Chapter 254 - Infinite Mage

From outside the Grand Hall, an uproar could be heard. The garrison, summoned and fully armed, charged in. However, the determination on their faces quickly turned to confusion upon arrival. “What, what is this?” The scene was beyond imagination. The heart of the royal palace, the Grand Hall, was utterly destroyed. What shocked them the most was that everyone, including Orkamp, was on their knees. ‘Now!’ In the brief moment when Shirone's gaze shifted towards the soldiers, Bosun executed a teleportation. By the time he approached Shirone, he had already drawn a dagger from his sleeve. ‘This is the last chance! I must stab the heart!’ Shirone was taken aback by Bosun's lunge. However, Bosun, seemingly resolved, thrust the dagger without hesitation. With a squelch, the blade penetrated the flesh. Bosun grimaced. Shirone's response was unexpectedly swift, contrary to Bosun's assumption of his dazed state. With all his might, Shirone twisted his body, causing the blade to embed itself into his side rather than the heart. “Damn it.” Shirone couldn't comprehend the emotions he was experiencing now. Rationality vanished, replaced by the savage ferocity of a beast. The intrusion into his body was not just painful but also deeply humiliating. The instant Bosun saw Shirone’s glare, he cast Earth Skin. Earth rapidly began to envelop his skin. The durability of Earth Skin, cast by a certified Grade 4 plant magician, was akin to rock. A Photon Cannon struck the Earth Skin, shattering the earthen wall with thousands of cracks. Bosun's face, struck with shock, emerged. Blood sprayed from his mouth as if the impact had penetrated. “Aaargh!” Clutching his side, Shirone writhed in agony. Above him, the Photon Cannon expanded at an alarming rate. Those watching the diametric one-meter sphere turned pale. The size, achieved by forgoing compression, no longer fit the label of a Photon Cannon. It was a Gravity Cannon, a massive artillery designed for structures rather than people. The Grand Hall was in utter chaos. Nobles, pale with fear, screamed, while the guards calmed their helplessness by looking around pointlessly. “Lady Reina!” Following the garrison, attendants of the Ogent family stormed in with their weapons ready. But they too were stupefied by the unexpected scene. “Seize the nobles! Right now!” Reina commanded her attendants. The castle must already be on high alert due to the continuous shocks shaking the Grand Hall. If they didn't suppress the nobles now, their escape routes could be cut off in a decisive moment. Attendants approached, placing blades at the throats of the high-ranking nobles. As Reina predicted, troops from various departments under command control began to flood in. High-ranking officers, not even properly dressed, hurriedly rushed in. Cries, howls, calls to kill Shirone, Reina’s commands—all merged into a cacophony that eventually amounted to silence. Nobody communicated any meaning to others; everyone was just yelling. To Amy, it seemed as if they were laughing. She too started to smile. Faced with an overwhelming event, her mind remarkably calmed. ‘If this is the end, what a spectacular finale it is.’ Through the bedlam filling the Grand Hall, a gentle voice reached Shirone. “Shirone.” Silence, like a lie, descended. Everyone turned to look at the entrance of the Grand Hall. Olina stood, grasping Vincent's arm, her face stern. Seeing Shirone, his body stained with blood and a dagger lodged in his side, Olina felt dizzy and staggered. Vincent tried to support her, but she pushed her husband away and walked alone into the Grand Hall. People parted to let her through. As she approached Shirone, her lips quivered. “Don’t go.” At Eliza’s words, Olina halted. “Shirone is mad. You’ll die if you go.” Eliza didn't want Olina to approach Shirone. Shirone had attempted to kill him. If something happened to Olina with a different outcome, the pride of the bloodline would not tolerate it. “Haaah.” Taking a deep breath, Olina turned sharply, walking towards Eliza. Seeing Eliza’s vacant face, as if she'd been bombed, anger surged within her, making the world turn dark. Slap! Olina’s palm struck Eliza’s cheek. The nobles couldn’t believe the situation unfolding before them. No parent could remain rational upon seeing a blade in their child's belly, but the person Olina slapped was none other than the queen of Khazra. Eliza couldn’t comprehend what just happened. As she turned her slapped face back, Olina was crying. That was strange too. Why was the one who slapped crying and not the one who was slapped? “What did you do to my son……” Pain crushed Eliza late, tears welling up in her eyes. It hurt too much. And that pain offered a convenient excuse not to answer Olina’s question. Orkamp did not reproach Olina. No, he postponed it for another time. There was no denying she was the one who stopped Shirone’s rampage. For now, he had no choice but to place hope in her. “Stop Shirone at once. The lineage of Khazra must not end……” Olina turned sharply, sparks flying from her eyes, looking back at Orkamp. As if a slap was about to strike, Orkamp's eyes shut tightly. However, the moment of the king's dignity hitting the ground never came. When he opened his eyes, he saw Olina gripping her own wrist, trembling. Then she turned coldly and resumed her steps towards Shirone. “Shirone.” Shirone didn’t respond. Seeing Olina’s face, he felt terrified like a child who did something