With no enemies in sight, a larger crowd hurried toward them.
Gorgeously dressed nobles, though sowhat disheveled, were huddled in the center, most of them thankfully unhard. The rest of the group consisted of uniford police, soldiers, and a handful of private guards. They all carried firearms, but pistols were of little use against supernatural creatures with no apparent vital points.
Dolores and Julia were also among the protected group. Dolores stood with several young people of similar appearance, all of them clustered around a stretcher. On it lay a burly, middle-aged man, his eyes closed, his abdon stained with blood.
Julia and the other fortunate servants ford a second defensive line between the nobles and the police. She nervously clutched the hem of her skirt, her eyes imdiately drawn to the ice sculpture at the edge of the passage, though she couldn't make out who it was.
Lacking Jenkins's Eye of Reality, the group couldn't see the brilliant blue crystals scattered throughout the dark, underground hall. So when they anxiously surged inside, seeking refuge, seven or eight of them were instantly transford into ice sculptures. Only then did the rest cry out in terror, trying to retreat the way they ca—but then they rembered. They had been driven here by the snown.
"We're running out of bullets!"
The n on the front line had no idea what was happening behind them, but they were acutely aware of their dwindling ammunition. When they saw the crowd stop retreating, they understood there must be danger back there as well, but the situation was too dire to afford them any ti to devise a new plan.
"Is that...?"
The Stuart children were protected at the very center. With the rear guard almost entirely wiped out—frozen into statues of ice—they now found themselves closest to the hall's entrance.
Even without an Extraordinary item like the one Jenkins possessed, or an ability like 'Darkvision', the scions of the Stuart bloodline could still perceive the object in the center of the hall.
Their eyes couldn't make out the ice crystals in the darkness, but they could see a parchnt radiating a chilling aura, suspended in mid-air. Specks of light scattered from it, drifting upward into the rock ceiling and vanishing from sight.
"What is that?"
Soone asked, their voice laced with confusion. It was the question on most of the Stuarts' minds. Only a few wore expressions of shock; they had already guessed what it was.
"So that's what this is about!"
Sarrot Stuart was the first to speak. With one hand grasping his father's, he turned to his brothers and sisters, his expression grave.
"Speak up. Who was it this ti?"
The Stuarts exchanged glances. Dolores bit her lip, her eyes filled with worry as she looked at her family. She understood now—today's incident had undoubtedly been orchestrated by her brothers.
King Salsi II's failing health had finally ignited the struggle for the kingdom's throne.
"There's no point in hiding it," he declared. "Seeing that parchnt makes everything perfectly clear. The Church would never use its power so recklessly, and a Stuart, its guardian, is the only one who could touch that contract and live. So, who was it?"
He looked at each of his younger brothers and sisters in turn, his gaze lingering especially long on Dolores. But in the end, his eyes settled on Lack Stuart, the blue-haired young man who had exchanged looks with Jenkins at the theater yesterday.
"Lack, was it you?"
The eldest prince demanded sternly, exercising his authority as the firstborn son.
"Yes."
Lack Stuart, his voice soft and almost lodious, nodded slowly, a brilliant smile spreading across his face.
The people around him imdiately took a coordinated step back, creating a brief, empty circle around the second prince.
Lack, whose features were as delicate as his voice, removed his gold-rimd spectacles. He had no need for them—they were rely decorative, with flat lenses. While wearing them, he appeared cultured and noble. But the mont they ca off, a strange, dark aura emanated from him, impossible to suppress.
"It was . I've been planning this for a long ti."
He admitted it with relish, extending a hand toward his brothers and sisters:
"Sarrot, give Father's seal. Dolores, give the archer. Gillis, I know you have Grandfather's heirloom—give the key he secretly left you. Koller, that snowflake pendant you wear, take it out. Laynia, the ring you have hidden with your maid, hand it over. And dear sister Yani... after Sarlina's foolish attack on Dolores failed, you took her hairpin, didn't you?"
He called out their nas, but no one moved. He chuckled softly and snapped his fingers. A scream tore through the air from the direction of the snown, and a severed limb sailed from the front line, landing squarely on the chest of King Salsi II as he lay on the stretcher.
With a thud, the stretcher fell to the ground. The two servants who had been carrying it wore expressions of terror. But seeing that the princes and princesses paid them no mind, they imdiately bent down and lifted the stretcher again.
"Hand everything over," he said, "and each of you will contribute a single drop of blood. When the final cataclysm arrives, I will permit you to share in the glory of that great, ineffable terror."
Lack Stuart gave his outstretched hand a little shake, but his siblings all took a timid step back. Their retreat nearly caused the survivors scouting the path behind them to stumble blindly into the main hall.
But luckily, a lavishly dressed boy at the very back managed to steady himself against the first ice sculpture. The ice was so cold that he imdiately snatched his hand back after regaining his balance. But then he looked at the ice sculpture in confusion. Though he couldn't see it with his naked eye, when he touched it, he felt the ice vibrating at an astonishing frequency.
"Lack, what in the world are you doing?"
The eldest princess demanded sharply. Her magnificent gown was torn in several places from their long flight, but her flowing, silky hair was still the envy of most won her age.
This was the kingdom's eldest princess, Yani Stuart. Sarlina Stuart, the second princess who had tried to steal Dolores's chess piece, had always been close to her. Furthermore, according to the confession obtained from Howard Stuart's interrogation, the Tree House backed the eldest princess's faction.
"You all know sothing of the family's deepest secret. But why must we only guard it, instead of using it?"
the blue-haired Lack Stuart asked softly. His posturing was a pale imitation of Mr. Williatte's natural flair—or so Dolores thought.
"You don't really think that just by having that parchnt, our family can stand on equal footing with the Twelve Orthodox Churches, do you?"
The eldest prince, Sarrot Stuart, asked with a frown. His tone wasn't angry or reproachful, but rather conveyed a deep concern for his younger brother's intelligence.
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