Chapter 418
The king was engulfed in despair.
Watching his kingdom fracture felt like his very heart was breaking, and the anguished cries of his people threatened to deafen him. A king’s mere existence was a symbol in itself.
Here he stood, having sent his own son to the battlefield, utterly powerless. What could he possibly do? He couldn’t even rebuild a fallen wall or gather the scattered earth.
It was the first time in his life he had felt such helplessness. Overwhelming despair that came before fear. If the former kings of Klipoford were watching him now, what expression would they wear?
Lost in these thoughts, the king was abruptly pulled back to reality when Mei grabbed his robe and shouted sharply.
“Your Majesty! You can’t stay here!”
The tremors from the earthquake had reached the palace. The shaking showed no sign of stopping; a larger quake was surely on its way. Surrounded by guards, they were evacuating to the palace’s largest garden.
But instead of heading there, the king turned toward the castle gates. Soldiers kept the doors half-open, fearing they might warp shut.
“Your Majesty!”
With hurried footsteps, the king dashed down the narrow path. His stout frame didn’t make him fast, but no one dared stop him—they understood his worry. They followed on horseback.
“Your Majesty! Please mount a horse!”
“This way! The west road! I’ll guide you!”
“Protect the princes and princesses who remain!”
“Evacuate to the garden! Bring them back unharmed!”
The unstable ground made the horses’ footing uncertain, but the king held tight to the reins. Soon, he spotted a familiar figure—Beric, Ian’s attendant and the red-haired foreigner who had devoured every meal in the palace.
“Beric?”
“Huh? Why are you here? You should be in the palace.”
The king quickly glanced at the figure Beric faced off against—Efdiram. Whatever the situation, if Beric was hostile toward her, then she was an enemy of Ian, and by extension, of Klipoford.
As the king’s knights stepped forward, gripping their swords, Efdiram raised an eyebrow in annoyance.
“What? You wanna try me?”
“You don’t seem to be from Klipoford. Identify yourself!”
“Dude, that curly-haired girl’s crazy.”
“Only you are.”
Ziiing. Ziiing.
Swoosh!
Beric cut in, pointing a finger at Efdiram. She swung her sword fiercely, as if to sever that hand.
The attack radiated magical power. Heat surged from the ground, intensifying, and sparks like molten lava scattered on the wind.
The king covered his face with both hands, shouting.
“Stop! I command you to stop!”
The knights obeyed, but the two fighters paid no heed. Their deadly duel continued, as if intent on killing each other.
As the fight dragged on, Beric seemed to be pushed back, but their strength was evenly matched.
“Your Majesty, doesn’t it seem like the ground shakes more every time she swings her sword?”
The knight’s observation was correct. Each slash seemed to stir something within the cracks in the earth.
The king stepped closer to the combatants, shouting again—not so much an order as a desperate plea.
“Enough! I said stop!”
Boom!
Swoosh!
A sharp object grazed Efdiram’s cheek, leaving a clear streak of blood.
She wiped it with her palm and turned toward the source of the attack. It was Captain Hale, squinting one eye as if aiming at a target.
“What’s this? A sneak attack from behind?”
“Not a sneak attack, just a warning to keep quiet. If I wanted to kill you, I’d have pierced your head, not your cheek.”
“Words are easy. I’m being quiet, you know? The ones causing trouble are this guy and that man.”
“How dare you! You insolent—!”
“Y-You insolent—!”
The knights’ angry retorts were met with Efdiram’s gleeful laughter. Was this some kind of mirror therapy? Beric looked on, stunned, as if she were truly mad.
Hale descended carefully from the sky and bowed to the king.
“Your Majesty, I trust you’ve heard the news of King Damon’s capture.”
“Yes. Thanks to Ian’s efforts, Klipoford can breathe a little easier. But what is this? The crack you mentioned earlier—is that it? The magic department said they were limiting power as much as possible, so how…?”
“I understand your concerns and curiosity. Ian has ordered me to convey that he wishes to serve as a shield for Your Majesty. Since the forces of Ruthwena and that madwoman’s troops, along with the Burgos army, are still engaged, we cannot easily retreat.”
When the front lines pull back, a gap opens—a chance. It wasn’t the annihilation of the Burgos army, just the capture of King Damon tied up with a rope.
The king nodded, understanding Ian’s worries immediately.
“Then go. As king of Klipoford, I cannot remain in the palace any longer. It’s best we discuss this crack together.”
