Chapter 237

Ian said nothing. He simply watched the steady sway of Gale’s black hair. He knew that no matter how much he tried to stop it, fate wouldn’t be halted. No matter how much he resisted, destiny could not be defied.

When Gale pressed the sword harder toward his heart, Arsen erupted in fury.

“You will die! You will die!”

Shhhhk!

The tip of the blade began to wear down, corroded by the poison. Arsen’s desperate struggle was slowly eating away at the edge, bit by bit.

Gale clicked his tongue and leaned his weight forward. The sword hovered in midair, neither piercing the heart nor retreating—caught in a perfect balance between the force driving it in and the force pushing it back.

“Arsen. I’ll be honest—I never liked you.”

“Ahhh!”

“You were just a child, and you knew it.”

“Gale! Damn you! Damn you!”

How dare such a worthless creature think it could hide here for ten years, scheming its wicked plots? Thanks to the grown-up Marib and Gale, it had been forced to live in silence all this time. The sheer audacity was staggering.

Gale clenched his teeth, and blood, dark as rust, poured from his mouth.

“Ugh.”

The sensation was instantly familiar to Gale. It was the same as when Ian’s slave had broken into the palace to assassinate him, coughing up blood then. He smiled coldly and shouted fiercely.

“Come on, then! Let’s see what you’ve got!”

Shhhhk!

“I fear nothing!”

Instead, an inexplicable thrill surged through him.

This was survival. Everything he had lived for as the prince of the Bariel Empire—his honor, his pride, his duty—was intact. Though time would eventually wear them down, Gale could feel it clearly now: everything was alive and breathing in his hands.

Boom! Thud!

Zzzzz!

Ian raised his hand into the air. The runes that had filled the floor, ceiling, and walls flared to life once more. Warm, radiant light gathered and rippled, blending with the dark energy of Arsen’s sword to create a dance of day and night.

A majestic celestial spectacle. Standing between light and shadow, life and death, Gale cried out with all his might.

“Perish! Perish, and perish again! Let us meet at the bottomless depths of hell!”

“Ahhh!”

“I will kill you again! Willingly!”

Crack!

Gale’s sword, half-dulled, finally pierced Arsen’s heart. The concentrated poison exploded violently, and the malevolent energy he harbored burst forth.

Ian summoned all his strength to channel magic. For a moment, his head and neck felt like they were snapping, but it was fleeting—there was no time to dwell on it.

Outside, Jin and the others waited. They were not to die. Gritting his teeth, Ian held onto consciousness.

Thud! Thump!

Despite being drenched in poison, Gale continued to stab at the heart—once, twice, thrice. Each strike sent thick, dark blood spurting. The burning pain in his flesh was immense, but he could not stop. The demon that had plagued the empire since its founding would not be felled by a few wounds.

“To future generations—!”

Arsen tried to leave a curse behind. Like the demon Roberside had slain, he vowed revenge through the ages, hoping to delay his defeat forever.

But—

“No. You will leave nothing behind.”

Ian cut him off immediately. Light slowly seeped through the gap Gale had made. Like the dawn pushing back darkness, magic flowed along Ian’s touch. It carried the sanctity of the priests and the resolve of the mages—a power that would cast Arsen into infinite abyss.

Flash!

The light was blinding, so bright that nothing could be seen. Ian raised his sleeve to shield his eyes, hearing a distant, clear scream fading into silence.

After a while, only the faint breaths of Ian and Gale remained in the hall.

Haa… haa…

Huff…

Ian felt his strength drain away. Sliding down the wall, he slumped to the floor as a pounding headache and chest pain overwhelmed him. His body was shattered. Days of relentless tension, potions from Akorella, and pouring out magic beyond his limits had taken their toll.

“…Ah.”

A few coughs brought up blood. It was likely the lingering poison of the demon still in the hall. Though faint and weak, it was a sign Ian no longer had the strength to fight it off. He turned his gaze to Gale, lying nearby.

“…”

Gale was dying. Covered in the thick, tenacious blood of the monster. Poison spread from the wound in his heart, and the pupils that had seen it lost their light.

Could he see nothing at all?

Ian remained silent, trying to understand his feelings.

Haa… haa… Ian.

His faded eyes stared at the ceiling, as if asking whether the gods had witnessed all this from the farthest reaches of the sky.

“…Leave something behind.”

Ian muttered, wiping blood from his lips. This was the last request. If Arsen’s existence vanished from history, then Gale’s death would vanish with it.

The gods might know, and so would he—but that truth remained unchanged. So, to the one who gave meaning to death, this small mercy seemed only fair.

“I will grant it.”

With his eyes closed, Ian took a deep, deliberate breath. Countless thoughts and regrets swirled on his tongue. What should he say? What should he leave to the only person in the world who would know his final moments?

‘Ah. This is still a blessing.’

Lost in thought, he suddenly laughed aloud. Born a prince, dying a prince—if Marib could see this, it would be a joy. Even if it wasn’t recorded, someone would remember. Perhaps it was a small part of history after all.

Tears streamed down his temples, but he seemed unaware, his consciousness fading.

