Chapter 227: White Light Piercing Heaven and Earth!
"Idiot."
Someone in the crowd muttered the insult.
Although they had kept their voice low, the hall was so silent that the word still sounded painfully clear.
"Who said that?!"
Provoked by the insult, Rickert spun around and searched the crowd behind him for the culprit.
Yet everyone lowered their heads and avoided his gaze, leaving him thoroughly frustrated.
That did not last long.
His attention was soon drawn back to the commotion behind him.
"Oh?"
"Now that's interesting."
"This is the first time I've heard someone claim that something a person personally gave away doesn't represent their will."
A teasing smile hung on Shiro's lips as he stepped out from the formation of knights.
He stopped on the red carpet roughly five paces from Rickert.
Coincidentally—
His position happened to be almost exactly at the center of the hall, leaving him at a strangely balanced distance from everyone present.
Seeing this, Rickert began to sense that something was wrong.
The situation seemed to be developing in a completely unexpected direction.
"Then allow me to boldly ask you something, Lord Rickert."
"If even the Dragon History Stone cannot represent the Divine Dragon's will..."
"Who among everyone present would dare claim that they can?"
Before Rickert could answer, Shiro continued on his own.
"The members of the Royal Guard?"
Shing—!
None of the knights spoke.
Instead, almost in perfect unison, they drew the swords at their waists and held them upright before themselves to make their position clear.
"Then perhaps the elders of the Council of Wise Men?"
Led by Miklotov, the sages maintained solemn expressions and slowly closed their eyes.
"Or perhaps the nobles standing around you?"
The civil officials who had previously crowded around Rickert immediately turned their heads away.
Not one dared meet Shiro's gaze.
"Or maybe..."
Shiro deliberately stretched out his words.
That tiny gesture alone placed enormous pressure on Rickert.
"Lord Rickert himself?"
Dark clouds began gathering above the royal capital.
Cold sweat covered Rickert's forehead.
In truth—He had already realized just how enormous a mistake he had made the moment Shiro asked who would dare represent the Divine Dragon.
Shiro was still more than ten paces away.
Yet the pressure radiating from him as he spoke felt like a mountain crushing down upon Rickert's body, leaving him struggling to breathe.
Disrespecting the Divine Dragon and falsely claiming to represent its will were two completely different crimes.
Lugunica had plenty of residents who had immigrated from foreign countries.
The kingdom could hardly demand that every person living within its borders worship the Divine Dragon with absolute reverence.
Even though Rickert was both a noble and a government official, being charged with disrespecting the Divine Dragon would most likely only cost him his position.
Considering his years of service to Lugunica, they probably would not punish him much further.
But falsely claiming to represent the Divine Dragon's will?
That was completely different.
Without exaggeration—Even if Miklotov himself, representative of the Council of Wise Men, dared falsely claim to speak for the Divine Dragon during a meeting like this, death would be the only outcome.
And preventing the Divine Dragon from becoming angry was not even the sole reason.
If someone dared impersonate the Divine Dragon's will today—Would they dare poison Lugunica's reservoirs tomorrow?
For the sake of preserving stability in the royal capital alone, anyone falsely claiming to represent the Divine Dragon had to be uncovered and executed.
Rickert's mind raced desperately as he considered making one final gamble against Shiro.
Before this—His thinking had been simple.
Either he managed to drive the half-devil and the mysterious girl Reinhard had brought out of the Royal Selection—Or they successfully remained as candidates.
Either way, Rickert himself would suffer little consequence.
At worst, the candidates would dislike him.
As long as the kingdom had not yet fully stabilized, they could not casually touch him.
If something happened to Rickert and the officials supporting him all went on strike—The one who punished him would be the person left with the headache.
But if he was branded as someone who had falsely represented the Divine Dragon's will—Then the Royal Selection candidates could dispose of him however they pleased.
They would not even need to fear the other officials striking in protest.
The moral high ground would firmly belong to the candidates.
Even if the civil officials knew the truth, they would probably be too afraid to say anything.
'No.'
