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322. Childhood EP – Fragment

– “This is variation and free will. It’s not just a huge menu of choices. So, how about it? Do you still blame the gods?”

On the blood-soaked floor, over two hundred orphans squirmed. Amidst their screams, Reb thought.

Yes, it’s frustrating.

Cursing you for repeating time over and over while forcing a different path each time.

Just then, a wizard, whose presence here was a mystery, interrupted Reb’s thoughts. He locked his deep pink eyes with Reb’s and said,

“Alright. Now drop your sword. Simply open your hands and let it fall. Heh.”

“Ah, ahhh…!!”

Just as his vision began to blur, a horrifying asphyxiation sound echoed. Reb chose to tightly shut his eyes instead.

That scream couldn’t possibly be Leah, right? Yeah, no… it couldn’t be. So… is she still safe…? Ah!

Remembering Leah, his Tracking Skill indicated something near her legs. She’s alive! Reb felt a deep sense of relief, but—

“Ugh… save me… Aaaah!”

“Open your eyes.”

The cost of closing his eyes came back as the death of a random orphan. Reb shouted in desperation.

“Stop that!”

“Who asked you to speak?”

– Squish!

The wizard, standing at a distance, killed the innocent boy without flinching. He merely calculated the optimal amount of mana needed to crush such cell mass and moved on to the next target.

Next is the girl collapsed beside the Swordmaster.

Being petite, 92.4 PaL should be sufficient. With viscosity (P) and pressure as before… the variable is how much mana has accumulated in that girl’s body, but she doesn’t seem to be a knight, and she looks young, so I’ll hit the average from experience.

92.4 PaL.

This tiny bit of mana represented the value of Leah as decreed by Count Ogerton. To subdue that Swordmaster magically, I would need hundreds of these, so this option is far more economical.

The Count spoke again.

“This is the last time. Drop your sword. Just open your hands and let it fall.”

Thorough to the end. Reb groaned.

Should I throw away my sword? But would doing so mean an escape to live? What can I do right now?

With my eyes nearly immobilized, I could either drop my sword or smash the gemstone and beat that wizard to death. Praying that Leah is safe for the next turn… and Oriax…

The latter was the better choice. If I dropped my sword, I would only die. But at least, the latter had a chance of success. A 179/180 chance, at that.

Could it really be Leah’s turn next? With 180 orphans left, surely not.

‘…’

But to initiate action felt too costly for Leah’s value. One Leah is worth more than a hundred and eighty… no, even a thousand eight hundred… no, eighteen thousand lives.

This wasn’t a matter of calculation.

As he faltered, a trembling hand grabbed Reb’s pant leg. Reb stopped thinking further.

– Clang, bang!

“Alright, I’ve dropped it. I’ve done as you asked, so release your magic.”

“Not yet. Someone. Go retrieve that sword. Ah, and the necklace held by that one.”

A Royal Knight approached from the main hall.

Crossing the bloodbath, he picked up the fallen sword and tugged the necklace string that had slipped from Reb’s hand.

But it was a brief tug-of-war. Reb couldn’t release his grip.

‘Now or never? It’s not too late.’ He hesitated one last time, but then he heard Leah’s strained groans, stifled by pressure.

“Give… you have to give that…”

“…sigh.”

I’ve failed.

As soon as Reb released his grip, the helmeted knight turned back with the sword and necklace. Ogerton Count gestured at him.

“Take it to the King. Report that we’ve held off the invasion.”

A nod followed.

The main door opened. Indeed, inside a grand banquet was ongoing. Across the hall, Eric de Yeriel stood under the spotlight on the platform.

Upon seeing the unpleasant scene through the opened door, Eric silently obstructed Princess Elika’s view. Fortunately, the door quickly closed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Somehow you look more pleased than usual.”

Elika asked with keen observation.

Eric concealed his previous smile with a slight grin.

How could he not be pleased? He had just dealt with the Swordmaster that Lord Oriax had warned about. That lord knew everything.

‘He said a Swordmaster would emerge once I ascended to the throne. An old trick of the dirty deities.’

Lord Oriax’s warning had proven correct. Just then, he was consumed with thoughts of swiftly ascending the throne and killing the King to take over.

Count Lofero came trembling before Duke Tertan.

Tadian Lofero, one of our family’s knights, had been killed while escorting your grandson.

As Duke, who was caught in Eric’s web, remained silent, Count Lofero raised his voice.

– “Duke! I’m not questioning the fact that Tadian died honorably during his mission. But! The problem is the Young Lord’s attitude. How can you have soldiers carry off the body of a knight who sacrificed himself for me? Even if it was a Swordmaster! The soldiers said there were only seven of them… and we are discussing this!”

At that moment, realization struck.

The Swordmaster has finally shown up.

He was not only blocking Lord Oriax’s expansion into the Orun Kingdom but was also approaching me. Also, proving himself to be a dirty deity’s arrangement, he hid within the Granian orphanage. The three who ran north were probably fetching a Cardinal.

Ha ha!

But by the time the Cardinal returns, it’ll be too late. I’ll have ascended the throne and married Elika, greeting them with unshakeable legitimacy.

Killing those guys wasn’t part of my considerations.

Needlessly?

