Chapter 49: The Town (7)

“Ghh…!”

A groan of pain escaped the Emperor’s mouth.

Adele clenched her teeth and gripped the sword tightly. From the Emperor’s abdomen, hot blood began to seep out.

The sickening sensation of flesh being torn and organs being pierced traveled up from her fingertips.

The feeling of taking a life was still as repulsive as ever.

Even so, she drove the blade in deeper with all her might. If she hesitated for even a moment, she would be the one to lose her life.

That singular thought consumed Adele as she put every ounce of strength into her arm.

“Keuk, Ghahaha!”

The Emperor burst into laughter.

Even if this was just a borrowed body, he hadn’t expected to be caught off guard like this.

A normal person would have been enraged, but he found it nothing but amusing.

It had been a long time since he’d taken a hit—so long that it almost felt refreshing.

The laughter, once started, showed no signs of stopping.

From Adele’s blue eyes, pure murderous intent radiated. The sight only seemed to delight the Emperor further as he locked eyes with her, a grin stretching across his face.

“How entertaining. This Saintess is quite the bold one.”

‘Saintess?’

Before she could even process his words, his fist shot toward her.

She barely managed to raise one arm in defense, but—

Crack.

With that sickening sound, Adele was flung across the room, slamming into the wall.

Boom!

“Gah…!”

For a moment, she felt like all the air had been knocked out of her lungs. A wave of nausea hit her as she struggled to get back on her feet.

The Emperor watched her and chuckled softly.

“Hah. It’s been centuries since someone’s managed to land a blow on me.”

With a firm grip, he yanked the embedded sword from his abdomen without hesitation.

Blood gushed out in a crimson fountain—but he only smiled, unfazed.

Wooong…

As Adele reached out, the sword responded, flying toward her hand.

Seeing this, the Emperor’s smirk widened.

“Oh? You handle it better than I expected.”

“You lunatic…”

She muttered under her breath, watching him slowly approach—completely unbothered by his bleeding wound.

This sword carried a curse: any injury it inflicted could not be healed.

That old woman had been unable to stop her bleeding after being stabbed by it for the same reason.

And yet, here he was, moving as if it didn’t even matter.

“I appreciate the compliment.”

Ignoring her insult, the Emperor had already closed the distance between them.

Without hesitation, Adele hurled the sword straight at him.

Thud.

He caught it effortlessly with one hand.

Blood dripped between his clenched fingers, but he remained unfazed.

The Emperor let the blade fall to the ground and slowly pressed his foot against it.

“All your little tricks amount to nothing in the end. How do you plan to defeat me with that frail body of yours?”

“Shut up.”

She knew.

The moment her last-ditch attempt had failed, her chances of victory had vanished.

A part of her wanted to rewind time immediately—but she forced herself to wait.

Saintess. Centuries.

Even just those two words were crucial hints. She had to keep him talking, had to extract more information.

“What do you mean by ‘Saintess’?”

“…Is that your final question before you die?”

But the Emperor only smirked, having already seen through her intent.

Then, without warning, his hand shot out—grasping Adele by the throat.

A choking sensation.

Her vision blurred.

“Kh…kk…”

“No! Miss Adele!”

Hearing her strangled gasps, Lily rushed forward, desperately grabbing at the Emperor’s arm.

That brief moment of reprieve allowed Adele to regain a sliver of focus.

She grabbed onto his wrist with both hands, attempting to twist it away, but her arms lacked the strength.

The Emperor paid no attention to Lily tugging at him.

His sole focus was tightening his grip around Adele’s throat.

“Kggh…!”

A cold wave of terror surged through her.

Even if she died, she would return. That thought had always reassured her.

But as she met his golden eyes—something felt wrong.

‘Why… Why can’t I hear the ticking?’

The ticking sound.

Every time she returned, she heard it in her ears. Even just before her death, the sound always rang.

She had never truly focused on it before—only barely registering it through the agony.

But now… it was completely silent.

Why?

Even that question began to fade as the pain of dying took over.

Her body trembled from the overwhelming sensation.

‘Am I… actually going to die?’

Primal fear clawed at her.

Her mind was shutting down.

Her dimming vision sent her into full-blown panic.

She struggled with all her might, but it was useless.

Still, she clung to a desperate hope—that perhaps the ticking would return in her final moment.

‘I don’t… want to die.’

Her breath was running out.

The Emperor’s golden eyes gleamed as he smirked.

Even fear itself was fading.

‘Ah… Abel…’

Why was his name coming to mind now?

