SOTBW - 194

Returning to the knights’ quarters with the morning sun, Belshua tried to speculate about the possible connection between Kieron and Lucas but eventually gave up due to the headache it caused. 

If there was one thing he could pinpoint as a commonality between the two, it was their self-pity and lack of hesitation in self-destruction. Moreover, Kieron never grew close to anyone. The man had spent his days holed up at home, obsessing over research with Bersha. If Kieron ever stepped out and approached someone, there was always a clear purpose behind it.

As much as Belshua wanted to storm into Lucas’ mansion and uncover what Kieron was plotting, the place was under too much surveillance. He could have used magic to alter his appearance temporarily and infiltrate the mansion, but his mana reserves were critically low. He couldn’t afford to waste even a drop on uncertain ventures.

Perhaps Kieron’s approach to Lucas had something to do with Maximón. After all, Kieron had once left a note for Maximón urging him to “awaken.” 

That “awakening” referred to becoming a “monster who violated taboos,” just like Bersha.

Belshua had meticulously sealed away the soul of Sains within Maximón to prevent such an occurrence. However, on the day Najane collapsed, Maximón had unmistakably spoken to Belshua “like Sains.” This meant there was now a crack in Mahilen’s barrier, which had kept Maximón and Sains separate.

The fragment of Sains that now resided in Bersha’s body was in a precarious state. Perhaps Sains had already forgotten the beliefs and sense of justice he once fought to uphold long ago.

If Kieron intended to provoke Maximón, approaching Lucas made perfect sense. Maximón was currently unstable. Any disrespectful approach toward Najane would trigger violent outbursts from him.

Belshua didn’t know how others outside of Najane would shape their fates. Peering into the futures of countless Emaydis was already overwhelming enough—there was no room left to pry into anyone else’s destiny.

The only fact Belshua could be certain of was that Najane was the last Emaydis.

Around Najane, those from ancient times were bound to gather. One lingering question, however, was this: if Najane truly shared the same fate as Emaydis Bastronia, shouldn’t she have befriended Daniel and Amelia much earlier in life?

At the very least, if Daniel was indeed the reincarnation of the person Belshua knew, the knight who bore him must have been raped, reluctantly raised her son while fleeing the Luamars family, and eventually entrusted him to the Powley household before disappearing.

Similarly, Amelia should have been born into a wealthy family rather than as a tenant farmer, fled after enduring her parents’ abuse, and eventually arrived at the Powley estate, much like Daniel. That was how things should have unfolded, just as they did with Villar and Aron.

But just because two people were reincarnations didn’t mean their lives had to mirror each other.

“Why didn’t Najane fall for Maximón at first sight?”

The sudden memory of Rakhshu’s probing question stirred Belshua’s already complicated thoughts. Rakhshu had asked the question as if he knew something. Could it be that he had heard something when he met Mackanon?

Uneasy, Belshua stopped in his tracks and furrowed his brow. The fact that Najane’s fate was unfolding differently from his predictions suggested that the future glimpsed through sacred relics wasn’t necessarily absolute…

Belshua looked down at the training ground spread out below the stairs. Though she might have run away by now, Amelia appeared every day without fail. She seemed to be getting the hang of physical training, as she now practiced and warmed up on her own without needing instructions.

Watching Amelia move with the poise of a swordsman, Belshua wore a faintly troubled expression. He began to worry that she might actually declare her intention to become a knight someday.

He had assumed the grueling training would make her grow sick of it and run away, but perhaps this stubborn persistence was a trait of her soul.

Thinking of the gambling debt Aron owed him, Belshua sighed quietly and descended the stairs. Upon spotting him, Amelia waved cheerfully.

“You’re a bit late today.”

“You’re the one who came early.”

“I hurried because I heard about the year-end party. You’re the busiest person in the Romsoa Knights, Sir Belshua. I heard you’ve also taken charge of training the mercenaries?”

At Amelia’s words, Belshua’s face twisted in irritation. The thought of the training Maximón had forced upon him made his frustration flare.

Thanks to that, Belshua naturally ended up skipping the year-end party. With so many training sessions to oversee, how could he possibly attend? Though he hadn’t planned to go anyway, there was a difference between voluntarily skipping and being forced to miss.

Recalling Maximón’s shameless face, Belshua suppressed his anger and picked up a practice sword.

“You remember the basic stance for sword attacks, right?”

Before Amelia could respond, Belshua swung his sword.

Amelia, who had barely managed to dodge, frowned and steadied her practice sword.

“That was dangerous!”

“If you dodge, there’s no danger.”

Belshua replied nonchalantly, half-venting his frustration toward Maximón as he began Amelia’s training.

---

Villeton, the chancellor of the Astien Empire, stared at the man sitting in the middle of the emperor’s vast office. The man exuded no tension, behaving like a boy playing with toys.

The young and beautiful man arrogantly propped both legs on the desk piled high with important imperial documents. He skimmed through the reports and statistics submitted by his subordinates with indifference, then—clearly disliking complexity—turned those papers into salt.

