Chapter 96

After Tessarion whispered a warning in my ear, he threw me aside. I braced for the crash, eyes squeezed shut—but instead of hitting the ground, my body floated…

I opened one eye. The darkness around me lit up. The mark on the back of my hand glowed bright, and white wings spread wide, flapping strongly.

“Eh?”

Of course, the wings existed for flying. I’d used them in emergencies a few times before…

I covered the ear Tessarion had bitten, brushing at the burning back of my neck. My heart, which had dropped to my toes, now pounded wildly.

Why was I more shaken by Tessarion’s anger than by monsters—or even Meril’s danger?

Tessarion frowned deeply, raising his greatsword as he shouted:

“Roy comes with me to the south corridor. The rest of you protect the people in the garden and move them to the training grounds!”

The “south corridor” connecting the main castle and south wing wasn’t really a corridor anymore. Later renovations had turned it into a long gallery. Except for the central bridge section, it formed a double corridor lined inside and out with artworks and heirlooms—like a museum.

In winter, windows were installed to block the cold. In summer, they were removed so visitors could see the wide plains and the snowy peaks of the Abelike Mountains. Twice a year, all that work had to be done—plus polishing Claremont’s treasures until they gleamed.

Yes, I remembered—I had been forced to do that tiresome job once, as Tessarion’s servant during my 8th life.

And now, reaching the south corridor, I couldn’t help but scream.

“Me-Meril!!”

This was a disaster.

Every window in the dark corridor was shattered. Mist filled the air. Broken statues writhed across the marble floor. And there—Meril, with a massive axe in one hand and an unconscious man in the other, was battling the first Duke’s full suit of armor.

That platinum hair and flashy clothes sticking out under her arm—I knew them. Could it be…?

“Oh? Brother!” Meril beamed at me.

The founder Duke’s armor—Claremont’s Treasure No. 1—swung the Abelikus Longsword at her. Horrified, I yelled:

“Ahhh! In front! Hey! Look forward! Look!”

“Oops.”

She blocked the massive sword with one hand as if it were nothing. Then, casually, she said the words that nearly stopped my heart:

“Perfect timing! I fired a signal flare but you never came, so I was just about to cut off the prince’s legs instead!”

…What?

Cut off… what?!

Even Tessarion let out a stunned laugh.

Meril swung her axe and split the armor in half. The torso and legs split apart—each attacking separately, one at Meril, the other at fainted Variette.

“Hey, wizard! How much longer?!” Meril stomped on the armor’s greave and kicked away its sabaton, which tried to stab Variette’s throat.

“Don’t rush me. Dispelling and tracing black magic at the same time isn’t easy,” came a calm reply.

Altair—already there, drawing a magic circle with a grim face. Covered in plaster dust, he must have teleported as soon as he sensed the dark magic, before the flare even went up.

Meril clicked her tongue, throwing off the torso that tried to stab her leg.

“Ugh, let me just cut the prince’s legs already! He won’t die from losing one!”

“Eeeek!” Variette wailed.

Was she insane?!

I drew the Holy Sword, ready to punish this disobedient, unfilial traitor—but Tessarion yanked me back by the collar.

The moving armor froze.

【Roy Dover…】
【Roy Dover…】

The corridor echoed with chilling voices, like wind. Dozens of piercing gazes—all like those red eyes from the curse—turned to me.

Variette stirred faintly against Meril’s side. From the black scar across his shoulder, crimson eyes glared at me.

【Roy Dover…!】

“Roy…” Variette sobbed, clawing at the floor. His pale hand grabbed a shard of broken stone—and stabbed it into his own shoulder.

It stopped, as if blocked by something. The crimson eyes narrowed into crescent shapes, laughing mockingly. Still, Variette stabbed himself again and again, blood dripping onto the floor.

“Your Highness!”

I flapped my wings, trying to rush forward. Tessarion wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me back.

Mist surged across the floor, swallowing broken debris like a wave, rushing toward me. Tessarion swung his greatsword, blue flames forcing it back. But like a flood, the mist only rose higher, pressing in.

The Black Wolf Knights raised shields, stomping down the animated fragments piece by piece.

“Meril Dover! Leave Variette and retreat!” Tessarion shouted.

Meril slung Variette over her shoulder, shoving back the debris with her axe.

“Duke! If I retreat, His Highness will die instantly!”

Even as she spoke, Variette’s twisted hand and elbow lashed out at her, driven by the curse. She grappled him, kicked his knees, and forced him down. But both of them toppled into the mist.

“Meril! Your Highness!”

Crunch… crackle…

From inside the fog came sounds of chewing.

A chill ran down my spine. I’d only heard of Variette’s curse, but never imagined it was this horrifying. No wonder he locked himself away whenever it rained or turned dark, refusing food, water, or visitors for days.

I tried to break free, but Tessarion held me tight.

“Roy, wait until Altair breaks the spell. If you move now, it’ll kill you too!”

“But Meril and the Prince—!”

“Listen. That curse killed High Priest Besson. The Saintess is missing. If you fall as well…”

Tessarion broke off, pressing his face briefly against my shoulder with a heavy sigh.

I grabbed his hand, staring at the swirling mist.

Altair stopped tracing magic and switched to defense. A silver shield spread around him, holding the fog back, making it whirl around him in circles.

My throat was dry. Watching the continent’s two greatest powers struggling here—I couldn’t just stand by.

I gripped the Holy Sword, glaring at the vortex ahead.

“Prince Variette… Meril…”

Could the two of them hold out?

Six hours until sunrise. But with such thick black magic, would the sun even rise? Unlike Tessarion, Heliot, or Altair, those two were only human. By the time we hesitated, they might already be torn apart inside.

I bit my fingertip, drawing blood. Then I sketched a magic circle on Tessarion’s hand that clutched me.

The only spell I could cast.

Bwooong—!

Dooong, dong, dooong, dong!

The horns blew low, and the great bells of the spire rang wildly, announcing wartime emergency.

The curse wasn’t confined to the south corridor anymore. It had spread, rampaging through the entire castle.