Chapter 775
The Death of Valentine VII
Lionheart City, Victorious Palace.
A youth who looked no more than twenty or thirty years old was pacing leisurely through the royal palace, hands in his pockets. His brilliant golden hair shimmered with dazzling radiance, and his handsome features were of a luxurious caliber. His deep, pure ruby-red eyes emanated a divine might.
Neither the Path Radiance reflected in his pupils nor his natural noble demeanor showed any trace of beastiality or barbarity. Bathed in the shining golden lamplight of the Victorious Palace, he looked radiant like a terrestrial deity in his white tailcoat.
This was the “First Generation Red Phase” Pomanach.
The positions of Red Phase and Black Phase were always passed down. Each successive Red Phase was a child of Pomanach, and each Black Phase was the Vice Principal of the Spirit Tower.
However, unlike the Black Phase, which truly possessed corresponding functions and authority… the Red Phase actually had no autonomous power. When people referred to “Red Phase,” they usually meant the “First Generation Red Phase” behind him.
The First Generation Black Phase never involved himself in political affairs, holding only a nominal title. However, the First Generation Red Phase demanded that all power and wealth be held in his hands… Each generation’s Red Phase was his puppet and extension, his most loyal and obedient child.
Because of this, almost no one knew what the “Principal” actually looked like… but everyone in the Star Antinomy court recognized this First Generation Red Phase. The guards of the Victorious Palace were naturally no exception.
Facing this true power-holder, the strongest Extraordinary of Star Antinomy, no guard dared to intercept or inquire about his whereabouts—it would be useless anyway.
As if the royal palace had been built for Pomanach, his passage encountered no obstacles. He walked leisurely into the study of Alfonso Valentine. With a slight wave of his hand, the tightly shut door flashed with red light and opened with a roar.
Red Phase Pomanach entered with a smile, seeing the old man sitting at his desk reading a letter. Besides him, the study was empty. No attendants, no guards, no servants, not even Valentine VII’s most trusted jester was in sight.
“Long time no see, little Alfonso,” the golden-haired youth, who looked no more than thirty, said leisurely. “It’s been over twenty years since we last met, hasn’t it?”
“…Yes, Pomanach,” the white-haired old man slowly raised his head and said. “Ever since… the Hrasal Secret Treasury was opened last time, you haven’t come back to the Victorious Palace.”
“Yeah, it makes me angry every time I come. It’s better not to come,” Pomanach said casually. “Besides, I’ve been unhappy with this Victorious Palace for a long time.”
As he spoke, he sat directly on the desk in front of the old man. Pomanach reached out and put his arm around the old man’s neck.
“I’m saying, Alfonso,” the First Generation Red Phase said nonchalantly, “I plan to remodel the Victorious Palace later—this golden palace is too vulgar. I plan to change it to red and black. What do you think?”
“Golden and red, perhaps,” Valentine VII said, not angered, but patiently. “Red and black as a color scheme… that’s the style of the Hrasal Empire.”
“Isn’t that good?” Pomanach countered. “I plan to rebuild the Hrasal Empire. What do you think?”
“The Hrasal Empire without even a single Heracles?” The old man chuckled softly. His laughter held no mockery or ridicule, only a sigh of the impermanence of worldly affairs.
“That’s why I need to open the Hrasal Secret Treasury,” Pomanach said, reaching out. “Give me the key.”
“The key is the king’s scepter, it’s by my bed in my bedroom. The key was cast by the Principal into the dragon bone inside the scepter back then.” The old man showed no reaction, instead proactively explaining, “However, the key alone is not enough, you still need a sacrifice to open the door…”
“Blood of Heracles—I know.” Before the old man could finish, Pomanach interrupted and nodded. He looked the old man up and down, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. “Not bad, little Alfonso. You still know to show me some respect… What reward do you want? I can let you live out your years in peace—you can also try to cultivate an adaptability for the Path of Love, and I will personally resurrect you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the white-haired old man coughed a few times, his pupils shimmering with a dim yellow light. “I’m tired anyway. There are simply too many problems for Star Antinomy to solve… problems that I alone cannot solve, nor can our generation solve. Rather than patching things up, it’s better to just break it and rebuild it. —Since you plan to take over this mess, I can finally have some leisure.”
That dejected, low tone, as if emphasizing “I don’t care,” was a sign of excessive Twilightization.
“That won’t do,” Pomanach’s tone was incomparably firm. “The reward I bestow upon you is not something you can refuse. Don’t make me angry, Alfonso. We can end this more gracefully.” For this Red Phase, rejecting his grace was also a “lack of respect”—rejecting his reward meant the other party placed him and himself on the same level. If this person weren’t Alfonso, who had some semblance of familiarity and feelings, he would have died the moment he dared to refuse.
