Yaphenon.
A brother nation of Holy Krata, located east of another brother nation, Marfane.
“You think one Mayal will be enough?”
Inside the royal office, King Utor of Yaphenon posed the question to his ministers.
“He may be the newest Guardian Knight, but Mayal is a powerful warrior.”
“He should be more than enough to subdue a depleted Yuru.”
“Please don’t worry, Your Majesty.”
All the ministers expressed confidence in Mayal’s victory.
I don’t think he’ll lose…
Mayal was born in Yaphenon. He mastered ritual weaponry like no other and became the youngest Guardian Knight in history.
But then why this unease…
Utor looked down at the note in his hand.
A letter someone had sent.
It was practically a denunciation, revealing Yuru’s location—the one who had caused chaos in Marfane and kidnapped Crown Prince Neville.
Who could’ve sent this…
Utor, who had already moved near the Marfane border just in case, sent soldiers to confirm its contents.
And sure enough, Yuru had been there.
The timing is too perfect.
From the flare signals, they confirmed Yuru was present, but Neville was not.
Did someone take Neville and leave Yuru behind?
Who could it have been?
“More importantly, Your Majesty.”
One of the ministers spoke up.
“Prince Neville is not with Yuru, it seems.”
A critical point.
They had to temporarily set aside suspicion that someone was using Yaphenon to get rid of Yuru.
There were more pressing matters at hand.
“This letter…”
Utor waved the note in his hand.
“…The one who sent it may have taken the Crown Prince.”
“Then…”
“But the carrier pigeon that brought the letter burned itself upon delivery. We can’t trace it.”
A preemptive countermeasure to prevent ritual tracking.
“Then we focus on Yuru. If necessary—we kill her.”
“But, Your Majesty, if we want to find the Crown Prince, we can’t let Yuru—”
CRACK!
Utor’s fist slammed down, splitting the desk in two.
“Didn’t you hear what she did to Marfane?”
Fury burned in his eyes.
“If we let her live, she’ll turn all of Yaphenon into ruins. We have to eliminate her now.”
A twisted smile curled his lips.
“Besides, it’s not our job to find Prince Neville. That’s Marfane’s problem, since they caused this whole mess.”
The ministers swallowed hard.
If we don’t find the Crown Prince, Marfane will be blamed.
Is His Majesty trying to drive a wedge between Krata and Marfane?
But letting brother nations collapse like this…
Their minds swirled with uncertainty and unease.
Unfortunately, King Utor was a man who acted on emotion and detested anything complicated.
“Tch. Every time I speak, you all make that same twisted face.”
He frowned.
“Krata told me to bring in ministers who could at least scribble with a quill. And what did I get? A bunch of sniveling cowards.”
Startled by his bluntness, the ministers flinched.
But Utor ignored them and shouted,
“Gagaro!”
THUD!
A hulking man entered through the door.
Wearing a bear pelt and wielding twin axes the size of small trees, he was the captain of the royal knights—and Utor’s most trusted butcher.
“You summoned me, Your Majesty.”
His savage gaze scanned the room like blood and slaughter were his only reality.
The ministers averted their eyes in discomfort. Only Utor met his gaze—like a kindred beast.
“Gagaro, I have a job for you.”
“Say the word.”
Gagaro pounded his chest with a meaty fist.
“This Gagaro will fight until my axe handles are ground down to fists.”
Grinding his teeth like he was already chewing meat, Gagaro made Utor burst into booming laughter.
“Khahaha! Now that’s what I call spirit! That’s what makes giving orders worthwhile!”
Satisfied, Utor nodded.
“Gagaro, soon, the Royal Knights of Ezer who were stationed in Krata will return home.”
On paper, this was part of Krata returning their forces to support Ezer’s holy war.
“Annihilate that entire unit.”
Gagaro had been waiting for instructions, but this, this was a bombshell that shook the entire room.
“Y-Your Majesty?!”
The ministers who had doubted what they heard began shouting in turn.
“You’re ordering an attack on Ezer’s Royal Knights?!”
“This cannot be allowed!”
“Ezer is part of the Holy Alliance!”
While not an official brother nation, Ezer participated in joint meetings and was effectively an allied state.
“Your Majesty! Attacking Ezer will enrage the Krata Emperor—!”
CRACK!
Suddenly, the head of one shouting minister split open.
An axe.
