Chapter 604: The King of Pride (Final)

"Ah—no, no, don’t kill me!"

"Get away! I’m of the noble blood of glory, you monster!"

"This isn’t what the Speaker said—w-we were supposed to... ah!"

Terrified screams once again echoed over Berland—but this time, the chaos and slaughter didn’t come from the crowded, lawless Lower District. It came from...the Upper District, with its broad courtyards and lavish architecture.

Everything was like fate turning in a circle.

Potbellied aristocratic lords. Nobly dressed ladies. Young men hollowed out by wine and lust. Even people who were still tangled up in a lover’s bed tonight, dreaming that tomorrow they’d ride glory straight into the sky... In the blink of an eye, what greeted them was a catastrophe they’d never imagined.

Dense roots dropped from that gigantic tree that was gradually being dyed pitch-black, falling like countless rainy waterfalls. They twisted and stretched, like hounds tracking a scent—pinpointing those who carried the bloodline passed down from a thousand years ago, then mercilessly piercing their bodies and devouring their flesh.

Glug, glug—feasting greedily.

And as the Empire’s great nobles, these people enjoyed endless resources, so there were plenty of strong ones among them...yet before they could even manage to cast those long-rusty spells, they discovered in horror that before these root tendrils, they didn’t even have the ability to resist.

As if from the moment they were born, they were pigs and sheep destined to be penned and slaughtered when the time was right—every fang and claw already rotted clean away by a thousand years of extravagant indulgence.

"Please... spare me, I’m begging you, spare me..."

"I don’t want to die... sob..."

And so the beautiful dream of glory popped like a bubble. In a dazed glance back, those once-highborn great nobles had already become countless dried corpses hanging from the roots—flesh and soul swallowed in an instant, becoming fresh nourishment for the golden giant tree they revered.

"So that’s what it is."

Celicia watched calmly. The horrifying sight—countless dried corpses suddenly dangling from the branches—didn’t make her slender brows twitch even once.

"This so-called blood of glory was nothing but emergency rations you prepared for yourself. Pathetic. They let you fool them for so long."

"Emergency rations? N-no... I didn’t need them! You forced me!"

Albert let out a vicious roar, yet on that face—made grotesque by countless roots burrowing under his skin—there was also terror and despair.

"No... no... this isn’t what we agreed on!"

"Shut up! This is the only use you trash have!"

"The blood of glory and order shall endure, with the Empire forever—this was the First King’s oath! You can’t violate it!"

"Aren’t you already fused with me forever? As long as I endure, you naturally endure too!"

That face was savage one moment and terrified the next, and the tone of what it said clearly shifted—as if two different souls were fighting for control of the same body.

But as the roots writhed, the last trace of humanity in Albert’s crimson eyes still couldn’t withstand the corrosion of this god-given thing.

"Ah... no... I’m the Emperor... the Empire’s Emperor... I..."

Faint screams and mournful wails scattered into the boundless night.

The soul called Dion, too, in the end—cradling its regret and unwillingness—became nothing more than another part of the giant tree’s nourishment.

"As long as I kill her, I can reforge order and glory! You trash are only good for this!"

Albert showed no pity at all. Excitement glittered in his crimson eyes.

So the golden giant tree shook again. Countless roots stretched out, weaving together, until they formed a writhing, grotesque coronation robe—settling onto Albert’s newly reborn body.

A crown that oozed stinking pitch-black filth rose slowly, hovering above Albert’s head—as if deliberately challenging Celicia’s dazzling diadem. Deep, shadowy light erupted, like an abyss hanging high.

After swallowing all the glory completely, in the blink of an eye Albert seemed to recover his former dignity and nobility—becoming once again...an "Emperor"!

A stinking, filthy...rotting Emperor.

"This look really suits you."

Celicia tilted her head, leisurely appreciating Albert’s appearance. Then the corners of her lips curved, and she suddenly said, out of nowhere:

"Still...thank you."

Albert froze. "What do you mean?"

"Thoughtfully helping me clear out the Empire’s pests—of course you deserve my thanks."

Celicia said it sincerely. "Those people hid too deep. Pulling every last one of them out later wouldn’t have been easy. You really saved me a lot of trouble."

"..."

Albert’s rage exploded. "Once I kill you, you won’t be thanking me anymore!"

The golden giant tree rumbled violently.

A howling gale surged in, flapping the rotting Emperor’s coronation robe as it dripped pus and blood.

