Chapter 29: I'm Glad She Is HereChapter 29: I'm Glad She Is Here
Alexius suffered the mana backlash and would be out of action for a week. However, the plan for reclaiming the lands was progressing smoothly. Even though he could not directly involve himself in his current state, he was still capable of commanding the army on site. Yet Aelrue insisted that he rest, and now he was resting in the newly occupied lord's chamber of Slava City's castle after successfully saving Count Ares Avarus's whole family from being hostages of the Kalian Empire's Sword Master and reuniting them with the Count.
The Count surrendered his entire militia army, executed the Viscount who was loyal to the Duchy, quickly occupied the city, and swore eternal loyalty to the Crown with a blood oath. All of this happened within three days.
After three days, the army was ready, and Alexius ordered them to advance deeper into the territories of the Avarus Duchy. The reclamation occurred swiftly with the strategic guidance of Count Ares and their Sword Master Fidus, along with his grandfather, the Marquess Custodian, who commanded 20,000 soldiers and knights.
They bypassed heavily fortified chokepoints that Ares knew were death traps, striking instead at supply lines and lightly defended outposts. Town after town surrendered upon seeing the Crown Prince's banner, their morale completely shattered by the news that their most respected general had defected to the royalists.
.......
While the Leo army marched steadily westward, Der Gnadenlose sat in the grand throne room of the Avarus Duchy. He occupied the massive seat meant only for the true Duke, his heavy, gauntleted fingers tracing the scorch marks carved into his dark red armor—the lingering scars of Alexius's strike.
Even if the Sovereign's Aura grants a powerful boon to every ruler in this world, he thought, how could a mere Rank 7 fight on equal footing with me? How could he strike back? He could still feel it—a tingling pain burning beneath his skin. I should have overwhelmed the boy with raw strength alone. Why was he able to injure me? Because of him, my aura is still unstable. I cannot even draw out my full power.
He had anticipated Count Ares's betrayal. A man would do anything to save his family. Der Gnadenlose had intentionally set the stage at Castel Nero, hoping to lure out and strike down Captain Fidus, the Principality's only Sword Master. What he had not anticipated was the Crown Prince himself stepping onto the battlefield.
Why was he so confident? Why risk his own life to save the family of a defeated, replaceable vassal?
If I were in the Count's place… would the Emperor come to save me?
The treacherous thought slipped into his mind. Der Gnadenlose caught himself, violently striking his own face with his gauntlet. The sharp sting of pain rattled his skull, clearing the doubt.
The Emperor is absolute, he reminded himself fiercely. He is a being beyond rivalry. He saved me when I was at my lowest. I am just a lowly chess piece in his grand design.
He straightened his posture.
I am Der Gnadenlose. The Merciless. I give no mercy, and I expect none.
"Long live the Emperor," he muttered into the empty hall.
Suddenly, the doors to the throne room swung open. An Imperial mage, clad in the black robes of the Kalian Empire's communication division, hurried inside, his boots echoing loudly against the stone. In his trembling hands, he carried a small, ornate black cylinder sealed with gold wax—the highest priority cipher.
"My Lord," the mage bowed deeply, offering the cylinder. "An urgent decree from the Imperial Capital. It carries the Emperor's personal seal."
Der Gnadenlose's eyes narrowed beneath his visor. He snatched the cylinder, broke the wax with his thumb, and unrolled the parchment to scan the glowing magical text within.
A moment later, his massive gauntlet closed, crushing the parchment. The magical letters dissipated into fading sparks.
He stood up, his dark red aura flaring violently and filling the massive room with suffocating killing intent.
"Call the lieutenants," he commanded. "Gather them in the courtyard within fifteen minutes. If even one of them is late by a single second, I will personally separate their head from their shoulders."
The messenger trembled uncontrollably, struggling to breathe under the oppressive weight of the Sword Master's power. "Ye… Yes, my Lord!"
With a frantic bow, the mage turned and sprinted from the room as if his life depended on it—because it did.
........
Ten days later, the Principality's main army reached the capital of the Avarus Duchy.
Alexius, having recovered enough to ride at the head of his vanguard, looked out over the capital city of Avarus—or what was left of it.
The sight was horrifying.
The outer walls of the city had been deliberately destroyed, collapsed outward by massive magical detonations and devastation. Houses were burned to their foundations. Not a single home remained intact. Even more horrifying were the lifeless bodies of civilians scattered throughout the city as they advanced. Everyone was shocked. All they could utter were words like "Horrifying," "Terrible," and "Merciless."