Gagaro had thrown it like he was chopping firewood, and blood poured from the wound.
“N-No way…”
The ministers stared in horror at their fallen comrade.
His lifeless eyes rolled back as his body crumpled.
“What are you doing?!”
Terror gripped them all.
“How could you—right in front of His Majesty—”
Then they froze.
Because—
“Well done.”
Utor had pointed directly at the now-dead minister.
As if giving the signal himself.
“He was getting far too loud.”
While the ministers stood in stunned silence, Gagaro retrieved the embedded axe and kicked the corpse aside.
“If you wish it, I’ll swing ten—no, a hundred times more.”
“Good.”
No one dared speak another word.
Utor continued as if nothing had happened.
“Just as I said—destroy Ezer’s Royal Knights. I’ll mark a proper location for the ambush.”
“Yes, understood.”
No doubts. No arguments. Just pure, brutal obedience.
This was the law of Utor’s Yaphenon—survival of the fittest.
We’re tired of being called barbarians and denied proper lands by the Holy Alliance.
With all eyes now on the chaos in Marfane, Utor had set his sights on Ezer’s territory.
If we label Ezer the traitor, that’s all it takes.
He didn’t want to pick a fight with Krata.
But he’d attack Ezer first, then paint them as the villains.
If we conquer Ezer first, Krata will have no choice but to accept it.
Even if Yaphenon was seen as savage, they were still Krata’s brother nation.
As long as they bowed afterward, Krata wouldn’t dispute it.
They might try to claim some spoils, but that was acceptable.
“Go, Gagaro.” Utor gave the order, “While you’re away, I’ll take care of Yuru.”
“I obey.” Gagaro crossed his axes and bowed deeply, then walked out.
Watching him go, Utor muttered,
“Let’s see how long that Empress of Ezer can last.”
♧
“A relic?”
Beatrice tilted her head at Clay’s words.
“If you mean Yaphenon’s sacred relic…”
“The Original Prayer.”
It was the first edition of the prayer given by Raztel, the God of Light worshipped by the Holy Alliance—back when He was still a mere spark of a divine concept.
“The true first edition.”
Anyone could memorize and recite the prayer. But only the original touched by Raztel Himself could be used to enhance equipment.
Beatrice tilted her head again.
“You mean that cursed engraving tool? Our Demon King’s army can do enchantments too.”
“I’m not after it for enchanting.”
Even if it was a divine prayer, it was left behind when Raztel was still a primitive entity.
It was a sacred relic, yes—but one so incomplete that even Holy Krata treated it more like a ritual tool than a holy object.
An object without divine finality couldn’t serve as a vessel of worship. Instead, it was more like a hammer or anvil—a tool to be used.
“That relic can weaken Yaphenon.”
Though they had submitted to Krata, Yaphenon never had much true religious faith.
To them, the Original Prayer wasn’t flawed—it was pure.
Primitive, and powerful. They saw it as the root of their strength.
“Krata won’t acknowledge such a ‘flawed’ relic, but those relics often have fewer restrictions. For example…”
Normally, relics only bestow power in one direction.
“But Yaphenon’s relic can reverse enchantments.”
In other words, it could be used to take back their greatest weapons.
“What?!” Beatrice’s eyes widened, “That’s true?”
“Yes.”
Back when Clay was still a Hero, he’d memorized all of humanity’s weaknesses.
He had to. It was part of protecting them.
“I thought maybe the Demon King’s army would figure it out. But now, I’ll use it myself. Ironic, isn’t it?”
Many people knew Clay had such knowledge.
But none of them worried.
Because Clay was dead.
And dead men’s secrets were useless.
Their only miscalculation—
Was that Clay had returned.
“Can we even get to it?” Beatrice asked, “Where is it kept?”
“King Utor always keeps it close. More precisely, with what he trusts most.”
“What he trusts most…?”
“His axe,” Clay said quietly.
“Wait—his axe?”
Beatrice blinked in disbelief.
“But I thought it was a manuscript…”
“Who said it had to be written on paper?” Clay gave a tired smile, “His axe is the Original Prayer.”
『Agent of the Dark One!』
At that moment, a gargoyle burst in.
『We have a situation! Urgent action is needed!』
Beatrice frowned slightly, tilting her head.
The gargoyle shouted,
『Nael is on her way here—right now!』
That beastkin—once part of the Hero’s party. She was coming.
(End of Chapter)