'No matter what happens, I absolutely cannot let them accuse me of falsely representing the Divine Dragon.'
'That really would mean death.'
With that thought, Rickert glared furiously at Shiro.
"Abs—"
"Oh, right, Lord Rickert."
Shiro spoke again before Rickert could begin his defense, forcing the words back down his throat.
"Personally, I don't think you actually meant anything like that."
"But just in case, perhaps I should remind you of something."
"If the Divine Dragon can always provide correct guidance whenever this kingdom faces a crisis..."
"Wouldn't that mean the Divine Dragon has been watching this country throughout the past thousand years?"
"W-What are you trying to say?!"
"What I mean is..."
Shiro smiled.
"If you falsely claim to speak for the Divine Dragon right in front of it, be careful."
"It might get angry~"
The instant Shiro finished—Rickert's breath stopped.
Because he felt it.
Something was gathering directly above his head.
The pressure radiating from it alone made his entire body tremble.
'I have to run!'
The thought flashed through his mind instantly.
Yet when Rickert tried to dodge aside—His limbs refused to move.
It was as though they had been nailed in place.
Meanwhile, everyone else in the hall seemed completely unaffected by the pressure and merely waited for his answer.
Only then did Rickert understand.
Whatever was gathering above them—Was targeting him alone.
Which meant...
'I FELL FOR IT!!!'
At the same time—The ordinary citizens living throughout the royal capital were witnessing a spectacular phenomenon.
The dark clouds gathering overhead seemed to sense some unseen presence.
Suddenly—An unbelievably dazzling light burst from their center.
Even beneath the bright daylight, everyone was drawn toward the brilliant radiance.
Crowds filled the streets.
Many began wondering what exactly was happening.
Some even speculated whether the royal capital's recently heightened security had something to do with this strange phenomenon.
Then—
BOOOOM—!!!
Before the eyes of the entire royal capital—The light suddenly descended from the heavens toward the royal palace.
A pillar of white radiance connected heaven and earth!
The beam tore effortlessly through layer after layer of defensive protection surrounding the palace.
Expensive building materials that should have been extraordinarily durable might as well have been soaked paper before it.
The beam pierced straight through them.
And its final destination—Was exactly where Rickert stood.
"Lord Rickert?"
"Are you feeling unwell?"
Marcos frowned and asked in confusion.
Rickert's current state was simply far too strange.
He stood completely frozen, as though someone had stopped time around him.
His features were twisted hideously, whether from terror or something else.
Combined with the dark circles under his eyes and his normally nervous demeanor, the sight was genuinely unsettling.
Hearing Marcos call his name—Rickert was overjoyed.
He had no idea what was happening.
But if he could get Marcos to call Reinhard for help, then surely the Sword Saint could rescue him from this bizarre state.
Desperately, Rickert forced his lips to move and tried to form a plea for help.
"H-He—!"
BOOOOM—!!!
Before Rickert could finish—The pillar of light crashing down from the heavens completely engulfed him.
The next instant—
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"
A piercing scream erupted from within the beam.
It continued for what felt like an eternity.
Just hearing it was enough to imagine the kind of agony its owner was suffering.
When both the pillar and the screaming finally faded—The people attending the meeting saw Rickert again.
Black smoke rose from his body.
His entire figure had been scorched pitch-black.
Even his hair and beard had been completely carbonized by the intense heat.
"See, Lord Rickert?"
Shiro spoke lightly.
"The Divine Dragon really does seem angry."
"..."
His casual words echoed throughout the hall.
This time—No one answered him.
...
Silence.
The meeting hall had already fallen into this state several times today.
But this silence meant something entirely different from all the previous ones.
'Has the Divine Dragon... really been watching this kingdom all along?'
Knights and officials alike found the exact same question appearing in their minds after witnessing what had just happened.
Some even began mentally reviewing every wrong thing they had ever done in their lives.
They were terrified the Divine Dragon might become angry at them over some tiny offense.
"Ferris!"
"Yes, Lady Crusch!"