The old man’s dim yellow pupils trembled slightly, as if recalling something. His face, rigid and ashen like a statue, seemed to gain a spark of life for a moment.
“Then… let my children live.” he said in a low voice.
“Oh, they will,” Pomanach said heartily upon hearing this. “I intended to let them live anyway. But since you’re begging me like this—I plan to bestow upon them the gift of eternal life! How about it, happy? Hahahaha…” He laughed heartily alone, but his expression suddenly turned gloomy. “Why aren’t you laughing?”
“—Mr. Pomanach.” Alfonso Valentine suddenly spoke.
And in an instant, Pomanach quieted down. Because this was the respectful title Alfonso had used when he first met Pomanach as a youth. It was also the title Valentin I, “Basil Valentine,” had used when he was still unfamiliar with him. They were too similar. Not only in appearance, but also in voice, even in personality and habits. Among all of Basil’s children… over the years, Alfonso was the most like him.
…But this similarity was limited to his youth. After Alfonso entered middle age, his appearance began to differ significantly from Basil’s at that time. And by the time he was old, he was completely different from an aged Basil.
“I am, after all, a Fifth Tier Extraordinary…” Alfonso began slowly. “Ever since I embarked on the Path of the ‘Stone Knight,’ I’ve never had the chance to display my power. If this is my end… I want to try.”
Hearing his words, the smile on the Red Phase’s face gradually subsided, becoming solemn and silent.
—Stone Knight. That was the most common advancement profession for Star Antinomy Alchemists. To obtain this advancement profession, one had to complete an alchemical ritual called the “Chemical Wedding” at the Third or Fourth Tier. It was an extremely dangerous refinement—alchemists had to kill themselves in the ritual, allow their souls to undergo an arbitrary transformation, and return to a more perfect body remade from their own corpses. Afterward, if they completed the ascension ritual, they could advance to become a “Stone Knight.”
The Fourth Tier was a very critical energy level. From this level onward, the power of the Path carried by the human body had already become quite strong… and only such a body could bear the balanced power extracted from the concept of “Star Antinomy Alchemy.” Each rebirth, the physical body would become more aged and decayed, while the soul would become stronger. If one could complete seven rebirths, the soul would be refined into a Brilliant Soul—what alchemists pursued as “Star Antinomy.” This would allow alchemists to obtain souls as great as gods. With such power, they could reach the Sixth Tier and complete one of the three great miracles.
“How many rebirths have you completed?” the Red Phase asked seriously.
“Four,” Alfonso replied.
“Far from Basil,” Pomanach sighed. “He completed six—just one step away, and he could have achieved eternal life.”
“A Star Antinomy Soul… can achieve eternal life?”
“Yes. My wish back then was to have a friend who wasn’t on the Path of Love but could accompany me forever. For that reason… I supported his cause.” Pomanach gazed at Valentine VII, the nostalgia in his eyes gradually cooling. He turned around, his back to Valentine VII, and looked at the portrait hanging in the study—it was a portrait of Valentin I.
“I’ll give you one chance,” Pomanach replied. “For the sake of you calling me ‘Mister’ back then.”
Valentine VII gazed at Pomanach, his pupils gradually emitting a faint yellow glow. He sat motionless, but his soul instantly left his body. The soul, visible to the naked eye, continued to be drawn out from his seven orifices and condensed into a tangible form, turning into black smoke—forming a black wolf that roared and lunged at Pomanach!
But Pomanach showed no reaction. As the black smoke-shrouded wolf approached Pomanach, his body cracked, bled, and shriveled—it wasn’t a wound from impact or tearing, but an instantaneous collapse and disintegration. All defensive Path Power was invalidated; it was damage directly acting upon matter itself.
After the wolf roared through Pomanach, his body instantly shattered! Besides Pomanach, the desk he was sitting on, and the soft wool carpet on the floor were also engulfed and pulverized by the ink-like power! Under the scouring of that power, Pomanach’s body eventually turned into ashes, completely scattered by the invisible airflow.
This was the first step of alchemy. To destroy the old nature of all matter, transforming it into usable “primordial matter.” Afterward, there was a chance to undergo rebirth and transform it into a new substance—the first step of the resurrection ritual, “Death,” symbolized this stage. For mortals, this first step alone was enough to kill almost anyone!