Men, women, the elderly, and children—brutally slaughtered without mercy. The scent of blood and ash hung thick in the air. Alexius could not find any trace of the Empire's forces. They were entirely gone, leaving behind a profound violation of the sanctity of life.
Alexius rode through the silent streets, gripping his horse's reins tightly. He had set out with the objective of forming a nation where every race could live happily and safely. Seeing this—the slaughter of innocent people—was a brutal reminder of the world he was fighting against.
They reached the central keep, the castle of Avarus. It remained structurally intact, although the horrors inside were no less severe. The hallways were scattered with the bodies of loyal Duchy soldiers, knights, and even unarmed servants.
They passed through them.
Alexius, flanked by Vane and Aelrue, pushed open the doors to the throne room.
At the base of the throne lay a gruesome sight. Three lifeless bodies lay there. By the clothing and insignias on their chests, the old woman—her headless body discarded like trash—was surely the Duchess of Avarus. Nearby lay the lifeless bodies of her teenage son and younger daughter.
Their torn clothing and bruised forms painted a horrific picture of their final, agonizing hours at the hands of the retreating Imperial soldiers.
Carved deeply into the stone floor near their bodies, in dried blood, was a single mocking message:
Till we meet again, my little Prince! Enjoy the parting gift!
The sheer cruelty of the Imperial Army was undeniable. They had used the Avarus family for their wealth and supplies as political pawns. When they had no further use for them, they discarded them like broken toys, burning the city to ensure the Principality inherited nothing but ashes and grief.
Alexius stared at the words.
If I had lost the Battle of Arthenburg, this exact scene would have unfolded in my capital, he realized, a cold dread pooling in his stomach. Elias, Aelrue, Fidus… everyone I love would be lying in their place. Horrifying.
He began to tremble, shaking uncontrollably as fear, grief, and pure anger boiled over inside him.
His killing intent flared. A suffocating, violent blue aura erupted from his body. It was a terrifying fusion of his Sovereign's Aura, his sword intent, and his overwhelming mana.
Aelrue and Vane were instantly thrown backward, gasping for air as the atmospheric pressure in the room skyrocketed.
"How could they?!" Alexius roared.
Vane was forced to his knees, desperately struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of the Prince's combined power.
"I will kill them! I will avenge them!"
Looking at Alexius's back, Aelrue felt a spike of genuine terror. Alongside the fear, she saw herself in his current state—shattered, grieving, and consumed by rage.
If I am not beside him right now, she thought, her arms clenching, I will regret it for the rest of my life. I have to stand up. I have to be with him.
The blue aura intensified, cracking the stone pillars of the throne room.
Just then, Captain Fidus, Grand Mage Solon, and Duchess Zemlya burst through the doors. They froze, struck by the most overwhelming pressure they had ever faced in their lives.
"What happened?!" Zemlya's eyes widened with shock as she realized this catastrophic energy was radiating from the young Prince.
"Your Highness!" Fidus shouted, taking a step forward, preparing to rush in.
Solon grabbed the Captain's massive arm, stopping him. The Grand Mage silently pointed toward the center of the room.
Aelrue was moving. Profound sorrow filled her eyes as she fought against the crushing gravity of Alexius's aura. Every step was an agonizing struggle, feeling as though it took an eternity. She forced herself forward until she finally reached him.
She wrapped her arms tightly around him from behind, pressing her face against his back.
She struggled to push her voice through the suffocating pressure. "Alex… it is okay. I am here. Everything will be alright."
Alexius froze. The nostalgic, calming scent of flowers washed over him, accompanied by the grounding warmth of her embrace. The blinding rage flickered.
"Mother…?" he whispered. He turned his head, his glowing eyes dimming as he saw her. "Aelrue? I… I am sorry. I am truly sorry."
He turned and buried his face in her shoulder, the terrifying blue aura shattering instantly like glass. Alexius gripped her tightly and finally broke down, his sobs echoing through the ruined hall as he cried out his grief. Aelrue held him gently, refusing to let go.
As the oppressive pressure vanished from the room, Vane let out a desperate breath and collapsed to the ground.
Fidus exhaled a long, heavy sigh of relief.
Solon adjusted his spectacles, watching the two at the center of the room. "I am very glad that elf is here. If not, everybody here would already be dead."
Zemlya, still catching her breath from the sheer terror of the Prince's raw power, glanced at the old mage. "Hmm? What are you saying?!"
Alexius's crying continued into the nightfall.
(Continue.....)