Chapter 742
Late at night.

The Tolrun royal palace lay silent. Or rather, it was quiet as if asleep. Aside from the occasional quiet greetings exchanged during guard shifts, there was no sign of unusual activity.

Tap, tap, tap!

Still half-asleep, Kumasha sensed hurried footsteps racing down the corridor.

It was a disturbance. Anything out of the ordinary was always a problem. The child’s eyes fluttered open slightly, the pale irises darting around in the darkness.

In an instant, countless perspectives connected to the child flickered rapidly. Where was this? What was happening now…?

“Your Majesty!”

“It’s an emergency!”

There wasn’t just one voice. Ministers flooded in, barging into the king’s chambers with little regard for protocol.

Kumasha barely turned his head toward the door while lying down. When no response came, they grew more frantic, making noise again.

To the point of dismissing the attendants and coming personally—this was serious.

‘What on earth is going on?’

“B-Bael’s mages have infiltrated the capital!”

“Please, Your Majesty, get up!”

“This is no time to sit still!”

“There’s no response. Are you really inside?”

“Y-Yes, of course.”

“Then why no reply?”

“Your Majesty! Are you listening? The mages from the Masantar Temple have already reached here!”

Still, the child did not rise. Instead, he turned his gaze to the ceiling, frowning slightly.

The scars from the Ruswena War still lingered across his body. Even without being a mage, he vaguely understood why forbidden magic was called forbidden.

“And it seems Mayor Artor is dead.”

“…!”

Kumasha’s indifferent gaze suddenly widened. Without realizing it, he sat up, the rustling of the bedding prompting the ministers to exhale in relief. So he had heard everything! Even if he was a father, he still cared, it seemed.

“…What do you mean?”

“There’s information that the mayor’s mansion was burned down. Mer, the chief investigator there, confirmed it personally. From what we’ve gathered, it appears Ian Hielo, the Minister of Magic, orchestrated this.”

Snap! The child’s head jerked back. At a speed different from when he first sat up, dozens, hundreds, thousands of images flashed before his eyes.

But the scene he sought did not appear. No burning mansion, no corpse of his father. Surely, if it was such a big deal, someone among the citizens would have witnessed it.

Artor—his father—was there, yet there were no puppets nearby? Why?

“…!”

Something else appeared instead. From the palace’s perspective, it was the eastern city wall. A long, flickering light moved in the darkness.

The man watching it seemed to be the commander of the wall’s defense. Standing rigid and motionless, he looked visibly shaken.

No wonder. This was enemy territory. The capital’s front line. The terrain was unfamiliar, yet the enemy marched at night. That alone spoke volumes about Bael’s confidence.

“…East wall of the palace. Bael’s forces have arrived.”

“What? What do you mean, Your Majesty?”

“Bael’s army has reached the capital’s gates!”

Kumasha snapped irritably, and outside, the ministers groaned in frustration.

What to do was the king’s decision, yet the child continued staring blankly into space. He had to find it—the burning mansion…

“Ah.”

He saw it. Whoever it was, the blazing mansion was directly ahead. No one moved to put out the fire. For whatever reason, no one intervened, but Kumasha didn’t mind.

Turning his head sharply, he saw a small child, about five years old, sitting and crying.

‘Aris.’

His half-sibling. He’d heard their mother was dead, but when was that?

Though he’d become mayor, his crude nature hadn’t changed. Due to their father’s violence and frequent affairs, the second wife had wasted away and died from illness.

‘What are you saying…?’

Kumasha kept watching the sobbing child. Then, suddenly, a strange thrill surged within him.

A half-sibling who shared the same father but lived a different life. Sometimes, just thinking that this child was being fed well under his name made him almost sick with jealousy.

That’s right! You should be like that too! How miserable my own past was because of that worthless father! You too, you deserve the same!

“…”

But it was only for a moment. The child turned his gaze back to the flames licking the mansion. Surely, their father was inside. When the fire died down, no trace of him would remain.

Good riddance, that wretched man. He deserved to die! Kumasha nodded firmly, forcing himself to think so.

Then, suddenly, his eyes met his own reflection in the mirror beside the bed. The connection was severed.

“Your Majesty. Apologies, but we must enter.”

“Attendants, come in quickly and fix His Majesty’s attire!”

“E-Excuse us, Your Majesty.”

The noise of the attendants approaching.

They hurried forward with bowed heads, avoiding eye contact with the king. No one saw the strange expression on his face—neither smiling nor crying, but something complicated.

The child was both laughing and crying at once. It was a tangled mix of resentment toward his father, faint lingering longing, and the inescapable bonds of blood.

“…I will dress myself.”

Kumasha took a deep breath, got out of bed, and put on his clothes. Once outside, he would face the sly ministers directly. He needed to compose himself first to avoid giving them any excuse.

Now that his father was dead and gone… if he were caught, it would only hurt himself, but still.

Creak.

Having changed, Kumasha opened the door himself. The gathered ministers bowed deeply, and the child quickly passed by them, issuing orders.