He raised that utterly twisted "King’s Sword" high. In that instant, a tide of deep shadow swept out—authority born of blood and curse, released in a sudden burst.

Countless branches stretched upward, as if to pierce the sky.

Heavy storm clouds churned above Berland. In the earlier battle, they’d been torn apart more than once—yet now, in this moment, they gathered again under that vast power.

In an instant, the clouds were infected by rot, truly turning into a dead, ashen gray.

An unspeakable terror bred rapidly in the depths of everyone’s hearts across the city. Most of the timid civilians were already collapsing to the ground, and in their confusion they could only follow instinct and lift their heads blankly.

What they saw...was a silhouette as vicious as a demon.

A city...a massive, vast city, hanging upside down, slowly descending from the gray fog.

The Shadow of Berland!

A prototype of a divine kingdom on earth once forged by the Silent Moon—destroyed under the former king’s wrath, leaving only broken fragments. And now, Albert, with the authority of a rotting Emperor, re-derived it into existence.

But this time, it didn’t seem like it was merely a shadow.

The inverted city slowly sank, as if it truly meant to replace Berland—crisscrossed, grotesque scars covering every street and alley. Corrosive pus-blood was flowing there now, dripping down like fine rain.

If it succeeded in landing, it would break through Celicia’s "Empire" support and turn this city once again into soil for the golden giant tree to harvest—then spread its pollution throughout the entire Empire!

And yet—

That pus-blood, enough to turn all living things of blood into foul, absorbable rot, ultimately did not fall.

It hung in midair, unable to drop even an inch further.

"Right in front of me, you want to swallow my people as nourishment, too."

Celicia looked down at Albert with icy contempt. Word by word, her girlish, gentle voice grew more imposing—more furious.

"Are you...looking down on me that much?"

Celicia reached out and grabbed.

The raging wind and thunder that had fallen from the storm clouds were seized into her slender palm.

And so everything fell silent.

Everything that could threaten the Empire—along with the fear in the hearts of all her subjects—was gathered by that light, playful grab, becoming wind and thunder of destruction clenched in Celicia’s hand like a girl scooping water.

The dazzling crown rotated, casting a boundless radiance.

"I will sweep everything flat for the Empire."

She murmured again.

Beneath the cover of those five fingers, as wind and thunder of destruction collided fiercely, a brilliance so bright no one could open their eyes formed a Judgement Spear—the symbol, in the prophetic long-poem, of the doom that arrives at the world’s end.

Celicia twisted her wrist. A towering phantom emerged behind her—another her, wearing an illusory imperial diadem, even more majestic.

The phantom hurled the Judgement Spear with savage force, pouring the Empire’s wrath into that impudent, false reflection!

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Like ten thousand bolts of lightning blooming, like ten thousand boulders colliding—after absolute silence came a terrifying echo like the world collapsing, ravaging everyone’s eardrums.

Gray fog, the inverted city, pus-blood...everything was driven toward destruction in wind, thunder, and flame. Celicia lifted her hand again and blocked off all the light and sound that ordinary people couldn’t endure, leaving only silent annihilation—played out like a pantomime.

And then.

She didn’t even look at the destruction of that inverted reflection. She only tightened her grip on the sword in her hand again.

That blade—the true King’s Sword—shaped from the Empire...from her authority.

Aimed at the false king who defiled the Empire, and the false sword.

And so—she cut.

No technique was needed, because to her now, any technique was meaningless.

A sword-light flashed, slicing across the sky above the entire city in an instant.

No mercy, no holding back. Celicia’s sword intent—already crushing among her peers—bolstered by the Empire and her own realm, became a [N O V E L I G H T] death-whisper that even King Yintuo would avoid head-on.

Albert’s body split open at once. The sword intent tore him apart, and the root tendrils were shredded and extinguished along with him.

That towering golden tree shuddered violently, as if roaring soundlessly. A terrifying crack ran from top to bottom across the massive trunk, nearly cleaving it into two.

"Power scraped from some parasites."

Celicia stared at the collapsing rotting Emperor, and said coldly:

"Where do you get the nerve to stand against the 'Empire'?"

"Heh... heh..."

Countless roots regenerated even as they were being purged by sword intent, struggling to stitch Albert’s ruined body back together. The rotting Emperor dragged himself upright, and the words leaking from his wind-holed throat were even harder to catch than a baby’s babble.

But Celicia’s brow lifted—because she could clearly sense...he was laughing.