After the wolf had torn apart all the matter it touched, it fell to the ground, turning into a pool of ink-black mud. But immediately, a milky white, viscous liquid was born from it—the next moment, a pure white dove flew out from the mud! This was “whitening” after “blackening,” decomposing and purifying the essence of matter. After whitening, alchemists could freely manipulate these separated substances. This also meant that the alchemist had complete control over this mass of matter, capable of shaping it into any form they desired…
—However, at this moment. From Valentine VII’s chest, a slender hand suddenly broke through! It grabbed the dove, and despite its frantic struggles, it was directly strangled to death. Amidst the fierce struggle, white feathers far exceeding its size fluttered throughout the room—it was the old king’s torn soul.
“Ugh, ugh…” The white-haired old king looked at all this in astonishment, but he could no longer utter a sound. Then, his chest cracked further, and his abdomen began to swell and bulge.
“—I said, you only have one chance. You can only go this far, you cannot cross. If you can’t kill me… don’t be too greedy. It’s your own fault for not being prepared—”
Then, a golden-haired boy, only about eleven or twelve years old, emerged from the old king’s distended abdomen! Apart from a more youthful appearance, this was Pomanach himself! His body was naked, covered in blood and transparent mucus. Upon landing, he stretched comfortably.
“Remember my words when you go to the Dream Realm, and remember to come back and find me. I’m quite curious about the experience after death. From now on, your bedroom will be mine, your wife will be mine, your country will be mine—the name Star Antinomy is no longer needed. After all these years, not a single person has achieved the Star Antinomy Soul… Do you even deserve to be called Star Antinomy?”
At this time, the old king’s chest and abdomen were completely torn open from top to bottom. He slumped back in his chair, his throat and abdomen split down the middle. He looked like a crayfish with its head removed and its shell and vein pulled out. The organs inside his chest and abdomen had melted away at some point, leaving it hollow. Like a chicken with its innards removed, there was only meat left besides the bones. It looked as if it could be fried at any moment.
Pomanach, who had effortlessly been reborn perfectly from a state of pulverized flesh and bone, showed no reaction—to him, this was just a daily occurrence. He was the Child of the Moon closest to the Sixth Tier in the entire world! Such a “death” was just an ordinary slumber to him.
At this moment, the gutted white-haired old man was still exhaling with a “huhuhu” sound, his trachea making a sound like a bellows. He was not completely dead—even his consciousness was clear. The old man stared at Pomanach with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish, as if trying to say something.
“What a hassle,” Pomanach, having returned to his youthful form, sighed. “I’ll give you a quick end.” He raised his left hand towards the old king. A red light flashed. The next moment, the old king’s entire blood qi was instantly drained—he became almost a human skin, completely devoid of life.
And Pomanach’s young and slender body grew in the wind; in just a few breaths, it returned to its original form. His youthful face quickly matured into handsomeness, and his slender limbs regained their strength. He did not cover his body, nor did he care about the bloodstains on Valentine VII. Or rather, there could not possibly be any bloodstains on him anymore—even a single drop of blood had been completely drained by Pomanach.
Valentine VII at this time looked like a clean, dim yellow blanket draped over a skeleton. He casually removed the old king’s shawl from his remains and draped it over himself. He was not wearing any other clothes, so the shawl was insufficient to cover his private parts. But Pomanach maintained this posture and directly pushed open the door. He clapped his hands, attracting the attention of others.
“Guards,” Pomanach leaned lazily against the doorway, revealing his perfectly sculpted, marble-like physique with its streamlined muscles. “Go and tidy up your former emperor’s bones. Bring them to the bedroom later and put them there. The study is missing a desk, remember to replace it. The carpet doesn’t need to be replaced; send someone to the Red Fortress to get my spare carpet.
—Also, someone bring me to Alfonso’s bedroom. And call Louise and Lucien over. I want to celebrate the rebirth of Star Antinomy with them.”
Pomanach intended to spend the night reveling with his lover and son in Alfonso’s bedroom, before the now-ragged Alfonso’s ancestral portraits—as a small punishment for his expensive, favored garment being rudely destroyed by the old man.
—I said, I allowed you to try to kill me. But I didn’t allow you to ruin my clothes.
A rebellion involving the supreme power shift of Star Antinomy began and ended as quietly as a whisper. No one could participate, and no one dared to stop it. It was as if everything was inevitable.
“…Excuse me.” Someone dared to ask, “Are you our new king from now on?” If Pomanach truly became the king of Star Antinomy… that might be a good thing!
“King? Haha… Valentin… the Eighth?” Pomanach was in a good mood now, so he was willing to explain with a smile. “No, I won’t be. I’m just a Chancellor who has gained an additional Prince’s title—whether from Louise’s perspective or Lucien’s… I can be considered a Prince. After all, they are both my lovers.
—As for your new king, I have already decided. It will be Lucien Valentine… though he doesn’t know it yet.”
(End of this chapter)
