Volume 9, Chapter 8 – The Fall of a King

「Won’t erasing a Seventh Rank warrior like that weaken the alliance’s future combat strength?」

Claire’s voice came through [Telepathy].

Fia maintained her gaze on the battlements below as she responded.

「He was just a Seventh Rank warrior. There are plenty of warriors of that level among the undead. If I don’t execute those who offend me, these nobles won’t understand the reality of their situation.」

Requiring the human nations to join the alliance wasn’t about making them contribute massive armies to fight Chaos on the front lines. It was about making them stop their internal strife and commit their limited resources to logistics—including the forging and maintenance of magic weapons, the transport of supplies, and coordinating the movement of foreign troops across their borders. Without a rock-solid alliance as a backbone, they would eventually revert to sabotage and petty squabbles, fearing they were losing out. That path would lead to the destruction of the entire World Tree Continent.

「True. Do you need my help?」

「Just watch, Claire. After all, I said I was challenging them alone; I can’t leave any room for gossip.」

「Understood.」

With their brief exchange over, Claire remained hovering in the air a hundred meters away. Fia glanced at the nearby magic swordsmen and magic casters, whose foreheads were drenched in cold sweat.

Although Fia’s blade had been so swift they couldn’t capture how Audru was killed, it didn’t lessen their terror. Everyone’s flight altitude dropped slightly, as if they were afraid of being too conspicuous and becoming the next target.

“What? Does the grand Alfrieg Kingdom not have a single person brave enough to challenge me? The ‘human glory’ you pride yourselves on is nothing more than this.”

No one answered. Or rather, they didn’t know what to say. The warriors outside the barrier didn’t even dare to breathe heavily, fearing a single mistake would lead to an instant kill by the elf princess. Inside the barrier, nobles and common soldiers groaned in distress. Some rubbed their eyes, convinced they were hallucinating. Yet, when they opened them and their blurry vision cleared, the corpse beneath the wall reinforced the reality. The vivid blood sliding down the barrier served as a constant reminder of her presence.

“Your Majesty, General Audru…”

“Shut up!”

Suppressing his unease, Barzel waved his arm in fury. The previous moment had passed too quickly for him to believe it was real. Audru was the premier warrior of the Alfrieg Kingdom; with Seventh Rank mana and vast combat experience, his strength was unrivaled in the nation. How could he be decapitated in an instant by a princess rumored to be—no, who was actually —underage?

Something must be wrong.

An illusion? Mental magic?

Barzel couldn’t help but think of the look Fia gave the battlements when she arrived. Powerful mental magic often required only a glance. He had met the elf princess’s eyes at that moment; he must have been ensnared then. Judging by the reactions of those around him, it wasn’t just him—the nobles and soldiers must have been hit as well.

The tension in Barzel’s heart vanished instantly.

Of course. It’s mental magic. Audru told me it was impossible for the elf princess to reach two capitals in half a month. This must be a body double. Black hair and red eyes are unique features of the Eldest Princess, but with the right magic items, anyone could be disguised—no one has even seen what she looks like. As long as they have the hair and eyes, they can pass. I was too careless.

Presumably, the real Audru was still outside the barrier confronting the true princess. A triumphant, sinister sneer appeared on Barzel’s face. He knew a magic caster couldn’t maintain a mental spell capable of deceiving a crowd while simultaneously engaging in intense combat. He would expose this lie personally.

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Regaining his composure, Barzel stepped forward before the terrified nobles.

“I am the current Emperor of Alfrieg, Barzel Jean Ralphmere! Your intrusion into my capital is a slight against us all. Take one more step, and my soldiers will ensure you never return!”

Has the King gone mad?!

Nearly every noble gaped at Barzel as he stepped forward. The thud of Audru’s body hitting the barrier still echoed in their ears. How could their King offer such grand words to an enemy even the kingdom’s greatest warrior couldn’t defeat?

Wait…

Barzel’s abnormal behavior forced the nobles to reconsider. They knew their King was cautious by nature; he had even taken the “half-month” threat seriously. For him to step forward during a life-and-death crisis meant he either had a trump card or had discovered something.

Recalling that Barzel addressed her as “Excellency” rather than using the name “Dofilia” she had announced…

The shock in the nobles’ eyes receded, replaced by a growing sense of confidence.

His Majesty must have seen through her. This isn’t the real Eldest Princess.

Now was the time to prove themselves. If they cowered now, they would never regain the King’s trust. The nobles present were all people of status; though they couldn’t explain how “Audru” had been cut down, it was one elf against a city protected by a barrier and a wall of human soldiers. They couldn’t possibly lose.

“Hoh~”

Fia let out a faint, ambiguous hum, her eyebrows rising in surprise at Barzel’s sudden courage. She had heard from Erin Slate’s reports that the King of Alfrieg was a cautious, cowardly man; this was a complete departure from that.

Do they have a stronger card hidden away?

But Erin’s report explicitly stated that the Seventh Rank warrior was the nation’s strongest.

Why so confident? How interesting.

