Episode 185
The holy relic was alive?
Elonia and Lucius remembered it as a dead relic. Lucius examined it closely, then nodded at Elonia, confirming its authenticity.
Dolores also recognized it instantly, even from a distance, and her face contorted in fury.
“Don’t be foolish, Alex!”
“Ugh…!”
Black mist, like a venomous snake, shot out from Dolores and wrapped around Philemon’s throat. Philemon’s delicate neck turned blue.
“Mom!”
“Philia!”
Lucius quickly fired a blast of divine power at Dolores. Dolores, startled by the attack, quickly dodged it, releasing Philemon, who collapsed, gasping for breath.
But Philemon, ignoring her own distress, her voice filled with urgency, shouted at Elonia,
“The holy relic will die soon, Elonia! Hurry!”
Her desperation, her urgency, made Elonia push aside her questions.
How had the relic been revived? Why could everyone see Philemon now? Those questions weren’t important right now.
What mattered was that they had a weapon against Dolores.
Elonia drew the dagger, the dagger that had been with her through life and death. She could feel its power, sharp and potent.
And she also knew it was a dying flame, its power fading.
She lunged towards Dolores, aiming for her heart.
“Die, Dolores!”
“…!”
Dolores couldn’t dodge her attack.
The short blade pierced through her chest. Dolores’s face, momentarily frozen in shock, then contorted in pain.
“Aaaah!”
A scream, filled with agony, echoed through the spire.
‘Please!’
Philemon prayed desperately. But even with the revived holy relic and Lucius’s awakened power, it wasn’t enough to kill a god.
“Get away from me…!”
Dolores, still alive, clawed at Elonia’s shoulders, trying to push her away, her face contorted in pain.
“Ugh…!”
It wasn’t just a scratch. Dolores had infused her fingernails with divine power, and Elonia felt a searing pain she had never experienced before.
It was the worst physical pain she had ever felt.
But Dolores was also in agony.
They had both endured unimaginable mental and emotional pain. They wouldn’t be defeated by mere physical pain.
“Your Highness, I’ll help you!”
Lucius rushed to Elonia’s side. He placed a hand on her back, supporting her, and his other hand grasped the hilt of the dagger, his larger hand covering hers. His Holy Power flowed into the relic, amplifying its power, driving it deeper into Dolores’s heart.
“Ah, it hurts… Stop…!”
Dolores thrashed, trying to push them away, but she was weaker now.
“Lucius, don’t interfere!”
She screamed, the taste of blood filling her mouth.
“No!”
Lucius, ignoring her plea, held firm. Dolores trembled, her body shaking uncontrollably as she struggled to maintain her form.
Both Elonia and Lucius realized,
‘It’s not enough…!’
Even with the revived holy relic and Lucius’s amplified power, Dolores wasn’t dying.
‘We need more power…!’
But how?
‘I can’t use magic or sword aura…!’
Elonia, frustrated, slapped herself. She was limiting herself.
She was Chelon Heilan, the former Great Sword Master.
She couldn’t be weaker now, sixteen years later.
‘I can do this. I can do this with this body. I’m the daughter of Artius and Philemon, and I have Chelon’s power!’
She focused her mind.
The dense Holy Power surrounding the Imperial Palace was suppressing her magic, and her survival instincts were preventing her from using sword aura.
‘I have to accept death!’
She focused on the forces binding her, and her limbs grew heavy, as if bound by heavy chains.
‘If I break these chains…!’
She knew, instinctively, that breaking these chains would grant her the ability to wield the holy relic, a power not meant for humans.
She forced her mana to awaken, to rise against the suppressing Holy Power.
Cracking sounds, like breaking cookies, echoed through the spire.
Artius, watching from inside the cage, murmured in disbelief,
“Impossible…”
He could see Elonia’s mana surging, like water erupting from the deepest trenches of the ocean.
He could see her vessel cracking, her body struggling to contain the immense power.