Of all times, why was she thinking of that detestable man?

Perhaps, more than she realized…

Just before her thoughts completely ceased—

From Adele’s right hand, a brilliant white light burst forth. A single stroke of the marking engraved on the back of her hand shone with an almost blinding intensity.

Before the Emperor could even react, a white magic circle wrapped around his right arm.

A massive surge of mana gathered around her. The overwhelming energy manifested beside Adele.

And in the next moment—

His arm was severed in two.

Schlk—

A sharp, chilling sound rang out as the Emperor staggered backward, his cleanly cut arm falling to the ground.

Blood gushed from the exposed wound, but before he could even process the pain, a figure appeared in his blurred vision.

“Ghh… Ugh…”

On the floor, Adele gasped for air, her breaths coming in ragged, desperate gulps.

Her lungs burned, starved of oxygen.

Slowly, she lifted her head.

A man stood before her.

Clad in a pristine uniform, with silver-gray hair and piercing silver eyes that gleamed like a blade—

It was Abel, the head of House Hardenberg and her fiancé.

He gently lifted Adele into his arms before turning his gaze toward the fallen Emperor.

“Tsk… So you had such a last-ditch trick up your sleeve…”

“Shut up.”

A white magic circle bloomed in the air.

Mana, vast as an ocean, surged around Abel, flooding the space with an overwhelming force.

Feeling the ominous energy, the Emperor grinned as he pushed himself upright.

“Sequential deployment.”

At Abel’s murmured command, dozens of spears materialized in the air.

“Strike.”

With a flick of his fingers, the spears shot forward.

The Emperor extended his remaining left hand, conjuring a golden magic circle in midair. The barrier blocked the incoming spears one by one.

“Khh…”

But the defense barely lasted.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the golden barrier, the relentless barrage proving too much.

Finally—

Shatter.

The Emperor’s barrier crumbled under the sheer force of the assault.

Clicking his tongue, he immediately raised his hand again, summoning dozens of new magic circles.

“I don’t have time to waste playing with a mere puppet.”

As Abel muttered under his breath—

All the magic circles surrounding the Emperor shattered at once.

A technique that neutralized magic itself by overpowering it with an immense difference in mana capacity.

In his current state—nothing more than a possessed shell—the Emperor had no way of resisting.

“…Hah. What an interesting day.”

The Emperor let out a quiet chuckle—just before a spear pierced straight through his throat.

He made no sound. No scream.

Even as death claimed him, he smirked.

Seeing that infuriatingly composed expression, Abel clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Thud.

The Emperor’s possessed body crumpled to its knees before collapsing completely.

His lifeless form lay limp, golden eyes dimming like a candle snuffed out.

This was what made dealing with the Emperor so troublesome.

If necessary, he could possess another body—eyes, hands, or even an entirely new vessel—whenever he wished.

“Abel…”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes…”

Her answer, clearly unconvincing, made him sigh.

Red handprints marred her neck. Her left arm hung limply—already broken. Dark shadows lined her eyes, evidence of exhaustion.

She was utterly drained, yet still pretending to be fine.

Tsk.

Without a word, Abel carefully set her down, propping her against the wall.

Then, he reached into his coat.

A small glass bottle—filled with a deep red liquid.

Popping off the cap, he gently tilted it toward Adele’s lips.

The moment the potion touched her tongue, she grimaced.

“Ugh…”

“Swallow it. It won’t work if you don’t.”

Even as she tried to turn her head away in disgust, Abel paid her no mind.

He continued to pour the potion into her mouth.

When she attempted to spit it out, his stern expression made her reconsider.

Defeated, she swallowed.

“…Haa, haah…”

The effects were immediate.

The searing pain in her arm faded. Her ragged breathing steadied.

Watching her, Abel finally spoke again.

“If I had been even a second later, what would have happened?”

At his words, Adele fell silent.

She had been reckless, thinking she could extract information from the Emperor.

Her ability to rewind time—something she had always relied on—hadn’t activated.

If she hadn’t thought of his name in that final moment…

She would have died. For real.

That realization sent a shiver down her spine.

“…I’m sorry.”

“This is the part where you say ‘thank you.’”

“…Thank you.”

Her voice, hoarse and quiet, barely reached him.

Abel sighed again.

Without another word, he slipped off his uniform coat and draped it over her shoulders.

Then, he stood.

“Rest for a while.”

He wanted to lecture her.

But for now—letting her recover took priority.

– – The End of The Chapter – –

 

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