Chapter 389: The King’s Blood

Gawain was no hotheaded youth, nor did he harbor any naive or idealistic hopes about the war that was about to break out. So even after uncovering the actions of the Cult of All-Things’ End, he never once tried to rally the people with impassioned calls for peace.

Once he pieced together the full story, Gawain realized that although the civil war was exactly what the Cult of All-Things’ End desired, it was by no means a conflict they alone could orchestrate. This war was the inevitable product of historical forces—just as the conflict between Ansu and Typhon was bound to erupt.

Francis II had fallen. The one who dealt the killing blow was a high-ranking bishop of the cult, and the mastermind behind it all was the king’s own son. But the old king’s death was not solely the work of these two—it was the outcome of a complex game played by multiple factions.

Edmund needed the king dead—not just to spark civil war, but to eliminate the greatest “compromiser” within the royal family. The king’s death would ignite the fury of the nobles, granting Edmund the authority to raise an army swiftly.

The Duke of the Eastern Marches needed him dead because his loyalty was never truly to the king, but to Prince Edmund—or rather, to a restored “Morn dynasty” reminiscent of the First Kingdom.

The Emperor of Typhon also needed Francis II dead, because Typhon wanted Ansu to tear itself apart in civil war. Gawain was almost certain that Typhon would quietly watch from the sidelines as the ancient kingdom crumbled.

What about the Wilde family in the North? The Duchess Victoria Wilde—did she also want the king dead? Francis II was the most difficult monarch to control since the founding of the Second Kingdom. Though he appeared patient and compromising, beneath that facade lay extreme resilience and cunning. Over nearly four decades, he had slowly wrested control from the Wilde family. Had they long since desired a more obedient king? Perhaps someone like Wales Morn…

Many had their daggers aimed at Francis II’s back. The Cult of All-Things’ End merely gave the king a slight push toward those blades.

Thus, the Second Ansu Civil War, like the Ansu-Typhon War, was a historical inevitability. The difference was that while the latter had been delayed, the former was sealed the moment Francis II fell.

The king’s blood would be repaid with the blood of the entire kingdom. No calls for peace, no appeals, no revelations of truth could change that. Not even Gawain, the “Old Ancestor,” could sway anyone now. In fact, even if some heard him, they would pretend not to.

Back in the Shadow Experiment Grounds, those who remained were finishing up the last tasks.

Tyr shed his sea demon form and summoned a large water sphere, painstakingly cleaning up the nauseating remains left by Clement’s death. Solderin and his Steel Cavalry began setting up lighting throughout the cavern—these warriors had endured the mental shock of Tyr’s sea demon transformation, each having passed three or more sanity checks. Now, fully restored and brimming with energy, their efficiency had more than doubled.

Gawain and Amber made their way to the center of the experiment grounds, staring at the circular pit on the platform. Gawain mused, “So, at the corresponding spot in the Shadow Realm, there’s an unstable rift. When someone in the real world activates the Shadow Signet Ring, that rift opens a spatial gateway here, summoning shadow dwellers through?”

“That’s my guess,” Amber nodded. “But the rift is clearly unstable. It’s one thing for shadow dwellers to pass through safely, but if someone from the real world crosses, the portal collapses quickly.”

“The Shadow Signet Ring is a relic from the ancient Gondor Empire, and this experiment ground is also their creation. There must be a connection…” Gawain scanned the vast cavern thoughtfully. “Even in Gondor’s time, human research into the Shadow Realm was limited. At best, they could open a small ‘pocket dimension’ to store important items, but the nature and origin of the Shadow Realm remained a mystery.”

“This must have been where they studied the Shadow Realm’s essence,” Amber said, shaking her head. “That pit was a fixed portal they built, and the signet ring was the key used by researchers to ‘open the door.’”

“Maybe… but what puzzles me is why this research was conducted inside the ‘Rebellion Fortress,’” Gawain said, voicing his doubts. “That fortress was meant to find a way for humanity to survive the magical cataclysm. Could it be that Gondor’s scholars believed the Shadow Realm was one such path?”

Amber blinked, then shook her head. “I don’t know. Even though I can enter the Shadow Realm, I have no idea if it’s affected by the magical cataclysm.”

