Raising the Princess to Overcome Death Chapter 323: Childhood Friends - Fragments

322. Childhood Friends - Fragnts

- “This is variation, free will. Choices aren't just monuntal crossroads. How does it feel now? Still resent the gods?”

In the blood-drenched hall, two hundred orphanage children writhed on the floor. Amid their cries, Rev thought to himself:

Yes, he resented them.

He cursed them for forcing him onto a different path every ti, trapping him in this loop.

At that mont, the mage, whose presence here was inexplicable, interrupted Rev’s thoughts. The mage, his intense pink eyes eting Rev’s, spoke.

“Very good. Now, drop your sword. Keep that stance, just open your hand and let it fall. Now, now.”

“Ahh, aah...!”

At the slightest twitch of Rev’s gaze, a horrifying crunching sound echoed. Rev squeezed his eyes shut, horrified.

That scream just now… it couldn’t have been Lena, could it? No, it wasn’t her. So then… was she still safe...? Ah!

The mont he thought of Lena, Tracking Magic pointed near his legs. She was alive! Relieved, Rev’s heart lifted briefly, but then...

“Pl-please...save —... Gyaaah!”

“Open your eyes.”

The price of closing his eyes had been another orphan’s death. Rev cried out, desperate.

“P-please! Stop!”

“Who told you to speak?”

Thud!

The mage, standing at a distance, killed another innocent child without blinking an eye. He simply calculated the exact amount of mana required to crush a life that size and then moved on to the next.

Next was a girl lying beside the Swordmaster.

She was small, so 92.4 PaL of mana pressure would suffice. Keeping viscosity (P) and air pressure the sa as before… The only variable was how much mana her body could hold, but she wasn’t a knight, and her age suggested low resistance, so he went with an estimated average.

92.4 PaL.

This was the worth Ogleton had assigned to Lena. To restrain the Swordmaster with magic would require hundreds of tis that, so this thod was far more efficient.

The count spoke once more.

“This is your final chance. Drop the sword. Just open your hand and let it go.”

Thorough and thodical. Rev gritted his teeth and groaned.

Should he drop the sword? But would that really ensure his survival? What could he do now?

In his current state, where he couldn’t even move his eyes, his options were either to drop the sword or smash the gem and kill this mage on the spot. He prayed Lena wouldn’t be next. And Oriax…

The latter was the slightly better option. If he dropped the sword, he’d almost certainly die. At least the second option offered a faint hope. Even if it was only 179 out of 180.

Surely Lena wouldn’t be next. There were still 180 children left, surely…

‘…’

But Lena’s value was too high to risk it. Not just one hundred and eighty, but thousands... no, tens of thousands of lives were less precious than Lena alone.

This wasn’t sothing to be calculated.

In that mont of agonized hesitation, a trembling hand clung to Rev’s pant leg. He made his decision without another thought.

Clang, clatter!

“There. I dropped it. I did as you asked, now release the spell.”

“Not quite yet. There—soone, go retrieve that sword. Ah, and take the necklace from his hand as well.”

A palace guard approached from the grand doors.

He trudged through the blood-soaked chaos, picked up the sword from the ground, and reached for the necklace string that had slipped from Rev’s grip.

There was a mont of resistance. Rev couldn’t let go.

‘Now? It’s not too late.’ He hesitated one last ti, but then a low groan, like a body crushed under pressure, escaped Lena’s lips.

“Give it… you have to give it…”

“...Ha.”

He had failed.

As Rev finally released his hold, the guard took the sword and necklace and returned to the count. Ogleton made a small gesture toward him.

“Present these to the king. Inform him that the ambush has been thwarted.”

The guard nodded.

The main doors opened, revealing the lively banquet within. Across the hall, Eric de Yeriel stood on a lit platform, drawing the crowd’s attention.

At the sight of the unpleasant scene frad in the doorway, Eric silently positioned himself in front of Princess Elika. Fortunately, the doors closed shortly afterward.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Yet you seem rather pleased?”

Elika asked with sharp intuition.

Eric replaced his initial smile with a smoother one.

Of course he was pleased. They had managed to eliminate the Swordmaster whom Lord Oriax had warned him about. There was nothing Lord Oriax didn’t foresee.

‘I rember his warning: if I ascended the throne, a Swordmaster would inevitably appear. He called it the wretched god’s age-old tactic.’

Oriax’s warning had been right on the mark. Around the ti Eric decided he needed to ascend quickly due to his tenacious younger brother, he had orchestrated the king’s assassination through a duke.

Shortly after, Count Lopero had stord in to confront Duke Tertan, foaming with rage.

Tadian Lopero, a knight of his own family, had been killed while protecting the duke’s grandson.

When the duke, now bound to Eric and unable to voice dissent, remained silent, Count Lopero raised his voice.

- “Duke! I am not questioning Tadian’s honorable death during his duty. Surely he died with valor. But! What I take issue with is the young master’s attitude. How could Young Lord Philas Tertan command re soldiers to bear the casket of a knight who sacrificed himself? Even if the opponent was a Swordmaster! The soldiers claim there were only seven of them… blah, blah.”

That was when Eric had known.

At last, a Swordmaster had erged.

The man was both blocking Oriax’s influence from spreading into the Kingdom of Orun and drawing ever closer to . To prove that he was a pawn of the foul Primordial God, he had hidden himself within the Grania Orphanage. And as for those three who fled north, they were likely on their way to fetch the cardinal.

Ha!

But by the ti the cardinal returns, it will be too late. I will already be king, married to Elika, and fortified with unshakable legitimacy when they finally arrive.

