Chapter 206

“Oh my god, what the hell. Did you eat a live octopus this morning or something?”

Splash!

Jet-black tentacles burst from Mordred’s throat, and Master Barog muttered as if it were someone else’s affair.

“……!”

Shock erupted from all sides. But not among the imperial forces watching this unfold. As if they had known this would happen from the start.

The mass of tentacles surging up from his throat wrapped itself around Mordred’s entire body. It was just like when Shub-Niggurath had enveloped Dale’s body.

The avatar symbolizing the Shadow Lord, the Armor of the Dark Cavern, was now wrapped around the body of the Seventh Prince, Mordred.

Yet there was no fiery red like magma or icy blue dwelling within it. It was utterly pitch black, and at the same time, it held a brilliance more radiant than anything else—a golden light.

It was armor of black gold.

The armor and helmet enveloped Mordred’s body, scattering a darkness beyond comparison.

“Ha, ha ha.”

Modred, clad in the black-gold armor, chuckled softly.

“Shadow and gold—both powers are now in my hands.”

“The power of shadow?”

“Ah, yes. The power that ‘Immortal Frederick’ bestowed upon me that day.”

Modred murmured softly.

“Let me be honest with you, you Saxon brat. I still haven’t gotten over that defeat and the nightmare.”

“…….”

“Every day, I’ve been tormented by this damnable pitch-black darkness writhing within my flesh, struggling through hellish days. But, but… my father, the Golden Emperor, never abandoned me!”

Wrapped in black-gold armor, Mordred drew his sword. It was a blade of unparalleled golden brilliance, unlike anything in this world.

“I shall subdue the power of this shadow and be reborn as the standard-bearer for the Golden Empire!”

“Ah, is that so?”

Hearing that, Dale laughed.

“You dream big.”

Simultaneously, the 『Book of the Black Goat』 fused within Dale’s heart began to surge wildly. The dark blood flowing through his body exploded, coiling around him in the form of armor.

It was not the avatar of an ‘Aura Master’. It was, after all, the avatar of the Shadow Lord, and a blood-red pattern, glowing like magma, began to etch itself onto it.

Along with the bitter cold that heralded the world’s end, crimson magic overlaid the dark blood armor.

“For a powerhouse like the Seven Swords of the Continent, it would be absurd to think they possess no abilities beyond aura.”

The Shadow Lord laughed coldly as he spoke.

“Even if that power was obtained from somewhere else.”

At the Sword Pavilion, the place to determine the continent’s finest swordsman, the curtain rose on the first duel.

The Shadow Lord drew the pitch-black demon sword ‘Hunger,’ and Mordred, clad in black-gold armor, charged forward.

But blocking his sword was never the Sovereign’s own responsibility.

Every sovereign has knights. And there stood the empire’s finest swordsmen, who claimed to be the knights of the Shadow Sovereign. They had once sought to prove themselves through the trial of the sword, but now they were merely death knights dancing in the primordial darkness and the cold of the apocalypse.

Dale’s Death Knights surged toward the black-gold knight, Mordred.

Furthermore, the ‘Eye of Truth’ possessed by the Shadow Lord began to illuminate the entire area.

First Prince Lancelot, the Noble Sword Sepheria, the Heavenly Sword Duke Lancaster, Seventh Prince Mordred.

“……!”

The Eye of Truth sees the secrets they hide. But human history is long, and moreover, the secrets Dale could see were not of a nature that could be picked and chosen at will.

A headache that felt like his brain would shatter overwhelmed him. Within that throbbing pain, Dale desperately turned his gaze toward the shadow of his opponent, Mordred.

In the pale, dark winter night, the immortal Frederick stood before Mordred, who trembled in terror.

The celestial watchers observed him, and the madness Modred felt tore through the Shadow Lord’s mind.

But he had to see. What the black-clad knight before Dale had seen, and what had happened to him.

A cluster of jet-black tentacles erupted from the Immortal’s mouth, slithering toward Mordred’s body like leeches.

It was at that very moment.

Clang!

Before the Death Knight’s swinging blade, Mordred swung his golden sword.

“Our lies are truer and more beautiful than truth itself.”

With unwavering resolve.

From within Mordred’s shadow, the voice spoke once more.

─ Your Majesty, is it truly the case that I am descended from the bloodline of the Holy Knight, Count Brandenburg?

Young Mordred trembled uncontrollably before a truth he could not bear. Yet the golden High Priest who gazed upon him showed no sign of fluster.

─ Is this thing called ‘truth’ so important to you? Is it so crucial to you that I cherish you like a son, and you serve me as a father?

The Golden Emperor, the Lord of Lies, whispered tenderly. It was a smile as affectionate as a father’s.

─ You are my proud son. Even if our dragon’s blood does not flow through your veins, nothing changes. You are my son beyond doubt, the golden standard-bearer who shall shoulder this great empire of fire and light.

─ But, but Prince Philip…!

─ That boy’s truth is more false than your lies.

At that moment, all emotion vanished from Emperor Arthur’s face. He was indeed the son who carried his blood, yet when Arthur spoke his name, there was no trace of a father’s affection to be found.

