Chapter 307: This Is a Coup
Twenty minutes later, Senti was happily humming a tune as she hopped and skipped down a corridor, dragging three bruised and battered captives behind her with strange-looking yin-yang chains.
Oh? You're asking if her weapon wasn't destroyed by Sigurd?
Well, see, the Key of Domination isn't exactly rare. Between archaeological digs and treasure hunts across Mount Taixuan, Sigurd's already collected hundreds of them. Giving a few to Senti? No big deal!
"Hmm~ hmm~ hmmm~~"
"Sigurd, I'm back!"
BANG!
Kicking open the grand doors with a beaming smile, Senti made her entrance—dragging her prisoners like it was some kind of parade.
Only to be immediately slammed back as the same massive doors rebounded with even greater force, flattening her beneath them.
"Aaah!" ×4
The door came crashing down with unnatural gravity, and it wasn't just Senti who suffered. Kiana, Rita, and Durandal—still chained and dragged behind her—were also crushed beneath it.
...
Some time later, all four of them sat kneeling in the grand hall, looking utterly disheveled. Dirt-smeared, robe-rumpled, hair out of place—especially Senti, who knelt at the front like a scolded child, the other three silently behind her.
Now, finally able to catch their breath, the three representatives of the Emberya Empire took in their surroundings—and what they saw left them speechless.
Between towering bookshelves, countless tiny black orbs—no larger than fingernails—zipped through the air, emitting beams of light that scanned the shelves as they moved. The entire chamber pulsed with an eerie, surreal rhythm, like something out of a fantasy.
Seated calmly amidst it all was a tall, silver-haired young man. Legs crossed, he casually flipped through an ancient tome, seemingly indifferent to the chaos.
But the moment he lifted his gaze toward them—
Kiana, Rita, and Durandal all froze.
An instinctive, biological terror seized them. Their minds blanked, drowned by a nameless fear. Their bodies felt paralyzed, powerless to move. All they could do was kneel there, stiffly, helplessly.
And then, Sigurd finally turned to Senti, his expression completely flat.
"Stop causing unnecessary destruction. It's a bad habit."
"…Got it."
"You say that, but I can tell you're not actually sorry."
He shook his head and closed his book. Then, he took out a pen and notebook—an actual paper notebook—and began writing something.
Senti's hair practically stood on end.
Sigurd never used low-tech tools unless it was something seriously important. And judging by the way he was writing so diligently… it had to be about her.
"W-What are you writing?"
"A full record of your behavior on this mission. The good, the bad… everything. I'll be handing it over to Little Xuan when we return."
"WAIT! I'm sorry! Please, I beg you, don't record today's events!"
In a flash, Senti dropped to a full kowtow—forehead to the floor, dignity and pride abandoned without a second thought.
Of course she'd panic! That kind of record was for outsiders. And just thinking about the look on Cangxuan's face while flipping through those notes—ugh, she'd rather get vaporized by a Herrscher core!
Cold sweat trickled down her forehead.
[Pfft!]
[Hey you Old Timer, don't laugh! Say something to help me out here!]
[You don't want to see me get locked up and lectured for three days straight by Little Xuan, right!?]
...No response from Fu Hua.
Now Senti was really panicking.
Sigurd stared at her quietly, pen still in hand, expression unreadable. Half a minute passed before he finally put the notebook away.
"I'll let it slide—for now. But next time, I'm recording everything."
"Yes, sir! I'll be very good from now on! Thank you, Lord Sigurd, for your boundless generosity!"
Relieved at having dodged the bullet, Senti sat upright and wiped the sweat off her brow.
"Go get cleaned up. And take them with you—they're filthy. Eyesore."
Sigurd waved them off, already engrossed once more in his ancient book.
Truth be told, all four of them were a mess. After the earlier brawl, they were splattered with soup, oil, and other dubious liquids—and the Emberya Empire trio had also been dragged across the floor and flattened by a door. No matter how naturally beautiful they were, right now they looked like they'd lost a fight with a kitchen explosion.
...
Senti led the three down the hall. With no strength left to resist, the trio wisely chose cooperation. They arrived at a luxurious hot spring bath, cleaned themselves up, and changed into fresh clothes.
An hour later, all four returned to the archive hall. Now, beneath Sigurd's reading platform, three ornate wooden chairs had been placed in a neat row.
The setup was clear.
After a brief hesitation, the Emberya Empire representatives sat down—Kiana in the center, flanked by Rita and Durandal.
Senti, noticing she didn't have a chair, blinked. She looked at the three seated dignitaries… then at Sigurd, who didn't even glance up from his book.
