Chapter 247. Usurpation
Today, the word Genius is used very commonly.
Whether it's being the smartest in the village, receiving excellent grades at the academy, or rising through the ranks with exceptional skill.
If one shows outstanding talent, people around praise them as heaven-sent, and at the same time, envy them.
As a result, the person begins to think.
That they are a chosen existence, born with special talent.
But true Geniuses are different.
They are those with talents that overwhelm the world itself, who can influence it alone.
Ones who reign by themselves.
The world calls such beings Transcendents.
Grond was a Genius.
Not the kind of Genius who could rule the world, but at the very least, he was a Genius who possessed a minimum of objective perspective.
'I cannot reign over the world.'
That was the realization he gained in his younger days, during his mercenary life.
He thus lowered his own expectations, but Grond still recognized that his talent and strength were above average.
At least compared to those around him.
───Grond, why would you…!
He massacred the mercenary corps he once belonged to. He killed wealthy clients to rob their fortunes.
Then, once he crossed into another country, no one could chase him. With just a few swings of his blade, he acquired the wealth that would take ten years as a mercenary to earn.
This was the truth of the world.
Law and morality were beneath primal force, the highest concept of all.
Afterward, Grond searched for a place abundant, yet free of outside influence.
If he could not reign over the world, he would at least become ruler of a small domain.
That was when he found Roafra.
'I like it.'
King of the underground city.
It was, in every sense, an ideal.
With determination, Grond made his name resound in Roafra.
That caught the attention of Roafra's former ruler, who drew close, and soon he was able to enter Vintert. The process unfolded just as he intended.
Grond thoroughly studied the organization called Vintert, the workings of the underworld, and the nature of humans.
All for the sake of ruling it himself.
───How dare you betray me?!
A few years later, Grond severed the former ruler's head.
He usurped the throne so openly that the entire underworld knew it. He became the strongest ruler Roafra had ever seen.
Absolute power, beautiful women, endless wealth.
Artifacts he acquired through auctions, he walked a dazzling path.
Gaining confidence in his successful life, Grond decided to expand his dream. He resolved to step into the light.
'Perhaps not the world, but at least one corrupt Kingdom is within my grasp.'
Years of effort and immense expense.
In the end, the First Prince, with Grond's help, ascended to the throne. All that was left was to wait, and the Kingdom would fall into his hands.
The plan was going perfectly.
At least, until he targeted one particular Magus.
***
───!
Grond's consciousness surfaced.
Groaning, he lifted his upper body, his head naturally tilting downward.
Drip… drip…
Bright red liquid dripped down. Blood.
Beyond his helmet, Insert's Full Armor was heavily damaged. Twisted metal pierced through his muscles and stabbed into his organs.
Seeing the wounds with his own eyes, the long-forgotten agony twisted at his nerves.
"Ghhhhh…!"
Staggering, Grond slowly stood up.
As he looked around, a vast crater stretched before his vision. Enhancing his sight, he saw ice crystals glittering in the air.
Perhaps from pain, his head felt hazy.
His memory of why he was here was faint.
Crunch. Crumble.
Grond clenched his teeth and looked upward.
He pressed against the ground, climbing, while small rocks rolled down. As soon as he emerged from the crater, a human shadow loomed over him.
That chilling presence made him raise his head.
Ash-grey hair, and clear, transparent blue eyes. Memories he had momentarily forgotten struck his mind.
The very one who had mercilessly trampled upon his domain.
"A, sher…!"
Rage, and fear.
Grond roared, swinging his arm in fury. A desperate flail to deny the fear rising within.
His fist, mustered with all his might, struck Verden's chest.
For the first time, his attack landed.
Yet no cry of pain followed.
It was only natural.
A punch lacking even proper aura could never pierce Ainber's physical resistance.
There was no need for him to even dodge.
Claws of ice, infused with lightning, reached for Grond's head.
Normally such magic would not work, but due to
Crackkkk!
"Ghhhk, Gyaaahhhhhh!"
His helmet shattered into pieces.
The freezing bolt tore away one of his eyes.
As Grond screamed, Verden's left hand extended.
Kwaaaang!
The shockwave of magic hurled Grond across the ground.
Thanks to his tough and resilient body, he avoided instant death, but he could not escape fatal injury.
Muscles torn apart, nerves twisted.
A fragile groan spilled from his mouth.
Verden planted his foot on Grond's back.
Gravity pressed down on his whole body, heavier and heavier. It mirrored the way Grond had crushed his own elite guard, Meraden, to death.
To Verden, Grond was nothing but the weak.
"P, please… spare me…!"
He cast away his pride, begging for his life.
It was a pitiful sight for the King of the Underworld, but perhaps inevitable.
For the most precious thing life values, above all else, is survival itself.
"..."
Cold silence hung in the air.
Desperately, Grond continued.
"Wh, whatever you want, money? Power? Women? If you desire it, I'll give you everything. No, I'll even give you Vintert, I'll hand you Roafra's throne!"
"Not interested."
"Not just Roafra! If you take the throne and I stand by your side, we could seize the Estiria Kingdom itself! And if you wished, you could devour other nations too───"
His persuasion failed.
Death was growing clearer with every passing second.
Thinking quickly, Grond shouted again.
"Th, then Leonil! Leonil is after you and your unique trait…! If, if I help you, you can kill him more easily!"
Grond gave himself value.
He argued the advantage of sparing him. It was a desperate thrash for survival.
But that was all.
Magic power swelled in those blue eyes.
Telekinesis. Grond's demonic sword was drawn into Verden's hand. Despite its appearance, it felt strangely light.
