Episode 174
The dark clouds engulfing the Imperial Palace began to release a black mist, which flowed down to the ground. The mist coalesced, taking on human forms, or rather, the forms of corpses, and began to move with a will of their own.
“Those insane bastards…!”
Elonia almost cursed aloud.
Discovering the truth about the chimeras and the phantoms had been shocking enough. But she hadn’t expected them to unleash an army of the dead upon the Imperial Palace.
‘And Dad isn’t here…!’
Lucius also clenched his fists, his face grim.
‘I was careless.’
He hadn’t expected them to return to the Imperial Palace so openly, especially after their previous failures.
“Ugh…!”
Llewellyn, who had only ever known a life of privilege, started gagging at the sight of the decaying corpses shambling towards them.
The other three held their breath, trying to understand the purpose behind this gruesome army.
“Aaaah!”
A misty corpse attacked a palace maid.
Elonia quickly drew her rapier, aiming its tip at the corpse, intending to destroy it with magic, but,
“This damn Holy Power…!”
The Imperial Palace was saturated with Holy Power. Just like in the basement of the Rossi estate, the dense Holy Power interfered with her mana manipulation.
Lucius stepped forward.
“Your Highness, allow me.”
He extended his hand, shooting an arrow of divine light towards the misty corpse.
The arrow hit its mark, and the mist dissipated without a trace.
But they couldn’t relax yet.
As if signaled by the first attack, more mist descended, enveloping the palace grounds. The mist coalesced into various forms, all sharing the common trait of being decaying corpses, and began their assault.
“Aaaah!”
The Imperial Palace was defended by Ravanta’s finest knights.
But for some reason, they hesitated, reluctant to strike down the corpses. And even when they did, their attacks seemed ineffective.
Elonia murmured, her voice filled with a mixture of anxiety and frustration,
“Why are they hesitating?”
“…We need to eliminate Tristan first. He’s the one creating them.”
The mist began to seep into the palace buildings as well.
She didn’t know why the knights were struggling, but they had to find and kill Tristan before the palace fell into complete chaos.
Elonia shouted towards the window, her voice echoing through the grounds,
“Hold your ground! They’re just illusions! Don’t hesitate, cut them down!”
All eyes turned towards her – the knights, the palace staff, even the corpses. Elonia, unflinching under their combined gaze, filled with fear, confusion, and hostility, shouted again,
“You will survive! As the princess of Ravanta, I take responsibility for resolving this crisis! You must survive!”
This was a battle of wills, a battle against time. The side that held out longer would win.
The people still looked confused, but there was no time for explanations. Elonia, without hesitation, turned away from the window and said to Lucius,
“Let’s go, Lucius.”
“Yes.”
Tristan was at the top of the Main Palace spire.
Just as Elonia and Lucius were about to teleport there,
[Ah… Ugh…]
“…!”
A man she had never seen before was standing in her room.
He had curly hair and blue eyes, but his skin was pale, his body emaciated. He looked more dead than alive.
“Is that another phantom created by Tristan?”
“It seems so. I’ll take care of it.”
“No, save your strength.”
Elonia pushed Lucius behind her and drew her sword from subspace.
Just as she was about to strike down the phantom,
“No, don’t!”
Llewellyn, who had been huddled by the window, trying to calm his nausea, jumped between Elonia and the phantom, his arms outstretched.
Elonia almost cut him down.
She gasped, horrified, and shouted,
“What are you doing, Llewellyn?! It’s dangerous!”
“N-no! You can’t cut him…!”
Llewellyn, his vocabulary failing him, just kept shaking his head, repeating “no,” tears welling up in his large golden eyes like a child’s.
Elonia, confused, looked at Alberich, but he was no help. He was staring intently at the phantom, his face filled with shock.
Elonia, frustrated, shook Alberich’s shoulder.
“Alberich, what’s wrong?! Snap out of it!”
“Wait, Your Highness. That man…”
Lucius pointed at the man’s appearance. His hair, though faded in patches, was undeniably pink.
And his face…
Though gaunt, his eyes sunken, his cheeks hollowed, he bore a striking resemblance to Llewellyn.
A horrifying possibility dawned on Elonia.
“…No way.”
Her worst fears were confirmed by Alberich’s disbelieving murmur.
“Father…”
At his word, the phantom, the former Duke Asta, lunged towards Llewellyn, who was shielding him.
