18 Royal Birthday (7)
Night stood there in silence.
Celastrina met his gaze, and an immediate wave of relief washed over her, as if she were now shielded from any harm.
However, Night's expression was darker than she had ever seen, and his face paler than before. Something pathologic to him as his face would always pale when he would get angry.
"Who are you?" one of the boys asked.
"A butler?" another chimed in.
"I know him. He is Celastrina's butler," a third one added.
Upon realizing that Night was just a butler, they began to regain some of their earlier arrogance. Yet, there was an unsettling aura about him that set him apart.
His pitch-black gaze was solely fixed on Celastrina, and as he took a step forward, he appeared in front of the lead boy in an instant. Without a word, he reached for the boy's throat and forcefully flung him toward his friend behind him.
Both boys groaned in pain as they collided with the ground. The remaining boy, fear-stricken, watched the scene unfold. When he locked eyes with Night, a frightened shriek escaped him, and he instinctively stepped back.
"Don't! Don't come near me!!!" he yelled.
Ignoring the plea, Night swung his leg, knocking the boy to the ground. In a swift and ruthless manner, the three boys were dispatched. Night, seemingly indifferent even with Nathan's memories, showed no remorse. Celastrina's figure overlapped in his mind with that of another woman—a silver-haired woman.
"Milady," Night extended his hand once he reached Celastrina.
Celastrina grasped his hand but promptly pulled him down to his knees. "Where were you?" she demanded, her glare filled with anger.
"Looking for you, Milady," Night replied calmly.
"You think I will believe you? I saw you with Irisdina."
"I did it to leave you alone with His Highness, Milady. That's what you wish—"
"How do you know what I wished for?" Celastrina shot back, keeping her glare.
"How did you dare to leave my side without my permission!" She seized Night's shirt, drawing him closer.
Night remained silent, meeting her gaze.
"Don't hide your face in front of me, butler."
Obeying her command, Night lowered his kerchief, revealing his face.
Celastrina scrutinized Night's face for a moment before pushing him away and raising her hand.
Night promptly stood up and assisted Celastrina to her feet.
"My dress is dirty because of you," Celastrina accused Night.
Accustomed to Celastrina's tsundere attitude, Night raised his kerchief and meticulously cleaned Celastrina's white dress. He then turned his attention toward the three boys groaning on the ground and raised his hand. "Tier 3 Spell: Warp Memories."
A bright light emanated from his hand, striking each of the boy's heads. Celastrina looked on in shock. "What are you doing?"
"Merely changing their memories, Milady. They won't remember anything about what happened," Night explained.
It was a Tier 3 Spell he had acquired after two years of rigorous training—an ability he deemed essential. While it only worked on individuals weaker than him, it proved to be highly practical.
Celastrina wasn't entirely surprised by Night's proficiency with Tier 3 Spells, having caught him using them before. She recognized his talent, although his mana capacity was regrettably low.
"Now shall we go, Milady?" Night redirected his gaze to Celastrina.
She nodded and led the way.
As Night stepped out of the room, he cast a final cold glance at the boys lying on the ground before departing.
°°°°°
Back in the Birthday Celebration Hall, a somber atmosphere settled as Duke Lockward expressed his concerns to the monarch. "The situation might become dire, Your Majesty," he said with a sense of gravity.
Duke Greenmore, his tone bitter, chimed in with additional worries. "I agree. The other Kingdoms are actively seeking the source to summon the Heroes of another world. If they succeed, we might become their next target."
The Kingdom of Britannia had perennially grappled with conflicts stemming from the madness of the past centuries. Previous Britannian monarchs, wielding formidable power and military might, harbored ambitions of conquering neighboring kingdoms. Their near success was thwarted only by a coalition of kingdoms united against their expansionist endeavors.
Following this historical conflict, Britannia found itself in the throes of a military and economic crisis, compelled to rebuild its entire wealth. Unfortunate in timing, King Henry of Britannia ruled during this tumultuous era.
Despite outward appearances of peace between Britannia and the other kingdoms that had suffered under the previous monarchs, the wounds of past bloodshed ran deep, and the fragile peace hung by a thread. The fear lingered that hostilities could erupt anew at any moment.
In the event of such conflicts resurfacing, the entire Kingdom of Britannia faced the ominous prospect of being erased from the map, its lands divided among the neighboring kingdoms.
The Heroes of the Otherworld.
Legends and myths, known to all, wove tales of centuries long past when kings wielded an ancient form of magic. This magic summoned individuals from distant worlds, beings with extraordinary magical prowess that eclipsed even the mightiest warriors of their own world.
Yet, the awe-inspiring power these Heroes possessed did not leave the world unscathed. Centuries and millennia ago, in each kingdom, these summoned Heroes engaged in fierce battles for dominion. Their strength unleashed a torrent of death and destruction, and some Heroes, unrestrained, veered down dark paths with no one to curtail them.
Archives recounted that all these Heroes met their demise in a colossal war a thousand years ago, but the truth remained shrouded in mystery. In the aftermath of that cataclysmic conflict, every kingdom opted to expunge the ancient technique used to summon these otherworldly champions. However, a millennium later, a new era of warfare dawned, and the necessity for formidable heroes only intensified for each kingdom. Secretly and methodically, rulers delved once more into their deepest archives in search of the forgotten technique to summon Heroes from another world, a truth not lost on King Henry.
"The Kingdom of Berovia is making the most significant strides. They might successfully summon their Hero in two years or less," Duke Lockward revealed with a grave tone.
"Two years or less?" the Queen gasped, fully cognizant of the destructive potential that a single Hero possessed. Given time, such a being could potentially overpower even their mightiest warrior.
King Henry exchanged a glance with the silent Cornelius and Vanessa.
"Don't give me that look, brat. Any whatsoeverHero daring to attack my territory will meet their end," Cornelius asserted coldly.
"Are you disrespecting the King?" A man with bright brown hair unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Cornelius. Clad in armor, he had stood in silence near the King until now.
August Burtin, the strongest warrior in the King's service and the commander of Britannia's army, confronted Cornelius.
"August, you've grown, kid, but you're still too weak for my taste," Cornelius chuckled heartily, earning a frown from August.
"Enough, August," Henry intervened before turning to Vanessa. "What are your thoughts on this, Vanessa?"
Vanessa met Henry's gaze. "I have no thoughts about it."
Despite her nonchalant words, her wariness toward the summoning of Heroes was evident. There was a purpose behind her outward detachment. Vanessa focused on expanding her territory, amassing wealth, nurturing culture, and building her army for the impending war—a move that the King misunderstood as a potential rebellion.
"We seem to have no other choices," Henry sighed in resignation. "Summon Cassandra. We'll initiate preparations to summon a Hero as well."
In the next two years, Henry envisioned their readiness to bring forth a Hero. The objective wasn't to instigate another war, but rather to establish Heroes as a formidable deterrent force—a strategic move to safeguard their kingdom from potential threats.
