Zijinghua's first emperor, Pendragon Norton, was the legendary ruler who paved the way for what would become one of the continent's mightiest empires—and the first hero to bathe in dragonblood and, rather than being devoured by it, gain dragonkind's blessing.
His blessing was one of a kind:
The Holy Light Dragon.
A sacred dragon, extinct throughout the continent—breathing holy radiance, eyes filled with endless brilliance—the most exalted king among dragons.
Quinn couldn't help but glance at her mother.
Empress Tivira Norton's draconic blessing was a red dragon.
But in truth, red dragons weren't considered especially powerful. You could even say that among dragonkind, red dragons were on the weaker side—perhaps weaker than Quinn's own silver dragon.
Yet, with this modest blessing, her mother became the strongest Empress, passing seven consecutive Holy Trials and enduring the tests of five former emperors—a living legend of Zijinghua.
It wasn't the red dragon that was powerful.
It was the Empress herself.
That was the consensus throughout Zijinghua.
Even so, Quinn had to admit: Even a mother like that… fell short of the First Emperor.
That fact was probably one of Zijinghua's most closely guarded secrets—known by fewer than five people.
Once, with the help of the High Priest, the Empress had attempted a special method to designate the First Emperor as the blessing-giving former emperor—seeking the holy dragon's blessing and approval.
But she had been rejected.
When the Holy Trial ritual failed, the High Priest, nearly killed by the backlash, had dragged his weakened, dying body to the ground, desperately kowtowing—ready to die to protect this secret.
But the Empress hadn't killed anyone. She had simply called Quinn over calmly, then left.
That day, Quinn had clearly seen a fleeting, almost imaginary flash of loneliness on her mother's face.
It wasn't that the First Emperor singled her out.
In truth, the First Emperor… hadn't granted blessings to the dragonblooded family for a very long time.
As the sole holder of the Holy Dragon's blessing, the First Emperor's blessing naturally surpassed those of all other former emperors.
Likewise, his trial's difficulty exceeded any other emperor's test.
Some former emperors were gentle and kind, their Holy Trials merely riddles or conversations—passing was simply earning their recognition.
But the First Emperor's trials were always woven from blood and fire. Whether successful or not, participants rarely emerged unscathed.
Initially, test-takers deliberately avoided his trials. Later, people realized that even if you pleaded, that first dragonblooded monarch would no longer respond to his descendants.
Like the Golden Holy Light Dragon who once granted him blessing, he seemed to vanish from the world.
Only the Zijinghua flowers blooming across the continent's map provided proof he had ever existed.
It was hard to say if it was disappointment in his descendants… or mercy.
Yet today, before the "bloodless prince" Linen and the outsider Mosiati Morris, the First Emperor's trial gate had opened again.
Some elderly ministers, hair already gray, trembled slightly, their vision blurry.
Even the oldest among them had never seen that legendary emperor in person. But through old mouths and older stories, few didn't long to see the brilliance of the holy dragon burning across Zijinghua again.
Mosiati's expression turned solemn as well.
As a member of one of the Empire's oldest Eight Pillar Houses, he knew clearly how dangerous and ruthless this emperor's trial could be.
As the challenger, he would undergo the Holy Trial first. Linen, a Norton heir and the challenged party, would follow afterward.
During this process, Linen's consciousness would enter a special space, allowing him to observe Mosiati's trial freely.
No one saw that as inappropriate, because unlike other former emperors' tests, the First Emperor's trial was harsh and rigid. It erased participants' original memories, forcing them to use their own consciousness to relive the First Emperor's experiences.
In other words—immersive roleplay.
Even possessing all the First Emperor's memories, how could anyone pass a trial that only he himself could navigate, without experiencing the desperation he once endured?
Besides, some of the First Emperor's deeds were… controversial.
Like the Holy Trial theme they were about to undertake now:
TWILIGHT OF THE SACRED DRAGON
Light flashed. Mosiati's consciousness entered the scene, replacing the First Emperor—whose figure was shrouded in radiance, his face indistinguishable.
At that moment, in the pitch-black void of the special space, a girl's voice sounded beside Linen's ear—so serious it bordered on comical.
"As expected. I was wrong. I should've known—there's no second Golden Holy Light Dragon left in this world."