wrong. He’d caused catastrophic damage beyond repair. There was nothing more frightening than disappointing his parents; it was an instinct of a helpless child. As a child, he had seen Olina’s stern gaze a few times. But today, she wore the kindest smile of all. Shirone’s heart ached even more, though he couldn't understand why. “Shirone, do you remember how lovely you were as a child? Your smile was as cute as a little girl's, and your father would often wear a silly expression because of it. Then you'd laugh even louder.” Olina reminisced about the past. “You were such a gentle child. Even when you were upset, you'd neither express it well nor hurt anyone. When your friends got angry with you, you'd say nothing and just go home to brood in silence.” Olina's eyes turned wistful. Yes, there was such a time. Yet so many years had passed already. The newborn who came as a blessing had grown into this youthful boy. “But I wasn't worried. Understanding others' feelings is truly noble. I can't express how happy I am that you grew up so kind.” Olina caressed Shirone’s cheeks with both hands, and today, her handsome son seemed more troubled than ever. “You’re so tender-hearted and kind that you don’t even know how to express anger. Even when enraged, you're unable to hurt others, so you end up turning that pain on yourself.” Olina gently embraced Shirone. “The sight of these severe wounds shows how truly angry our son was today.” Shirone's vision became blurred. Unlike the bitter tears of blood he had shed before, these were sweet, clear tears that flowed freely. His eyes ached dully as if the toxic build-up to the brim was finally being drained. His heart was so full he could hardly breathe. All his emotions concentrated on his eyes, and words were squeezed out. “Mothe-e-er…” It was the voice of a lost child desperately calling for his mother in an unfamiliar place. As tears welled up in Olina’s eyes, she embraced Shirone’s face and patted his back. “Yes, my son. Let’s go home with Mom. I’ll take you back. Don’t worry about anything.” “Mom… Mom…” Shirone, overwhelmed with sorrow, panted as he spoke. “They… they tried to kill you, Mom… those people…” “It’s okay, Shirone. You protected me, didn’t you? I’m not afraid at all. For you, I’m not afraid to die.” Holding Shirone’s sobbing arms, Olina smiled beautifully. “Shirone, children are their parents’ future. That’s why for you, I can do anything.” The immense rage that had dominated Shirone started to plummet uncontrollably like a collapsing structure. The aura of hatred descended, reaching levels unseen, down to 10, 9, 8… The first level of the Forbidding Spell was restored. A bright light illuminated the angelic sculpture where Shirone's avatar rose. As Behemoth retreated back into the Forbidding Spell, the pillar of light disappeared, and Garfin’s security system was released. Shirone returned to his true self. His physical body was hit by an intense aftermath. Before feeling any pain, his consciousness slipped away. As his eyes gently closed, the Spirit Zone dissolved, and Ataraxia vanished. Olina sat down with her collapsing son. Though she could die for her child, she couldn’t save him. Turning to the enemies who sought to kill her son, she pleaded. “Please save our son. I beg you.” No one from Khazra stepped forward, but Amy and Reina moved swiftly. First, they checked that Shirone was still breathing. Though likely brain-dead, the significant issue was blood loss. Without a transfusion, he wouldn't last an hour. “Amy, I’ll take Shirone. You go ahead with the attendants and prepare for surgery. Start with the transfusion, so his mother should accompany us to inform the doctors about his blood type.” The Master of the Avatar (7) Reina gave the orders as she lifted Shirone’s arm over her shoulder. With Ataraxia gone, the nobles would surely rise up. But since the highest-ranking nobles were subdued by the attendants, things hadn’t spiraled out of control yet. However, there was one person blocking her path. It was Bosun, who had stabbed Shirone. Reina spoke in a cold voice. “What do you think you’re doing? The battle is over. If you don't back down, we will execute the nobles we’ve captured.” “B-Bosun! Stand down. Just let them go for now!” “Yeah! Back off! I said stand down!” The nobles, with blades at their throats, urged Bosun. Yet Bosun didn’t budge an inch. Even if all the nobles here died, he couldn’t allow Shirone to live. The world is divided between the strong and the clever, and people are either wolves or sheep. If Shirone were a meek sheep, even possessing the ultimate power of the archangel’s ability wouldn’t have been a reason to kill him. He could have been used. But Shirone wasn't a sheep. Even if today’s events were impulsive, if he was willing to annihilate the entire castle, he was dangerous for the future. ‘Today’s incident has clearly divided the factions within the castle. If Jeon doesn’t become king, it’s the end for all.' The Theraze faction within Khazra mostly followed Jeon except for Worin. It was unimaginable for Theraze to show mercy to a defeated prince. “Why not negotiate?” Amy was flabbergasted by Bosun’s audacity. Who was the one who had drawn the knife first while speaking of negotiation earlier? “How can those words come out of your mouth? Step aside, quickly!” Bosun didn't ask expecting compliance. But he needed to buy time. Shirone’s state was critically dire. In a situation where every second counted, time