CHAPTER 160

There were two men facing each other, bathed in the glow of the sunset filtering through the window.

Though the room was spacious and splendid, silence filled the space between them, with only the occasional clink of teacups breaking the quiet.

The heavy silence was broken first by the elder, who seemed older than the fading sunset itself.

"A five-year-old emperor, and a boy from the imperial family who didn't even know where he was."

His aged fingers, holding the teacup, trembled under the weight of time.

But his gaze, meeting the other's, remained as sharp and piercing as ever.

"This succession cannot be accepted. Marquis Sarnus."

The old man's face contorted grotesquely with deep wrinkles, harboring a rage that time alone couldn't erase.

"What are you going to do with the child, who is now the closest kin to the throne?"

"He was made the closest kin."

Time had taken much from the old man, but it left behind a keen insight.

Armand, once known as Court Duke, now renounced his noble title in favor of a greater surname, realizing that the old dragon before him was the root of all tragedies.

"Well, after enduring 400 years in silence, you must have been quite frustrated, Marquis Sarnus."

"..."

The owner of the Dragon Slayer Knights, who had protected the empire for 400 years from the dragons that remained, remained silent, his once-round blue eyes now revealing his inner thoughts.

As the sunset faded, casting deep shadows on Sarnus's face.

"I still uphold the empire as per the pact with King Praven, even now. Supporting this child is only to maintain the empire."

"Even if he lacks qualification as an emperor."

"Even if he lacks qualification, what can be done? Will you sever Praven's lineage?"

"..."

Armand had no words to answer Sarnus's question.

Sarnus would probably be pleased if Praven's lineage were severed.

His loyalty for 400 years had been maintained only by the pact with King Praven.

Alongside the pact with the old dragon, the only thing that could support his existence was the successor to the imperial throne.

"That cannot be."

The old marquis's eyebrows twitched, sensing the end.

In reality, the bloodline had already been severed.

All that remained was determination.

"The empire's beginning started with the tip of a single sword."

Beneath the mighty claws of the dragon, there once stood a man who shone as brightly as a star.

Kihano Praven.

Known as the master of swords, he wielded the destinies of all races.

"If it's the will of the Swordmaster, and the choice of the sword he wielded."

While the name Praven was associated with the royal family, it would be the sword named Kihano that truly carried on his legacy.

The sword he wielded had cleaved the most perfect of dragons and marked the end of an era.

"That would be better than the weak bloodline you present."

"Armand, don't go there."

Seeing the old man chasing fading legends, Sarnus couldn't help but feel pity.

The stories of the founding king, which had not been concluded, had become akin to fairy tales believed only by children.

"Even if it takes centuries to find, the sword must exist somewhere."

Armand's voice, speaking of the Swordmaster's sword, carried a strange conviction.

"It's beyond words, just like the dragon sitting before me now."

"..."

There had been a message from the knight whose whereabouts were now unknown.

Written in cryptic codes, the short message undoubtedly contained the answers.

Ausrina. The Swordmaster's sword.

Has been drawn.

That was the final message sent by the former captain of the Imperial Guard, Auguste.

※※※※

The boy born at the end of the dark alley loved the setting sun.

To the people living along the main road beyond the alley, it was the end of the day, but to those like him, it heralded a new beginning.

Whether Vlad's admiration for the stars in the night sky had been ingrained in him since birth was a question unanswered.

"Do you like singing?"

"...Yes."

Vlad, gazing out the window, closed his eyes silently with Andrea's words.

The sound of Kade's breathing on the bed.

And the sound of water splashing as they washed away blood and pus.

Amidst these sounds, the childish singing of the young deacon drifted into Vlad's ears along with the fading twilight.

"Josef was right, indeed. If we had been a little late, he might have suffered from aftereffects. Did he say this friend handles a bow?"

"Yes."

Andrea remarked that if they had been just a little late, Kade might not have been able to serve as a knight. The war with Gaidar had left scars not only on Deymar but also on Josef's knights, and Kade lying in bed was evidence of that.

"Thank you, Bishop."

"There's no need to thank me for what I've always done. It's been our tradition not to interfere in worldly matters, but..."

Andrea's awkward gaze was fixed on the black mourning flags outside the window.

Flags announcing the Emperor's death.

Knowing the countless deaths those flags would bring, the faithful priest could no longer turn a blind eye.

"That's why I never wanted a position like a bishop."

Now Andrea, who had to pay attention to the political arena, sighed quietly as he sat down heavily on the chair next to the bed.