“Elonia! If you push yourself any further, you’ll—!”
“Artius.”
Philemon interrupted him, shaking her head.
“Our daughter is strong.”
“But…!”
“You know that, Artius. We fought together.”
“…!”
Artius stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. Philemon smiled faintly.
It would be strange if he didn’t know.
She turned her gaze back to Elonia, her heart aching. There was nothing she could do as a parent now, but she believed in her daughter.
“Just a little more…!”
Elonia, her mind growing hazy, bit her tongue, the pain anchoring her to reality.
The invisible chains binding her shortened, the shackles on her wrists and ankles cracking under the strain.
Her mana surged, swirling within her heart. Breathing became difficult.
‘Just a little more, and I can break free!’
She focused on the chains, visible only to her.
Each second felt like an eternity, the pain almost unbearable. And then,
Crack!
“Elonia!”
“Your Highness!”
Elonia’s legs gave way. Lucius reached out to support her, but she pushed him away, forcing herself to stand, her voice filled with a fierce determination.
“Don’t worry about me! Focus on your task!”
“…!”
She stumbled back, then regained her footing, her body trembling but her resolve unwavering.
Lucius, unsure what to do, closed his eyes and turned away.
Elonia could feel his hands on her back and arm, slick with sweat, his Holy Power, stronger than before, flowing through the dagger, searing Dolores’s heart.
“Gasp, ugh…!”
Dolores, too weak to push them away, could only flail her arms weakly.
The end was in sight.
Elonia, her focus unwavering, poured all her newly awakened power into the holy relic.
A brilliant white light, a fiery golden light, and a cool blue light erupted from the dagger.
The white light was Lucius’s Holy Power.
The fiery golden light was Elonia’s mana. And the blue light was…
‘Sword aura!’
Artius’s eyes widened.
Elonia’s golden mana was suppressing Dolores’s power. And yet, she was also wielding sword aura.
‘Elonia… sword aura…’
Sword aura was difficult for Sword Mages to wield. It was a theoretical concept, not a practical one.
And yet, Elonia had done it.
Wielding sword aura with such immense mana was supposed to be impossible.
‘Elonia…’
Artius stared at her back, a sense of awe and pride filling his chest. He had always thought of her as a child. But now, she seemed so much larger than life.
“Your Highness, don’t lose focus.”
“I know.”
Lucius, though on the verge of collapsing himself, kept encouraging her.
Elonia, her heart pounding wildly, thought,
‘My heart is about to explode.’
Not only sword aura, but also her mana, which she hadn’t been able to use in this environment, was surging through her, like an erupting volcano.
The vessel she had thought was her limit had been just a temporary container. Her power, overflowing, had found a new, larger vessel. And it continued to grow, expanding, filling the vessel to its brim.
“Haha…”
A laugh escaped her lips.
Her old vessel had shattered. She regretted not breaking free sooner.
Dolores, writhing in agony, looked down at Elonia, her eyes filled with fear at the sound of her laughter. Elonia grinned at her.
“Dolores, it seems I’ve won.”
Just as Dolores opened her mouth to deny it,
“I… I’m still…”
Crack. A shattering sound echoed through the spire, and Dolores remembered something, something that had shattered long ago.
The founding king of Heilan had countless concubines and mistresses besides his queen.
The queen was always from the most noble family, and the concubines were from the founding families. The mistresses were maids, beautiful commoners, and occasionally, slaves.
“Get out of my way, you lowly creature!”
“Ow!”
Dolores was pushed to the ground by one of her older brothers. He didn’t even apologize, just walked away, and no one helped her up.
One of her sisters, passing by, sneered,
“Hmph. Even concubine’s children aren’t all equal.”
“…”
Dolores didn’t react. She was used to it.
And,
‘She’s right.’
Dolores Heilan was the daughter of a slave, the lowest of the low, among the countless concubines and mistresses.