“Right! Go! I’ll see if there’s anything to eat here!”
As Efdiram spoke, Beric swung his sword again. Reflexively, she twisted her body, narrowly dodging the blade.
Startled, Efdiram looked at Beric, who responded by raising his middle finger.
“I told you to stay put until Ian says otherwise.”
“This bastard’s trying to get himself killed…”
“You better watch your forehead from now on.”
“Keep looking, keep looking—!”
“Don’t look, damn it!”
Clang! Clang!
Their swords clashed again, sparks flying. Yet as they fought like enemies, their retreating backs looked no different than friends.
Hale cautiously approached the king and extended his hand.
“Your Majesty, the tremors continue. I suggest the other officials move on foot, while you accompany me. It will be safer and faster to reach the barrier.”
“Agreed. Mei!”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Ensure the cleanup here is thorough, and send the prime minister and others to the barrier.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Be careful.”
The king patted Mei’s shoulder and clasped Hale’s hand. Meanwhile, dust creatures slithered from the cracks, endlessly cycling between birth and death.
Mei sighed, stepping over the remains of shattered monsters. Klipoford was beginning to tilt toward ruin.
“Ian, Captain Akorella has a report.”
Ian turned toward the voice. The cold sweat had subsided, and his previously weak body now held steady.
He gestured for her to come in, and Akorella followed the mage with determined steps. Her first words were blunt.
“Ian, we’re screwed.”
“Ugh.”
The mage covered his mouth, rolling his eyes, but Akorella pressed on. There was no other way to describe the situation.
“The crack has opened. We contacted Klipoford’s researchers—they say the aftershocks are growing stronger. At this rate, a major quake will hit again in two to three days. The problem is, the earth has already split, and we can see the magic inside.”
Ian slowly flipped through the documents she handed him. It was more efficient to focus on expert opinions than detailed numbers.
Akorella pulled a chair and sat down.
“That means there’s a high chance of monsters with form and consciousness emerging. It’s almost certain. Dust creatures have already started appearing. Ordinary people can handle that much, so it’s still manageable—for now. But if another quake hits, everyone dies. Well, except us.”
If monsters flooded the western region near the palace inside the barrier, the kingdom’s fate was sealed. Klipoford could vanish from history.
Ian swallowed hard. Though unintentional, his contact with the pendant seemed to have pushed the limits.
Otherwise, where had the magic he’d been losing gone? Even if the illegitimate son Ian had drawn on earlier was involved, he couldn’t be sure the process of release and progression had no effect.
“First of all, I think it’s best to completely evacuate the capital, Frodehorn. The real problem lies with us. So, what now? The war is effectively over, and there’s no reason to stay here any longer. Ian, you’ve already decided to leave early tomorrow, haven’t you?”
Bariel had done all he could—no, more than enough. Ian just needed to take Damon and return to Bariel to serve under the Crown Prince. The same went for Minister Tweller and General Jaret.
“Go ahead.”
Acorella spoke up quickly, as if to preempt any thought Ian might have about staying to handle the earthquake aftermath. There would still be some mages left behind, so Ian should step back and rest. Her eyes said it all—firm and unwavering.
Ian chuckled softly and nodded.
“The schedule remains unchanged. I will leave here first thing tomorrow. It is His Highness Jin’s responsibility—not mine—to manage the earthquake and monster damage. How could I act without His Highness’s orders?”
Requests for aid were clearly matters for the state to handle. Ian knew exactly what was Jin’s duty and what was his, and he had no intention of overstepping.
Still, before leaving, couldn’t he be given one last chance? To shed less blood, to save a fading page of history, to wipe away the tears of those who prayed for peace.
“But why call everyone together?”
“Acorella, don’t you know what that’s called? A summit.”
“Am I Beric? How could I not know that? I’m just asking why you’re gathering King Luswena, the northern leaders, and even King Clifford all in one place.”
With a faint smile, Ian toyed with a piece of paper and murmured,
“Have you ever heard this before?”
“Heard what?”
“The easiest way is to solve things with money. Next easiest is violence. The hardest is through persuasion.”
Acorella tilted her head, puzzled. So, what he was saying was that they were trying to find a peaceful solution through dialogue?
Ian grinned and handed her the report.
“That’s what I intend to try. Even if it fails, there’s no need to be discouraged. It was never going to be easy from the start.”