"Heh heh... I know, of course I know. Right now, I’m not your match."

Albert could finally speak complete sentences, so his laughter became all the more grating.

"But just because I’m not your match now doesn’t mean I’m guaranteed to lose in the end, does it?"

"Your roots have been severed. Your last emergency rations are almost gone. What else do you have?"

"Heh... hahahaha... naïve. A great tree’s nourishment doesn’t only come from the soil!"

"..."

Celicia’s eyes narrowed. As if she’d realized something, she jerked her head up.

At that moment, the ashen clouds dispersed, revealing a clear night sky.

But there were no stars. No moon. Only...emptiness.

Like a mirror that reflected nothing at all.

Or like a lake—hanging upside down in the heavens as well—rooted into some terrifying existence, so perfectly still it didn’t ripple even once.

A lake she’d seen before.

And that golden giant tree—already nearly rotten and ruined—was forcing its countless branches and leaves upward, reaching toward the end of the sky, drawing impossibly close to that lake.

The Shadow of Berland just now, and the gray fog...seemed to have been nothing more than cover for this action.

...

Wooo—crying rose.

Infants, children, girls, women, men, the elderly...a chilling chorus of countless people mixed together, wailing over the entire city like a whole ghost kingdom was about to cross that boundary.

Even Celicia was affected by the cries, feeling an inexplicable throb of dread in her heart.

Something...was about to rise from the lake.

Celicia’s expression shifted slightly. She immediately spread her authority across the sky above the whole city, turning it into a curtain of darkness that covered everything, cutting off that terrifying influence—then slashed at Albert again.

"Hahaha... useless! You can’t kill me!"

Albert burst into crazed laughter, completely ignoring how the sword intent was still shredding his body.

"He can’t truly descend, but you can’t stop Him either! Do you understand? The ending was decided long ago—just like the First King’s pact from a thousand years ago!"

Celicia didn’t react to Albert’s final madness.

Because that indescribably terrifying outline finally...surfaced from the depths of the lake.

It was...a tree.

A tree that looked no different from the golden giant tree below.

Only its golden radiance was even more sacred, more dazzling—and vastly more immense.

But when that tree fully appeared on the inner side of the lake, when its countless golden branches pressed against that thin barrier the naked eye could hardly perceive—uncountable corpses, white bones, and souls screaming in agony floated up from the lake’s depths, crawling along the trunk, until they too pressed against that barrier.

And then, countless greedy, hateful gazes stared straight at this world overflowing with life.

Evil God: the Fallen Evil Sacred Tree!

"So that’s it... Your real goal was to wait for His arrival."

Celicia murmured softly, looking not surprised at all.

When she’d seen that earlier illusion, she’d already anticipated this. And even so, she knew—no matter how she now bore the title of Emperor, she couldn’t stop the actions of a god so high above her in advance. That was the tragedy of frail creatures called humans.

So...was she only going to struggle helplessly with her last shred of strength?

"Ah...great Sacred Tree."

Albert fell to his knees in joy and reverence, having long since thrown away every trace of "Emperor" dignity. He stretched out both hands and countless roots, praying humbly to the Fallen Evil Sacred Tree.

"Please...grant me again the great power to reshape order—just like the First King a thousand years ago. Let the Empire...return to Your order and glory."

The Sacred Tree didn’t move. Perhaps that thin world barrier prevented Him from acting freely. But in that moment, both Albert and Celicia felt a terrifying gaze from a higher plane land here.

【Granted.】

A barely-there syllable beyond human comprehension, mixed into the sea of wailing.

And then the Sacred Tree’s branches drooped slightly. A single drop of dew slid from a golden leaf and fell slowly.

In the instant it fell, that droplet expanded rapidly—becoming, in the blink of an eye, like a sun that contained endless might.

Yes.

A great tree’s nourishment doesn’t only come from the soil beneath it.

It also comes from...the sun above.

The Evil God’s true body couldn’t descend, but through that sword He had once bestowed, He could still seep His power into this world.

That holy relic—granted before He had fallen—could also become an anchor for His corruption of this world.

And so Albert, even more overjoyed, prepared to receive this grace.

Yes. As long as the great tree was bathed in sunlight once more, he could recover the First King’s authority. When that happened, even Celicia would be nothing more than blood food—like those base commoners who had once dared to defy the King—devoured by the newborn Empire.

Albert flicked his eyes sideways, wanting to savor Celicia’s horrified expression...

Huh?

Strange.

