Chapter 97 Pierce It, Holy Spear
The uproar vanished, leaving only the echoing cold words.
The entire hall was eerily silent.
Moments before, everyone in the venue had intensely envied this lucky individual chosen by the Borgia Family.
But now, facing those pitch-black eyes, a chill ran down everyone’s spines.
They looked at the black-haired, black-eyed youth, whose frame appeared somewhat frail, and yet they felt as if they were seeing an evil spirit.
An evil spirit born from the Ceylon Great Fire.
But Aerora was not afraid. She simply walked silently to Shaya’s side and took his hand.
Eight years ago, on the Northern Ice Field, she had held Shaya’s hand like this, feeling their faint warmth, and together they traversed the boundless wind and snow.
“Shaya Egut.”
A long sigh descended from above.
“Do you know what you are refusing?”
“I know very well,”
Shaya’s voice was calm. “But I still thank you for finally calling me by my real name, instead of that ‘Shaya Inglist’.”
“That is the name of the Winter Flower, the name of the Count of Winter…”
“It is a glorious and honorable surname, but it is not my surname.”
The evening wind in the night grew strong.
It blew through the window, ruffling Shaya’s collar with a rustling sound.
“The Borgia Family has never been to the north, nor have they ever established a marriage contract with the Winter Flower Family…”
“In ancient times, Ceylon was merely a border where criminals were exiled. The Winter Flower Family that guarded Ceylon, to put it nicely, was guarding the territory; to put it bluntly, they were in exile. How could they possibly merit the favor of the Crimson Rose Family?”
Shaya’s gaze lifted, fixing on the old man at the high seat, who resembled a gardener.
“And I am not the son of some Count of Winter. The Winter Flower Family is in decline in this generation, with only a single daughter for the Count of Winter.”
“And what of it?”
The lofty, placid voice descended from above.
“If I say you are, then you are.”
“Yes.”
Shaya smiled silently. “It’s just a remote, savage town that takes over a dozen hours by sled to reach, isolated from the civilized world in terms of information and perception. Who would bother to scrutinize such trivialities?”
“Moreover, it’s already a ruin. You say I’m an orphan of the Winter Flower, and so I am… No one would refute the Borgia Family’s decree.”
“Furthermore, the meticulously crafted script you prepared for me is so flawless—”
“A fallen noble orphan overcomes all hardships, returns like a king to exact revenge, and marries a noble maiden… What a story that perfectly aligns with people’s expectations. When the story concludes perfectly, every reader will happily applaud and say, ‘The End, Yay!'”
“But I know, I am not the protagonist depicted in your story.”
Shaya paused slightly.
“I am just an ordinary commoner from Ceylon.”
“Since I was old enough to remember, I had no parents. I was adopted and raised by an old ice field hunter… Later, that old hunter passed away, but the hunting skills he taught me were enough to sustain myself.”
“Life like that, though simple, was quite good… But it was destroyed, destroyed by that fire.”
“This is indeed not the development expected in a suitable script—”
“But since ancient times…”
“Whether noble or commoner.”
“Debts must be repaid, and lives taken must be accounted for. This is only natural.”
His gaze fell upon the corpse of Warwick before him, pierced by a piercing projectile, a bloody hole in its chest, cold and dead with eyes wide open.
“According to imperial law, the ringleader shall be punished, and those who conspired with them shall also not escape blame.”
At the very moment these words were spoken.
Shaya felt the last trace of rawness and awkwardness deep within his soul vanish completely.
His sealed heart felt as if struck by a wooden hammer, dust falling away, resonating with a booming sound.
Soul and mind achieved unity, becoming perfectly complete.
Spiritual power resonated with the spiritual world, and the illusory mental world gradually manifested.
Streams of starlight bloomed; they were stars formed from the Sands of Time, clear and dreamlike, illuminating the dark mental world. Brilliant points of light converged into a vast ocean.
The stars formed a sea.
…
“But that is merely your one-sided story.”
The aged voice sounded again, still as placid as an ancient well.
“Border refugees colluded with heretics from the Holy See, working from within and without to exchange information, ultimately causing the tragedy of Ceylon’s destruction.”
“And now, he is colluding with fugitives wanted by the Holy See, framing the Borgia Family.”
“This old minister was momentarily negligent and almost allowed such a scoundrel to become his young lady’s fiancé… Causing all the guests to witness a farce. I must step in to rectify this.”
Before the words had even finished.
A colossal, mountain-like majesty descended from above.
The spiritual pressure, exclusive to a Legend, covered Shaya without reservation.
Normally, it would be enough to make cultivators of the Fourth or Fifth Rings tremble and collapse to their knees, unable to rise.
But Shaya’s figure did not move an inch.
His spiritual power was steadily climbing, breaking through the hazy illusionary barrier, converging into a new moon – his Fourth Soul Pact.
But all this was not over. The newly formed illusory world boomed and sounded, under the illumination of starlight from the Sands of Time, continuously carving out hazy heavens and earths.
The pressure from the Legend was broken through, obstructed no longer.
