SHLICK!
A sickening crunch echoed.
Neville's body lurched.
From behind him, a lance-like claw burst through his abdomen—its edge slick with blood. A monstrous raptor-like beast loomed over him, its second arm poised like a scorpion's tail. Its jagged teeth clacked in satisfaction.
Neville's head turned slowly to look at the Floor Guardian, his eyes dulling. A new wave of monsters poured in from the darkness behind the raptor. More beasts. More death.
The reptilian wrenched its arm free as it decided upon its next target. Neville coughed up a handful of blood. His blade slipped from his fingers and hit the ground with a heavy clang. Then he collapsed to his knees before pitching forward.
"NO!" Reneal screamed and ran forward despite the looming peril, dropping to his knees beside the man.
"Y-You're fine, right? You'll be fine," he gushed nervously. "I'll find a doctor—I'll get help!" His trembling hands fumbled to apply pressure to the gaping wound.
Neville looked at him with gentle eyes, the shadow of a smile ghosting his bloodstained lips.
Just as the raptor was about to impale them both—
"DON'T LOSE HEART!"
Stynx's voice boomed like a war drum across the battlefield as his blade flashed through the gloom. Several swift strikes culminated in a final sweeping blow that cleanly severed the Floor Guardian's head from its neck. The reptile's body lurched, then collapsed with a heavy thud, its head rolling to the feet of the stunned soldiers.
Silence fell for half a heartbeat.
Then came the gasps.
All eyes turned to him. Every terrified soul—soldier, slave, noble, and citizen—gawked at the bastard prince who stood defiantly atop the monster's corpse, his crimson cape fluttering against the ominous wind.
He had them. Right where he wanted them.
Let them watch, he thought with glee. Let them see me.
The council had voted in favor of his ascension, but naturally, there was a catch. To secure the throne, he had to sway public opinion—to turn the image of the royal bastard into that of a worthy heir.
This was his chance to rise above his circumstances, to earn merit in his mother's eyes, and to be seen—not as a mistake, but as a man worthy of the crown.
Stynx raised his sword high, the flames licking along the steel like an extension of his soul. "I am Stynx Cassian Ainsworth, son of King Ainsworth!" He roared, his voice layered with power and pride. "And I swear on my blood—on the gods themselves—none shall fall while I yet draw breath! Rally to me! This is not your end! This is your awakening!"
A crack of thunder echoed overhead and blue lightning fractured the sky like the world itself was coming undone. And yet—for one fleeting moment—hope sparked in the people's eyes.
"FORWARD!" he bellowed, his aura blazing. "I WILL INCINERATE THEM ALL!"
He thrust his free hand forward. A cyclone of fire roared from his palm, a wall of red and gold that hurtled toward the monstrous tide.
But as it collided—
FWOOOSHHH.
Nothing.
The flames bent around the creatures—snuffed out like candlelight in a storm. The monsters barely flinched. Their stony hides shimmered, immune to the searing heat.
A beat of stunned silence followed.
"Wh-What?" Stynx muttered, staggering back. "No… that's not—"
The nearest beast lunged. He parried, but sluggishly. His footwork—once practiced and elegant—became messy. The tide was shifting again, and fast.
They came in swarms—scaled fiends with glistening fangs, bristling tails, and eyes that gleamed with malevolence.
Stynx fought back with gritted teeth, his blade slashing and sweeping, but the edge had dulled—not from wear, but from doubt. Each blow was slower. Each breath harder.
The people saw it.
The crowd began to unravel. Screams again filled the air. Soldiers started retreating, slamming into civilians as panic surged anew. Women clutched their children. Men shoved one another to flee.
"NO—HOLD!" Stynx shouted, trying to regain their trust, but it was slipping through his fingers like sand.
Blood sprayed across his chest as a monster's tail sliced a soldier beside him in half. A claw grazed his arm, tearing fabric and flesh. Stynx gritted his teeth, holding back a hiss.
He had wanted their praise. Their adoration. But now—now he saw it in their eyes.
Doubt.
And worse—disappointment.
***
"…Your Highness…" Neville managed with a faint smile, blood pooling beneath him. His voice was wet and raspy, but warm with familiarity. "I'm afraid… cough-cough… that this is where we must… part ways."
"No!" Reneal sobbed, eyes dilating with grief as several vials of potions utterly refused to heal his mentor and friend. "Please don't go! I can't do this on my own! I won't survive in this world without you and Marian!"
Neville's fading gaze softened, a sea of memories and regrets dancing behind his eyes. "I was tasked with… raising you… forging you into a man worthy of the throne… someone greater than your father ever was." He drew in a sharp breath, blood spilling from the corner of his lips. "But when your mother died… I…"
A violent cough wracked his chest. Reneal's hands trembled as he tried to steady him.
