Chapter 586: Salvation

An elite cavalry force thundered through the streets and alleys of the city.

Other than the pounding of hooves and the rasp of scale armor against itself, there wasn’t a single stray sound.

The way was clear. Before long, the cavalry crossed that famous bridge and that famous street, arriving at the perimeter of the most famous building in the country.

Smoke hung thick in the air. The initial assault had already begun.

Two forces that had arrived even earlier met at the palace gates. The slaughter had started with every second counting, and dense bloodlight and dazzling arcs of magic had already lit up half the sky beyond the palace.

But Muen suddenly yanked the reins and halted.

He turned his head, looking toward a certain direction.

Because in this heavy atmosphere—where blood and fire were burning at the same time—amid all that chaos, he heard a sound.

A sound he knew.

Crying.

“Count Ailer!”

Muen called out to Ailer at the head of the formation.

“I don’t know how to command troops, so from here on, I’m leaving the assault in your hands.”

“Young Master Muen... you’re not coming with us?”

“I have something else I need to do.”

Muen ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ reached up and tossed the family crest pinned to his chest to Count Ailer.

“For Celicia’s side, just tell her the truth. She won’t say anything.”

“But at a moment like this...”

A hint of confusion crossed Count Ailer’s square face.

He knew that in truth, this army—and even the other hands coming from the royal faction or the Campbell family—existed for one purpose: to tear open a road forward for that princess.

But pushing ahead alone took tremendous courage.

At a time like this, if Young Master Muen—who the princess trusted and was closest to—wasn’t at her side...

“Don’t worry. That’s Celicia.”

Muen’s gaze drifted away, and it was as if, within that sea of chaos, he accurately found that silver-white figure. He couldn’t help but smile faintly, and he said softly,

“She’s not the type to feel uneasy just because someone isn’t beside her...”

“...”

Count Ailer blinked in brief surprise, then, as if he understood something, he smiled.

“I understand. I’ll deliver the message.”

...

...

“So? That guy really ran off and won’t be back for a while?”

After receiving the news from Count Ailer, Celicia only gave a light nod to show she understood. There wasn’t the slightest change on her cool, pretty face.

As if she’d already expected it.

And yet even so, everyone gathered around Celicia couldn’t help but shiver.

They didn’t know if it was just their imagination, but for that instant just now, it felt like the temperature around them had suddenly dropped.

“If he’s not coming, he’s not coming. One less of him doesn’t matter.”

In the temporary council room, Celicia spread out a map of the palace.

“What matters now is discussing which side to launch the attack from. They’re moving fast, and they definitely have preparations now. If we charge in recklessly like we did earlier, we’ll only add casualties for nothing.”

“What does Your Highness think?”

Count Ailer asked, already in the habit of analyzing the map.

“I think...”

Celicia extended a long, slender, pale finger and pointed to a spot.

“This is good.”

“The west gate? But the west gate isn’t the main gate. To be honest, it’s far from both His Majesty’s bedchamber and the Imperial Council hall. Even if we break through here, they’ll have plenty of time to respond...”

Count Ailer frowned. His excellent military instincts told him it wasn’t a good position.

“It’s true—this isn’t a good position. But there’s something I think Count Ailer needs to know.”

“What is it?”

“That is... although my brother is the so-called First Prince, I think...”

Celicia lifted her head and looked deep into the palace. The corner of her mouth carried a faint, mocking curve.

“He doesn’t actually understand the detailed layout of the entire palace very well.”

...

...

Muen dismounted and went alone into a dim alley.

The crying grew clearer.

“Wuh... wuh...”

It was a sorrowful crying—choked and wavering, like a wail from a ghost.

Hazy as fog, faint and indistinct, yet long and drawn-out like a dirge for a departing soul, echoing across the entire district.

Muen flicked his fingers. Starlike points of light gathered, forming a brighter radiance.

The darkness was driven back.

Muen lifted his head.

At last, he saw the source of the crying again.

A little girl no more than seven or eight years old, still wearing that tattered white dress. Her long hair hung loose, and between the messy strands, her big, adorable eyes showed through—without pupils, pure white.

She stood suspended in midair, upheld by countless blood-red threads.

Those thin, pallid hands and feet reached out from the oversized robe, but there was none of a child’s softness or beauty to them. Instead, they were covered in vicious, horrifying seam marks.

And those blood-red threads were drilling out from those seam marks—like puppet strings—wrapping around the little girl again and again.

“So it really is your crying that’s stirring up that beast blood.”

A little girl crying in a place like this wasn’t because she was waiting for Muen. She clearly had some other purpose.

Muen followed the direction of the little girl’s pure white gaze. Within the outlines of the darkness, scattered lights were starting to come on. Even though it was still the dead of night, the entire lower city seemed to be gradually waking up inside that crying.

But this waking wasn’t a good thing.

Because it wasn’t a gentle awakening—it was an awakening jolted awake by grief and bloodfire.

Before the wounds had even healed, they were being torn open again. And what it brought to that place was an even heavier pain.

“To tie down our manpower... that person really will do anything.”

Muen sighed.

At this moment, a large number of people in the lower city were moving as well. Their presence wasn’t strong, but in truth, the lower city still had a respectable force that stood on Muen’s side.

That was the guard unit under the lower city’s governor.

That governor, because of a conflict with a certain great noble house, had always been firmly in the royal faction—or rather, firmly in the Campbell faction.

Muen would rather take the risk of pulling an emergency unit in from outside Berland than have any thought of mobilizing the guard unit, precisely because he knew this would happen again.

Those people’s bottom line had long since been buried deep underground—like Berland’s sewers—no one knew how deep.

“Of course, I also know that with the guard unit alone, it’s impossible to completely deal with those beast-transformed monsters, but... as long as they can hold out for a little while, that’s enough.”

Muen walked forward at an even pace, drawing closer and closer to the little girl. His hands turned, and from his spatial magic device, he drew two pure-white blades.

The cold wind blowing in from the Gulein River lifted the hem of his clothes.

“Because Teacher Mela said that as long as the source of the beast blood dies, then the beast blood that was split off will naturally lose its activity. So I’ve been waiting for you to show yourself, and I also knew you would show yourself.”

Only now did the little girl seem to notice that Muen had come close. She turned her head. In those hollow, empty eyes, there was nothing at all.

But a crescent arc like the moon reflected Muen’s equally sorrowful face.

After he once used black flame to devour a portion of the little girl’s soul, Muen seemed to be able to feel the pain that rose from the depths of her soul as if it were his own.

Utter malice.

Utter bloodstench.

Utter despair.

None of those things should have been for an innocent little girl to bear.

“So.”

Black flame leapt. One of Muen’s pupils turned pitch-black, like a sun’s corona revolving.

“I’ve come to save you again.”