For the first time, a hint of surprise flickered in the eyes of the old man resembling a gardener above.
He lowered his gaze, about to do something else, when he suddenly sensed the sharp aura beside him.
“Your Highness intends to break the long-standing balance between the Royal Family and the Oathbound Families for the sake of a mere civilian who speaks arrogantly, and personally attack this old minister?”
Goodrian retracted his gaze and looked at the silver-haired princess beside him, speaking neither servilely nor obsequiously.
“Whether he is an orphan of the Winter Flower, or a commoner with no background… I actually don’t care.”
“But first—”
“He is the Sword Holder I have chosen.”
Isadorella’s stern words echoed from above.
Although she wore a court gown at this moment, her killing aura only brought to mind battlefields of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
This imperial princess was never one to gracefully maneuver among nobles at balls and banquets.
Her reputation was built on hard-won military achievements.
The figure in the Black Vulture military uniform was the empire’s totem and the nightmare of countless enemy soldiers and generals.
She extended a plain white finger and made a void grasp in mid-air.
The next moment.
Myriad light golden illusory points converged in the void.
Then, these illusory points, under Isadorella’s fingertips, coalesced into the nascent form of a hazy holy sword.
Though it was merely a blurred form.
But as Goodrian’s spiritual power swept over this holy sword.
The suddenly shining starlight caused even an old Legend like Goodrian to instinctively avert his gaze.
“I didn’t expect Your Highness to truly gain the recognition of that Sword from the Lake.”
Sensing the nascent holy sword manifesting before him, and the immense mystery it contained, far exceeding the limits of an ordinary Legend, Goodrian’s words carried a hint of gravity.
“However, before it has fully awakened and while there are restrictions, to release the true name of a Holy Relic…”
“Aren’t you afraid, Your Highness, that your efforts of more than two years will be in vain?”
Isadorella did not answer, merely maintaining the posture of holding the sword hilt with her fingers.
The holy sword, coalesced with immense mystery, was between reality and illusion, faintly visible, mirroring the radiance of the Astral Realm.
But its sharp, piercing aura had already locked onto the old man before her.
In that moment, Isadorella had truly believed Shaya would choose to forget his hatred and embrace everything the Borgia Family offered.
But he did not.
Even though the Borgia Family had shown such sincerity, in the end, Shaya still did not choose to betray.
Isadorella knew well that Shaya’s choice might not have been due to the influence of the Royal Family… but regardless, at this critical juncture, the youth had indeed stood by her side.
Therefore, at this moment, she had to offer her sincerity.
Goodrian withdrew his gaze and remained still.
A prolonged silence fell in the upper room.
But in the next moment.
A flicker of doubt crossed Isadorella’s eyes.
Because she noticed that the holy sword she was holding, between reality and illusion, suddenly began to tremble slightly.
As if sensing something of the same origin, its slow recovery process suddenly accelerated.
What could awaken this Holy Relic from the previous era?
…
Goodrian fell silent.
But in the banquet below, following Goodrian’s words, chaos erupted.
The reason was simple: the head of the Borgia Family had made his judgment.
Frankly speaking, after Shaya’s recent words and actions, most nobles actually leaned towards believing that what Shaya said was the truth.
But so what?
They were all old nobles from the Imperial Capital. Who among them hadn’t employed similar methods to eliminate rivals privately?
Of course, the Borgia Family being so directly slapped in the face was a blow to their pride, but pride couldn’t be eaten…
History is written by the victors. As long as one becomes the ultimate winner, who would care how many innocent bones were buried along the way?
And since they were invited by the Borgia Family, their allegiance and stance were, in most cases, self-evident.
“I didn’t expect this scoundrel to impersonate an orphan of the Winter Flower Family. How cunning.”
“Now it seems his past achievements in the military might also have been a staged performance in collusion with cultists.”
“Miss Histria almost married him. Fortunately, he exposed his identity in his haste…”
“Otherwise, if such a treacherous individual had infiltrated, who knows what hidden dangers and disasters he could have brought to the Borgia Family and the Empire.”
These noisy accusations suddenly came to a halt.
“By the ancient oath of the Crimson Blood.”
“I, Histria Borgia, in the guise of a Crimson Rose chess piece, hereby initiate arbitration against Shaya Egut.”
Pure radiance descended abruptly.
In the Palace of Oaths, a circular Crimson Rose imprint was projected, expanding continuously, transforming into a barrier burning with crimson flames, enveloping Shaya and Histria.
In Histria’s hand was a crimson chess piece, as clear and translucent as crystal, engraved with the pattern of a rose.
“The Borgia Family’s Oath Chess piece is in Miss Histria’s hands!”
Someone exclaimed.
There were eight “Oath Chess Pieces” in total.
Forged at the very beginning of the Empire’s establishment, when the Covenant of the Pure White Sword and the Crimson Blood was created, they were bestowed upon the Eight Great Oathbound Families.
The Oath Chess Piece itself was an extremely powerful Holy Relic, but at the same time, it was also a symbol of the Oathbound Families, representing numerous ancient authorities—
For instance, within the Palace of Oaths, which belonged to an Oathbound Family, initiating an arbitration barrier meant that, apart from the arbitrated party and the holder of the Oath Chess Piece, no one else could enter.
