Chapter 142: Meeting the Emperor
It had been three weeks since I pulled off that fake death stunt. Looking back, I could still feel the sting of the blade sliding through my chest, the fire in my veins when blood spilled onto the floor. But as I stood here now, breathing fresh air, hidden among the crowd that moved without fear, I knew it had been worth it.
Auren stood on the edge of the stone monument in the middle of the bustling plaza. His eyes were fixed on the statue before him, a towering figure carved from white granite.
The sculptor had captured the infamous scene perfectly, or at least as the world remembered it. Austaire, now Queen, stood tall and regal, her blade thrust into his back.
The image was frozen in stone: Auren, the Freak, on his knees, a twisted monster’s face carved in place of his own, fangs bared as if he were some feral beast and screaming while a sword stabbed him from the back through the hands of Austaire.
For the people, it was the symbol of triumph.But lie in the first place.
The statue was not meant to honor him, but to remind everyone of the "sacrifice" Austaire made to protect Austerra.
To remind them of the so-called justice delivered that day.
Auren let out a bitter laugh under his breath, shaking his head.
The plaza echoed with voices, the marketplace alive with sounds and scents of daily life, but all he could hear for a moment was the memory of the night he proposed that insane plan.
The greedy nobles had demanded a scapegoat. The merchants and even the common folk, terrified and angry, had looked for someone to blame after Aurelus’ rampage.
The Dark Fate members had already been executed. But Auren... Auren had been the trigger. The massacre of ten thousand children had been tied to his name. The guilt, the whispers, the hatred—all of it clung to him.
He had given them what they wanted. He had given them his death.
He remembered standing before Robert and Austaire, his lips curling into a crooked smile while they stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.
"All you need to do is stab me before those stupid fools,"
Auren had said, his voice calm, almost playful despite the weight of his words.
"That way, they’ll have no one else to blame. And you, Austaire, you’ll get the credit."
Austaire’s jaw had dropped. "What do you mean you want me to stab you?!" Her hands trembled as she gripped the hilt of her sword. Her eyes widened with horror, her face flushed. "Are you out of your damn mind?"
"I think you need to get back to sleep, Auren," Robert muttered, massaging his forehead with rough fingers, his voice a low grumble. "You’re spouting nonsense, boy."
"Don’t worry," Auren said with a grin that didn’t match the seriousness of his tone. "As long as you don’t cut my head off, I’m confident I can heal from a stab. Watch."
Before either of them could stop him, Auren grabbed Austaire’s sword and unsheathed it.
SLIIEEK~
"AUREN!!"
Both of them screamed as the golden blade pierced through his chest, sliding out his back with a sickening squelch. Blood soaked the bed beneath him.
Austaire’s face went pale, her lips parted in shock, her body frozen like a statue. Robert stumbled forward, reaching out as if he could stop what had already happened.
But then they saw his face.
Auren winced, his lips curling into a strained smile. "While this actually hurts..." he grunted, pulling the sword free with a wet sound, "it doesn’t do any lasting damage."
Before their eyes, the wound began to stitch itself closed, golden light weaving across his chest like invisible threads sewing flesh together.
Within moments, there was nothing left but blood stains. His breathing steadied, and he held up the sword casually, like he’d just finished demonstrating a card trick.
"This," Auren said, turning to Austaire with steady eyes, "is what the awakened blood of the Phoenix is truly capable of."
Austaire’s lips trembled. Robert clenched his fists, torn between pride and horror. In the end, neither could argue. And so, they agreed.
And it worked.
Now, in the present, Auren’s lips twisted into a faint smirk as he stared at the monstrous face etched onto the statue in his likeness.
His fangs, exaggerated. His eyes, carved hollow and cruel. The artist had stripped away his humanity.
It was almost funny. Almost.
The marketplace around the monument bustled with life. Vendors shouted at passersby, their voices rising above the din.
"Selling fresh baked bread! Come now while it’s hot! Also available with coffee!"
"Finest swords in town! Made with Groneite, the same metal as the Queen’s sword! Cuts clean through iron, just five silver each!"
"Healing stones, buy one take one! Cure fevers, soothe coughs, don’t wait until your child gets sick!"
Children darted between stalls, laughing and tugging at their parents’ clothes. Soldiers marched in pairs, their armor clinking as they patrolled lazily.
The air was thick with the mingling scents of roasted meat, fresh loaves, and horse manure.