“The mages will come straight to the palace.”

“What? To the king?”

“These bastards are determined to trample Tolrun—!”

“They’ve been moving fast since the Masantar Temple incident.”

“How did they get in? I thought the border checkpoints had magic detection devices.”

“They disguised themselves as slaves captured by the slave guild.”

“Clever move.”

The speed of their advance gnawed at Kumasha’s mind. He tapped his head thoughtfully and paused.

The ministers looked at him curiously, but only briefly.

“Banusa. Answer me.”

Ah, he was trying to contact Banusa.

Now that he thought about it, where was Banusa? Didn’t he say he would come up first after seeing the mages reach Masantar Temple? It should be plenty of time by now, yet no report had come.

“Banusa.”

“Is the connection not working?”

“Quiet, please.”

When one minister tried to interrupt, Kumasha shot him a sharp look. Then, abandoning the connection with Banusa, he headed down to the underground chamber. Dozens of ministers followed.

Tap, tap, tap!

Below, a miniature model of Tolrun’s capital had been constructed. Though called a model, it was a massive structure spanning hundreds of meters.

Fortunately, the inner city was nearly complete. The problem lay outside.

“We’ve identified the routes Bael’s forces are taking, but the outer terrain is still unfinished.”

“So we’re just supposed to wait for them to enter the capital? That’ll mean death for all of us!”

“Exactly. It would be irreversible. And with mages among them… we must block the chokepoints and halt their advance.”

“The wall guards should be responding appropriately by now. They’ll report soon.”

“Your Majesty? What are you planning?”

Kumasha strode toward the palace’s eastern wall. Touching the unfinished terrain outside the wall with his fingertips, he gauged the path.

‘This much, I don’t need a model to know.’

Unlike Burgos or Ruswena, this was his domain. He knew exactly how the paths ran and how the enemy would have no choice but to approach.

“Needle.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Kumasha extended his hand. The attendants quickly brought a container of red needles.

These weren’t ordinary thin needles, but bamboo needles. Kumasha fiddled with one briefly, then clasped his hands together and focused his mind.

Ssssh!

The vision was pitch black. It was night, after all. The enemy moved stealthily, and the view was as narrow as a needle’s eye, making it hard to identify targets.

But—

‘I see it.’

No matter how well they hid, there was always some light they had to kindle. Without hesitation, Kumasha plunged the bamboo needle into that spot.

Kraaaang!

At the same moment, a faint tremor echoed from afar. The ministers staggered back in surprise, then noticed blood dripping from Kumasha’s chin. The intense magic had caused a sudden nosebleed.

“Y-Your Majesty—!”

“Shh!”

What was a little blood? His body just wasn’t used to this unfamiliar magic. What mattered was that the tremor outside had been confirmed.

Thud!

Kumasha plunged the bamboo needle into the sand several more times, shaking his body. Each time, the tremor from outside grew stronger.

The ministers exchanged glances and rushed out to mobilize the army, while the attendants nervously hovered around the king.

“Your Majesty, are you alright?”

“…I’m fine. Absolutely fine.”

Ian Hielo was the first to break through all the way here—and the very first thing he did was kill his own father. It was a challenge, a cruel game: to see who would suffer more by taking away what the other held most dear.

The boy felt an indescribable surge of emotion welling up inside him, and he plunged the needle in again. Strangely, the last image of his father’s face refused to fade from his mind.

---

“Your Majesty, over there—the capital is in sight.”

“Set up camp here. Any sign from Lord Ian?”

“None yet. Judging by the coordinated movements atop the walls, it doesn’t seem like there’s any internal trouble.”

Jin peered through his telescope toward the city. There was no obvious sign of chaos within the walls. The enemy appeared to be carefully monitoring Bariel’s forces and moving as trained to defend the city.

Lowering the telescope, Jin turned to the mages.

“Any messages? Magical signals?”

“Apologies, the distance is too great to establish a connection. We can barely sense any mana here. Our only option is to send scouts to survey from the skies.”

It was night, after all. They would halt the advance here, let the soldiers rest, and launch the siege at first light.

“The surprise attack was somewhat successful. How about pressing the assault now, while their defenses are still weak?”

“No. We don’t know what traps Toorun might have set. Mages and magic swordsmen, fall back. The Imperial Defense Corps will lead the charge.”

If Ian was inside, he would surely find a way to signal the perfect moment to strike.

Just as the soldiers began to break formation to set up camp, a strange sensation rippled through the air.

Swish!

“…?!”

The magic swordsmen instinctively gripped their blades, but quickly realized this was no ordinary attack to parry.

Ziiing! Ziiing!

The mages spread their protective shields as wide as possible, but a powerful impact struck where the barrier hadn’t fully formed.

Boom! Thud!

The ground trembled as if an invisible giant had slammed a fist down.

In the darkness, it was hard to make sense of what was happening. Then Jin understood.

“…!”

In the center of their formation, the bodies of soldiers lay crushed and mangled.