Ch.673The Immoral Man and the Immoral Woman

Prince Haral’s headless body convulsed a couple of times, spewing fresh blood before collapsing onto the corpses of his family.

He looked like a child falling asleep in his mother’s arms. Except both mother and child had become bodies without their heads.

The tragedy unfolded before I could do anything.

“You bastard…!”

I growled, baring my teeth. With Haral dead, Ludwig’s plan had completely collapsed from its very foundation. Things had gone terribly wrong.

“With this, I’m the only one left of the royal bloodline. The descendants of the great warrior Hogni, massacred in a single day. What greater tragedy could there be!”

Ragnar Lokan wiped his nephew’s blood from his cheek with the back of his hand and burst into laughter. Each time his shoulders shook, the chain mail he wore rattled continuously.

“You’ve got some nerve talking like that after killing them yourself. Your father must be wailing in the afterlife. He should have erased you before you were born, but he spared you because you were his son, only to have a son worse than a dog crawl out.”

“Are you one to talk?”

“……”

Ragnar silenced me with a single retort and laughed. It was a laugh suggesting that I too was about to commit patricide.

It was unfair for me, who shared not a drop of blood with Orhan, but there was no point in denying the false accusation of being a patricide.

To prove I wasn’t a patricide, I would have to reveal that I wasn’t Hersella but a separate soul that had taken over her body. Not something I could speak about.

“Anyway, this means your and Ludwig’s grand plan for internal interference has turned to bubbles. The puppet who was to wear the crown, our poor Haral’s head, like this.”

– Crunch!

“Has disappeared.”

Ragnar stomped on Prince Haral’s head that was rolling on the floor, crushing it.

Skull fragments scattered in all directions, and the flattened contents flowed like burst pulp. An eyeball that popped out from the pressure stuck to my robe, slowly sliding down like a snail.

I glared at Ragnar while brushing away Haral’s eyeball with my left hand.

“…What are you planning? I thought you’d take Prince Haral hostage and try to escape.”

“I did consider that. Until I saw you in person.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Meeting you face-to-face, I could see it. The murderous intent in your eyes. What use would a hostage be against someone determined to kill me by any means necessary?”

“……”

As Ragnar said, I had no intention of playing along with his hostage situation.

I was planning to engage in dialogue as if I would meet his demands, while looking for an opportunity to snatch Prince Haral from his sword.

In the worst case, even if I failed and lost the prince, I was determined to somehow kill or capture Ragnar.

Did he figure that out just by looking at me? He’s quick-witted.

“Ah, I see. You’ve seen right through me. Sharp instincts and a good mind. Very capable indeed.”

I lowered my stance slightly with a sneer. The usurpation plan had failed. However, that didn’t change what I needed to do.

“This much is basic for a king of Dane.”

So he thinks he’s the king of Dane now that he’s killed all the other royals? Typical bastard thinking.

I glared at Ragnar, assessing his strength.

His build and voice seemed similar to the Eighth Apostle I had faced in the game, but the weapons he carried were unfamiliar.

The sword in his right hand was similar in size to the one-handed sword unique to Dane that I’d seen in the game, but there was something ominously strange about it that suggested it was no ordinary weapon.

The entire sword from blade to hilt gleamed with a dark red luster as if made from a single metal, and the sides of the blade were engraved with incredibly complex wave patterns reminiscent of intertwined snakes coiled around each other.

In his other hand, he held an ornately crafted circular shield that shone platinum, which also seemed extraordinary, surrounded by unusual mana.

In the game, he had carried only a plain steel sword, confident in his own strength, but here he came with national treasure-grade equipment.

I wasn’t sure if this would be more difficult than the original or simpler. But I didn’t think I would lose.

“Then you must also understand that all that’s left is for you to die, you capable bastard Ragnar. How do you plan to escape without a hostage?”

“Well… do I really need to escape?”

Ragnar turned toward me and raised his shield defensively as he answered.

“Doesn’t Ludwig need the cooperation of Dane’s king? If I, Ragnar Lokan, as king of Dane, abandon the plan to create runes by sacrificing the lives of my kingdom’s people and swear full cooperation with the Empire… Ludwig would have no choice but to accept, wouldn’t he?”

Indeed, it was a proposal Ludwig might nod to.

With the original plan to make Prince Haral a puppet and incorporate Dane as a province of the Empire having failed, he would at least need to achieve the strategic goal of mobilizing Dane’s army to attack the Ka’har.

If he could move Dane’s forces, he might accept a personality-trash bastard becoming king of Dane instead of a young, weak puppet.

Of course, I wouldn’t.

“Ludwig might have. But the person standing before you isn’t Ludwig, it’s me. And I don’t believe in your oath.”

Would I be crazy enough to trust an Apostle’s oath?

“If Ludwig is your only lifeline, you’d be better off quietly offering your neck.”

“Do you think the king of Dane would break an oath sworn on his own name? What would be the point? Whether Ka’har wins or the Empire wins, Dane will ultimately be on the path to ruin.”

Ragnar said, slightly bending his knees and covering himself with his shield.

“Hestein may have lost his judgment, obsessed with the potential of runes, but I know. Even if we create powerful runes by sacrificing hundreds of thousands, a country cannot be protected by just one or two strong individuals. The fact that the Empire is faltering despite having someone like you is proof of that.”

His excuse was reasonably plausible. Someone else in my place might have been convinced.

However, knowing his true identity, to me it was nothing but a detestable lie.

“A king of Dane might think so. Even one who usurped the throne through patricide wouldn’t want his country to perish once he’s on the throne.”

“Then-“

“But it’s different for a cultist who worships ancient gods, isn’t it? For someone like you who considers chaos and death as offerings to your god, the destruction of Dane would be welcome.”

For the first time since we began talking, Ragnar’s eyes shook violently.

“…Cultist? You’re pinning a groundless accusation on me.”

Ragnar tried to deny it belatedly, but I was already certain of his identity. The way his eyes had wavered at the mention of ancient god cultists was the clearest answer.

“The forgotten gods must be saddened. To think that someone of Apostle rank would deny their own faith.”

Ragnar’s expression twisted, and his aura changed completely.

Until now, he had seemed like just an ambitious bastard, but having revealed his true colors, Ragnar displayed the fierce and ominous killing intent he had hidden beneath the shell of Dane royalty.

The pool of blood at his feet trembled and rippled like waves under the pressure that exceeded even the Imperial hero-class knights.

The identity of the Apostles was a secret so well-kept that it wasn’t revealed even in the game. He seemed to have judged that I already knew all the truth since I had pinpointed it accurately.

“…How did you know that? I heard Paulus was discovered, but even he wouldn’t have known the identities of the other Apostles.”

“Who knows? Why don’t you use that good brain of yours to figure it out?”

I twirled Durandal while playing coy. Thanks to slowly closing the gap, I was now only about ten steps away.

I firmly gripped Durandal while gradually awakening the heroic deed within me.

“…Did Elpinel, the false god’s throne, tell you? He must really favor his hunting dog. Even connected through divine objects, it would take enormous power to convey will to the mortal world.”

Wrong answer.

For all his confident talk, he had completely missed the mark.

Of course, I had no intention of correcting his misunderstanding.

“Let’s go with that!”

I shouted, raising the corners of my mouth, and extended the power of Karma that I had spread throughout my body toward the world.

Defying Fate.

The world of compressed time, devoid of color, embraced me.