rather—
‘I want Cicel to live.’
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
Irid didn’t know how to heal a shattered heart. But he knew of a certain unhinged wizard who just might.
For someone who had spent his life surviving, he had finally found a path forward within Crownhall—one that would only be realized a hundred years later.
Elaine’s Metamorphosis had changed, too..
If it was his Dimensional Magic. Perhaps it could…
“Winning the Hero Selection Tournament, huh? A difficult goal. But I know a wizard⋯⋯ who might just make it happen. I will ask him for help.”
“A wizard⋯⋯ you said?”
“Yes. He’s currently living in the Holy City. I apologize for asking this right after your long journey, but pack up your things again. We will leave at once.”
And so, we went to find the Crazy Wizard.
===============================================================
So that was what happened.
***
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