Why did she still look so calm?

Had this woman become so emotionally cold that even the deepest fear no longer existed in her?

Albert froze for a moment, and then realized...he wasn’t receiving the god’s grace at all.

The sky darkened.

As if he’d suddenly understood something, he snapped his head up—utterly terrified.

Because at this moment—

What hung in the heavens was not the Sacred Tree’s sun that would grant him grace.

It was...a black sun disk, ringed by a holy halo!

"Forgot to tell you."

Celicia suddenly turned her head. There wasn’t a trace of panic in her eyes—not even facing an Evil God. She lightly swept her hair back; the Emperor’s majesty faded, replaced by a bit of girlish liveliness and charm.

Her brows and eyes curved as she said:

"The one who owns a sun...isn’t only you."

...

...

"Oh, oh, I get it. So that’s how it works."

Muen fiddled left and right, sweating buckets, and finally fitted the two forbidden-spell cores perfectly into the third core Teacher Mela had given him—fully understanding the spell’s effect and how to trigger it.

Solidification.

That was the forbidden spell’s effect.

Put simply: using the forbidden spell itself to forcibly lock all battle aura and magic in the area into their most basic state—so that any martial technique or spell, even miracles of all kinds, could not take effect within the covered range.

And once he knew the effect, Muen finally understood why Teacher Mela had said this thing would help him.

"Thank you."

Having figured it out, Muen hurriedly stood and thanked the noblewoman to the side.

"Don’t thank me."

Phyllis Rossetti, Captain of the Royal Mage Corps, waved expressionlessly.

"I’m only carrying out Her Majesty’s orders."

"Ah... haha, but you really did help me. I should thank you."

Muen scratched his head and awkwardly insisted.

For some reason, this Corps Captain seemed to hate him. Even though she’d helped him a lot, she kept a sour face—as if he owed her hundreds of millions of Aimier, or had seduced her beloved daughter.

Muen thought it over for a long time and felt that with his level of single-minded devotion, he probably hadn’t, accidentally, flirted with this woman’s daughter again.

Probably...right? He didn’t even know who her daughter was.

"Hmph. Enough. You men are all lying demons. Save the pretty words."

Phyllis shot a cold look at Muen’s golden hair, bent down, and picked up a head she’d placed here earlier.

"Next I’m going to bury my assistant. Besides, I can’t help much over there. Supporting Her Majesty...that’s on you."

"Don’t worry. I’ll never disgrace the mission!"

"Good. Oh, and take this."

Before leaving, Phyllis tossed Muen two delicate small bottles.

"What are these?"

"Top-tier healing potions."

Phyllis’s lips hooked slightly.

"Personally brewed by me—a Truth-Rank grand mage. They’re highly effective for both mental and physical injuries. I figured whether it’s you or Her Majesty, you’ll both need them."

"Really? Thank you so much!"

Muen’s eyes lit up.

He wasn’t short on money for healing medicine, but good stuff made by a Truth-Rank grand mage wasn’t something you could buy just because you had cash.

"I’m leaving."

After delivering the medicine, Phyllis didn’t linger at all—she vanished on the spot.

Seeing that, Muen finally let out a breath.

So this Truth-Rank auntie hating him really was just his imagination. She was actually pretty nice to him!

...

"Let’s begin."

After cutting out all distractions, Muen focused entirely on the forbidden-spell core in front of him.

His finger pressed lightly against the inner rim of the core’s disc—like using an old rotary phone dial—and he slowly turned it.

"First, shrink the forbidden spell’s solidification range to the minimum."

"Next...not here. I need to be closer to Him."

"And finally...connect the remaining mana interface of the forbidden spell to me."

...

In his mental space, Muen suddenly realized he was inside some enormous crystal.

Of course, it wasn’t a real crystal. It was...a mind solidified by the forbidden spell.

As long as the forbidden spell remained active, no matter how brutally his mind was crushed and trampled afterward, it couldn’t collapse.

That way...

"I can finally try...to completely take control of you."

Muen raised his head, looking at the black sun disk floating above his mental space.

Even if it was only for a short time...that was enough.

All around him, Muen had already prepared every tool and magic scroll that could enhance mental power. He triggered them all at once. A terrifying psychic storm swept through the depths of his consciousness—anyone with a weak will could have their mind collapse on the spot.

But thanks to the forbidden spell, Muen’s mind stayed stable.

"Heh heh. Guess I get to be an iron-hard badass for once!"

