C322

"Eter... Eter... Eternal King... Impossible... Impossible...!"

Altrouge gazed at Shirou's face, fixating on his fiery eyes, and her whole body shook uncontrollably. Fear was etched across her features, replacing the elegance and pride she once possessed.

Her eyes, once radiant and full of life, now seemed dull and lifeless, as if she were a marionette manipulated by unseen forces. With a quivering finger, she pointed at Shirou's face, her legs betraying her as she unconsciously took a step backward.

The onlookers exchanged glances, their disbelief evident in their expressions as they struggled to comprehend what was happening.

Altrouge and the White Wing Lord, both notorious for their reigns of terror, were figures who struck fear into the hearts of everyone. However, Altrouge stood out the most. Even her subordinate was a formidable presence. Known as the 13th Dead Apostle Ancestor, Zepia Eltnam Oberon was a brilliant alchemist from the Atlas Institute. His reputation alone was enough to instill terror in anyone who crossed paths with him.

He had once harnessed the fear instilled by the tyrant Dracula III among the people of Wallachia, leading to the merciless slaughter of the entire city's population in a single night, transforming them into vampires.

This horrifying act alone was chilling enough, and it was merely the handiwork of one of Altrouge's subordinates. It left one pondering the sheer magnitude of terror Altrouge herself must possess.

However, at this very moment, this formidable Ancestor finds herself overwhelmed by fear, trembling uncontrollably.

What's more, she just mentioned an important name—

The Eternal King!

Confusion rippled through the crowd as bewildered glances were exchanged. Even the least informed among them couldn't possibly be ignorant of this king, just as magi couldn't be unaware of the legendary King Solomon.

The Eternal King was universally revered as the All-Knowing, All-Powerful ruler, the one who truly put an end to the Age of Gods and elevated humanity to its current state. The significance of his existence was undeniable, a fact known to all.

But what did any of this have to do with Altrouge's current reaction? And why was she pointing at that young man and referring to him as the Eternal King?

Had she perhaps lost her sanity after living for so long?

In addition, it's worth noting that the notion of the Eternal King, who lived more than 1,500 years ago, still being alive was utterly implausible.

Even if, by some extraordinary circumstance, he were indeed alive...

The idea that the Eternal King could be a person of East Asian descent?

It's simply beyond the realm of possibility, not even remotely plausible, not even as a mere joke!

Luvia gazed intently at the young man before her, a sense of familiarity washing over her. His tough and resolute countenance seemed to overlap with memories of a gentle boy.

Shaking her head, she pushed these distracting thoughts aside. The current situation was in complete disarray, and she couldn't allow herself to get lost in her thoughts.

It was then that she noticed a subtle twitch on the face of the authoritative old man standing beside her, Orlocke Caesarmund.

Furrowing her brows, she asked, "Old man, have you discovered something?"

Caesarmund's expression turned grave as he responded, "I've had a sudden realization regarding the origins of modern Dead Apostles."

"What did you realize?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"In the legends, it is told that the Crimson Moon, the progenitor of Dead Apostles and True Ancestors, was slain by the combined efforts of the Eternal King and Zelretch."

"Yes, that's common knowledge, but why bring it up now? What's its relevance?"

"No, young lady, this is a major revelation," he insisted. "According to the legend, in order to keep a check on the spread of Dead Apostles and prevent them from becoming a threat to humanity, the Eternal King specifically appointed a Dead Apostle King to control their actions."

Caesarmund paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing, "Throughout history, whether in appearance or in reality, there have only been two Dead Apostle Kings. One is Trhvmn Ortenrosse, the White Wing Lord, and the other is this Dead Apostle Princess, Altrouge. This fact has remained constant from the very beginning."

Luvia's jaw dropped in disbelief. "You... Are you suggesting..."

Caesarmund's expression turned solemn as he responded, "Precisely. It is highly likely that Altrouge, the Dead Apostle Princess, was appointed by the Eternal King himself. So obviously she had encountered the Eternal King in the past. And now, she is pointing at that young man, claiming that he is the Eternal King..."

"Orlocke Caesarmund, have you lost your wits in your old age?" Luvia exclaimed, her voice tinged with incredulity. "Do you honestly believe that person is the Eternal King? The Eternal King hails from the Western European. How could he possibly be of East Asian descent?"

Her outburst caught the attention of the people nearby.

In fact, Shirou's interference had completely disrupted the entire situation, throwing it into utter chaos.

"E...Eternal King?" Waver and the others looked utterly bewildered, their expressions a mix of confusion and disbelief as they turned their attention to Shirou.

Shirou felt a throbbing headache coming on. Why was Altrouge here?

What perplexed him even more was the fact that over fifteen hundred years had passed. How could she still recognize him?

In the end, Shirou could only say, "You must have mistaken me for someone else."

He had no intention of exposing the truth about the Eternal King.

"It's impossible! Impossible! I can't be mistaken!" Altrouge cried out in terror, her face contorted with fear.

Clutching her chest, she stumbled backward, her eyes vacant, resembling a marionette with broken strings.

"I can't be mistaken... I can't be mistaken..."

She repeated those words, her gaze hollow.

She was resolute in her conviction that she couldn't be wrong.

As she gazed upon that face, those eyes that burned with an intense fire, she recognized him. She remembered.

There was no logical explanation for not recognizing him, and there was no reason to forget.

Because, throughout the passage of over fifteen hundred years, she hadn't once forgotten how that terrifying king had tormented her.

The dark prison, the relentless suppression of self-awareness in the depths of darkness.

She would forever carry the memories of being treated like a domesticated dog, forced to consume bland and nasty blood.

And...

---"Do you know what true fear is? True fear is when I tell you the time and let you adapt to it, only to break that adaptation. You'll never know when I'll come or how I'll treat you. You can only hope and fear that I'll come at a fixed time, and then I'll mercilessly destroy that hope. You'll live in a constant state of fear."

The voice of that malevolent demon echoed in her ears again.

She would never forget how that demon had tormented her, enticing her into its clutches.

She still remembered how she had groveled at the demon's throne, akin to a stray dog seeking approval from its master. And how the demon had tenderly stroked her hair, enticing her to eliminate Crimson Moon.

"Kill Crimson Moon, and you shall reign as the King of Dead Apostles and True Ancestors!"

The demon had seduced her with such enticing words.

She could still recall with clarity the torment she had endured, both physically and mentally, at the hands of that demon after Crimson Moon's demise.

The supposed title of "King of Dead Apostles and True Ancestors" was nothing more than a deceitful lie. The demon had cunningly bestowed it upon her, exploiting it to manipulate her and subject her soul to unimaginable anguish.