“Can you communicate with the shadow dwellers?” Gawain asked, curious.

Amber shrugged. “If you consider two people talking in their sleep as ‘communication,’ then sure, I can.”

Gawain chuckled wryly. “I see… But seriously, what kind of beings are these shadow dwellers? Do they have their own society? Are they elemental creatures of shadow?”

Many scholars studying shadows knew of the shadow dwellers’ existence. Even Gawain, not a mage himself but well-read, was aware of some secret lore. Yet, as far as anyone knew, these humanoid yet distinctly non-human creatures remained a mystery. Their aggressive nature and the Shadow Realm’s strangeness meant no one had ever successfully communicated with them. And since they couldn’t remain stable in the real world for long, no one had ever captured one.

Amber put her hand under her chin, pretending to ponder seriously before shaking her head. “I don’t know, but I suspect they at least have a civilization—they wear clothes, after all!”

Gawain gave her a sideways glance. “That’s a fair point, but it’s hardly an answer. You call yourself a ‘Shadow Master,’ yet I thought you’d know more about the Shadow Realm than I do.”

Amber crossed her arms, proudly defiant. “Hence the ‘call myself’ part!”

Gawain: “…”

This elf shamelessly admits it, doesn’t she?

Seeing Amber’s unabashed pride, Gawain could only smirk. Then he sized up the half-elf before him. “By the way… have you ever wondered if you might be connected to this Shadow Experiment Grounds somehow?”

At the mention of her origins, Amber’s playful expression faded. She quietly glanced at the circular pit. “I don’t know… When I saw that rift and watched Francis II open it with the signet ring, I thought about it. But I have no clues. After all, my parents—whom I never even met—left me only a ring. Who knows what it means? Is it really tied to my origins? Or was it just so whoever found me would feed me out of pity? Maybe my parents were just petty thieves, and the ring was stolen or found and left with me. It didn’t look valuable until activated…”

“Your foster father and Pittman—do they know anything about your origins?”

“How would they?” Amber laughed lightly. “My foster father’s a thief who claims to be the South’s best infiltrator but has never done more than petty theft. Uncle Pittman… well, you know him. Skilled, but always scheming and conniving.”

“Pittman, huh…” Gawain thought of the lord’s steward who spent his days loafing but had cracked the secret of divine power reversal arrays, led the entire alchemy industry project, and seemed to possess deep occult knowledge. He shook his head. “He’s no simple man.”

“Lord, the lighting points are set up—this is all we can do for now. We’re short on magic network units,” Solderin reported, interrupting Gawain and Amber’s conversation. Though privately Solderin and Gawain called each other old friends, Solderin insisted on addressing him as “Lord” when discussing official matters.

Gawain surveyed the cavern. Lighting had been installed along the path from the entrance to the central platform, with temporary magic crystal lamps in drier areas. He nodded slightly. “Begin withdrawal. We’ll organize another team later to fully explore the cavern. Everyone, return.”

The next day, the pre-war mobilization meeting led by Cecil convened as scheduled.

Facing the department heads before him, Gawain spoke plainly, without concealment: “Ladies and gentlemen, Ansu is about to face war—the king, Francis II, was assassinated last night.”

He had hesitated about revealing such shocking news so early, but made up his mind before the meeting.

This was a meeting only for the heads of the Administrative Council’s departments. Each attendee was responsible for a major function of Cecil’s society and deserved to know. Moreover, Gawain had Heddy call the meeting early because he had seen the fire at Longwind Fortress the night before and heard Amber’s intelligence. He summoned them fully aware of the king’s assassination. Finally, he felt it was time for everyone to understand the path ahead.

Though nearly all senior officials knew that Cecil’s vast social machine would not remain isolated beneath the Dark Mountains, this thin veil of secrecy had to be torn away.

As expected, Gawain’s words caused an uproar in the council chamber.

Even Byron and Philip, knights who had known the situation since the previous night, wore grave expressions.

Because only now did they dare truly believe it was real.

“I know what you want to ask,” Gawain raised a hand, and the room fell silent. “The perpetrators were not Typhon’s forces—it was the cultists of the Cult of All-Things’ End, in league with Prince Edmund. And I have ample reason to believe the Duke of the Eastern Marches is involved as well.”

(End of chapter)