Every so often, someone would glance up at the statue of Austaire standing tall over the fallen Freak.
Some smiled. Some nodded, pride shining in their eyes.
A few spat at the ground, muttering curses for the monster they believed was gone.
But none of them looked twice at the simple young man standing near the base of the monument.
Thanks to the Trinity Bracer on his wrist, they saw not Auren, but Herbon, a harmless herbalist with plain brown hair and a soft face.
His Divine Frame reflected only the truth of his disguise:
*
Name: Herbon Level: 25Title: CarefulClass: Herbalist
*
Among adventurers, the Herbalist class was considered little more than dead weight.
After all, why bother with potions when Light Workers could heal wounds instantly and refill mana with a flick of their hands? In this age, Herbalists were seen as relics, irrelevant and weak.
Perfect.
Auren tucked his hands into his cloak and smiled faintly. "Lowkey. Exactly how I like it," he whispered to himself. His golden eyes flicked back to the statue one last time.
I hope you don’t mess this up, sister. It’s your turn now.
Turning away, he slipped into the crowd, weaving past a pair of gossiping merchants. He was just about to leave the plaza when a shadow blocked his path.
"Hello, young man," a frail voice rasped.
"Do you mind if I ask for your assistance?"
Auren blinked.
Before him stood an old man, hunched and leaning on a weathered stick.
His clothes were tattered, his beard unkempt, his face a map of wrinkles. He looked ordinary, fragile, a man who should have been sitting near a fire telling stories to grandchildren.
But the moment their eyes met, Auren’s instincts screamed. His skin prickled, his heart hammered of danger. A sweat of distress was on his head.
’How come I did not noticed him getting closer?’
Danger.
[TIGER FOCUS]
Mana surged as Auren activated his Observation skill.
And then he knew.
Fwooom~
This old man... this aura... it wasn’t normal. It wrapped around him like a cloak, a tide of power hidden behind a mask.
A disguise, just like his own!
Inside his mind, Bigbird stirred. The phoenix’s voice cracked like thunder.
"Auren, careful! That man... that’s Emperor Romeov in disguise! "
’I know.’
Auren stiffened but forced a smile, masking his alarm.
He quickly deactivated Tiger Focus, not wanting to give away that he knew.
"Haha, I’m sorry, old sir,"
Auren said lightly, bowing his head.
"I’m actually in a hurry so... Perhaps you can ask those soldiers instead?"
He turned to leave, but the old man slammed his stick onto the ground.
THOOM!
Auren froze as the world felt like it snapped. Then a vision tore through his mind—his body diced into pieces by a massive sword. Like he was just made of jelly!
"Hugh—!" his eyes was filled with shock at the terriying mental taste of death!
TWONG!
His defensive ring flared, golden light forming a shield around him.
For a moment, hope surged—only for it to shatter like glass under the man’s next step.
The shield cracked and broke as if it were paper.
"H-how...?"
Auren spun, eyes wide, searching for an escape. But the world around him had shifted. The plaza, the vendors, the people—all frozen in place.
A loaf of bread hung mid-air from a vendor’s toss.
Children stood suspended in half-steps.
It was like time itself had stopped!
"Space Isolation...?" Auren whispered, dread sinking in.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
’Is he here to kill me?’
The old man’s lips curled into a smile. "Don’t panic. I just have a question for you, Auren Sullen Golrath."
Auren swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. It seems that he truly is not just any ordinary Emperor.
"W-what is it?"
The old man’s eyes glimmered as he raised a finger, pointing straight at the lime-green ring on Auren’s hand.
The defensive ring Queen Elarya had given him. Elvish design, etched with runes that pulsed faintly under his skin.
"If you don’t mind telling me..." the old man murmured, his gaze sharp as steel. "Where did you get that ring?"
Auren’s heart skipped.
Confusion clouded his thoughts. Was this truly what he wanted? Just to ask about a ring?
’Then a little lie shouldn’t hurt,’ he thought.
He opened his mouth—
But the wooden staff in the man’s hand shimmered, its illusion shattering.
In its place, a massive red-and-black sword materialized. A dragon’s face was carved into its center, its eyes glowing with a sinister light.
Its blade pulsed with power, the edges glimmering like fresh blood.
Romeov’s eyes narrowed, and then he smiled.
"And if you answer with a lie, I’ll make sure your head will fly."
Then his eyes opened fully, revealing a murderous glare that froze the air.
"...And not even your Phoenix blood will save you."