Chapter 191: Farewell to Regrets

I drew the sword that had been leaning against the throne. Casting aside the scabbard, I descended the stairs, sword in hand. With each step, the sloshing blood receded, its level dropping in sync with my ankle.

At some point, the hallucinations had changed. The specters that had tormented me relentlessly vanished without a trace, replaced by the sight of blood pooling from beneath my feet. The sloshing sound, the stench of blood—all vividly real. The blood, stagnating and lapping at my feet, had already risen to my ankles, and continued to climb as if determined to drown me.

I had no intention of succumbing to such pathetic hallucinations.

As always, I strode forward, unwavering, casting off the cloak I habitually wore.

Flutter—

The crimson cloak, embroidered with golden thread, billowed into the air.

***

The day the 1st Prince went to his death, he entrusted Elpidius and Aletea to me. I sensed the foreboding, yet couldn’t bring myself to stop him. That decision became a heavy guilt, lodged deep in my heart.

And so, that agonizing existence began.

Starting from simple responsibility and a desire for revenge, the man who ascended to the throne soon bore another guilt born of truth. To alleviate it, he embarked on a path of war, ultimately surviving and seizing the title of Emperor.

He couldn’t die, not with so many responsibilities weighing him down.

Though he felt a crushing weight, as if it would suffocate him at any moment, Eudoard couldn’t show it. These were the consequences he had chosen and brought upon himself.

‘I knew the hallucinations would eventually betray me.’

Still, it was a relief that it hadn’t been exposed to more people than he’d feared.

Walking through the eerily deserted hallway, seemingly filled with blood, Eudoard sank into thought.

…Ironically, the moments he felt most intensely alive since birth were during the 8-year war. A war waged under the guise of responsibility, a war to destroy himself and alleviate his guilt.

In that very war, where he was burdened with so much responsibility that he couldn’t die, Eudoard paradoxically felt the most alive.

So, strangely enough, he welcomed this current situation.

“Long time no see.”

A languid greeting drifted over. Deon narrowed his eyes as he met his gaze.

Had he discarded his ever-present cloak somewhere? Not just the cloak, but even formal attire. The Emperor stood before him in a simple white shirt, sword in hand.

After staring at the rolled-up sleeves, Deon belatedly responded.

“It has been a while, Your Majesty.”

“You’ve changed quite a bit.”

“Much has happened.”

“Looks like you’ve become a Hero or something.”

“……”

His appearance had changed so drastically, how could anyone not notice? Eudoard slowly curved his lips into a smile.

It was well-known that the beauty of every Hero throughout history transcended human standards. There were even tales of Heroes using their charm to lure demons and infiltrate the Demon King’s castle.

Of course, it was merely hearsay, nothing confirmed.

Deon Hart, who had been silently gazing down, lifted his eyes. Crimson and golden eyes met in the air, and a composed voice followed.

“Why did you do it?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“When I came to you, having realized the truth and lost my reason, why did you give me that answer?”

This was a question he’d held since regaining his senses.

The Emperor must have noticed that he had lost his reason back then. Moreover, he must have known that their conversation was a critical turning point.

Deon Hart’s path hinged on his every word. In a situation where Deon Hart was highly likely to turn completely to the Demon Realm, the Emperor could have decisively broken his spirit. The Emperor was no ordinary human, after all. He could easily crush someone with a fragile mind with just a few words.

Yet, the Emperor focused Deon Hart’s hatred on himself. He became an insurmountable goal, and even willingly let Deon, who openly displayed hostility, go. Only after time had passed, and Deon had gathered his wits and regained his reason, did he realize this fact.

Hence, he asked.

“That’s hardly relevant in the current situation.”

“…I suppose it isn’t.”

He would remain an enigma until the very end, it seemed. Deon frowned.

Eudoard, who had been staring intently at him, abruptly tossed out a question.

“Did you intentionally wear that outfit?”

“Ah.”

Deon’s hand reflexively rose. He touched the red uniform, similar to the one the Emperor had bestowed upon him during the hunting competition, and answered casually.

“…Partly.”

“I see. It suits you well. Even if blood splatters, it won’t look too messy.”

“……”

As if to signal the end of small talk, the atmosphere shifted. Eudoard adjusted his grip on his sword.

“I expected this, but it seems it has come to this after all.”

“…Do you not regret it?”

“It was my choice. Why would I?”

A taut tension descended, suffocatingly thick. Yet, Eudoard wore a faint smile, as if pleased.

“Even if you are a Hero, you’ve only just awakened. You won’t be able to fully control that power yet. Your swordsmanship skills probably haven’t improved much either.”

“……”

“What good is improved physical ability? Skill is what truly matters.”

Having talent and talent blossoming are two different things. Therefore—

The man known as the most skilled swordsman among the renowned ‘Heroes,’ perhaps even the most skilled swordsman in all of humanity, spoke.

“Come. I shall personally teach you the way of the sword.”

“……!”

Clang! A chilling, heavy clang echoed.

Deon Hart lunged. Eudoard’s sword, swung to meet him, was pushed back by the immense force. Momentarily stunned by the greater-than-expected power, he glanced down at his sword-wielding hand.