She puffed out her cheeks, visibly annoyed. But in the end, she still trotted over behind him, arms behind her back, standing obediently like a loyal retainer.
Shff
Sigurd flipped another page, still not speaking a word. His attention seemed entirely absorbed by the contents of the ancient tome.
Despite each having their own distinct charm, the three representatives from the Emberya Empire were growing increasingly anxious in the heavy silence.
Eventually, as royalty, Kiana took it upon herself to speak up:
"Ahem! Ladies, I don't know who you two really are, but judging from your methods, you're clearly not ordinary. Anyway, if there's anything you want, just say it directly. It's not like we can beat you. Whatever conditions you have, feel free to—ow!"
Rita pinched Kiana's waist sharply.
Kiana turned to glare, and from the calm smile on Rita's face, she could see a vein bulging on her forehead.
"What was that for? Fine, you talk then."
Kiana pouted, rubbing her pinched waist in protest.
But Rita's temple throbbed even harder—If you knew you're not good at this, why open your damn mouth first?! Now she couldn't even steer the conversation smoothly! Heavens, why did the imperial family of such a great empire—besides Master Zhuge Kongming—have to rely on the Second Prince, this absolute himbo? A literal plant!
At that moment, Sigurd finally closed the ancient tome, placed it on the table, and looked down at the trio.
"To put it simply, I'm taking over this country. If you have questions, ask."
"What a joke! You think the Emberya Empire's millions of soldiers are made of paper? Arrogant villain! Even if you kill us here, don't think you can bring ruin to this great land and its people!"
Durandal stood up and pointed directly at Sigurd, her expression resolute and fearless.
Meanwhile, Kiana clutched her cheeks in horror, eyes wide.
"Aaaah! If you want to die, go ahead! I still have plenty to live for!"
"Your Highness, dying for one's country is the highest honor. As members of the royal family, we should lead by example—better to die with dignity than live in disgrace. Please don't weaken the image of our great Emberya Empire at a time like this!"
"Ugh! Can't we just talk this out?! This guy's a total hottie—he looks super approachable! Bet we can reason with him! Are you brain-dead or something?!"
"Your Highness, are you saying we should just roll over and submit to a usurper? Do you not even have the courage to stand your ground?"
And so, two completely opposite personalities began butting heads right there on the spot.
Rita forced a stiff smile as her eye twitches uncontrollably. If this weren't such a formal situation, she would've long since drawn her scythe and knocked both these idiots out cold.
Sigurd, watching the scene unfold, rubbed his chin in thought.
"Kiana and Durandal, huh? This… definitely didn't happen in that world…"
"Ahem. Pardon the rudeness, good sir," Rita finally spoke up, trying her best to salvage the situation. "But raw power alone isn't enough to govern a nation. The Emberya Empire has thrived for centuries, filled with loyal subjects and defenders of justice—not to mention the Crown Heir, Master Kongming, is still out there… With such reckless ambition, you may not meet a pleasant end."
"Hmm… Compared to the others, speaking with you seems marginally more productive," Sigurd replied. "But let's be clear—I'm not asking for your opinion. I'm simply informing you of the facts. I have a few experiments to run, and this country will be my testing ground. You can either cooperate willingly… or I'll chain you up like dogs and have you cooperate that way."
"U-Um, sir, as I said, the Crown Heir—"
"I don't care."
Sigurd cut her off coldly.
"Now, I'll explain my plan. You'll also be assigned roles accordingly. Listen first, then you can ask questions. This"—he produced a holographic device—"is called the Central Core, an integrated administrative system powered by artificial intelligence. It—blah blah blah, this subsystem—blah blah optimization—"
And so, Sigurd began laying out his vision for national governance, along with the tools he had developed to realize it.
Under some mysterious force, the three women were compelled to sit up straight and listen in complete silence, unable to interrupt.
High-tech jargon flew over their heads like birds—naturally, given their ancient-world background. But understanding didn't matter. Sigurd would put them where they needed to be, and they would keep up whether they liked it or not.
Time passed slowly.
As the night stretched toward dawn, the three unfortunate nobles sat listening blankly, their eyes slowly filling with swirling spirals and question marks. At last, with a casual wave from Sigurd, they stumbled out of the hall—dazed, disoriented, and barely conscious.
Afterward, Sigurd turned to look behind him and saw Senti standing at attention.
Arms crossed. Head slightly bowed. Eyes open and focused.
Only… there was a cartoonish sleep bubble gently inflating and deflating under her nose.
Sigurd raised a brow and quietly picked up the ancient book again, not disturbing her nap.
<+>
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