Chapter 147
Chapter 147. Epilogue 1 - Execution
The holy knight Savilius strode down the palace corridor, seething with rage.
Blood dripped from the holy sword Clufels in his right hand.
The blood of bureaucrats, guards, imperial knights, and servants who had crossed his path by chance.
"You've got to be kidding me! You dare strip me of my title!?"
Savilius cursed Emperor Formes.
Holy knights who pledged loyalty to the empire were granted the special status of "Sacred Knight."
It was merely an hour ago that a bureaucrat had come to deliver his dismissal.
At first, he couldn't believe his ears and demanded an audience with the emperor, but the bureaucrat refused.
The moment the imperial knights demanded he surrender his holy sword, Savilius impulsively cut them all down. This outcome had been rumored for some time.
Sacred Knight Savilius' behavior had been atrocious.
It was routine for him to beat those who displeased him, and if his notoriously short temper snapped, he would slaughter them without hesitation.
His victims numbered no fewer than twenty.
Only because he was the emperor's strongest warrior had he been spared until now.
But that changed a few weeks ago.
Among a group of nobles delayed by the great frost was a beautiful woman.
Savilius took notice of her and tried to drag her to his chambers, only to be stopped by another woman.
The fact that the one who stood in his way was an ugly wretch only fueled his rage further.
Even so, he restrained himself from killing her on the spot—only because she wore fine clothing.
Savilius settled for shoving her aside, but the title of Sacred Knight was no mere decoration.
The woman slammed into a wall and died instantly.
As the group erupted into chaos, Savilius groaned at the thought of another scolding from the emperor.
But the situation escalated far beyond expectations.
The woman he killed was none other than Lady Stephana, eldest daughter of Duke Rasmer—the most influential figure in the emperor's faction.
Upon hearing the news, Duke Rasmer sent a furious letter of protest.
But what truly shook the court was the appended note:
Beache is enraged.
Princess Beache. Daughter of Duke Rasmer and younger sister of Stephana.
Known as the strongest ice mage, with legends telling of her slaughtering entire bands of thieves along with their guards.
With her beloved sister murdered, she would never stay silent.
Princess Beache and Sacred Knight Savilius.
If the two were to clash, the imperial capital would suffer catastrophic damage.
And so, the emperor abandoned his Sacred Knight.
Striding violently down the deserted corridor, Savilius plotted.
He would kill anyone in his way, then flee the capital to join Duke Vilear's faction.
Until now, he had maintained the balance between the duke's S-rank "Moonbow" and A-rank "Jade Phantom." But that would soon collapse.
The duke's influence would grow, and eventually, the emperor and his entire family would be executed.
Savilius imagined the emperor weeping and wailing, yet his fury remained unquenched.
He still hadn't killed enough.
Though he should have been fleeing, Savilius hunted for prey, his gaze darting about—
When suddenly.
(Mist—?)
A thick mist appeared out of nowhere, rapidly thickening.
Before he knew it, the corridor was swallowed in fog, the light of the magical fixed lanterns blurred and dim.
(So the court mages have come out to play.)
Savilius smirked, but his holy sword's reaction made him frown.
He glared into the mist, scanning his surroundings.
This was no [Haze] or [Haze Layer].
"[Miasma]—So the court has been harboring a filthy necromancer."
As he turned, a man of average build emerged from the mist.
Behind him, an uncountable horde of undead.
Savilius surveyed them and realized—he recognized their faces.
These were all people he had killed.
Even knowing this, he felt no fear. If anything, he was proud.
A swordsman's duty was to kill.
Whether testing a new blade or slaughtering for sport, they should have been grateful to serve his purpose.
What caught his attention, however, was the sheer number of undead.
He knew little of necromancy, but controlling this many was no ordinary feat.
This middle-aged man was high-rank—perhaps even the highest—in [Necromancy].
Yet, Savilius tilted his head.
No such man existed among the court mages. A master of this caliber, especially in necromancy, would have been infamous.
Staring at the man's plain face, it suddenly clicked.
"Could it be... the Origin's Melody, Raslair?"
"Astute. I am its current leader, Apluta."
The middle-aged man bowed courteously.
The Origin's Melody, Raslair, was a special ops unit led by one of the Three Heroes, Ryas.
Active during the Arsith Kingdom era—precursor to the Arsith Empire—their elusive tactics made them feared even more than the other two heroes, Ridarios and Hizel.
But their extreme specialization made them unsustainable, and after Ryas' death, they were absorbed into the imperial guard.
"Still alive, are you? And what, you relics think you can stop me?"
"Perish the thought. As you say, we are relics. Though I call myself 'leader,' we are but a shadow of two. To oppose a Sacred Knight is far beyond us—"
Apluta waved his hands exaggeratedly, smiling.
"I am merely here to delay you."
The moment he finished speaking, footsteps echoed from ahead.
A towering, muscular man emerged from the mist, and Savilius sneered.
"One after another—now the guard captain? Fine. Your head will make a fine gift."
"I am not your opponent."
Savilius' brow twitched at the small shadow peeking from behind the man.
A boy with flushed cheeks, clutching a short sword.
The boy was Litius, only son of Guard Captain Fitalio—known to be utterly unremarkable, not even ten years old.
"You mock me, Fitalio..."
"You are no longer a Sacred Knight. Do not presume to address me so casually, brigand."
Fitalio spat coldly, then turned to Litius.
