Not long after parting ways with the knight commander, I found Lea surrounded by mercenaries in what remained of the Praha courtyard.
Despite the perilous situation, seeing her still intact brought relief first. She bore wounds, certainly, but nothing that appeared life-threatening. To have sustained so little damage during such chaos bordered on miraculous.
Aura Experts, low to mid-level?
I assessed her opponents at a glance. Every one of them wielded Expert-level power, but no Masters appeared among their ranks. The High Elder would be too occupied dealing with the acting head to spare his strongest assets here.
Against opponents of this caliber, I could extract Lea without difficulty.
As I prepared to approach, however, something disturbing began emanating from her body.
Dark Aura. The unmistakable signs of Demonic corruption flowed from her like smoke.
Why would Lea manifest Demonic energy?
Such corruption only appeared in those touched by the Demonic Realm or its spawn. There was no conceivable way Lea could have been exposed to such influence.
As bewilderment and urgency stirred in me, a hypothesis formed. What if that mysterious illness she’d contracted was connected to Demonkin? What if the healer, who originally cured her, had concocted a medicine that only suppressed the Demonic energy?
Everything would align. The unprecedented symptoms, the treatment no healer had known before—it all made sense once you added the variable of Demonic influence.
Some fragment of corruption I thought completely purged must have remained dormant.
That lingering taint had waited for the right catalyst, then erupted from her body in response to some trigger.
And that trigger would be the corpses scattered around us.
I studied the dead. Most appeared to be household staff—butlers, maids, servants. Their deaths had likely provided the emotional trauma necessary to awaken the dormant corruption.
Having grasped the situation, I moved quickly forward. The corruption was fresh; if I acted now, reversal remained possible. My master had taught me the method before my regression, though I marveled at how much he’d known when he’d shared that knowledge.
The cure for Demonic corruption was deceptively simple: resolve the underlying emotions by any means necessary.
“That look suits you,” I said in measured tones, “but I still prefer how you were before.”
I was keenly aware of her feelings for me. I wasn’t fool enough to miss something so obvious. But I was merely someone who used her, and I couldn’t accept the sincere heart she offered—even though I loved her in return.
My love is founded on purpose, after all.
But I had no choice now. Even if it meant manipulating her heart, I had to return her to normal.
So I spoke as if offering my own heart, like some prince on a white charger come to her rescue.
“Am I too late?” I asked with a gentle smile.
Lea turned toward me, and I saw recognition dawn in her eyes.
“Louis.”
“Finally calling me by name instead of ‘Sir’ and ‘Lord’ everything. We seem to have grown closer.”
Relief flooded through me. Her mind had returned. The bloodshot eyes had cleared, and the dark Aura had vanished without trace. The corruption hadn’t disappeared entirely, but I’d extinguished the immediate fire.
I exhaled slowly and lifted my bow. With Lea’s sanity restored, the time had come to deal with these mercenaries.
I nocked an arrow and summoned my Aura, feeling electricity dance along the shaft.
Crackle. Snap.
“You’ve suffered enough,” I murmured. “Just close your eyes for a moment.”
I released the bowstring.
<Lightning Bolt>
BOOOOOOOOOM!
Light erupted across the battlefield, accompanied by thunder that shook the ground. The arrow became pure lightning, streaking toward the enemy ranks and reducing hundreds of knights to ash in an instant.
* * *
When the dust settled, I swept my hair back and lowered my bow. Many knights had survived, but I doubted they’d dare attack now.
Their behavior confirmed my assessment.
“R-run!”
“Shit… Nobody said there’d be someone like that here!”
Every surviving knight fled in terror. I could hardly blame them—I’d have done the same if someone had vaporized people with a single arrow.
Good thing I pushed myself.
I caught my breath while watching their retreat. The attack had consumed a third of my total Aura reserves, but the demonstration of overwhelming power had achieved its purpose.
I walked toward Lea, who looked up at me with tear-filled eyes. “You came quickly.”
“I received word.”
“Alone?”
“I told the others to take their time. They’ll arrive soon enough.”
Despite the trivial nature of our exchange, Lea’s expression suggested she might burst into tears at any moment. I removed my coat and draped it over her shoulders.
