Chapter 146: Marital Quarrel (1)

Searing heat and murderous intent rippled outward. The crimson aura around Rihanna had been contaminated, streaked with a murky black as if polluted.

The blood-red energy—howling sky-high like a lament, roaring like an angry dragon—swirled above her.

“Run from me.”

Had she not spoken, the soldiers in front of her might have frozen in shock and died on the spot.

Rihanna’s near-groan snapped the guards posted before the palace out of their daze and sent them scrambling.

Beep beep beep!

A long, shrill whistle split the air. One blast was enough to turn their peaceful routine into a crisis.

The alarm was raised—now what were they supposed to do?

In truth, nothing remained for them except to be swept away by Helmut’s greatsword.

Once hailed as a force of deterrence, Helmut’s greatsword was now poised to come crashing down on the royal palace.

“Get behind me—!”

Forcing out the words, Rihanna jolted the soldiers awake. She wasn’t aiming for them; she was about to smash the palace itself.

Grasping her intent, the two men sprinted toward her, trembling.

“Y-yes, ma’am!”

“Understood!”

The moment the paired sentries dove past Rihanna, a tsunami-like wave of crimson aura blew apart the main gate and flooded inside.

They might have failed their duty, but anyone could see staying there would’ve been suicide.

Bang!

Rihanna’s greatsword, Ragnabel, slammed into the ground. She dragged the blade forward—so unlike her usual poised stride.

Stepping over the shattered gate half-buried in the rubble, she advanced. The aura that had erupted from her earlier still writhed like flames, parting as though opening a road for its master.

Each reluctant footfall was laden with hesitation and defiance, yet her body refused to obey; she hefted the sword again.

Thud!

A man dropped from the sky. Heyrad, the princess’s knight-captain, had leapt from a window to block Rihanna’s path.

And he wasn’t alone. At the sound of the alarm, palace guards poured out in waves.

Though Evergarde lay well behind the front lines, these troops moved with disciplined speed—no wasted motion.

Unknown beings called Transcendents were attacking; the vanguard wasn’t the only place prepared.

Rihanna gripped her greatsword, eyes hard.

“Don’t think of me as human.”

Her crimson aura surged with malice and fury, yet her voice carried worry and regret.

“Assume I’m a Transcendent.”

She truly hoped they would.

“The target is Princess Adeline. Keep her hidden and safe. The instant I see her, I’ll charge with everything I’ve got.”

Laying bare even her objective, Rihanna swung the enormous blade.

“Please.”

The plea in her voice belied the savage, violent arc of the weapon.

“Kill me.”

Her words drifted through the blazing aura, brushing the guards’ ears—

but they had no time to pity her fate.

“Hold the line!”

“Heads low under the shields!”

“Don’t give ground!”

Even a Helmut is still just one person. Impressive, yes—but could she truly annihilate the entire Royal Guard alone?

With that judgment, Heyrad drew his sword.

‘The instant the Red Aura sputters, I’ll charge.’

By the book, his reasoning was flawless. Red Aura wasn’t limitless, and a Helmut’s power was ultimately hemmed in by flesh and will.

Helmut or not, she’s human.

That premise, however, ignored one cruel fact: Rihanna was no longer in control of herself.

Heyrad’s eyes gleamed, waiting for the aura to stutter. It never did—blood-black energy kept gushing like an eternal spring.

The torrential flow showed no sign of slackening.

Thick tower-shields skidded backward; guards’ spines began to bow.

“Th-this can’t be…!”

Between the guards’ gritted groans, Heyrad’s own dismay bled through.

He had once crossed blades with Arandel Helmut.

True, the man had been dying of illness after battling primeval Transcendents for days without rest—but still.

The terror Heyrad felt now was nearly identical to that day.

Rihanna Helmut’s unchecked power—magnified by her growth and the familiars-binding sorcery—poured out with no back-pressure.

War-Deterrent.

The title itself weighed on his shoulders; he forced down the tremor in his arms and shouted,

“Don’t give up! Hold the line!”

But the guards couldn’t answer. Step by step they were shoved back, or collapsed to one knee.