"…After her passing," the man continued, his breath shallow, "I did my best to console you. I swore to protect you from the evils of this world. I thought… sheltering you was the best way to show love. But I was wrong."
Reneal's eyes quivered, his voice no louder than a whisper. "No… you did what you thought was right…"
"To truly love a child," Neville said hoarsely, "is not to shield them from the world… but to prepare them for it. I failed you in that regard, and for such a disgrace… I'm sorry. I was a poor tutor."
Tears streamed down Reneal's cheeks. "I never asked for this life," he cried. "I would've been happy as a commoner. If I were your son and Marian my mother, I would've lived a fuller life than any prince ever could."
Neville smiled softly, his eyes gleaming with affection. "You honor me… Your Highness," he whispered.
Slowly, with all the strength he had left, he raised his trembling hand and cupped the side of the boy's face. "Mariam and I… we were never able to have children of our own. When we met you… you became the child we never had."
Reneal placed his hand over his, desperate to hold onto the warmth slipping through his fingers.
"But alas…" Neville's voice weakened, his eyelids heavy. "You are of royal blood. You can't run from your lineage… your burdens. Princess Lumielle… the king… they need you, Reneal. The people… need you."
The boy gasped in surprise. "Th-That's the first time you've ever called me by name…"
Neville's eyes began to flutter shut, his breathing slowing. "Sometimes… we must experience loss… before we can grow into who we were meant to be…"
His grip loosened. His hand slipped from Reneal's cheek and fell limp. "…It's time for you… to awaken. Be the man… you were destined to be."
"No!" Reneal shouted, shaking him. "Don't go! Please, don't leave me! Not like this!"
A silence fell over them, broken only by the boy's anguished wail. He tilted his head back and screamed, the sound raw and heart-wrenching.
Then there was the sound of soft footsteps.
A little girl ran toward him. She was no older than five, her face streaked with tears. Wordlessly, she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his bloodstained tunic.
Reneal glanced down at her through his tears. Her wide eyes framed by golden lashes; her trembling voice; her tiny form—she looked so much like Lumielle when they were younger. His lips parted, breath stolen by the likeness. Then, echoing in the depths of his mind—Sophia's voice emerged.
— "Lumielle remains grounded in reality, facing the burdens you refuse to acknowledge. She, too, is alone. She, too, is afraid. Yet she endures—not just for herself, but for the sake of her people, for the future, for you and those you have come to cherish. And still, you run."
Reneal looked down at Neville's lifeless face—so calm, so resolute, even in death. As he studied the man who was like a second father to him, a memory surfaced in his mind.
It was a quiet afternoon in the apple orchard. He and Neville watched a bird nesting high in a tree, its tiny body shielding its eggs. A serpent slithered up the branches, baring its fangs.
The bird could have fled. It could have saved itself. But instead, it fought. Feathers flew. Blood was drawn. But it never moved from its nest. It died with its wings spread over its unborn young before being dragged away by the predator.
That moment never left him.
Now, he understood.
His mother was that bird.
Had she not risked everything to bring him and Lumielle into this world, their lives, their perseverance, their future—all of it—would never have existed. And with that absence, the Mhaledictus would face no opposition.
His father would have been discarded like a pawn, and Neville and Marian would have been erased as the city was reshaped into something monstrous.
As the truth sank in, something deep within Reneal stirred. Something dormant. Something buried. He envisioned one of the eggs cracking open—light bursting through the fissures. He saw himself curled within it, helpless, afraid. Then, in a blinding flash, the shell shattered and he stood reborn, wrapped in light.
— "Fear exists within us all," Sophia's voice returned. "It is neither weakness nor shame, but if you allow it to rule you, it will define you. If you despise the way things are, then change them. This land is your home, your sanctuary—a place that should belong to you and those you love. Do not let anyone take that from you."
Reneal stared at Neville's still form and the weight of everything he'd lost slammed into him like a crashing wave.
He had believed that running would spare him pain. That if he distanced himself from the palace, from his lineage, he could carve out a simpler life. But the blood in his veins told a different story. The truth was bitter: there was no escape. Only postponement.
His cowardice had cost a man his life. A man he loved.
No more.
The grieving prince clenched his fists, trembling as power churned within him like a storm rising from the depths of the earth. He could feel it building, roaring, demanding release.
The little girl beside him stumbled back, wide-eyed as the ground trembled beneath their feet. A fierce wind surged outward.
And then—
BOOOOOM!
A blinding column of light exploded from his body, illuminating the battlefield like a second sun. Its radiance swept through the chaos, pausing monsters and humans alike in breathless awe.
DING!
[The active skill «Voice of Sovereignty» has been acquired.]