As the two fell silent, there was a faint sound of singing.

The sound of a woman comforting someone shedding black tears. It was a hymn.

"...Originally, even if it didn't conflict with the Vatican, we were planning to send him to the Tramash Choir. I wanted him to feel the presence of God's voice, but unfortunately, it didn't happen."

"I see."

Although Vlad didn't say it out loud, he sincerely empathized with Andrea's regret.

Young beings who could unfold their worlds in any field were precious.

But the current young deacon lacked the appropriate mentor to help him unfold that world.

While Andrea was undoubtedly a great priest, he didn't possess the same personality as the young deacon.

"Still, he's remarkable. I've never heard of using songs to heal people before."

"Haha. Now, my comfort comes only from you and that boy singing."

While the manifestation of abilities may be unique to the individual, the healing nature of the song undoubtedly came from Andrea's guidance.

There must have been someone who led the child, which led to the resounding of the song now.

"Am I also a comfort to you, Bishop?"

"...Of course you are."

Andrea turned his head, listening to Vlad's voice, which seemed gloomy for some reason.

The twilight had enveloped Vlad's face.

"Vlad of Shoara is undoubtedly my comfort and pride. Surely all the knights who taught you must think the same."

"Do they?"

Vlad's face, lingering in the twilight shadows, was smiling.

Even if he wasn't sure about the path he momentarily paused and looked back on, if the people ahead nodded, he wouldn't fear walking through the dark night.

"Of course."

Under the night sky, thick with the hymn of the young deacon, Vlad's laughter, now colored by the acknowledgment of his name becoming someone else's pride, shone brightly.

He hoped his voice would agree with that sentiment.

※※※※

Somewhere beneath the pitch-black night devoid of a single light, there was a group traversing an unknown path through the dark forest.

They were undoubtedly riding horses or traveling by carriage, yet strangely, no sound could be heard around them.

"Here."

"...?"

In the absence of any light, all that could be seen was the pitch darkness, but the woman stepping out of the carriage wore an even darker veil, as if she wanted to hide her face from everything in the world.

"As you commanded, we found this while searching for the cores of the spirits."

A knight in armor placed a shining orb on her hand and pointed his finger towards the tree in front of them.

For a brief moment, as a cloud passed by, the moonlight shone upon the knight.

Although he spoke, there was nothing hanging around his neck where something should have been.

"Lead the way."

"Yes."

Contrary to the eerie appearance of the group, the woman's voice sounded like that of a single bird.

It was a voice so resplendent that one might want to remove the veil and confirm her face immediately.

Following her command, the knights entered the forest, discovering a grassy clearing unlike the densely packed trees they had encountered so far.

"..."

And there, waiting for them, was a rotten tree, fallen with its massive trunk lying prone like the carcass of a giant creature.

"It's inside."

Following the guidance of the knight without a neck, they entered beneath the tree, finding an empty cavity within its massive interior.

Despite its immense size, the interior of the hollow tree was illuminated by a single beam of starlight, visible even through the thick clouds.

"...He's dead."

Though the clouds were thick, under the faint starlight seeping through as if piercing needles, lay the lifeless body of an unknown man.

The man's body leaned against a small rock, seeming exhausted.

The woman, after confirming the body, removed her black veil as if intrigued and approached slowly.

Slowly. Stealthily.

Without touching the ground.

"He's been dead for a while..."

Upon closer inspection, she noticed that the roots of the tree, already dead, cradled the man's body as if in a coffin, indicating his unusual background.

"The body isn't decomposed."

While the body remained intact, layers of dust suggested it had been there for a long time, and his clothes, when touched, turned to dust and dispersed into the air.

From the cold touch of the woman's fingertips, one could see the ancient royal insignia, no longer in use.

"And the sword he's holding..."

Despite the mysterious appearance of the corpse, the sword he held was remarkably ordinary.

However, the woman's expression turned astonished as she noticed the intense trace of a dragon engraved on his fingertips, more striking than the sword he held.

"Dragon's blood...?"

Examining the man's fingertips to ascertain his history, the woman, despite her unmoving heart, couldn't help but show a greatly surprised expression.

As if having squeezed the heart of a dragon, his fingertips bore an indelible trace of the powerful dragon.

"Who is this person...? No, who are you exactly?"

At the edge of the forgotten empire, within the dense forest, lay the body of a man, precious to the giant tree that housed spirits.

The tip of his finger, seemingly tired, held a powerful dragon's mark, unlike anything felt before, even after slaying all dragons in the world.

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