Meanwhile, Artius and the Tite Knights, alerted by the commotion at the Imperial Palace, returned to find the palace grounds overrun by an army of corpses.
Even they, seasoned veterans of war, found the sight difficult to stomach.
“What is this…?”
“Ugh…!”
They had seen countless corpses before.
But they had never seen corpses like these, mangled and decaying, reaching out with stiff, cold hands, trying to cling to the living, their stench overwhelming.
The Knight Captain asked anxiously,
“Your Majesty, is this the work of that Tristan…?”
No answer was needed. They all knew.
Artius, his face as pale as the corpses surrounding them, frantically scanned the grounds, shouting,
“Elonia! Elonia!”
He knew she was strong, but what parent wouldn’t worry?
Just as he spurred his horse towards the Imperial Princess’s Palace,
Neigh!
His horse reared, startled by a sudden surge of black mist.
The knights quickly dismounted and surrounded Artius.
“Your Majesty, are you alright?!”
“…I’m fine.”
Fortunately, he hadn’t fallen.
The knights held their horses’ reins tightly, their swords drawn, wary of the black mist.
Artius calmed his horse and looked ahead.
The black mist split into five streams, gradually taking on human forms.
The knights gasped, their faces filled with disbelief.
“Impossible…”
Standing before them were figures who shouldn’t be there.
“You…”
They were Ravanta knights who had died during the war against Heilan.
They stood before Artius and the Tite Knights, their bodies bearing the marks of their deaths, their faces filled with resentment as they reached out towards their former comrades.
Artius called out the name of the figure leading them.
“Marquis Fortrun…?”
The former Marquis Fortrun, once a valiant knight, renowned as the Lion of the Battlefield, Sardiana’s mother.
Not only her, but the other knights also appeared exactly as they remembered them.
The problem was, they looked exactly as they did in their final moments.
Marquis Fortrun, who had died from poison, her skin purple, her lips black, dragged her rotting arm, her sword scraping against the ground. The others were the same.
A knight who had lost an arm stood with a missing limb.
A knight who had been impaled had a gaping hole in his chest.
A knight who had died from severe burns was charred black.
“Gasp…”
They had all mourned their fallen comrades. But they had never wanted to meet them again like this.
The sudden appearance of their former allies filled them not with joy, but with horror.
Artius felt the same.
As if sensing his hesitation, the phantom Marquis Fortrun raised her sword and charged.
[Ugh… Argh…!]
“Ugh…!”
Artius quickly snapped out of his daze and barely blocked her attack.
But the phantom, despite being an illusion, possessed unnatural strength. Artius, hoping against hope, called out her name again.
“Marquis Fortrun.”
[Ah… Ah…!]
But the phantom couldn’t speak, only letting out guttural groans as she relentlessly attacked him.
‘Do I have to cut her down?’
Artius hesitated.
How could he strike down his former comrade, even if she was just a phantom?
His hesitation was broken by screams echoing from the distance.
“Aaaah!”
“D-don’t come near me!”
The same scene was unfolding elsewhere.
Fallen soldiers were attacking the palace staff.
The phantoms, decapitated and bloodied, relentlessly pursued the living, their appearance terrifyingly realistic.
Even the knights were struggling to fight back, repulsed by the gruesome sight. The unarmed civilians stood no chance.
Artius gritted his teeth and swung his sword.
Slash!
[Ah…!]
The phantom dissolved into black mist, but then began to reform. The other phantoms cut down by the Tite Knights were doing the same.
“Damn it…!”
Artius unleashed his blue sword aura, cutting through the mist. This time, it took longer for the phantom to regenerate.
He shouted to his knights,
“These ‘things’ are not your comrades! Cut them down without hesitation! Protect the palace staff!”
The knights hesitated, but they were veterans of war.
The Knight Captain was the first to respond.
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
His shout rallied the others, and they raised their swords, their hesitation replaced by grim determination.
Artius cut down the reforming phantom of Marquis Fortrun again, then spurred his horse towards the Imperial Princess’s Palace.
‘Damn it…!’
He shouldn’t have left the palace.
He knew they were ruthless, but he hadn’t expected them to resort to such inhumane tactics.
He had to kill either Tristan or Felix before the damage escalated.
‘The spire…!’
He looked up at the spire of the Main Palace.
Tristan was there. Elonia must be heading there too.
‘Please be safe.’
Artius cut down the phantoms of his former subordinates without mercy, galloping towards the spire, his heart pounding with fear.