“So you are the King of Alfrieg. You should have heard the message I sent through your envoy. An envoy’s decision represents the nation’s decision. Since they refused to join the alliance, I took that as Alfrieg rejecting my mercy. I have arrived at your capital within the promised half-month. Now, you should strip, kneel, and present your surrender with both hands, acknowledging the Alfrieg Kingdom as a vassal of Silvar. If you do, I can overlook your past actions.”

“Impudence! Magic casters, strike her down!”

“I am willing to fight!”

“O-Oh! It’s Lord Nephiliel!”

As a young man’s voice rang out, the nobles’ eyes lit up. This youth, Nephiliel, was the widely recognized magic swordsman who was expected to replace Audru, and a leader of the younger generation among the human nations. Barzel’s spirits soared, and he shouted in a booming voice for all to hear.

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“This witch is not the real elf princess! She is using mental magic to delude us! Lord Audru is still fighting outside the barrier; she is only stalling for time! Everyone, attack!”

“OOOOOOHH!!”

Barzel’s explanation brought instant clarity to the soldiers and nobles. Their morale skyrocketed. The ballista on the walls adjusted their aim, and a barrage of spells was unleashed at Fia. Nephiliel, in particular, lunged through the magic barrier in an instant. His speed and the surging aura around him were not inferior to Audru’s. His movements were fluid, leaving almost no opening.

“I have heard you are the greatest genius of the elf kingdom. Let me, the greatest genius of humanity, test your strength!”

Unlike Audru’s fury, the noble Nephiliel was driven by the high battle spirit of finding a worthy opponent, filled with joy at discovering a peer of similar strength.

“Too many openings!”

Seeing Fia remain motionless, the ignored Nephiliel roared in anger. The aura surrounding him condensed into a mass of azure light. He lunged toward Fia’s chest with his greatsword. In a flash, an azure storm filled the sky. From the side, it looked like a brilliant meteor slamming into Fia, the light so blinding that her figure vanished.

And then.

BOOM!!

The massive azure mass was reflected at ten times its original speed. The trailing azure flames allowed everyone to track Nephiliel’s flight path. Fia had simply caught the greatsword and hurled it back toward the wall. Nephiliel was like a cannonball, slamming into the barrier with a bone-shaking crack that made the ground tremble. A series of eerie cracking sounds rippled across the egg-shaped barrier.

As for the bolts and magic fired from the walls, they achieved nothing more than creating clouds of smoke against the [Bee Shield Forcefield].

“Uh…”

As if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on a fire, the nobles who were in a frenzy just a moment ago suddenly went cold. They tensed up, frozen with indecision.

If they could lie to themselves about the first time because they hadn’t seen how Audru died, they had witnessed the entire process this time. Nephiliel, the hailed genius of humanity, hadn’t lasted a single move against the elf princess. They hadn’t even seen what magic she used before Nephiliel was swatted aside like a sandbag, his fate unknown. The spreading cracks on the barrier and the tremors beneath their feet told them this was no illusion.

If Nephiliel could still scream, these nobles might have felt their legs go weak, convinced they were in a nightmare.

“It… it isn’t an illusion…?”

Barzel muttered under his breath, stunned. He heard something shatter within his heart. His relatively youthful face was full of shock as he stood there, paralyzed, not knowing how to react.

The claim that the elf princess could take a capital alone was true. Audru’s death was a cold, hard fact. In less than a minute, he had lost two great generals, one of whom was the kingdom’s strongest, and the defensive barrier—capable of withstanding a direct impact from a dragon—had been cracked with a casual toss. Even if Audru had attacked it with full strength, it would have taken half an hour of continuous effort just to weaken it.

Cold sweat poured down Barzel’s face and back. He felt drenched as if he’d just been pulled from water, yet he felt no heat. Instead, a piercing chill spread from his feet through his entire body, leaving him shivering despite his fur cloak. He finally realized the elf before him was not an existence he could defeat. Even though Fia was just hovering in the air, Barzel felt a mountain of pressure on his chest, making it impossible to breathe.

I must retreat.

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Discarding his resolve to trample the elven royalty, the pale Barzel swayed. He couldn’t stop himself from stumbling back two steps. Once fear takes root, it becomes uncontrollable. In his eyes, Fia was no different from a demon with horns and wings. He shoved aside the nobles in his path and screamed in terror.

“Protect me! Protect the King!”

Is this the man’s true face? Fia was still confused.

Only a minute had passed since she arrived, and she had seen this King cycle through mockery, unease, confidence, and now fleeing in terror. She was even more baffled as to why the King had found the courage to treat a mere Fifth Rank youth as a trump card after seeing Audru die. It was nonsensical.

But there was no need to dwell on that.

As Fia raised her right hand, an ominous purple glow erupted from the earth. For a moment, it seemed to Barzel as though the entire city were engulfed in magic; no matter where he looked, he saw only that purple light rising from the depths of the ground.

Then, as if a massive boulder weighing hundreds of pounds had been dropped on his shoulders, the fleeing Barzel’s legs gave way. He hit the ground face-first with a thud . He twisted his head, screaming for protection while trying to use his arms to push himself up, but his limbs wouldn’t obey. He was like a meat patty pressed firmly into the floor; no matter how much strength he used, his fingers wouldn’t move an inch.

