DNCTFB 30

Episode 30

Stein Einwood, leader of a powerful noble house, felt his composure slip when Duke Deonis entered the quiet hall, his black cloak and cold red eyes filling the room.

“You’re all sharing interesting tales,” Deonis said, calm yet chilling.

“Your Majesty,” Stein replied, though visibly tense. “We were discussing the emperor’s health.”

“Ahaha! Delightful!” Deonis laughed, unnerving the other nobles.

“What matters is who serves the empire best,” Stein continued.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

“Do you appoint emperors? Never heard old men become goddesses,” Deonis said.

“You, Duke, are a rightful heir of Valkaras,” Stein asserted.

“My blood? Heh.”

Stein started to speak, but a sharp stab hit his chest—fear washed over his face.

“You think I still want the throne?” Deonis sneered, gripping Stein by the collar. A silent gasp echoed through the hall. Nobles flinched and muttered.

Arch-priest Malcolm rushed forward, robes flaring, eyes full of shock.

“How dare you threaten death in front of the goddess?!” he exclaimed.

Deonis’ eyes glowed red. “No death—just fear, like magic.” He spat.

“Magic?”

“Your complaints bore me,” Deonis said, sweeping his ink-stained glove across the priest’s robe. A red blotch spread.

“Priests fear mages outside the barrier, but what about monsters? They shed no fear—only blood.”

Stein faltered.

The priest tried to calm the emperor’s council. “Our wards are damaged… we need mages to stop monsters.”

Deonis laughed again. “Careful—you talk like you fear monsters more than them.”

Outside, nobles whispered. Many agreed—the wards were failing, and monsters roamed free. But the Holy Knights stayed home—too valuable to risk. Baronies cried out.

“The issue? We lack sacred-energy users. We struggle to keep healing centers open. Just this year, a new one appeared after five years.”

The priest’s plea echoed. Deonis scoffed.

“Maybe the goddess abandoned us—or she knows we’re unworthy.”

Priests gasped.

Sheathing his impatience, Deonis left the chamber. No one followed.

In a quiet hallway, Deonis swallowed a handful of strong painkillers, the sound cracking in the silent temple.

“Hah…” He exhaled, pain receding— but only temporarily. His long illness and chronic injury left him numb even to strong medicine.

“Rohan—more pills.”

Rohan shook his head.

“You should stop soon.”

“Falling dead here beats the purification cells,” Deonis growled and downed the medicine Rohan offered.

“…Prepare my words. I’m going back.”

The prince sighed; Rohan rushed off to fetch Arch-Priest Malcolm.

Alone now, Deonis wrapped his robe tightly and walked down a long corridor toward a small courtyard—somewhere he could breathe.

He gasped and leaned against a pillar, pain wracking his body.

Then a soft voice called.

“Um… Your Grace?”

A young priestess stood there—dark hair and a concerned face, but blurred in his vision.

“You look very pale. Are you okay?”

“Don’t… come closer.”

“I’m Priestess Riheylin. I want to help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Deonis tried to walk away but collapsed again.

Riheylin set down her basket of herbs and knelt beside him.

“Let me heal you… please?”

“I said I don’t need it.”

“You really are okay? This could get worse… If I did anything wrong, I’m sorry. I just can’t let you collapse.”

She hesitated, then raised a pale glow of sacred energy in her hand.

“But… but I can’t just… watch you die like this.”