Chapter Forty-One: Blessings

Astonishment! That was the most immediate emotion felt by everyone present. The scarlet light that soared into the sky seemed divine in its grandeur.

Olina’s aura continued to surge, crossing into the upper third tier and reaching the fifth level. The very princess they had all looked down upon—a commoner of base blood—had been fully acknowledged by the Sword of Dawn.

This awe was soon joined by a profound fear. They had thought Eileen’s earlier proclamation was madness enough, but now stood before them someone even more audacious. The declaration made by this commoner princess was nothing short of a challenge to all nobles and knights—a declaration of war against the kingdom itself.

How could she dare?!

And then it dawned on everyone, the king included, that they knew almost nothing about this Sword of Dawn—the very foundation of the kingdom, which had upheld the realm for a thousand years. It seemed the sword was not a defender of the nobility, nor even of the king. None of them understood the criteria by which the Sword of Dawn chose a sovereign.

Qin Le stood with his mouth slightly agape. It took him a long moment to recover, after which he gave a helpless smile and said, “You are indeed as willful as ever.”

The declaration just now had shaken him to his core. He hadn't imagined that the girl who pestered him endlessly about the principles of the arcane would use it to forge such a declaration. Still less had he expected she would have the courage to voice it aloud, to act upon it.

In a fleeting moment, Qin Le caught a glimpse of someone else’s shadow in this young woman—it was as if the past had come alive once more.

“You were the one who encouraged my willfulness,” Olina replied, winking impishly, her face radiant with satisfaction.

She could not claim to be unbothered by the recent rumors and slander, but she would never vent her anger on the ignorant masses—such a thing would violate her beliefs. But if she ever found the mastermind behind it all, she would see that they paid dearly.

And the culprit was obvious: these loathsome nobles, these monsters who fancied themselves superior, their veins running with foul blood.

She had long yearned to do this—to raise her voice in defiance of a world so absurd, a reality so twisted.

Just as Qin Le had said, reality was bloody, distorted, absurd. But reality was no excuse for cowardice. If something was wrong, it must be righted, no matter how daunting the world.

Even if it meant standing alone against the world, misunderstood by all, or facing death, there would always be some who would rise—to question injustice, to defend the weak.

To realize all this required strength—the power to change the very fabric of the world.

For the first time, Olina felt a yearning for power.

Olina returned the Sword of Dawn to its place, fully aware that it had not truly chosen her, but had bestowed upon her its greatest recognition.

In an instant, that god-like aura vanished. Most of those present breathed a sigh of relief. They had truly been afraid she might turn the sword against them, against which they would have no defense.

At the highest dais, the king himself exhaled deeply. For a moment, he had thought the succession was decided and that he might be forced to abdicate on the spot.

“Your Majesty, your two daughters are truly remarkable,” Qin Le said with a smile.

Whether it was Eileen, who had proposed the foundations of centralized rule, or Olina, who had just stunned them all with her wild declaration, both possessed an inhuman spirit. In a normal world, without supernatural power, such people would be branded as lunatics or fools—and swiftly assassinated.

After all, to challenge the mainstream of society was to invite utter destruction, no matter how grand one's ideals or how strong one's will. Yet this world was different: here, individual power could at least partially forestall such outcomes—though never entirely.

Still, neither stood alone. Eileen likely had the support of the Royal Knights, while Olina had the backing of the arcane principles.

The King of Dawn gave a helpless smile. “If I could choose, I would wish they were a little less spirited.”

Once all the claimants to the throne had finished their oaths, it was time for the witnesses to swear their own—a blessing all had long awaited.

The King of Dawn rose from his seat, placed his right hand over his heart, and intoned, “I swear to witness the royal selection, and to ensure that the final victor bears the blood of Dawn.”

All present rose in turn, and the Sword of Dawn, upon the highest dais, bore witness to the oath.

A gentle golden light fell upon them all, and a warm current welled up from within, flooding each person with a sensation both indescribable and profound.

Qin Le sensed, within his spirit, the formation of something called a contract. He was bound to ensure the contest proceeded fairly, and that a new king would ultimately be chosen.

The sensation that followed was one of ease, a buoyant lightness spreading through his body.

The other champions felt it as well, as if the hidden wounds of years of war had been swept away, the invisible chains that bound their bodies now fallen.

Standing behind Olina, Aimeya’s delicate features shone with excitement.

She had not imagined the Sword of Dawn to be so powerful, capable of cleansing all traces of the Church of Night—this was far beyond what any royal artifact should be able to do.

Thus, after many twists and turns, the ceremony of the royal oath drew to a smooth close.

Everyone departed the palace with their own thoughts, for now the true contest for the throne was to begin.

Back in the palace, the King of Dawn sat in his chair, gazing at the dark-haired man before him, and said with a sigh, “Sir, my second daughter is not so bad either. She's only a bit assertive, but otherwise has few flaws.”

Standing beside him, Mark, captain of the Royal Knights, looked at the king in surprise. In ten years, this was the first time he had heard the king praise Princess Eileen.

“Your Majesty, we do not engage in political marriages,” Qin Le replied with a wry smile.

It was clear the king still clung to the idea of a dynastic union. The inertia of tradition was hard to overcome. No matter how many times Qin Le explained, in the king’s eyes, bloodline alliances remained the surest guarantee.

“Your Majesty, have my little devices all been installed?” Qin Le inquired.

At that moment, the man in black with the iron mask emerged from the shadows and spoke in a low voice, “All items have been placed in the residences of each royal candidate.”

The King of Dawn looked puzzled. “Sir, are you certain your curious contraptions can transmit sound back without being detected?”

He was skeptical of these so-called listening devices. How could anything, without the use of supernatural force, send sounds from afar?

“Please wait and see, Your Majesty,” Qin Le replied with a slight smile.

The arcane had already tested this. In this world, those with supernatural gifts possessed keen senses—mere observation through a telescope could be detected. But purely mechanical devices, devoid of any energy flow, produced no reaction whatsoever.

To the supernatural in this world, a listening device was no more than a stone or a piece of wood—an inanimate thing utterly beyond their perception.

Something occurred to Qin Le, and he suddenly asked, “Your Majesty, are you familiar with ghoulspawn?”

“Ghoulspawn? Are they not the minions of Greed? But why do you ask, sir?” The King of Dawn could not fathom the reason for this question.

Had the higher humans encountered such fiends while clearing the plague of green ghouls?

Qin Le replied in a somber tone, “A few months ago, after we dealt with the assassins sent after Princess Olina, we found a black worm in the heart of one of them. It was identical to those found within the ghoulspawn.”

“The worms inside the ghoulspawn…” The King of Dawn grew pensive, then his expression changed, as if seized by a dreadful suspicion.