Only blood descendants of the family could be recognized by the Oath Chess Piece. Moreover, as a token for the Oathbound Families to exercise their ancient authority, this Holy Relic was generally held by the contemporary family head.
One of the considerations for the Borgia Family wanting to ally with Shaya, believed to be an orphan of the Winter Flower Family, was to reclaim the Oath Chess Piece of the Winter Flower that Shaya possessed, thereby inheriting some of the Oathbound Family’s authority. Unfortunately, they failed to achieve their goal.
Little did they expect that the Oath Chess Piece, which should have been held by Goodrian, now appeared in Histria’s possession.
This also signified that she had been designated as the next head of the Borgia Family.
However, at this moment, Histria paid no heed to the outside discussions.
She simply stood within the arbitration barrier, looking at Shaya before her.
Her originally clear eyes held surprise, indignation, and a hint of unease.
“Why did you say that just now? What exactly do you know?”
“Nothing much. I just felt the deliberate imitation in your demeanor was too strong, just like our Saintess of Dawn.”
Shaya spoke casually.
He glanced at the arbitration barrier conjured by illusory flames beside him. “Are you really not going to deactivate this barrier?”
“If I recall correctly, once the arbitration barrier is activated, only the arbitrated party and the holder of the Oath Chess Piece can enter. Others cannot enter unless they forcibly break the barrier.”
Shaya pointed to the crowd outside the barrier, their gazes fixed on him but blocked by the barrier. “According to your father’s intentions, they should now swarm forward to arrest me, or simply silence me, which would be more in line with your family’s interests.”
Histria’s movements paused for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure.
“Father has never spoken to me about the affairs of Ceylon, nor am I interested in them. As for arresting you, it won’t be too late to ask after I’ve finished.”
Her gaze focused on Shaya. “Don’t change the subject…”
“What is your relationship with the Saintess?”
“It’s nothing much, probably just exchanging magic communication spells secretly every night, hiding it from Little Ai…”
Shaya glanced at Histria and shook his head with disinterest. “Frankly, I bear you no ill will.”
“At your age, you must have been sent to the Holy Court very young. Your family’s machinations were likely kept hidden from you all along.”
“You are too proud and too naive… Although you seem like a favored daughter to outsiders, in my eyes, you are merely a doll arranged by your family and the Holy Court…”
“Ignorance is not a sin, though this saying may not apply in all situations. I truly have no interest in you right now.”
However, as soon as Shaya finished speaking.
In the next moment, he saw a figure enveloped in holy light.
A King Tier Spirit of Light.
This was an elemental lifeform similar in form to the Silver Spirit.
But as a light incarnation on a higher level than metal, a favored child blessed by the God of Dawn, the lowest racial level of the Spirit of Light species was High Overlord.
And the one contracted by Histria was a top-tier Spirit of Light, with a racial level of Emperor Rank.
Breaking through to the Fourth Ring at the age of seventeen or eighteen, and contracting an Emperor Rank Spirit of Light, Histria truly lived up to her title of God’s Chosen.
“How dare you spread rumors and blaspheme the Saintess!”
Resonating with the anger in Histria’s eyes, the Spirit of Light raised its Blade of Light, pointing it straight at Shaya’s neck.
However, facing the Holy Light Blade locked onto him, Shaya merely sighed helplessly.
Brilliant light suddenly flashed, illuminating the pitch-black night outside the window.
“Pierce it, Rungoniumad.”
A clear, cold voice rang out.
It was an ancient language from the previous era, yet Shaya understood its meaning.
The silvery gun’s intent pierced through the air, tearing through the atmosphere, stirring up storms, and piercing all obstacles.
The next moment.
*Crack—*
In Histria’s astonished gaze.
The Spirit of Light’s movement froze.
Its Holy Light Core was pierced, and even its Star Spirit Body, as an elemental lifeform, was overwhelmed by the immense mystery contained within the Holy Spear, completely dissipating.
Histria turned her head blankly.
Then, she saw not far away, the blonde maiden in a knight’s skirt armor, holding a silver spear.
Not long ago, Histria had thought her to be merely Shaya’s maid or retainer.
But at this moment, illusory points of light converged on the right hand of the blonde maiden, encased in mithril gauntlets.
It was an ice-blue chess piece, made of sapphire.
On the chess piece, a blooming snow lotus was carved.
Others might be bewildered by this chess piece, but as the next head of the Borgia Family, Histria clearly understood the true meaning of the snow lotus engraving on the chess piece.
The Oath Chess Piece of the Winter Flower.
“I told you earlier not to draw your blade against me. Why don’t you ever listen?”
Looking at the remains of the Spirit of Light, its surrounding radiance gradually dimming, Shaya couldn’t help but sigh.
“My companion here has a temper, and even I can’t dissuade her when she gets angry.”
…
PS: There will be one or two more chapters later, likely quite late. You can read them tomorrow.