This was his divine ability.

The power to turn anything into salt.

Long ago, this man sacrificed himself to save his beloved and, by some miracle, was resurrected. Typically, those with divine abilities lose their memories upon resurrection, but astonishingly, this man remembered everything.

Perhaps that was a harbinger. A warning that his immense and profound love for his beloved might drive him to commit any act, no matter how extreme.

In any case, the man and his beloved were reunited and fell in love once more. But tragically, they were once again caught in misfortune and died.

It would have been a fitting end to their story, but the man’s younger brother revived them using dragon blood and flesh in an attempt to dominate the world.

The younger brother attempted to enslave his resurrected sibling by casting ancient spells, the kind once used on slaves, hoping to control his brother’s extraordinary abilities. However, he overlooked one critical fact: dragon blood and flesh are not something a mere human mind or body can withstand, regardless of whether the individual is a divine ability user or a great magician. Naturally, no one could dominate someone with such a nature.

The spell failed to enslave the man. Enraged by his brother’s hubris, the immortal incinerated his sibling’s soul to the point where it could never reincarnate. As the younger brother burned in flames of hatred, just before turning to ash, he cursed his elder brother:

“Everyone you love shall meet an unfortunate end, just like Astien!”

Forced to live for eons, the elder brother eventually went mad. Believing the only person who could accept him now was his beloved, the lonely and tormented man created a soul compass to find his reincarnated lover.

Driven mad by despair, the man slaughtered countless people and waged wars, burning peaceful lands in his quest to reclaim his beloved. Yet, despite all his bloody efforts and obsession, the curse deeply etched into his bones prevented him from reuniting with his love.

Mackanon Helixier, the one and only emperor of the Astien Empire.

A genius who laid the foundations of magic during the time when magic was just emerging, principles that endured into the Astrun era. A true magician who conquered a chaotic world with sheer skill during the Magic Wars.

But after enduring repeated tragedies, his soul could no longer return to the cycle of reincarnation…

“Hey, Vilenus. How much food is left in the imperial capital?”

Mackanon asked Villeton.

Villeton clasped his hands neatly and bowed his head.

“It’s Villeton, Your Majesty, not Vilenus. And there’s enough food left in the capital to feed ten million people for about two years.”

“What about converting the nobles’ villas into farmland?”

“We’re proceeding under your decree, but the number of refugees flooding into the capital is so overwhelming that the impact may be limited…”

“It’s better than doing nothing. By the way, I heard the salt we released into the market has already run out. Is that true?”

“People are hoarding out of fear…”

“Is that so? That won’t do. Arrest them all and execute them.”

There was no hesitation in Mackanon’s command. The emperor had lived for so long that life and death no longer moved him. Whether it was the birth of a child after painful labor or the passing of a loyal subject who had devoted their life to the empire, to the emperor, they were merely lives and deaths as insignificant as dust.

Villeton had tried countless times to understand Mackanon but always failed. Mackanon was born in an age when tens of thousands of dragons ruled the world, and he had lived long enough to see those tales become legends. No ordinary human mind could comprehend Mackanon.

What Villeton clearly understood about Mackanon was that, despite his dazzling appearance, the emperor was a tragic romantic—and that he had gone mad long ago.

“What sudden wind blew in to make you work so diligently?”

Villeton, sweeping the salt granules scattered across the office floor with a broom, asked politely. Mackanon, busy turning unnecessary documents into salt, replied indifferently.

“I’m thinking of leaving the imperial capital.”

It wasn’t unusual for Mackanon to vacate the palace. This was the same man who had gone on summer vacation even while Serith were threatening the empire. In fact, there was even a record in some prime minister’s diary stating that during their entire term of service, they never once saw Mackanon.

Above all, while Mackanon was an unpredictable person, he wasn’t the type to clear his backlog of work before leaving for an extended break. Villeton, anticipating the emperor’s long vacation, glanced down at the pile of salt he had swept together.

“If Your Majesty says ‘for a while,’ it’s impossible to gauge how long that might actually be. Specifically, how many days do you plan to be away?”

“Perhaps… forever.”

The emperor intended to leave the palace forever?

Feeling as though common sense itself was shattering, Villeton raised his head in disbelief. Mackanon was the emperor of the Astien Empire. Did this mean he intended to abdicate the throne, or perhaps abandon the nation altogether?

To speak so casually about such matters in front of the prime minister—and in a tone as if he were simply going for a short stroll nearby—was utterly baffling.

Villeton set the broom aside, his expression darkening.

“Your Majesty.”

When Villeton began speaking in a serious tone, Mackanon burst out laughing.

“Don’t worry, Viles. Whether I return or not, the people of the Astien Empire won’t suffer.”

“It’s Villeton, Your Majesty, not Viles. Where exactly are you planning to go?”

“Bastronia.”

At Mackanon’s answer, Villeton could only wear an even more incredulous expression.