"By His Majesty's decree. Execute Savilius."
"Yes, I'll do my best!"
With an energetic reply, Litius drew his short sword.
Then, with a trembling blade, he pointed it at Savilius.
"Please go easy on me."
Savilius ignored the boy's misplaced courtesy.
His icy gaze locked onto Fitalio as he asked:
"You're fine with this? Even if I butcher this brat?"
"Try it. If you can."
Fitalio's reply drained Savilius' anger.
In its place rose a frigid killing intent.
Amid the [Miasma]'s fog and murderous aura, Litius stepped forward, cheeks still flushed.
Savilius misjudged the situation.
He assumed the boy's trembling sword was from fear.
But that was impossible.
No ordinary child could move under a Sacred Knight's killing intent.
The moment Litius stepped into range, the holy sword vanished.
Savilius unleashed [Instant Flash], the fastest one-handed sword skill, in a diagonal slash—
"Hyah!"
With a clumsy shout, the short sword swung.
Savilius dodged by instinct, but his eyes widened in disbelief.
His raised holy sword had indeed cleaved the boy in two.
The sensation lingered vividly in his hand.
Litius heaved his sword back up, steadied his wobbling body with both hands, and reset his stance as if nothing had happened.
When the short sword swung again, Savilius dodged with wide eyes.
The sight was unbelievable.
Not even a troll's [Regeneration] could heal wounds that quickly.
As if mocking his denial, the boy's severed clothes fluttered in the air.
Savilius unleashed [Heavy Strike], [Double Slash], and [Chaotic Barrage], carving Litius apart—yet the boy did not stop.
Severed arms still swung swords, bisected torsos still advanced.
When Litius caught his own decapitated head in both hands, Savilius screamed.
He shattered the short sword with [Heavy Strike] and sent Litius flying.
In the silent corridor, only Savilius' ragged breaths echoed.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from the boy, no matter how much he wanted to.
Consumed by terror for the first time in his life, he failed to notice the boy landing gracefully despite barely being able to swing his sword moments ago.
"Papa's sword..."
Litius trembled as he looked down at the broken blade.
The moment Savilius met his upturned gaze, he gasped and swung the holy sword horizontally.
"St—Stay back!"
He activated [Eggshell of Annihilation], the holy sword Clufels' unique skill.
Radiant slashes erupted around Savilius, shredding the corridor's walls, ceiling, and floor.
Yet Litius stepped forward undeterred, dangling his broken sword.
The flying slashes carved through his body, even piercing his head—yet Litius advanced.
Savilius retreated, face twitching, until his back nearly touched the [Eggshell].
To protect its wielder, the holy sword deactivated the skill.
What awaited him was a multitude of hands.
"—!? Let go, you wretches!"
The undead obliged—by shoving him forward.
Savilius stumbled back, only to see Litius leaping at him.
He raised the holy sword to counter, but [Instant Flash] struck first.
His chest split open, Savilius collapsed—and Litius mounted him.
Savilius screamed and slashed with the holy sword, but Litius didn't flinch.
Instead, a flurry of slashes rained down.
His pleas for mercy were cut short before they could form, and what remained of his head splattered across the corridor wall.
When there was nothing left to slash, Litius hammered the broken blade down.
A sharp clang rang out—
"That's enough."
Fitalio called a halt.
Approaching, he wiped the blood off Litius with a handkerchief.
"Exemplary work."
"Thank you. But... Papa's sword..."
"All things break. Do not mourn—"
Mid-sentence, Fitalio's smile vanished as his gaze shifted.
He stepped over Savilius' corpse and knelt before the undead.
There stood a lone woman.
"Lady Stephana, the criminal has been punished. As captain of the guard, I deeply apologize for this tragedy."
Stephana met his gaze calmly and nodded.
Fitalio bowed again, then nodded to the other undead.
"Apluta, release them."
"Understood."
With Apluta's acknowledgment, the undead filling the corridor vanished one by one.
Once the last had departed, Fitalio turned on his heel.
As he headed back to his son, he glanced down.
"Ah, right. Why not try the holy sword?"
At his father's suggestion, Litius blinked before picking up Clufels.
Then, he tilted his head in confusion.
"It tingles a little."
"Ah, my apologies. Clufels can only be wielded by Sacred Knights."
"Even you, Papa?"
"Even me."
Litius pouted at his father's answer.
Then, without warning, he swung the holy sword and smashed it against the wall.
Again and again, until abruptly stopping.
"It's behaving now!"
"Hah, you've tamed a holy sword. Almost like a Sacred Knight."
"I don't wanna be one! I'm gonna be an imperial guard!"
"Right, right. Then let's report to His Majesty—after you change. This is your proud debut as a guard."
"Okay!"
Patting his beaming son's head, Fitalio led him away.
Were it not for the gruesome execution and the boy drenched in blood, they might have seemed like any happy father and son.
Apluta watched them go, then glanced down.
The empire's treasure, the holy sword, was being dragged along bare.
He desperately stifled his trembling shoulders.
(To force a holy sword to submit through sheer might. And above all—)
He doesn't die.
Pierce his heart, sever his head, destroy his brain—he doesn't die.
To Apluta, death was like removing clothes.
Too familiar to even fear.
It felt as though his entire life's work had been denied—and yet, it was strangely comforting.
Apluta, leader of the Origin's Melody, Raslair.
A man who lived with death was utterly captivated by the boy named Litius.