Since the Swordmaster did not know my identity, he flounced around like Count Hermann Forte of the Belita Kingdom, so there was no need to provoke him and reveal myself.

Facing off against a formidable opponent like the Holy Woman is also troubling…

So I assigned a wizard to keep watch. If he makes the first move, I’d label it a rebellion and handle it.

Lord Oriax told me I’d need to engage in a contest of patience for over a decade or even decades. Yet… haha!

That foolish Swordmaster acted with the recklessness of a common man without any political maneuvering. If he had been closing in with his reputation as a Swordmaster, it would have become troublesome.

‘The deity’s arrangement isn’t that remarkable, after all.’

The uninterested king scoffed and turned away. The only dangers that remained for me were Lean and Reriana… my younger siblings, it seems.

Of course, this was already a matter handled. Other than marrying Elika de Isadora.

There was no reason for me to wait until they drew their swords. I should cut off any budding issues before they even sprout.

Even if I couldn’t, I had my insurance… as Eric gently brushed Elika’s hand and said.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t call for the Cardinal at this joyous occasion. My father passed away just as he went on a pilgrimage…”

“It’s alright. I’m relieved you’re much kinder than you seem. I know it’s a hasty question, but… will you love and cherish me, Your Majesty? Even if my presence is due to bloodline?”

“…what a mischievous question. Rest assured.”

Elika smiled brightly.

“Then may I be greedy? There is something I wish you would give me.”

“What is it?”

“That necklace. Your mother’s necklace. I’ve studied a lot about Conrad… no, our kingdom.”

In the Conrad Kingdom, giving a necklace to someone had special significance.

Unlike engagement rings or wedding bands created under the auspices of the Cross Church, this was unique to the Conrad Kingdom, denoting that the recipients were “family” tied by blood. It not only signified a marriage but also indicated that they would not divorce or part ways.

A promise like this was usually made once children were raised to some extent.

“When we’ve raised our children, would we ever think of parting?” they declared before relatives and neighbors, swearing that they were a family. At that time, they would even make necklaces for their children.

Eric, who lost his mother at a young age, had never gone through that process. He simply kept the necklace of his sacrificial mother.

When faced with Elika’s audacious request, Eric de Yeriel fell silent momentarily. It seemed he had studied our kingdom’s culture a bit, but it was still far from sufficient.

There was no way he could give away his deceased mother’s necklace. Perhaps if it were a new one, but…

“I’m sorry, but that’s difficult. Instead, I’ll give you something else. Don’t be sad. This, too, is a precious item.”

Just then, a Royal Knight arrived below the platform. He was holding the fragment from Oriax that had been given to Palace.

So, without a second thought, Eric waved his hand.

Now, we would forever be happily under Oriax’s grace…

“Hm? What’s this?”

“…now I understand.”

The knight in the helmet muttered.

What was he doing? At that moment, Eric and the Royal Knights who protected the King looked puzzled as he threw off his helmet.

Bang! The soft sounds of music that filled the hall mixed with a metallic clang. The knight, with distinguished cheekbones, stood squarely amid the blessed wedding hall,

Sir Bart.

He brandished his own, now imperfect sword, removed from Reb, with jagged edges. Made from the weapons of former comrades who had departed first, that sword shimmered with a brilliant glow.

– Kill him.

The Apostle of the vengeful deity, the Swordmaster, has arrived. Sir Bart, having stealthily found his duty while avoiding Eric’s gaze, unleashed a roar of fury.

“His words were true. It wasn’t Duke Tertan… you are the culprit, Eric de Yeriel!! I can never acknowledge you as king!”

Sir Bart lofted a red gemstone high. Clink, the moment it reached its peak, he forcefully swung the Oblivion Blade.

The gem, which he could neither destroy nor toss into the sea, was deftly sliced by the glowing Oblivion Blade.

As Eric reached out and shouted, “Wait, just a moment!” that became his last command as the newly crowned King. The muffled cry caught in his throat burst forth.

– “Koj청한 ruam! Kuv twb mu을 잃었으 ku v 네 몸으로 yog li kuv 대신하 hloov nrog!”

“Eric? Why the… ah, ahhhhh!!”

“S-save me…!”

In a panic, Eric turned around, his skin cracking. It looked as if boulders were growing within him, straining until his flesh was pulled tight and ripped apart without a drop of blood left.

Left behind was only a solitary red stone.

Long ago, Oriax lost all the Minotaurs that had served him but remained undiminished. Thousands of years passed before he descended once more and survived battling Saint Azra. Unlike other deities who would perish without faithful followers, he was different.

A fragment. A part of me materialized to sustain itself, attempting to pierce the veil that separates god and creature. After long effort, Oriax cracked the veil and could look down upon the world.

First, protecting the fragment is my priority. Yes, there it is. The mana efficiency doesn’t appear great, but options are few.

At that moment, Count Ogerton, who had been approaching Reb, gasped. Trembling, he shook his head as if to shake something off.

“O, Okan… Okan-ta Tigopeyack!! Po… Pfrnon Bmuvekjaedi… Aaaah!”

An incantation used by ancient sorcerers. The wizard instinctively chanted it, but the opponent wasn’t accommodating.

Soon, as the pain eased, when the Count lifted his head, his eyes were filled with blood that sloshed around.