His tingling hand trembled, as if it were a miracle he hadn’t dropped the sword.

‘…I should deflect, not confront.’

Deflect? He knew the concept in theory and had practiced it a few times, but it was still somewhat unfamiliar. Until now, he had always overwhelmed his opponents, never encountering someone with strength so great that he had to deflect.

Was it just strength? He barely managed to block in time, and the speed was no joke either.

‘He really is a Hero.’

Suddenly, Lien Riner, who had blocked him at the main gate, came to mind.

Even as a ‘Hero,’ he felt such a stark difference. What must Lien Riner, who wasn’t even a ‘Hero,’ have thought when facing him?

Barely a moment after pondering a question that would forever remain unanswered, Eudoard heightened his focus. Kicking away the blood sloshing at his ankles, he stepped forward. His sword, imbued with fierce will, was swung.

…….

It was a battle that was never meant to be a fair fight from the start.

A Hero was a mass of talent that surpassed human standards in every way. A Heroic Spirit was merely someone who possessed a fragment of that talent, slightly more talented than ordinary people. Strength, speed, stamina, even lifespan and appearance—Heroes were incomparable to Heroic Spirits, mere dregs.

Moreover, Eudoard’s physical condition was at its worst.

The hallucinations were not only consuming his mind but also affecting his once robust physique due to the fragment’s influence. He had developed a high fever from the stress.

Yes, a high fever.

Who would dare lay a hand on the Emperor’s body? Thanks to this, Eudoard had managed to conceal the fact that he was suffering from a high fever, even if the hallucinations had been exposed.

His vision must be blurred from the fever, yet he was not only facing Deon Hart, who had become a Hero, but even teaching him—a truly astonishing feat.

[Too much force in every movement. You haven’t shed your old habits.]

[You are a Hero now. You no longer need to strain your body to move as you did when your physique was weaker. You need to recognize the power you possess.]

[Relax your strength a bit more, be more precise, to the point where your joints move smoothly. It might be unbelievable, but your current strength is enough to sever an opponent’s neck.]

[Unconventional tactics are good, but if they hinder your subsequent movements, then it’s a flawed attack. Find other attack methods and stances.]

It was a truly pure lesson, hard to believe it was taking place in a life-or-death battle.

True to his talent, Deon Hart quickly absorbed the teachings, immediately putting them into practice and blossoming his potential.

Eudoard, whose breath had grown ragged from dwindling stamina, frowned as if something still bothered him, then let out a small exclamation.

“It was still inefficient, and I wondered why…”

“……”

“I overlooked the most basic thing. When swinging a sword, you shouldn’t just rely on arm strength; you must also utilize your legs and waist.”

It seemed like he was using them well enough at first glance, so he had almost overlooked it. The current Deon Hart wasn’t fully utilizing his legs and waist.

“It would be better to use recoil a bit more than you are now.”

“……”

The correction was made instantly.

Deon examined himself, now generating even greater force with more flexibility and precision, then looked at Eudoard. His crimson eyes contorted, filled with an incomprehensible emotion.

“Why are you teaching me these things?”

“Who knows… Call it a whim before death.”

“…In Your Majesty’s eyes, my skills must seem pathetically immature. As repayment for your teachings, I wish to show you one of the most useful techniques among my paltry skills.”

Not quite that bad, but… Eudoard raised an eyebrow.

No need to refuse if he was offering to show something. Instead of answering, he took a step forward, firmly planted his feet, and raised his sword straight. Seeing his perfect stance, Deon grinned.

The dagger in his hand spun, his thumb flicked out, using the hilt. His posture seemed to lower, and in an instant, Deon Hart vanished from sight.

Clang—!!

“……!”

The dropped sword flew behind him, clattering somewhere. Eudoard glanced at the dagger pointed at his neck, then looked at its owner.

“…Impressive.”

A faint sting registered; his palm must have been cut. He clenched and unclenched his fist, replaying the moment in his mind.

In that instant, Deon had clearly surpassed a speed visible to the eye. It wasn’t simply because he was a ‘Hero.’ He had certainly said, ‘one of the most useful techniques among my paltry skills.’ Which meant he had been using it since before becoming a Hero. His mind raced, drawing conclusions.

…How was he supposed to kill strong opponents with such a ridiculously weak body? Now he knew.

“Forcibly drawing out power beyond the body’s limits, is it? It’s not something anyone can do, truly remarkable. But using it once must damage the body, hindering future endeavors. Using it here, where there’s no one to care for you…”

“……”

“Ah, right. You’ve become a Hero now.”

Confirming Deon standing perfectly healed, he chuckled quietly.

“I have lost.”

A light, seemingly relieved smile surfaced on his face. A complete defeat.

Deon, silently watching him, tilted his head to one side.

“Let me ask again.”

“……?”

“Do you not regret it?”

What was he trying to ask now?

“…Me, of all people?”

A smile spread across his lips.

“—Do you think I would regret it?”

“…Perhaps.”

It was an arrogant and aloof answer, befitting an Emperor to the end, but the sense of incongruity he had felt from their first encounter lingered. Deon, gaining no information from those unwavering golden eyes, spoke softly after a brief silence.

“Could it be that you haven’t realized your life has been nothing but regret?”