Everise Street, the King's Mansion.
Bam! Crash! Bam!
Inside the mansion, Earl Jones stood with cold golden eyes, locked in battle with Farley. He hurled him across the hall like a ragdoll, slamming him into the walls of the palace.
Farley, sensing the young prince's killing intent, grew increasingly afraid. He realized the prince was already at Phase 7.
Looking up, he saw those golden eyes staring down at him as Earl Jones advanced once again.
He quickly made a decision and rolled across the floor just as the prince's long, slender sword came crashing down where his head had been moments earlier.
Rising to his feet, Farley immediately began casting a spell.
"Dismembered!"
Instantly, the room turned cold. Dozens of ice arrows formed out of thin air and shot toward Earl Jones.
Earl Jones, still calm, either dodged or deflected them with ease.
Seizing the opportunity, Farley turned and attempted to flee.
Earl immediately noticed and spoke softly.
"Avoid."
In the next instant, a burst of yellow blazing light spread through the area, melting the ice arrows instantly.
Farley, who had been about to leap away, abruptly turned, and found the prince already beside him.
Without hesitation, Farley pulled a charm from his pocket and threw it toward the prince.
The prince, not fully understanding the situation, slashed through it, shattering it into fine particles.
"The Aily Charm!"
At that moment, Earl Jones suddenly felt a wave of weakness. His head throbbed violently, his body grew heavy, and a deep chill spread through him. An overwhelming urge to sleep pressed down on his mind.
The charm had weakened him.
Farley smiled and raised his hand. His arm twisted unnaturally as countless writhing worms emerged, forming a black, sinister tentacle.
He was attempting to drain the prince's remaining spirituality.
But in the next instant, where Earl Jones had stood, only a small paper airplane remained.
Earl Jones had already appeared behind Farley.
His vision swayed slightly, but he still forced himself to lock onto Farley's position, preparing to strike.
Earl Jones raised his long, slender sword and brought it down, but the blade struck nothing.
Farley's figure split into two before fading, an afterimage left behind as the real body had already moved.
The prince had missed.
At the same time, Earl's condition worsened. Blood trickled from his eyes.
It turned out that if he didn't fall asleep soon, his body would continue deteriorating, he would become severely ill.
He needed to end this quickly.
Farley, on the other hand, weighed his options. He considered either escaping immediately or finishing the prince off right there.
But before he could act, Earl Jones recited another spell and swung his sword vertically.
"Clear!"
Lightning erupted along the blade as it tore forward.
Seeing this, Farley cartwheeled away at the last moment and leapt back into distance.
Raising his hand, he attempted to cast another spell, but at that exact moment, he saw the prince already bringing the lightning-charged sword down toward him.
Farley bent down quickly, forcing the prince's blade to slice through the wall where his head had been moments earlier.
Using the momentum, he rolled behind Earl Jones and raised his hand. A writhing tentacle shot forward toward the prince.
But the moment it made contact, the prince's body shimmered and wavered like a ghost.
Farley's eyes widened.
In the next instant, he saw something impossible.
He was the one standing in that exact position.
And Earl Jones had already appeared behind him.
It turned out that, using his Order abilities as a Phase 7 Holy Knight, the prince had trapped him inside a 20-second "sermon" of the mind.
Everything that had just happened… had taken place inside his imagination.
Meanwhile, Earl Jones coughed violently.
He had the chance to finish Farley, but his body was already reaching its limit.
At that moment, the prince felt his strength begin to give out. He was about to collapse, but then the image flashed in his mind again.
His father lying on the ground.
His sister covered in blood.
The maid he had personally assigned to protect her.
That memory steadied him.
A smug smile returned to his face as he stared at Farley.
Farley, sensing the shift, immediately turned and cast another spell.
"Dismembered!"
A cold wind surged from nowhere, crystallizing into ice blades that shot toward the prince.
But Earl Jones simply chuckled.
"Clear!"
The ice shattered mid-air, breaking apart into water before it could reach him.
Cough… cough… Barely holding himself together, Earl Jones lifted his sword. With a slow, controlled motion, he drew a slanted line through the air.
In the next instant, the same line appeared across Farley's chest.
Farley looked down in shock.
He looked down and saw the horrific wound across his body, revealing his intestines and other organs. The shock was so great that he immediately collapsed to the floor.
Using the last of his strength, Earl Jones slowly walked forward and pointed his sword at Farley's chest.
"Who's your accomplice?" he asked coldly.