itself was the deadliest weapon. Reina understood Bosun’s strategy but couldn’t firmly command the execution of the nobles. Bosun had labeled Shirone as the supreme adversary. Hence, if the nobles were killed, so was Shirone. As she needed to ensure Shirone’s survival, she had to find another way. As Reina and Bosun glared at each other, a strong gust rushed in from the entrance of the Grand Hall. With a sound like crackling flames, figures clad in black swooped in like a swarm of bats. Thirty figures landed at the center of the Grand Hall. Each wore an owl mask and bore identical swords of the same length and specification strapped to their waists. Upon seeing the inverted triangular badge on their collars, the nobles widened their eyes in disbelief and left their mouths agape. "That, that is...?" It was the direct guard of Empress Theraze, the Fengzhang. A hundred swordsmen swore an oath to Theraze. Although it's rare for all of them to move at once, their presence signifies that everything visible will vanish. "Why is the Fengzhang here?" The Fengzhang is not a military force. They act as the sword of Theraze, moving only under her explicit orders. Regardless of their speed, it seemed implausible for them to have anticipated today's events and arrived from Kashan so quickly. Forming a triangular formation, the Fengzhang stood with impeccable posture, gazing straight ahead. From the core of their formation, a chilling voice emerged. "As of now, we are taking custody of Shirone. Additionally, all decision-making authority related to the internal affairs of the Khazra Kingdom is revoked. Remember, any defiance will lead to war with the Kashan Empire.” The nobles murmured among themselves. Revoking administrative authority meant stripping powers from all the nobles present. They paused, anticipating someone to voice dissent or raise an objection, but silence lingered. Realizing none dared to step forward, the nobles subtly nodded in mutual understanding. "We submit to your command." They could not oppose the command decreed by the ruler of Kashan. The Fengzhang represented Theraze’s sword. Their presence alone was evidence enough that Theraze's mandate wasn't mere intimidation. "Please wait a moment. Are you saying this is truly Her Majesty's decision?" Bosun voiced his objection. He wasn’t rejecting Theraze’s directive any more than the other nobles were. Yet, something about it felt off. Zeon hadn’t been defeated yet. Shirone was hovering between life and death, and given a little time, he’d die on his own. It was baffling to thwart a straightforward path to seizing Khazra. Moreover, it seemed unlikely that the Fengzhang, who guarded Theraze day and night, could have arrived in Khazra this swiftly. "As I’ve heard, the Fengzhang wears owl masks and bears an inverted triangle badge on the left chest." One of the Fengzhang members spoke. "...What are you implying?" "It means it’s easy to impersonate them. The transfer of governing rights is a significant matter for the kingdom. If you truly received Her Majesty the Empress’s orders, wouldn’t you have brought official documents? Can you show us proof?" The nobles turned toward the Fengzhang. On second thought, Bosun was right. It was natural to follow Theraze, but shouldn’t they verify that it truly was her command? "There are no documents. A directive will follow." "Hmm, that makes it even stranger. How can we hand over sovereign authority without verification? Do you have any credentials for identification?" “We do have something.” “Could we see it, if it’s not too much trouble?” The Fengzhang audience merged into a single line. It appeared as though 30 figures were absorbed into one. That singular figure multiplied into hundreds of afterimages, creating a black whirlwind as they circled around Bosun. “Gack!” The first sword struck Bosun’s lower jaw, sending his face skyward. As his head lifted to the heavens, thirty blades slashed his body without a single overlap. The speed of the cuts was so fast that the air vibrated like the wings of a buzzing bee. The Fengzhang members completed nearly a thousand slashes per second, then deftly returned to their starting positions in impeccable formation. The nobles stared at Bosun in a daze. Or could you even call that Bosun anymore? His body had been reduced to pieces smaller than a fingernail. Blood seeped out slowly beneath the carved meat. Something splattered and clung to the ground with a wet slap. It was Bosun’s face. Although the eyes were missing, anyone could tell it was frozen in an expression of shock. His mouth was agape, soaking into the pool of blood and crumpling. “There is no one in the world who can impersonate the Fengzhang.” The nobles could not dispute it. The expertise on display provided irrefutable proof that they were indeed the Fengzhang. In truth, the tactics of the Fengzhang are impossible to imitate. Mimicking the flow of the wind requires supreme skill from each individual, as even a semblance of copy requires mastery. Those who implement fluid dynamics through the human form. A hundred such masters forming a single gust of wind to execute flawless tactics make up the prime swordsmanship group, the Fengzhang. “Master Bosun!” Ekkashi raced forward, face flushed with fury. He knelt before what was left of Bosun, his trembling hands hesitating to touch the mangled remains, and searing hatred filled his gaze at the Fengzhang. “Those bastards...!” How could they be so ruthless?