The metallic taste of blood filled his throat. The immense pressure put a burden on his ribs that they couldn’t bear; every breath brought the agonizing sensation of flesh being torn apart. He wasn’t alone. Every noble and warrior on the wall or in the air was pressed into a prostrate position. Only the common soldiers fared slightly better, though they were forced to one knee, barely able to withstand the sudden surge in gravity.

Move! Damn it, move! Get out of here!

Barzel roared in his mind.

He didn’t care about the total defeat of his side. His intense survival instinct left him with no thought other than escaping this cage. He was the King of Alfrieg; he was still young and had so much left to experience. He couldn’t die here. If he could just survive this, there would be chances for revenge. How could lowly elves be a match for humans?! No—damn it, why is no one helping me up?!

He cursed his soldiers, squeezing every cell to try and crawl forward a single step. But the crisp sound of footsteps behind him made his chest tighten—it was the click-clack of heels on stone tiles. The cold, slow steps sounded like they were treading on his heart. As the sound drew nearer, his emotions went on a wild rollercoaster. Escape was no longer the priority; fear filled his heart, and he was already wondering what he could say to save his life.

A spell with such a wide range… the envoys weren’t exaggerating. The Eldest Princess truly is a magic caster who surpassed the Ninth Rank!

Dignity was irrelevant in the face of survival. As the small black heels decorated with blue ribbons reached his face, the gravity surrounding Barzel suddenly lessened. Sensing a chance to live, he scrambled up, intending to bow before Fia’s feet.

But Fia gave him no chance to touch her. She stepped back with a look of disgust and snapped her fingers, allowing the nobles and soldiers to raise their heads and look toward them. Simultaneously, she raised Laevateinn, now enhanced with [Enchanted Blade]. Given Barzel’s kneeling posture, what was about to happen required no words.

“I gave you plenty of chances, but you refused to cherish them time and again. Moreover, based on the intel I have, you are not suited to represent the Alfrieg Kingdom in the alliance. What I need are obedient dogs, not people with their own ideas.”

Hearing the chill in Fia’s voice, Barzel’s face twisted into a mask of terror. He pleaded in a tone that was practically a sob.

“Wait… wait! I’ll listen to you! I’ll do anything! I was blind! I can be an obedient dog! The surrender, yes, the surrender! I’ll write it now—no, I’ll swear fealty to the Princess right here in front of everyone! From today on, Alfrieg has only one King—you! We are all your servants!”

Fia didn’t answer. She simply scanned the nearby nobles with a cold gaze. Not a single one dared to meet her eyes. They lay prostrate, feeling the shame of their King’s groveling surrender while fearing the blade that could strike at any moment. To subdue an entire city’s garrison with a single spell… the sheer mana required was beyond their comprehension.

This was exactly the effect Fia wanted. If these nobles didn’t know her power, they would never feel true awe.

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Now then.

Once the timing was right, the cold gleam of Laevateinn flashed in the heatless winter sun. Barzel, who was still begging and promising treasures and land, collapsed. He died with his eyes wide open, a look of utter disbelief on his face.

On the silent battlements, Fia calmly shifted her gaze to the nobles behind her. She looked over the sweating, terrified lords before settling on a frail-looking youth in relatively tidy clothes—the one with the excellent eyesight who had first spotted her.

Since she intended to turn Alfrieg into a vassal, she couldn’t allow the King of Alfrieg to have a strong power base. To pick a King, she had to start with a minor noble with no influence. That way, to avoid being usurped by the major lords, they would actively cling to the great tree that was Silvar, playing a more effective role in the future alliance.

Of course, sending someone from Silvar to supervise would also be a necessary step.

Feeling the gaze on him, the youth let out a sob-like whimper. He kept his head down, trembling with terror. Fia minimized the [Wide-Area Gravity Manipulation] on him.

“Stand up.”

The youth didn’t rise. He sat slumped on the ground, his legs scraping against the stone as he backed away in horror.

“Don’t… don’t kill me! I’m innocent! I’ve never hurt an elf, I swear! I’m just a messenger! Don’t kill me, I’ll do whatever you ask!”

“Whatever I ask?”

“Anything!”

Though he paused for a second out of fear of Fia’s cold face, he realized nothing was more terrifying than death. He nodded frantically like a chicken pecking grain.

Fia’s lips curved into a smirk.

“Good. From today on, you are the King of the Alfrieg Kingdom. All nobles and officials shall obey your commands. Any who do not will be seen as showing contempt for Silvar, and I will personally prune those who refuse to follow your orders.”

“Uh.”

The thin youth froze. He didn’t understand Fia’s meaning. Fia ignored him and turned to the stunned, prostrate high nobles. She pulled a jeweled dagger from her spatial magic and threw it before them, her voice icy.

“Take this blade and cut your palms. I want you all to swear fealty to your new King. The price of refusal is the same as Barzel’s—you go first.”

Her cold voice brooked no argument. When the first high noble, unable to bear the pressure of impending death, reached out a trembling hand for the dagger, the most unique royal coronation in history officially began.