Linen turned, noticing that at some point, a girl wrapped in golden light had appeared beside him.
She appeared about one-sixty, clad in heavy armor, holding a massive sword with both hands. Her platinum-blonde hair was neatly pinned behind her head, but her face was hidden by light, her features indistinct.
"You are?"
Linen asked.
"This is the Norton family's Holy Trial space, isn't it? You can call me 'Administrator,' or whatever you prefer. Just know I have no ill intent toward you, nor will I interfere in your Holy Trial."
After saying this coolly, she paused.
"However, as a Norton descendant, I can still tell you this: the soul of your competitor… has a problem."
"Yeah. I know," Linen nodded.
…
By now, Mosiati had fully entered the Holy Trial, temporarily becoming that great monarch of old—though a flash of triumphant delight crossed his eyes.
It really worked. My soul—altered by the Tower—has been reborn.
Mosiati was arrogant but never foolish enough to think himself on par with Zijinghua's First Emperor.
If he were his old self, once in the Holy Trial, he'd have been just like previous test-takers—lost, bewildered, mechanically following the trial's imposed instincts.
But this altered soul allowed him to ignore the Holy Trial's restrictions. He retained his full consciousness—and memories.
In other words, even if Mosiati didn't know how to manage better than the First Emperor…he could imitate the First Emperor's actions perfectly—making the exact same choices.
Even if later generations viewed those choices as marking the First Emperor's twilight—and the beginning of the decline of Zijinghua's legendary first generation—it was still infinitely better than stumbling around blindly.
Mosiati began sorting through the memories in his mind.
To prevent national secrets from leaking, large sections of the First Emperor's memories implanted in him were blank. However, the portion relevant to the Holy Trial was relatively detailed.
Looking at the two attendants before him—both tense, both staring anxiously—Mosiati immersed himself in recollection.
At the very beginning of the story, it seemed to involve… the Empress Consort's betrayal?
Because the First Emperor had been away at war year after year, the Empress Consort spent long periods alone. Originally a political marriage, she had uncontrollably fallen in love with the First Emperor's foremost knight and ally—the man known as the "Perfect Knight," who would later become the founder of House Callenica, one of the capital's Eight Great Houses.
...
"Ridiculous, isn't it? In the world's eyes, the all-powerful king—the Sacred Dragon everyone relied upon—saw the beginning of his legend's end in the betrayal by the two people closest to him."
The girl spoke again, her voice faintly mocking.
"In reality, the Empress Consort wasn't involved with Callenica. They never even touched. But as a 'perfect' empress, the constant mental pressure made that poor woman need a spiritual anchor. She just happened to choose Callenica."
"I know. Platonic love," Linen nodded in strong agreement.
"Plato… what?" The girl froze.
"Purely emotional, no physical involvement. It's a later term. You're dead, so of course you wouldn't know," Linen kindly explained.
Labeled affectionately as "dead," the girl could only mumble her thanks…
She quickly regained composure and continued, "But guess—what did that great emperor do?"
...
She didn't need to narrate. Following historical records, Mosiati made the same decision as the First Emperor.
The other seven of the Eight Great Houses banded together, exposing the Empress Consort's secret meetings with the head of House Callenica. Enraged, the First Emperor prepared a stake of cleansing fire and sentenced the Empress Consort as an unfaithful woman—to be burned by purifying flames.
The Empress Consort offered no complaints, only thanking the king for granting her wish. The head of House Callenica shut his doors and refused to appear.
Just when everyone believed it would end with the First Emperor "killing a chicken to scare the monkeys"—executing the Empress Consort to intimidate House Callenica—the night before the execution, the head of House Callenica rode alone from his territory, breaking through knights of the other Houses in a brutal battle, and abducted the Empress Consort. One of the heads of the Eight Great Houses was even killed on the spot.
It was the kingdom's humiliation. House Norton's humiliation. It turned what little trust remained among the Eight Great Houses into ash.
But the newborn empire couldn't endure further upheaval.
The First Emperor chose the greater good. He swallowed it. He imposed no punishment on the head of House Callenica.
From that day on, House Callenica became an outcast among the Eight Great Houses, permanently split from the other seven—irreparably.
The shaky newborn empire returned to its course… but what the First Emperor failed to realize was that what he thought was the end had only been the start of chaos.
