Chapter 97

“Tessarion.”

I called out to him as I finished the last stroke of the spell. Tessarion, who had been giving orders to knights and shadows, froze. It must have been because blue light was shining brightly from the blood-soaked mark on the back of my hand.

“Please… take care of Meril.”

Before he could answer, I cast teleportation.

In an instant, I appeared inside the swirling mist of rubble and darkness. I swung the Holy Sword. Bright light burst out, and the red eyes glowing in the darkness shut tight.

【Kraaaah… Roy Dover!】
【Roy Dover!】

The whirlpool of mist stopped.

Shards of stone and sharp debris rained to the floor. I pulled free of Tessarion’s hand and flew high. My wings swept away the fog, revealing Meril’s back as she shielded Variette.

“Duke! Hurry!”

“Tch. As always, you never listen.”

Tessarion clicked his tongue and pulled Meril away. Her body was scratched bloody from the storm of debris, yet she opened one fierce eye and shouted:

“Damn it! Those filthy dark sorcerers… I’ll crush every last one of them!”

She was like a berserker.

Meanwhile, Variette was trembling on the floor, bound tightly by Altair’s magic. From the blackened scar on his body, pale mist kept pouring out, pressing down on him, choking his throat.

“Kh… ugh…”

Dozens of rolling red eyeballs glared with murderous voices.

【Variette Banner…】
【The sin of defiance must be repaid with death.】

I raised the Holy Sword and descended. Then I stabbed directly into Variette’s thigh, where the mist poured out. A beam of light spread out, and the choking fog around his neck scattered into the air. The black scar boiled, then began pulling itself into the Holy Sword—no, it was gripping the sword, dragging it inward.

【Yes… Roy… Dover…!】

I tightened my grip on the hilt.

It didn’t feel like cutting muscle or bone. It felt like sinking into a swamp.

No way.

“…Space-time magic?”

I quickly pressed my hand against the boiling scar. The mark on my hand shone brightly, lighting the black passage inside. Beyond it, through the wet, dark tunnel filled with red eyes, a man’s gaze met mine.

【Oh! Who do we have here? Our little fledgling Guardian!】

He staggered closer. From far away, he came nearer and nearer. Tangled golden hair beneath a crooked crown, a darkened face, a crimson velvet cloak. That… that was clearly the Emperor of Veletinaum.

But he didn’t feel like a man—or an emperor. He was something foul, monstrous.

The “thing” leaned its face into the gap, staring straight at me with a smile.

【Roy Dover.】

A cold, rancid breath brushed against my face. My spine chilled. It looked ready to grab me.

The Emperor seized the Holy Sword’s blade and looked around.

“Ugh…!”

I strained, unable to pull or push the sword. His withered, bony hand had impossible strength. If Tessarion hadn’t pulled me back by the waist, that “thing” would have stolen the Holy Sword.

Tessarion leveled his greatsword at Variette. The “thing” laughed grotesquely and shouted:

【Kakaka! Yes, Duke! Kill Variette now! Kill him! You never planned to marry him anyway! Kill Variette! Kill him!】

“Shut up!”

Tessarion’s furious shout erupted with searing blue heat. The thing turned sharply, gripping Variette’s shoulder scar and splitting it open. Variette screamed, eyes wide.

“Ahh! Aaagh!”

See? This boy is my host. If you don’t kill Variette now, then our soft-hearted Guardian will die instead! So? Will you let him die?

“Tch—Altair! How much longer?!”

Tessarion roared at him.

Altair slammed his hands down, unleashing power. His binding spell glowed, crudely stitching the black scar closed.

【Oh…?】

The “thing” scratched at the scar and spell with long nails, then leaned closer, glaring into my soul with bloodshot madness.

【Roy Dover. Variette belongs to me.】
【If you don’t kill Variette now, then I will—】

I couldn’t listen anymore.

I grabbed Variette’s neck and stabbed into his shoulder. Pale light flashed, and dark fluid splattered out.

I gasped for breath.

“Roy…”

Variette tilted his head back, calling me. His face, hidden by hair, was ruined with broken veins and tears of blood. His twitching hands fell weakly onto my face.

“Roy… my little dove…”

I was speechless.

Moments ago, he had been the most beautiful person in the world. I had danced with him, heart pounding, finding comfort in his smile for so long.

And now… I was told to kill him?

My chest throbbed painfully. Guilt and regret boiled up inside me. I embraced him tightly, and tears welled into glowing drops that fell onto his ruined face.

“Your Highness… why didn’t you tell me? Why…?”

I couldn’t pull out the Holy Sword. I wrapped him in my wings. From the scar, only red blood now flowed—not mist, not dark poison.

Variette gave a faint, painful smile and stroked my face.

“Because I was afraid.”

A poor excuse. Yet as I looked into his trembling green eyes, my heart ached.

“I longed for you so much… but I didn’t want to use my status to win your favor. If you saw my true self one day… if you grew to hate me, or refused to ever look at me again, or ran away from me… I was too scared. That’s why I couldn’t tell you.”

The “thing’s” words stabbed through me.

It had called me weak-hearted.

And it was right. I could never stand by and watch others suffer or die because of me—especially someone weaker than myself.

How did it see through me? Was it using Variette to know me?

Suddenly, Tessarion shoved me aside and twisted the Holy Sword deeper into Variette’s shoulder. Variette screamed in agony.

“What nonsense are you spouting?”

“D-Duke!”

I tried to stop him in shock, but he didn’t budge, solid as a bear.

“Variette, did you not know you were the Emperor’s host?”

“I-I didn’t…!”

“You didn’t? Truly?”

“Uuugh!”

He didn’t hesitate at all—he truly looked ready to kill Variette. I panicked, holding him back.

“Duke! Please calm down! If you kill Prince Variette, you’ll only give the Emperor the justification for war that he wants! We must find a way to break the curse first. Please!”

I clung to Tessarion’s back and shouted at Altair.

“Altair! Is there any way to break this curse?!”

Altair stared quietly at Variette, then after a long silence, replied:

“To kill the caster.”

“Not that! Something else!”

“There is nothing else.”

My heart sank. Even Altair—my trump card, the all-powerful problem solver—said it flatly.

But in magic, there is never only one way. There’s always some kind of price, some loophole, some desperate prayer to the goddess that could grant a miracle.

I frowned and asked again:

“Then… is there a way to stop the curse from activating at all?”