Chapter 68

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 68

Chapter Title: The Crown I'll Take from You

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Cezare spotted the gleaming orb behind the Hydra as well. And the scroll inside it.

'So that's why the princess came here today.'

The Hydra guarding the orb. That scroll was undoubtedly the Regent Duke's weakness. Cezare could infer as much without difficulty.

Even so, Medea's decision to charge into a swamp teeming with a legendary mana beast required more than courage—it bordered on recklessness.

Moreover, the Hydra was a notoriously tricky monster, even for eight-star knights, thanks to its potent venom and the ability to regenerate two heads for every one severed.

It was far beyond what a lone civilian, let alone a non-knight, could handle.

Yet Medea calmly pushed Cezare's hand aside and readjusted her grip on the crossbow.

Then, as if she hadn't heard him, she loaded an arrow.

"Princess, at this rate, you'll die before the Regent Duke does."

Cezare warned her gravely.

How many reckless heroes had he seen vanish after plunging into perilous situations, overconfident in their talents?

This spot—and this foe—were no place for Baldina's princess to rely solely on her own wits.

"The Regent Duke isn't the type to face death head-on. You know that."

Only then did her impassive face turn toward Cezare.

"If I were you, I'd say the same thing."

Her emerald eyes were calm as a black water's surface. Yet they gleamed with unyielding resolve, unshakable even by a tidal wave.

"But as you know, Baldina's powerless fool of a princess has few cards to play. So she has no choice but to make the most of what she has."

"Even if it includes her own life?"

Rather than bristling at Cezare's blunt mockery, Medea offered a wry smile.

"Unfortunately, yes."

And she aimed at one of the Hydra's necks.

Cezare hesitated.

The small, slender bolt looked ordinary at first glance.

But he, a veteran of countless battlefields, noticed the modifications.

The tip was coated in a black fluid that seemed to be poison, the shaft stiffened with wax. And the fletching bore a small pouch reeking of gunpowder.

"Ah, so you had another trick up your sleeve."

He let out a hollow laugh, realizing he'd once again jumped to unsightly conclusions, just like last time.

He wasn't the sort of noble soul who fretted over others' safety, by any oath.

On the contrary, he exploited perilous situations for maximum gain.

Yet before this princess of Baldina, he'd already extended cheap pity several times. His body even moved before his mind could catch up.

None of it was like him. Perhaps Terence's warning had been spot on.

A strange, ominous aura mingled interest and irritation between his refined eyes.

"Step back."

Medea, oblivious to his inner turmoil, brushed past him without a word.

With a whistle cutting the air, the crossbow bolt struck the Hydra's neck dead-on. Cezare narrowed his eyes.

'No reports mentioned the princess being skilled with a bow.'

Even Facade's top-tier intelligence network, renowned across the continent, had failed to uncover her full capabilities.

Just how long would it take to fully understand this little girl?

Kaaak-!

The Hydra twisted its head to snap the arrow, but the waxed shaft only burrowed deeper into its flesh.

Then—boom!

It exploded.

Unlike Cezare's clean severing earlier, the gunpowder blast left a ragged stump, as if crudely torn by hand.

Kyaaaak-!

The swamp echoed with the Hydra's screams.

Two heads should have sprouted in its place, but the residue from the explosion prevented any regeneration.

She raised the crossbow again, targeting a second head.

Cezare watched as the princess obliterated it too.

For some reason, it irked him.

With him right there. The way she completely ignored him to face the Hydra alone screamed that she didn't consider him at all.

She's underestimating me far too much. A sinister smile crept across his handsome face.

Cezare picked up his sword.

Medea's emerald gaze flicked toward him.

"Help me."

She didn't say her pride left no room for aid.

His skill in blocking the Hydra's ambush and severing its first head had been undeniably real.

"Congratulations, Princess. You've made me move."

She ignored his arrogant retort.

"How should we do it?"

"Slice it vertically."

Medea commanded curtly.

She planned to fire a bolt into the resulting slit, driving it deeper inside.

"As you command."

He straightened up. His tall, muscular frame exuded a languid beast-like grace, like a predator stretching after sleep.

Cezare's feet pushed lightly off the ground.

He soared toward the severed stump—flash. A silver line slashed the air.

The third head split vertically and staggered, just as a bolt lanced into the gap like lightning.

Kyaaaak-!

The remaining heads bared their fangs and reared up. Black venom dripped steadily.

But the tension was unnecessary. Before they could fully open their maws, another head fell.

At last, only one remained.

'The Hydra's final head is said to be immortal.'

But before Medea could deploy her prepared countermeasure, the last head slumped lifelessly.

The swamp shuddered like waves in a storm.

Medea stared at him in astonishment. Because Akarres—this man's—skill far exceeded her expectations.

'How is a powerhouse like this working as Facade's mercenary?'

Cezare swallowed a laugh at her undisguised shock.

For the first time, raw emotion cracked her stoic facade. A base satisfaction bubbled in his gut.

'Even primordial darkness has its uses.'

The so-called immortal final head had been subdued by the darkness flowing in his veins.

No matter how mighty the beast, it couldn't resist something from the dawn of creation.

Cezare shrugged. Even that casual motion overflowed with arrogance and leisure.

"As you commanded."

He'd done it.

She understood the unspoken addition. Medea nodded.

The two returned to Etienne's office.

Medea carefully sealed the signed document and tucked it into her bosom.

Then she scuffed out the magic circle drawn on the floor with her arrow tip. A precaution in case the duke tried to reclaim it.

His golden eyes watched her the whole time, gleaming with amusement.

Aside from the beginning, he'd hung back a step, observing her actions like a spectator intrigued by the show.

Medea paused as she rose to leave.

Cezare's eyes narrowed too, sensing something amiss. The mansion's atmosphere had grown chaotic.

Crash-clang-smash—! Windows shattered in unison.

Arrows flew through the broken panes, embedding in couches, bookshelves, and walls everywhere.

A foul oil stench assaulted their noses. The arrow tips bore oil-soaked rags set ablaze.

Sparks jumped to the curtains by the windows.

"Kyaaaa—!"

Piercing screams rang out from every corner of the mansion. Medea peered down at the grounds from the window.

Black-clad men prowled the count's estate, slaughtering the minister's household indiscriminately.

Those inside were dragged out into the garden, including the minister's mother and siblings.

His mother looked on the verge of fainting.

"Who are you! Who are you people?!"

"How dare you kill people so brazenly! The son you're looking for isn't here—he's at the palace!"

"Mother! Moth—!"

A flashing blade cut mother and child down together.

It was no different from the butler's pleas, who had died first trying to bar the intruders.

"Aaaah—! Spare me!"

It was nothing but brutal slaughter. The opulent mansion, rivaling the palace, had become a vision of hell.