Thumb.

With a heavy, echoing footfall Rihanna advanced, tears welling as she saw those who could not stop her.

“Forgive me…”

Her desperate whisper accompanied a sweeping slash, and the Royal Guard’s formation finally shattered.

Amid the wreckage stood Heyrad, knuckles white around his blade.

Swearing by his pride and duty as the princess’s knight-captain, he hurled himself at Rihanna—

—and met the fate common to all who pitted pride against a Helmut.

“—!”

It felt like being struck by a massive weight. A greatsword, yes, yet it landed like a sledge as big as a man’s torso.

The world whirled; only after he tumbled across the floor did Heyrad realize he’d been flung away. He could only croak,

“Kh… ugh!”

Past the fallen guards, Rihanna stepped inside.

Through the window Clarice bit her lip hard.

They had too few knights left to fight. Had sending troops north to quell the chaos been a fatal mistake?

No—could anyone have stopped her even if they were here?

Only Uldiran Caldias came to mind, and he was neck-deep in the northern front.

‘First, I have to find my sister…!’

There were the desperate Measures.

Clarice whirled around, panic flaring.

Heyrad lay crumpled in her periphery, but there was no time. She had to get her elder sister—Princess Adeline, the realm’s effective ruler—out first.

Bang!

Instead, the office door banged open and Adeline herself strode in.

“Unni—?!”

Clarice barely managed to voice her shock before Adeline began, cool‐headed as ever.

“I told my secretary everything—where the emergency vault is, how the documents are ordered, the whole situation. All the things no outsider must know.”

“U-Unnie…?”

Adeline pressed a heavy ring of keys into Clarice’s hand.

“No time to explain each one. Clarice, I trust you.”

“Wait! Unnie!”

Clarice grasped for words, but Adeline’s resolve was set.

“Listen carefully, Clarice. From this moment, you—”

“Your Highness!”

A robed man burst through the doorway—the court wizard on loan from the Tower.

“R-reinforcements from the Tower are coming! With your permission, they can arrive at once—”

He launched into a tangled plea about authorization for high-tier teleportation magic.

“Hold on! Reinforcements? This fast? Perfect timing?” Clarice cut in.

“I-I know it sounds improbable. True interspatial spells devour mana and usually take ages—unless they were pre-primed, almost as if they expected—”

Adeline ended the ramble with a curt wave. Help was help; she would welcome devils at this point.

“Permission granted.”

The wizard dashed to the window, leaned halfway out, and whipped his staff through the air in frantic arcs.

A blue star streaked across the darkening sky—

like a wish-granting meteor answering the princess’s plea.

Kwaaaaang!

A deep, destructive boom rolled out; waves of mana shook the palace grounds.

Rihanna turned toward the ruined gate where the thing had landed.

Through curling smoke stepped three figures.

“Gahk—hack—urgh! A Helmut’s supposed to be immune to motion-sick—uuueegh!” groaned Sharen.

“Tsk. The hostility in the air is monstrous,”

muttered the Grandmaster, giving her an encouraging shove.

And, urged forward—

“Isaac…”

His name left Rihanna’s lips like a single drop of water, bursting yet quenching the fire in her throat.

Isaac drew a deep breath and stepped ahead.

“Seeing you now…it feels strangely natural.”

Maybe it was the spar they’d fought in the Abyss Realm—no tremor, no burden. He let a faint smile curve his lips, and Rihanna’s eyes quivered.

“That smile… back on the ship…”

The vesselization spell forced every emotion to the surface; her heart thundered.

“Remember our record?” Isaac asked, half-teasing.

She nodded. Forty-nine bouts, forty-nine defeats.

Isaac settled into stance.

“Don’t come any closer!” Rihanna cried. This wasn’t practice—she could kill him.

Yet her own body dragged Ragnabel toward him, instincts branding Isaac an obstacle.

“Isaac, now isn’t—”

“I didn’t come to hear that.”

“—!”

“So shut up and—”

With an uncharacteristically rough edge—

“Draw your sword.”

– – The End of The Chapter ––

 

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