Grond's mouth dropped open.
"Asheeeeerrr!"
Verden swung without hesitation.
Slashhh!
The blade cleaved through his neck.
Though lacking the finesse of a seasoned swordsman, against the already-crippled Grond it was sharp enough.
Blood sprayed along the arc of the blade.
Thud.
His hand fell limp.
There was no dignified last word. The sensations of pain, and consciousness, were snuffed out in an instant without even a chance to resist.
His reflection showed in the pool of blood that began to spread across the floor.
Grond's eyes remained open, as if to deny his own death.
Grond Veil di Validus.
The end met by the King of the Underworld was no different from that of those he had slaughtered.
"Haa."
Verden exhaled.
Though the opponent was more disappointing than expected, it had been a useful experience. After all, it was rare to fight against an artifact bearer.
Since coming to Roafra, he had expended a considerable amount of magic power.
Especially breaking an artifact head-on was quite a troublesome task. His body and mana circuits were weighed down by fatigue.
'Still…'
Verden gazed at the Demonic Sword Cadence.
Beside the crater, the Floated lay scattered across the ground.
Though Insert's Full Armor was broken, he had secured not one but two artifacts. Far too valuable to be called mere extra income.
'Though I don't yet see a use for them.'
Well, it didn't really matter.
Verden felt inwardly satisfied with the outcome.
Just then, he sensed people approaching from afar.
Verden turned his head to the side.
Beyond the collapsed fortress wall, four figures came into view.
Blood-soaked Galliark let out a weak, wheezing chuckle when he saw Verden, while the three from Vintert stared in shock.
'Familiar faces.'
His eyes met Robert's.
"...!"
The chill in Verden's gaze made Robert flinch.
The presence pressing down on him was worlds apart from the mage she knew as Asher.
Gulp.
Robert swallowed hard.
Perhaps because he had just witnessed Grond's death, it felt as if an invisible blade was pressed right against his throat.
The back of his neck was cold.
Cold sweat slid down.
His fingertips trembled without him realizing it.
'No, I must stay focused.'
He had to think rationally.
Rather than panic, now was exactly when clarity was essential.
How can I escape from here?
What should I do to survive this?
While desperately searching for a way to live, suddenly Reniden's words came back to him. At the same time, instinct whispered.
His decision was made.
Robert, face set with resolve, stepped toward Verden.
Step, step.
Footsteps echoed through the silence.
Among Vintert's leaders, Robert possessed the weakest martial power.
Yet to move so calmly in this situation, such courage stunned Gail and Draken.
A kind of respect even stirred in their hearts.
"..."
At last, he stopped.
Less than thirty paces away from Verden.
After a stretch of silence, Robert finally acted.
Thud.
"I pay respects to the new King of the Underworld."
It was a rational choice, grounded in reason.
Not wishing to die, Robert welcomed the new ruler.
***
The Estiria Royal Castle, Eznoren, was quiet.
It was a silence different from that of the civil war. Everyone was preparing for a new era, the reign of a new king.
The succession was settled: the throne would go to the First Prince, Valrgna.
All other candidates had perished. It was the inevitable outcome.
The current King of Estiria himself acknowledged the right of succession.
Even after the death of the Second Queen, he showed no reaction at all. He had no interest whatsoever, regardless of what happened.
Afterward, Valrgna set about managing his image.
First, he mourned the deaths of the Second Prince Lotnil and the Third Prince Evers, both declared suicides, and personally held grand funerals for them.
"Long live His Highness Valrgna!"
"That such a compassionate prince shall ascend the throne—what a great blessing for the Estiria Kingdom!"
Many citizens praised Valrgna.
The reason was simple. Everyone knew the civil war was entirely the Second Prince's fault. And they believed the suicides came from refusing to accept the outcome of the war.
The First Prince's secret social hall.
The manipulated public opinion narrowed the people's vision.
Anyone who knew Valrgna's true character, anyone who had dealt with the Royal Family of Estiria, would never have believed the rumors at face value.
But the masses were content to cheer only for what was shown to them.
"Just the same as always."
In a tower on the outskirts of Eznoren.
Inside a chamber like a prison, the First Princess Silis looked down on the capital with a sneer. In her platinum eyes burned contempt and disgust.
But soon, the emotions settled.
The situation was flowing smoothly.
As planned, the First Prince had won, and in the course of the civil war, Duke Devon had perished.
She would have preferred to kill him herself… but being indirectly responsible for his death would have to suffice.
'The coronation will soon begin.'
The long-awaited moment was drawing near.
The Royal Family of Estiria, the nobles, the citizens.
On that day, when all gathered together—those who had been complicit in her mother's death, and who had feasted on peace and happiness nourished by that death—
On that day, she would lay bare the emotions she had buried for decades, living as a doll.
"Haa…"
Until then, she had to endure.
Nothing could be allowed to disturb the perfection of the stage.
"...?"
At that moment, someone intruded into Silis's mind.
There was only one who could do this. Closing her eyes, she focused inward.
Loosening her mind, a voice reached her.
───Your Highness Silis.
───Speak, Lorian.
Her closest confidant, Lorian.
A mage who possessed the unique trait of mental resonance, and one of the avengers who shared Silis's pain.
───It's… Roafra. A problem has arisen.
Roafra?
Silis furrowed her brow.
A problem in the underworld… could it be that Grond had stepped outside? That was the only variable she could imagine.
Tilting her head slightly, Silis asked.
───What kind of problem?
───The King of the Underworld has died.
…What?
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