19. Ancient Scriptures and Pawns. [1]
[The Royal Academy of the capital city of Fluger Kingdom]
A woman of towering stature, standing at approximately six feet tall, donned a pointed cone-shaped hat reminiscent of a witch. Clad in blue-black robes, she possessed fiery reddish-orange hair and mesmerizing amethyst eyes. With an air of elegance, she walked gracefully, staff in hand, her waist swaying like a pendulum from side to side, while her bosom and posterior bounced with each step.
Parting her cherry-red lips, the woman sighed and abruptly halted in her tracks.
"Haaa..."
Her witch-like hat, which had been swaying in unison with her movements, came to a standstill.
"Why...?"
A shadowy figure transformed into human form and knelt before her.
"Your Majesty, our Lord, His Majesty, has summoned you, Your Majesty."
The man clad in black garments relayed the message.
Silence filled the air as the woman's exquisite face twitched upon hearing his words.
Her surroundings began to transform, as the temperature soared and beads of sweat formed on the black-clad man's forehead.
Her gaze turned icy, and she responded calmly.
"Bastard. I am not his woman, nor will I ever be. Even if he is the King of this kingdom, instruct that asshole to prance around the city square, jiggling his posterior, and then I shall consider whether to meet him or not, let alone marry him."
Her words carried a fierce determination.
The man's eyes widened, and he yearned to escape as swiftly as possible.
However, he had been tasked with bringing the woman with him, leaving him no choice but to remain kneeling.
"Haa..."
She sighed once more, realizing her day had once again been marred, and blood would stain her hands yet again.
"Convey my regards to your ancestors."
From beginning to end, her voice remained unyielding, devoid of anger or argument.
"[Crimson Fire]."
In a manner incomprehensible to the man, his body turned to ashes.
"Seven hundred and fifty. Congratulations, you filthy Fluger."
Uttering these words, the woman resumed her stride.
...
Entering a grand chamber adorned with ancient artifacts, sculptures, and unique artworks, she settled into her plush white chair.
Setting her hat aside, she gathered her long reddish-orange hair into a ponytail.
Taking hold of a mirror, she examined her striking appearance, puckering her lips in an attempt to portray cuteness.
Ting-Ting-
At the sound of a chime, she retrieved an artifact resembling the mirror she had possessed previously.
"This disciple greets her master, Your Holiness," she greeted, forcing a rigid and feigned smile.
"You did not accept his offer, did you?"
A feminine figure inquired.
"Indeed. I declined," she replied.
"Then he will continue to trouble you. Just ensure that you do not face the fate I did. Struggle until the very end," the feminine figure expressed disappointment, offering her some advice.
"I will heed your advice, Your Holiness," the beauty responded monotonously to the figure in the mirror. Setting down the mirror, she glanced out of the window situated behind her chair.
"When will I ever find the perfect partner..." The image of a blond man crossed her mind—a gentleman with a ruthless streak. "Nah... he's just too naive." Shaking her head, she dismissed those thoughts and returned to her work.
Her name was Alice D'Arc, the headmistress of the Fluger Royal Academy.
...
"Seven hundred and fifty..."
Seated on a towering throne, his face obscured by the darkness within the room, a man rested his elbow on the armrest, propping his face against his fist. He gazed down at the figures dressed in black with an indifferent expression.
"Your Majesty, Her Majesty has slain a quarter and a half of our brothers and sisters. We demand answers and compensation!" one man bellowed angrily.
Slash-
Thud-
"Make that seven hundred and fifty-one, from this moment forth."
A severed head rolled across the ground, followed by a dull thud. The present individuals seethed with anger, their blood boiling. They had endured enough! This man had treated the infamous Assassin Moon Shadow Clan as mere cannon fodder.
The clan was divine! They deserved respect, for God's sake!
"Not enough, huh?"
His words dumbfounded many, and in the next instant, more figures began to fall.
Slash-
Thud-
"!"
Slash-
Thud-
A river of blood began to flow.
Facing impending death, some figures attempted to counter-attack, some sought to defend, some failed to comprehend the situation, and others immediately surrendered and knelt.
...
"If this continues, it won't be your enemy who eradicates your clan—it will be me," the man on the elevated throne stated with the same indifferent tone.
"Nine hundred, huh? Very well. Albedo, you may cease now."
A figure resembling the others but exuding a greater ferocity materialized out of thin air and knelt before the throne.
"Now, who would like to approach that woman and negotiate?" The room fell into silence.
Their lives were doomed, no matter the choice.
All the figures nodded in agreement.
The man on the throne also nodded, satisfied.
"My Lord."
Tap-
Plat-
Tap-
Plat-
A person stepped into the room, walking through the river of blood, and approached the throne, bowing respectfully.
"My Lord, His Highness, the Supreme Priest has summoned you."
Albedo desired to torment the man before him for his arrogance. How dare he enter the room, not kneel, and address the king as "My Lord"? It was outrageous! However, he knew he couldn't do anything about it. After all, he was the sole disciple of the Supreme Priest, the one who contributed the most to the defense of the Kingdom. The barrier that safeguarded the kingdom was created and maintained by the Supreme Priest.
"I will be there."
For the first time, the man rose from his throne. Even in the darkness of the room, one could sense the smirk on the messenger's face. He had managed to make the king of the Fluger Kingdom leave his seat and follow him. Such an occurrence was not an everyday event.
...
Within a white room, two figures faced each other, their faces obscured. One figure, adorned in regal attire with a large build, knelt with its head bowed. The room, pure white, would illuminate with even the smallest speck of light.
Seated upon a throne, grand and majestic, wearing golden white robes, the figure tapped its fingers on the armrest. Two women fanned the figure.
"Ronald D'Fluger, how useless can you be?" The figure on the magnificent gold throne, adorned with diamonds and expensive jewels, spoke with an unamused voice.
"I instructed you to send 'all of the children' to the demon strongholds. So why did you not send the other three years?" The person who had previously slain members of the Moon Shadow Clan like breaking toys now perspired profusely. Albedo was not present here, and even if he were, the person before him was not only stronger but also invincible within this room.
"Useless," the king muttered, feeling the need to act swiftly. The man before him was simply impossible to deal with.
"W-We have a general idea!" The once cold and indifferent voice now resembled that of a frightened cat.
"Lies." The man on the throne furrowed his brow. "Perhaps it's time to change the pawn, huh?"
Slash-
Thud-
A ray of light passed and the King lay on the ground.
Dead.
***
[Author's Note: If you've made it this far, you already recognize the potential of the story, as well as my hunger for improvement. Your trust and comments inspire me to work more diligently! So, yeah~ Please vote for our novel!]