Crusch was the first to recover from the shock.
The moment she called his name, Felix immediately understood her intention.
He hurried over to Rickert, crouched beside him, and began examining his condition.
A faint glow appeared around his hands.
"Burns all over his body."
"Other than that, there's nothing seriously wrong, nya."
"His life isn't in danger either."
"A few days of rest should probably be enough for him to recover."
"But as for his hair... even Ferri-chan can't do anything about that, nya."
"As expected, the Divine Dragon truly is as merciful as the legends say."
Shiro immediately added.
"Even after all that, it still didn't kill him."
Yet even after Felix declared Rickert safe—Nobody responded to Shiro.
Not everyone immediately believed the scene had truly been the work of the Divine Dragon.
The timing was simply far too convenient.
Shiro had barely finished saying that the Divine Dragon might become angry—And Rickert was instantly struck by a pillar from the heavens.
Compared to the Divine Dragon—Most of them secretly suspected Shiro had done it.
However—They only dared hold that suspicion in their hearts.
No one dared say it to Shiro's face.
After all—If Shiro really had caused this, then perhaps everything he had just said was actually a warning directed at them.
If they stepped forward now, pointed at him, and accused him openly—The next person lying on the floor might very well be them.
So whether this really was the Divine Dragon's doing or not—Remaining silent was clearly the safest choice.
The civil officials immediately lowered their eyes and adopted expressions saying, 'This has absolutely nothing to do with me.'
"Reinhard."
Miklotov, who had remained seated among the sages until now, finally changed expression.
He turned toward Reinhard with a grave look.
"Lord Miklotov."
"I sensed no trace of mana being released nearby."
Reinhard shook his head.
Magic in this world generally required four stages.
First—A magic user had to absorb atmospheric mana into their body through their [Gate].
Then, using imagination, they guided the mana flowing within themselves.
A portion of it would then be released back outside through their [Gate].
Finally—Through chanting, the gathered mana was given direction and transformed into a phenomenon capable of affecting the world.
Most magic users could not cast magic without chanting.
However, once someone reached a sufficiently advanced level, chantless magic became possible.
Roswaal and Betty were both great magic users who had reached that level.
Yet without exception—Whether it was Roswaal or Betty, mana still had to flow whenever they cast magic.
That was one of the most fundamental principles known to magic users.
It was a basic rule written into the world itself.
No mage could escape it.
"I see."
Miklotov nodded.
Although Reinhard's constitution prevented him from using magic—He was extraordinarily sensitive to the movement of mana in the surrounding air.
If even Reinhard had sensed no mana flow, then the possibility that someone had secretly used magic to attack Rickert was essentially eliminated.
Of course—Nobody could have imagined that among them stood an existence outside the world's normal rules.
Even without using magic—Shiro could still call down lightning from the heavens.
Perhaps Reinhard had guessed something.
But without evidence, he did not expose his suspicions.
"In that case..."
While the other members of the Council of Wise Men exchanged uneasy glances, Miklotov ordered someone to carry Rickert away to recover.
Then—His gaze swept across each of the Royal Selection candidates.
Priscilla wore an amused smile.
Emilia looked somewhat worried.
Felt appeared openly satisfied.
Crusch was quietly discussing something with Felix after he returned from treating Rickert.
Anastasia was instinctively calculating the potential losses caused by the heavenly strike.
Most of them barely cared about Rickert's fate.
Even Crusch, who had arguably stood to benefit the most from his actions, showed little concern for him.
The moment he chose to step forward—He should have been prepared to bear the consequences.
Miklotov had no intention of judging the candidates' reactions.
That was not his place.
So he quietly withdrew his gaze.
Then, in an elderly yet authoritative voice, he announced—
"Then let us return to our original subject."
"The contest for succession to the throne."
"Regarding the Royal Selection, I hereby propose that each candidate formally participate under the supervision of the Council of Wise Men."
No one objected.
Or perhaps—No one dared object at a time like this.
As Miklotov's commanding voice spread through the hall—The gears of the meeting began turning once again.
…
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