“…Just a little longer.”

“…”

“Please, just a little longer before I go.”

If Ian left now, people would rush in. They would see him lying on the floor, dying. He didn’t want that. At least, he wanted to die with dignity. Wasn’t that a kind of honor?

Swish.

Ian stayed where he was. As time passed, the malevolent energy filling the hall faded, and Gale’s breathing grew faint.

The half-torn curtains fluttered in the breeze. Broken debris slowly toppled, making soft noises.

Swish.

How much time had passed?

Ian realized the silence around him. Gale’s breath had stopped. His face was peaceful, eyes closed. No trace of those faded pupils remained.

“…A prince to the very end.”

Ian removed his cloak and covered Gale’s face with it. Then, slowly, with unsteady steps, he opened the hall’s door.

Creak.

Scattered people lay around. Dead or alive, he couldn’t tell. Some might still be breathing, but the pain in his head was too intense to sense anything.

As Ian staggered down the corridor, the crowd gathered at the stairs noticed immediately.

“Something’s coming out!”

“Is it a monster? Everyone, get ready!”

“Run! Let’s get outside the palace!”

“Wasn’t there a loud noise earlier? This is our chance. What’s the royal guard doing? Hurry up and prepare—!”

Fear made them snap to attention before even identifying what it was. But then, under the sunlight, they saw the brilliant blonde hair and deep green eyes like grass.

It was Ian. The Minister of Magic, the one who had taken down the palace demon—the empire’s own.

Pat pat pat!

“Minister Hielo!”

“Minister! Are you alright? Damn it, get a doctor!”

“Gale-sama has been brought inside.”

“And the monster? What happened to the monster?”

“Wait! Didn’t they say the monster has mind control powers? Don’t get close! Be careful!”

Everyone rushed up the stairs, but stopped at a shout. Yes. Ian had warned them. Arsen had the power to control minds. If he was controlling Hielo—

Dash!

“Ian! Iaaah! Ian!”

But through the halted crowd, one person pushed forward—Philia. Without hesitation, she stretched out her hands and embraced Ian. Her swollen eyes clung to her son’s face.

“Ian, are you okay? You’re bleeding so much.”

“…Mother.”

“You’re alive. Thank goodness. Really, truly, thank goodness.”

In such a short time, Philia had endured hellish trials. Every time she heard the roar inside, she wished it would take her instead, to spare her son’s breath.

And yet, here he was, alive.

Tears streamed down her face as she pressed her forehead to his.

“Ian, thank you. I’m so grateful you’re alive.”

Ian patted her back. He wanted to say something comforting, but he was at his limit. Sweat cold on his brow, he tried to steady his breathing.

“…Sir Ian.”

Jin, who had followed Philia, called to him. The boy’s face was wet with tears, his expression indescribable as he approached.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?”

His lips trembled, full of questions. What had become of the monster? Was his mother alive? And about the ‘royal family’ Arsen had mentioned—everything.

But instead of asking questions, Jin dashed up the stairs with determination and ran to Ian.

“…Your clothes are filthy.”

“I’m dirty too. Everyone here is.”

Muttering softly, Jin finally wrapped his arms around Ian. His small hands clutched at Ian’s collar, relief flooding him at the sight of his safe return. Ian exhaled heavily and gently patted him on the back.

“Ian, are you badly hurt? What happened inside? Gale Jeha was there too—did you see him? Oh my, that blood…”

Romandro, equally restless, anxiously asked after Ian’s condition. Ian straightened himself and looked down the stairs. The nobles and officials were all hanging on his every word. Please, let him say the monsters are gone.

“…The monsters are dead.”

A collective sigh of relief swept through the crowd. Applause broke out here and there, and close friends embraced lightly, welcoming the calm.

“Ha! It’s over, it’s finally over.”

“As expected of Minister Hielo!”

“Indeed. No matter how fearsome the monsters, they can’t stand against a mage—especially the minister! Truly remarkable! You’ve done a great service!”

“If we hadn’t killed them today… just imagining Bariel’s future is terrifying.”

Ian slowly raised his hand, signaling for silence. The noise gradually died down at his command. Then he continued, delivering more grim news.

“Also, Bariel’s second prince, Gale Verosion, has passed away.”

“……!”

“The palace guards, escorts, and mages—enter the hall and manage the situation. If there are survivors, escort them immediately—”

Ian’s voice suddenly cut off, as if his breath had been stolen. Romandro looked at him in confusion, but Ian steadied himself and gave the final order.

“Gather the bodies of the deceased, including Gale Jeha. That is all.”

Clack, clack!

At his command, soldiers rushed past Ian and sprinted up the stairs. While everyone scrambled about in chaos, Ian quietly slipped away, heading around the back of the building. Romandro, Jin, and Philia followed, calling after him, but he didn’t stop.

“Ian!”

“Sir Ian!”

“Good heavens, the blood!”

As soon as he rounded a rarely traveled corner, Ian collapsed against the wall. He had to fall where no one could see him.

With his white shirt soaked through with blood, Ian finally lost consciousness.