Killing them outright was never sothing I’d considered.

Why bother?

The Swordmaster, unaware of my true identity, could only lurk about aimlessly, much like Count Herman Forte of the Kingdom of Bellita. There was no need to provoke him and risk exposing my identity.

Besides, confronting a formidable adversary like the saintess would only complicate things…

So, I instructed the mage to keep an eye on him, intending to declare his attack as an act of rebellion if he made the first move.

Lord Oriax had warned that I would need to engage in a subtle ga of maneuvering for a decade or more, perhaps even longer. Yet… haha!

This foolish Swordmaster had given in to the reckless bravado of a common thug rather than employing any political strategy. If he had garnered fa and tightened his grip as a Swordmaster, things could have been difficult.

‘So, the Primordial God’s little sches amount to nothing after all.’

Amused, the king chuckled and turned his gaze away. The only remaining threats to him now appeared to be Lean and Lerialia... his younger siblings.

Of course, that was already a resolved issue. Not only was he marrying Elika de Isadora, but he’d also put further asures in place.

Why should he wait for them to brandish their swords? Cut the buds off before they even sprout.

Even if it didn’t work out, he had contingency plans. Eric softly brushed Elika’s hand and spoke.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t invite the cardinal to this happy occasion. Unfortunately, he was on pilgrimage when my father passed…”

“It’s fine. I’m actually reassured; you’re a far better person than I thought you’d be. I have a question, though… it’s a little hasty, but… Will you love and cherish , even if your marriage to was mainly for the sake of bloodline?”

“...That’s a cheeky question. But yes, I will.”

Elika bead brightly.

“In that case, may I be a little greedy? There’s sothing I’d like from you.”

“And what might that be?”

“I’d like the necklace. Your mother’s necklace. I’ve studied quite a bit about Conrad... or rather, about our kingdom.”

In Conrad, gifting a necklace carried special significance.

Unlike the tradition of engagent or wedding rings, initiated by the Church of the Cross and spread across the continent, this custom belonged exclusively to the people of Conrad. Giving a necklace symbolized that they were bound by blood, a family. It went beyond rely living together as a married couple.

Giving and receiving a necklace signified an indissoluble bond, a declaration that there would be no separation, no divorce, because family was forever.

Such vows were usually made after raising children to a certain age.

Often, couples would stand before relatives and neighbors and swear that they were one family, adding necklaces for their children as well.

Having lost his mother at a young age, Eric never experienced this. He had only kept his mother’s necklace as a nto, taken from her after offering her as a sacrifice...

Elika’s bold request left Eric de Yeriel montarily speechless. She’d done so research on their kingdom’s customs, but she was clearly still lacking.

Giving soone his deceased mother’s necklace was unthinkable. If anything, he might have a new one made.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I’ll give you sothing else instead. Don’t be disappointed—it’s a precious item as well.”

Just then, a palace guard reached the platform below. He held the fragnt Lord Oriax had sent to Philas. Eric waved his hand without a second thought.

Under Lord Oriax’s grace, they would be blessed with eternal happiness...

“Hm? What’s this?”

“...Now I understand.”

The guard muttered under his helt.

What was he doing? Eric and the guards standing by him exchanged confused glances as the guard tossed aside his helt.

Clang! The clash of tal interrupted the pleasant music filling the hall. With prominent cheekbones and standing in the middle of the blessed wedding venue,

It was Sir Bart.

Instead of the sword he had taken from Rev, he drew his own, a battered weapon, with no flawless edge left. Forged from the lted blades of his fallen comrades, it shone with a dazzling brilliance that seed boundless.

- “Kill.”

The Swordmaster, an apostle of the righteous god who punishes evil, had arrived. Bart, evading Eric’s gaze, had co to fulfill his duty, his voice thick with fury.

“It was true, then. It wasn’t Duke Tertan... You’re the root of all this, Eric de Yeriel! I refuse to acknowledge a wretch like you as king!”

Barth threw the red gem high into the air. As it reached its peak, he brought down his aura-infused blade with full force.

The gem, which he had failed to destroy and ultimately had to abandon in the sea, was effortlessly sliced by the brilliant blue aura blade.

“W-wait!” Eric cried, reaching out, but this command was his final order as king. An empty, guttural groan escaped his chest.

- Koj청한 ruam! Kuv twb mu을 잃었으kuv 네 몸으로 yog li kuv 대신하 hloov nrog!

“Eric? Why are you—aaahhh!”

“S-sobody, help...!”

Desperately turning away, Eric’s skin began to crack. His flesh strained as though stone was sprouting from within him, splitting his skin open without spilling a single drop of blood.

All that remained was a crimson stone.

Long ago, Oriax had lost all his Minotaur followers, yet he did not disappear. Millennia later, he returned, even clashing with the Saint Azura and surviving yet again. Unlike other lesser gods, who vanished without worshipers, Oriax endured.

Fragnts. He created material extensions of himself to survive and sought to pierce the veil that separated gods from mortals. After long ages of effort, Oriax succeeded in breaching the veil and gazed down upon the world.

The priority now was to secure the fragnt. Yes. There it was. Though the divine power wasn’t efficient, options were limited.

Count Ogleton, who had been approaching Rev, suddenly gasped and collapsed. His head shook violently, as if trying to shake off a ringing bell, desperately fighting against sothing.

“O...Okan… Okanta Tigopheiak! Po...Prunon Bmyuekzeka... aaah!”

He instinctively recited an ancient spell used by the shamans of old, but he was no match for his opponent.

When the agony finally subsided and the count raised his head, his eyes were brimming with blood.