He asked this because he knew his sister belonged to the Venerable Order and possessed the ability to sense hostility directed toward her, which could also extend to threats against the kingdom. For such a massive conspiracy to go unnoticed, there had to be either a second person involved or some kind of special artifact capable of concealing their intentions.
Farley lay on the floor like a defeated man, but he didn't want to die alone.
If he was going down, he wanted to drag his accomplice down with him.
With a raspy voice, he spoke. "He and I were involved. I received a huge bounty from the Linktons to destroy the Kingdom of Betyl. So I entered the kingdom and served faithfully until I gradually rose to become the Earl Marshal, earning the complete trust of the King."
He paused, coughing weakly before continuing. "But... but... I couldn't do it. There was never an opportunity. Then he told me that something would happen today and that whenever I saw the chance, I should fulfill my wish."
The corners of Farley's lips slowly curled upward. "It was as though he knew my intentions... and pitied me."
With those final words, he took his last breath, and his body went still.
Earl Jones looked at the perpetrator lying before him, yet he felt neither happiness nor sadness.
He simply felt empty.
After a long moment, his exhausted body finally gave out. He collapsed onto the floor and drifted into a deep sleep.
And at that very moment, a strange door of light silently appeared nearby.
The door glittered with a holy radiance.
A figure soon stepped out from within.
He wore a long white robe that matched his flowing white hair. A pair of majestic wings extended from his back. His figure appeared frail and gentle, but that appearance was deceptive.
He was far from weak.
He was the Angel of Skywalker, The Writer of Destiny.
The angel calmly looked around at the people lying on the floor.
A book suddenly materialized in his hand.
Opening it, he began to write.
Another line written into destiny has failed. The prince killed the villain using a Sermon, an ability that allowed him to preach a possible future to his target while the target remained unaware that he was already within the scenario being preached.
Had the villain survived, he would have continued destroying the Kingdom of Betyl.
But now that he is dead, only two possibilities remain.
First: the perpetrator kills everyone and obtains what he and she seeks, allowing her to advance to the rank of Angel.
Second: the heroes save the city by performing a purification ritual and partially sealing the Laby. Even so, he and she will still accomplish their objectives.
The angel finished writing and closed the book. "It is recorded."
With those final words, he turned around and calmly walked back toward the door of light.
The holy door slowly closed behind him.
Moments later, both the angel and the door gradually faded away as though they had never existed.
...
The Outskirts of Betyl, Yokhla
In the silence of the night, a man with the posture and appearance of a well-trained butler ran through the outskirts of Betyl, desperately trying to escape the cursed city.
Hmph... puff...
He ran with all his strength. Though he wasn't a sorcerer, he tried his best to remain quiet, afraid of attracting more curses.
Before coming here, he had gone to the airport, only to find it completely abandoned, with no pilots in sight.
He had also visited the steam locomotive stations throughout Betyl and discovered that many had been destroyed.
Even the route being constructed toward Montmartre remained unfinished.
He had tried making calls countless times, but none of them connected.
Everything linking Betyl to the outside world had been cut off.
The man turned his head and looked behind him, but after doing that, he saw nothing.
Yet the faint squeaking sounds that resembled rats were gradually drawing closer.
His heart nearly stopped.
Hughie never wanted any of this, he had only come to Betyl for a business deal.
Back in Berolina, he had a wife and a daughter waiting for him.
He wanted nothing more than to return home.
The thought alone filled him with despair.
Soon, he reached the end of the road.
Standing before him was the once-famous bridge that connected Betyl to the neighboring state of Gallon.
But now it laid in ruins, as the metallic structure was destroyed, leaving a deep hole in an area, and the holdings were filled with twisted bars.
Hughie immediately froze as his chest tightened involuntarily.
As he stared at the destroyed bridge, a terrible realization slowly settled into his mind.
There was no escape.
And seeing that, he immediately came to the conclusion that he was about to die.
Overcome with shock, Hughie's legs gave out beneath him.
He collapsed onto the cold ground and clutched his chest tightly.
At that moment, the figures that resembled rats finally emerged from the darkness.
One after another, they gathered around him.
Then they began to consume him.
Hughie couldn't think anymore, couldn't run, he couldn't even see clearly.
Only pain and despair remained.
As the creatures closed in, he forced out a final sentence with great difficulty.
"And young Casmir... turns seven today..."
As soon as he said that, his voice gradually faded, and the cursed town of Betyl silence returned.