His magnanimity didn't buy understanding.
It merely drove hatred deeper into the bones.
The branch of House Morris whose leader had died came to hate Callenica—and even the First Emperor. He could only appease them through conciliatory policies and preferential treatment. Thus, House Morris became the strongest among the Eight Great Houses, remaining so even today.
Only when the First Emperor—once ambitious and spirited in conquest—began managing a nation did he learn it was a hundred times harder to govern than to conquer.
He forced himself to change from a conqueror into a ruler carefully balancing all sides.
If that were all, perhaps it would've been endurable.
Time was the best remedy. Morris's hatred, Callenica's pain and unspeakable shame—even his own regrets toward the Empress Consort—might be diluted by time. Maybe it would take generations, maybe all the original heroes would first have to walk into their graves.
"If things really went that way… it would've been nice." The girl sighed wordlessly.
Misfortune didn't spare the newborn nation. One day, barbarians invaded the North. Back then, no lion existed to suppress everything. Howling, northern barbarians stormed the North, stealing grain, women—everything the North had.
On-screen, a barbarian swung his blade theatrically, splitting a child in two, laughing loudly. Outside the scene, the Duke of the North clenched the iron fist hidden beneath his cloak.
Fortunately, imperial comforts hadn't weakened the First Emperor. When the nation needed him, he still rode forth as savior, leading the campaign personally.
Under the emperor's charge, the barbarians fled in panic, scattered and routed. But then, an envoy arrived at the imperial war tent—not bringing triumphant news, but another disaster.
House Morris, left behind in the capital, had split. The branch whose head Callenica had slain seized the emperor's absence to rebel.
And the young woman leading that rebellion had somehow learned a degraded Dragonification ritual. Using the First Emperor's blood and paying a terrible price in side effects, she forcibly "sublimated" herself into a dragonkin!
...
"People rebel because they believe in the First Emperor—because they think he can give the country and their House a future…"
The girl spoke flatly, her voice filled with disdain and sorrow.
"And they rebel because he can't give them those things."
"It's almost over," she murmured dreamily.
And truly, it was. The final trial ended far faster than anyone expected.
...
On-screen, the tyrannical girl swung a massive Holy Sword, roaring as she led iron cavalry to crush Mosiati's army. Weeping blood, hands trembling, she severed Mosiati's head—and the trial ended, in a manner completely opposite to official history.
No one blamed Mosiati.
In fact, some in the banquet hall were already loudly cheering him.
Recreating a Holy Trial of such extreme difficulty to this degree—his performance had far exceeded everyone's expectations.
It wasn't that Mosiati was incompetent.
It was simply that the dragonblooded maniacs were absurdly powerful cheats.
Historically, the First Emperor—blessed by the Golden Holy Light Dragon, genuinely bathing in sacred dragon blessing—had marched rapidly for a thousand miles, crushing an enemy triple his number like rotten wood. And again, he showed tolerance.
He punished only that rebellious branch of House Morris, sparing all others. Their standing remained unchanged.
Yet due to this incident, no matter how the throne changed hands afterward, no matter how capable later Norton monarchs were, the system of the Eight Great Houses had already seeped deep into the empire's bones.
Whether it was a passive former emperor or a harsh, iron-fisted sovereign like the current Empress, none could alter it anymore.
There was also a minor epilogue.
The Empress Consort, who should have died by fire, learned of the capital's rebellion and the empire's peril. Grasping the hand of the head of House Callenica, she made him personally drive a blade through her heart—and forced him to swear eternal loyalty to House Norton.
Thus, the so-called "Perfect Knight House," House Callenica, vanished from history.
And the prototype of the Shadow Knights—operating from darkness, serving House Norton—was born.
...
"Pitiful."
Linen couldn't help but sigh.
"Yeah. A tragedy without winners. Later, I watched countless children reenact this story. Some were even more brilliant than that idiot First Emperor… but they all failed. None found a better answer."
The girl's tone was faintly sorrowful, like rotting wood covered in moss.
"I meant you. You're the pitiful one."
Linen rubbed his forehead, sighing, glancing sideways at the girl whose vibe and "age" mismatched so badly.
"Dying without even realizing who your real enemy was—how pitiful is that?"