─ He is incompetent, weak, and possesses not a shred of talent or worth. Do you truly believe that the mere fact he shares my blood makes him more suited to be the ‘son of an emperor’ than you standing here?

Emperor Arthur declared.

─ Remember this: our lies are truer and more beautiful than truth itself.

At last, the truth of Mordred revealed by the shadow came to an end. The shadow ruler, possessing the eyes of truth, turned his head away.

There stood the false knight clad in black-gold armor and the golden standard-bearer. With resolve beyond compare.

Dale waved his hand at him. The Death Knights of cold and darkness froze in unison, and within them, Dale, clad in his dark armor, stepped forward.

He glanced at Philip, who was crouched down. The true prince, who believed without a doubt that he was the son of the Holy Knight.

It was a fact that didn’t matter.

To claim the position of the Heavenly Sword, Dale simply had to defeat the Seventh Prince Mordred standing before him. That was all.

Nothing would change.

“Ignite.”

The Shadow Lord murmured softly. Simultaneously, the magma engraved upon the Dark Cavern Armor glowed a fiery red as if about to erupt, and the ‘Two Heat Engines’ overlaid the Mana Circle and Aura Heart.

A mechanical device capable of converting thermal energy into mechanical energy.

Alongside the five circles, the otherworldly image overlaid upon the aura heart in his lower abdomen—the essence of mechanical engineering—finally began its operation.

It did not merely process mana energy into magic power and aura; it began converting the thermal energy supplied by the crimson magic power into magic power and aura respectively.

The Shadow Lord charged forward, unleashing two forces. Though the avatar Dale was channeling originated from the Book of the Black Goat, it was not yet Dale’s own avatar as an ‘Aura Master’.

But he couldn’t unleash his full power from the start.

A sword of flames, blazing like magma, the crimson aura blade swung toward the Knight of Black Gold.

Clang!

The gleaming golden blade and the fiery blade clashed. But the Shadow Lord’s attack did not end there.

Now, what could scarcely be called a ‘shadow cloak’—Dale’s shadow prosthetic, a part of his flesh and shadow itself—began to writhe.

A hail of darkness began pouring down like rain right before his eyes.

Amidst the endless baptism of shadow bullets, Mordred, clad in black-gold armor, held his breath.

Simultaneously, the armor enveloping his body began to writhe like a living creature.

Swoosh!

Just as Dale had done before, tentacles surged endlessly from the dark armor, wrapping around Mordred’s body and acting as a shield.

Against the relentless hail of shadow bullets, the tentacles formed a flesh shield.

‘……He’s using the power of shadows.’

What Immortal Master Frederick did to him, and what followed afterward. But what the Eye of Truth reveals is not something one can pick and choose at will.

The being before him was merely imitating the power of the Shadow Lord that Dale had once shown.

What Immortal Frederick sought by implanting the power of shadows within him remains unknown. Nothing changed.

For the fake could never overcome the real.

KAAANG!

Their shadows intertwined, gold and flame clashing together. No sooner had the collision occurred than the Shadow Lord’s aura blade, now radiating a piercing cold, glowed with a blue light. A swirling mass of cold, holding the universe’s winter, swept along the blade’s edge.

Clang!

The two blades collided directly.

Gold and ice.

“……!”

Clang, crack!

The blades crossed, and the cold embedded in Dale’s sword began to devour the golden blade held by Mordred.

The two blades locked together and began to freeze solid.

Modred belatedly tried to pull his sword free, but it was already too late.

The inescapable chill of winter swallowed the golden blade, sliding toward the hilt gripped in his hand.

“May I keep the sword?”

Watching this, Dale sneered coldly. Mordred, shrouded in black-gold armor, finally showed a flicker of bewilderment.

In a battle between those who wield swords, to lose the sword one holds—he surely knew how shameful and wretched that act would appear.

“Wouldn’t it be better to survive, covered in every vile disgrace, than to uphold a knight’s pride and become a frozen statue?”

Knowing that fact, he made no effort to hide his mockery.

“Don’t make me laugh… I, Mordred, the proud Seventh Prince of the Empire, will never fall…!”

It was at that moment, as Mordred desperately shouted something.

Clang.

The chill of the apocalypse finally wrapped itself around his fingers, gripping the sword hilt.

Even as he struggled desperately, the inescapable winter of the universe began to coil around the sword, the hilt, his fingers, and up his wrist.

“Why did you not release the sword?”

Dale asked back.

Toward the false banner cloaked in gold and shadow.

“Beg for your life.”

To the false prince being swallowed by the cold, Dale said.

“Should you accept defeat and beg for your life, I shall gladly withdraw this deathly chill.”

He did not hide his blatant mockery.

Silence fell. Even then, the apocalyptic cold steadily consumed the shadow and the golden armor.

The cold rose to the base of his throat, yet even at the very end, Mordred did not beg for his life.

The Knight of Black Gold was reborn as a shard of ice, shining with a beauty so agonizing it was breathtaking.