“Couldn’t protect them this time either?” I asked, glancing at the fallen servants.
Lea bowed her head and shook it slowly. “No. I was the one who was protected.”
“I see.”
“I should have been protecting them, but like a fool, I left myself vulnerable!” Her voice trembled with self-recrimination.
The knowledge that those she’d sworn to protect had instead died protecting her clearly weighed heavily on her conscience.
I reached out to comfort her, then froze with my hand extended.
Should I become more involved? Should I continue manipulating her when I couldn’t accept her feelings?
This is far enough.
This was precisely where I had to draw the line.
I clenched my extended hand into a fist and withdrew it.
She continued weeping beneath my coat, and I watched over her in silence until her tears finally ended.
* * *
Meanwhile, shortly after Louis’s departure, whispered conversations echoed through the Imperial Palace corridors.
“I hear there’s been a rebellion at House Praha.”
“With the Grand Duke absent, they’ve immediately revealed their ambitions.”
“Such a waste. All those good talents dying for nothing.”
The nobles discussed the crisis as if it were mere entertainment, speculating about casualty counts and outcomes.
“Who do you think will prevail?”
“I’d prefer the Grand Duke’s line, but wouldn’t the High Elder’s faction have better prospects?”
“True enough. That old monster wouldn’t simply yield his position.”
Some even placed wagers on the victor.
Count Dragunov joined the speculation with apparent relish.
“How unfortunate. I thought he was a promising sprout, but perhaps he was already withered.” Though he feigned concern, his mockery of Louis Berg was transparent.
“Cheer up, old friend,” he told Count Berg with false sympathy. “You still have two more sons. If they truly lack talent, I’ll personally teach them the sword!” His laughter rang hollow through the chamber.
Count Berg’s smile turned predatory as he contemplated silencing that voice permanently. Snapping the man’s neck and hanging him from the gates would make an excellent declaration of war.
As Count Berg reached this conclusion, a messenger burst into the hall.
“Breaking news!” the man gasped, sweat streaming down his face.
Count Dragunov frowned at the disturbance. “Speak clearly. What exactly is this breaking news?”
The messenger glanced nervously between the nobles, clearly reluctant to continue.
Frustrated by the delay, Count Dragunov snatched the bulletin from the messenger’s hands and began reading.
“What kind of news could this possibly be...”
His voice trailed off. The color drained from his face, and his pupils dilated with shock. The hand holding the bulletin trembled violently, and his breathing grew labored.
“Is all of this true?” he demanded.
“That is—”
“Answer me properly! Is this true or not?!”
The Count’s roar drew every eye in the banquet hall, but he paid no attention to the scrutiny, continuing to berate the terrified messenger.
“It seems highly likely to be accurate,” the messenger managed.
“If this proves false, I’ll personally tear your head off.”
Count Dragunov glared at the man once more, then fled the hall with his retainers.
The remaining nobles whispered among themselves.
“What news could cause such a reaction?”
“If his own House had suffered a rebellion like Praha’s, I’d understand, but what arrogance.”
“This is why one shouldn’t associate with those money-grubbing types.”
The same people who couldn’t speak a word to Count Dragunov’s face now gossiped freely behind his back.
Count Berg felt disgusted by their hypocrisy. This is why knights are superior to nobles. Did these so-called aristocrats truly believe such backstabbing constituted refined behavior?
He approached the messenger who had fallen when Count Dragunov departed. “Can you stand?”
“Yes, I can manage.”
“Here, take my hand.” Count Berg extended his assistance. The messenger looked up with gratitude at this unexpected kindness from nobility.
“Thank you!”
“Thanks for what? It’s not as if I gilded my hands.”
Count Berg spoke as if the gesture meant nothing, but the messenger caught his breath and glanced toward Count Dragunov’s exit.
“What, seeking revenge because he ignored you?” Count Berg asked with mild amusement.
The messenger worked his mouth before finally speaking. “Oh, no! It’s just... I feel sorry for him.”
Sorry for him? What reason could there be to pity the continent’s wealthiest man?
“Why? Has something happened?”
The messenger glanced around nervously, then leaned closer.
“Assassins infiltrated House Dragunov. No confirmed survivors. Count Dragunov’s son’s fate remains unknown.”