"And worse, spending your whole life pretending to be a man, then having your legend immortalize the story of you getting cucked. It's so miserable I can't bear to watch."
"I DID NOT GET CUCKED!!!"
Under Linen's steady gaze, two blushes slowly rose on the girl's light-shrouded face, her pale neck turning increasingly pink above her armor.
"Y-you… when did you realize?!"
Her voice turned stiff.
"From the start. The fact that the Empress Consort 'cucked' you but remained perfectly chaste with the head of House Callenica until the very end."
Linen spread his hands.
"Marrying a girl who looks younger than even you—anyone would feel pressured. Especially since dragonblood extends lifespan. For her to hold out till the very end and still think of you… she was a decent woman."
"Ugh… Guineer she… Wait, what nonsense are you spouting? That's your great-great-great-grandmother!"
"Two women can have kids?!"
This time, Linen was genuinely shocked.
"Because the Norton family's inheritance ritual—" The girl coughed hard. "Ahem. What am I even saying to a kid like you? Forget it. Once you enter the Holy Trial, you'll forget everything from here anyway."
She stopped herself before revealing more, shaking her head with a hint of loneliness.
Having Linen pierce the truth gave her complicated feelings.
Shock… and an indescribable happiness.
But it didn't matter.
Once Linen entered the Holy Trial, this conversation—like a fleeting bloom in the boy's life—would disappear forever.
She would continue her eternal atonement here until the last qualified dragonblooded descendant vanished.
"By the way… when you said 'my real enemy,' what did you mean?"
The girl asked.
This time, Linen didn't answer.
Instead, he did something completely unexpected.
He reached out, and before the girl could react, gently ruffled her head.
"Heh. Sorry, Ancestor."
"This time, you might be mistaken—because I'm probably a 'special' soul too, just like that guy."
"But since we're here… and we probably won't meet again, let me help you vent a little."
"Hey, you—"
The girl was so stunned by Linen's sudden rudeness that she froze. By the time she recovered and reached out, his soul had already dispersed, merging into the sacred trial.
She stared blankly at her empty palm.
"What the hell is with this kid, talking to himself?!"
"Damn it!"
She shook her head, puffing out her cheeks as she glared at the screen before her.
"Fine—let's see what stunt you pull!"
...
At the same time, inside the sacred trial, Linen—now controlling the First Emperor's body—stretched lazily. Feeling the surging strength within and clarity of his memories, a smile curled his lips.
Just as I thought.
The Holy Trial can't block my memories either.
And since it's the same Holy Trial, the entry point should be identical—the moment the Empress Consort's affair with the head of House Callenica is exposed.
Linen laughed coldly.
What a perfect setup. Paying the price of one dead "dad" to secure hereditary dominance for your descendants—leaving that fool ancestor guilt-ridden for centuries, unable to let go of her remorse.
But thankfully. Thankfully.
By some twist of fate, I've entered this Holy Trial.
This history was finished—set and immutable. As a later-generation observer, Linen couldn't change the past no matter what he did.
Good. If history can't change, his burden would be lighter.
In that case—let it—become a river of blood.
According to the memories he held, next should be…
"Your Majesty!"
The face before him—bearing a three-part resemblance to Mosiati—was stern, filled with righteous indignation.
"Today, Empress Consort Guineer will secretly meet with the head of House Callenica. The evidence is conclusive! I beg Your Majesty to go with the House heads immediately and catch them in the act—arrest these adulterers and punish them severely!"
"I see. If that's the case, kill them."
Linen nodded.
The minister froze. Linen's decisiveness—so casual, so indifferent—completely caught him off guard.
"Y-Your Majesty, um… the Empress Consort, fine, but the head of House Callenica is a leader of one of the Eight Great Houses. Killing him outright seems a bit—"
Linen nodded in satisfaction.
"Good. My minister worries for me—this pleases my heart. But I never said I'd kill the head of House Callenica or the Empress Consort."
"The one I'm going to kill is right in front of me."
…Then who does His Majesty intend to kill?
In this secret chamber, isn't it just His Majesty and me?
His Majesty is acting truly strange today…
The Morris minister stared at Linen, frozen in confusion.
Linen stared back, his smile growing increasingly unhinged.
---
T/N: KING ARTHUR?????????
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