Muen grinned, forcibly gathering as much mental power as he could control, and slowly—slowly—began to push that black sun disk.

...

...

Muen opened his eyes.

Across that world barrier almost invisible to the naked eye, he met the gaze of countless corpses, white bones, wailing souls—and the golden Sacred Tree itself.

At the same time, he felt a terrifying stare that could shred him into pieces in an instant, landing on him without any obstruction.

Mad whispers rang in his ears. Horrific mental pollution almost instantly seeped into his soul.

At this distance from an Evil God, even a Crown-Bearer might be corroded and fall into total madness.

But Muen only bared his teeth in a grin. Ignoring the nosebleed gushing down his face, he showed a perfect eight-tooth smile, then raised a finger and pointed at the Evil God.

"Nice to meet you, Fallen Evil Sacred Tree, sir."

Muen said, "Wasn’t sure what gift to bring, so I’ll just...give you the middle finger."

...

...

"Eh? Great...Sacred Tree?"

Albert struggled to open his eyes, desperately searching for the grace that would return him to authority.

But it wasn’t there.

Across the entire sky, there was no sun that could feed him again—only a vicious, silent black sun, ringed by a holy halo.

That black sun stared at him, as if laughing at him cruelly.

For the first time since he’d been born a thousand years ago, he experienced the feeling of being high above—looked down on like an ant.

It was...deeply unpleasant.

"It’s over."

Celicia raised the King’s Sword. The dazzling radiance symbolizing imperial authority gathered again, turning into scorching flame that could burn away any rot.

From within the black sun, a single ember drooped down. Like ink, it instantly dyed the flame with an eerie tint—making it even more ferocious.

"Any last words?" Celicia asked softly.

"I..."

Albert’s lips trembled, wanting to say something.

"Ah, right."

Celicia cut him off.

"You aren’t even human. And what you’ve done doesn’t deserve to be called human. So...you don’t have the right to leave last words."

And then the scorching flame fell, swallowing Albert completely in an instant—leaving not even a scream behind. It raced along the endless root tendrils, spreading rapidly until it enveloped the entire golden giant tree.

High in the heavens, faint furious howls sounded. But the seeped-in power couldn’t break through the black sun’s blockade in a short time—some of it was even devoured. In the end, after one last gaze that seemed determined to etch her face into memory, the Fallen Evil Sacred Tree could only withdraw.

All anomalies vanished. At the edge of the horizon, a pure glimmer rose—the sign of dawn.

The massive golden Sacred Tree gradually turned to ash in the flames. Its rotten parts were completely cut away, and in the end those ashes would drift on warm spring winds across the Empire, nourishing the land.

Come autumn, there should be a good harvest—and bread prices wouldn’t rise anymore.

"It’s over."

Celicia let out a long breath. The dazzling crown and coronation robe dispersed, and she returned to being the silver-haired girl in a white dress.

She lifted her gaze, then suddenly stretched out both arms.

With a sharp smack, a tall, heavy figure dropped neatly into her embrace.

"Cough, cough..."

The golden-haired man wiped blood from his face, naturally wrapping an arm around the girl’s slim waist. With a bright, handsome smile, he asked:

"My dear Your Majesty—how was I this time?"

"Average."

"What? Still average? Do you have a better evaluation than that?"

"I do."

Celicia thought for a moment, then said, "Lift your head a little."

"Hm?"

Even in confusion, Muen obediently tipped his head back slightly.

And then—

Ignoring the thick scent of blood, Celicia leaned down and pressed her lips to his.

A familiar breath entwined with his. That exquisite, gentle touch gave Muen a feeling even better than flipping off an Evil God.

The only downside was that the girl’s movements were as forceful as ever—and combined with this princess-carry position, it made him feel like he was the delicate little wife being taken at will.

Unbearable. Absolutely unbearable. Muen swore that later he would reclaim the upper hand!

"Pop."

Their lips parted.

"This time...wasn’t bad."

Celicia looked at Muen and smiled sweetly. The ice and snow in her eyes melted away, turning soft like spring water.

Muen stared, stunned for a moment, then crooked his mouth.

"Heh. Dead tsundere."

"..."

"Wait—I’m injured!"

"Mm!"

Muen suffered—and enjoyed it.

The pain of the body, though not as exquisite as the mind, still made him understand clearly...for the silver-haired girl before him, the melting and freezing of ice was nothing more than a thought.

Of course, only for him.

...

...

【Pride Progress: 100%】