Chapter 173

The emperor swept the table with his arm.

*Crash!*

Empty water bottles and glass tumblers fell to the floor, shattering into pieces.

“Bring me wine! What are you all doing? I said bring me wine this instant!”

After smashing the bottles and wrecking the furniture, he finally heard a presence outside. It was a priest from Panton Monastery.

“My apologies, but there is no alcohol in the monastery.”

“What? No alcohol? Does that make any sense? If you don’t have any, then make some! Now!”

“I’m sorry. Drinking and smoking are forbidden within the monastery.”

“From now on, I am the law! Bring me wine at once!”

“I am sorry.”

“Enough with your ‘sorry, sorry’! So, you too dare to look down on me. Where is the abbot? I shall punish him myself!”

The priest suppressed a sigh.

The once-quiet monastery was now plagued by endless incidents. A few days ago, a half-mad Igrid had caused a disturbance, and now the disgraced emperor was throwing a tantrum.

Igrid was better, in comparison. He had only acted out on the day he arrived; afterward, he became quite docile.

He now spent most of his days in a drugged stupor. The medicine dulled his mind, leaving him disoriented even when he was awake.

The problem was the emperor.

They had used a precious healing potion to save him from the brink of death, and what followed was a spectacle.

As soon as he regained his strength, he beat an apprentice priest half to death, and now he was demanding wine in a monastery? The priest secretly twisted his lips into a sneer.

*’They said he was stoned. Did it damage his brain?’*

Panton Monastery, despite its name, had nothing to do with any god. It was a prison for royals who had fallen from power—nothing more, nothing less.

Thus, its members were not men of faith. Most were criminals who had committed serious offenses or incurred massive debts, choosing the monastery simply to survive.

The priest assigned to attend the emperor was burdened with an enormous debt. He had fled to the monastery about eight years ago after receiving death threats from his creditors.

Life was satisfactory, as long as one forgot the fact that those who entered the monastery could only leave in death.

Whenever monastery life felt suffocating, the thought of his devilish creditors would extinguish any longing for freedom.

For the past eight years, he had believed choosing the monastery was the right decision. For the first time, he regretted it.

Why did it have to be the emperor? If he had known, he would have taken charge of Igrid. A madman would have been easier to handle than a murderer. He felt like he’d tried to take the easy way out and fallen into a trap.

*’Why did the abbot even order us to heal him…’*

As it wasn’t a true monastery, potions were rare in Panton. They were not something to be wasted on saving a mere murderer.

*Crack!*

A sudden cracking sound echoed. The priest, lost in thought with his head bowed, touched his cheek. A searing pain shot through it.

It seemed a fragment from the tumbler the emperor had thrown had shattered and torn his cheek. The priest gritted his teeth.

“What are you doing just standing there like an idiot? Did you not hear my command?”

“…”

“This won’t do. Bring me the abbot! Right now!”

The abbot was probably already in bed. Who was he supposed to call? He still thinks he’s the emperor.

“Are your ears blocked? Go tell the abbot that I have summoned him!”

When the priest didn’t answer, the emperor shot to his feet. The chair tumbled backward from the force of his movement.

“Words are clearly lost on you. Even a beast would understand better than you! Out of my way! I will go myself!”

A sigh escaped him. He had no idea where the emperor thought he was going.

The emperor was staying in a villa situated in the very center of the monastery.

A spacious bedroom, an elegant drawing room, a clean bathroom. The windows could be opened freely, and the front door had no lock. It was clear they had taken great care, befitting a place where a royal would spend the rest of their life.

However, a closer look would reveal why it was called the royals’ prison.

One priest was assigned to each royal. Without their attendant, the royals were completely alone.

Furthermore, reaching the main monastery building required a two-day trek through a dark, dense forest.

Even upon reaching the main building, escape was impossible. The only link to the outside world was a teleportation circle, and the entire area was surrounded by cliffs, leaving no escape route.

One could, of course, try to use a teleportation scroll, but no one had ever succeeded. Upon entering the monastery, all magical items were confiscated.

*’I’ll have to speed up the taming process.’*

The priests of Panton Monastery had their own methods for taming the royals. The most convenient of these was starvation.

Those raised in luxury without want, like the emperor, could not endure hunger. Starving him for a day or two would surely make him far more compliant.

Of course, he didn’t expect him to become docile after just one or two attempts. The higher one’s station, the slower they were to accept their fall.

Moreover, with his attendant priest treating him so politely, he probably still believed he was a royal.

When only his meals failed to arrive properly, he would first assume it was a mistake. But as it happened repeatedly, he would naturally come to understand his place—that he was no different from a prisoner, just not treated as roughly.

He had originally planned to give him time to adjust and tame him slowly, but he’d have to start right away. The emperor was asking for it, unable to grasp his situation.

*’His wounds are fully healed, so starving for a few days won’t kill him. Let’s see how well he waits.’*

The priest suppressed a sneer and answered politely.

“Understood. It is late, but if you wish to meet the abbot, please wait a moment. I will go and fetch him.”

“You’d better hurry if you want to save that pathetic life of yours!”

The priest exited the villa, the emperor’s arrogant voice echoing behind him.

Naturally, he had no intention of fetching the abbot. He planned to go back to his room, get a good night’s sleep, and return in about two days.

The priest looked up at the dark night sky and yawned widely.

The moon was exceptionally bright.

* * *

After the priest left, the emperor, now alone, ground his teeth. Dante had not yet had his coronation, so he was still the emperor.

The thought of being ignored by such insignificant beings made his blood boil.

He was not someone to be treated this way. He would remember every last one of those who humiliated him and tear them limb from limb.

“Do they think I’ll rot away here for the rest of my life? Not a chance. I will get out of this place.”

Panton Monastery was known as the tomb of royalty. He had heard that in a thousand years, not a single person had ever managed to escape.

Trying to escape from such a well-guarded place and getting hurt would be a disaster.

The emperor planned to walk out proudly, in perfect health, for all to see.

No matter how isolated Panton Monastery was from the real world, it was still a place where people lived.

And the emperor knew how to skillfully exploit human greed.

Of course, the emperor currently had nothing. He had fled the palace in the dead of night, unable to pack anything. The few meager belongings he did bring had all been confiscated by the monastery.

They weren’t even real priests, the insolent bastards.

But that didn’t mean he was penniless. The emperor smiled slyly as he recalled the slush fund he had hidden away in a quiet province.

No human was immune to the allure of wealth. If he offered the abbot a cut, the man would surely be the first to cooperate. He just needed to bide his time quietly and slip away when the moment was right.

“First, I’ll sweet-talk the abbot and have that bastard’s head chopped off.”

The attendant priest’s attitude was polite, but his eyes were filled with scorn.

He had tried to hide it, but he couldn’t fool the eyes of the emperor, who had met countless people. The man was clearly looking down on him.

“How dare he…”

Royalty was royalty until death. He may have abdicated the throne, but his noble bloodline remained unchanged. He was not someone a mere commoner could mock.

As the emperor contemplated how to kill the man painfully, he suddenly turned his head.

*Thud— thud—*

An unidentifiable sound reached his ears.

He focused, waiting to hear it again, when a breeze blew from somewhere.

Despite the warm weather, goosebumps rose on his arms. Was it because of the nearby forest? The wind felt eerie.

The emperor rubbed his arms. All the while, the sound continued at a steady rhythm.

*Thud— thud—*

The more he heard it, the more it grated on his nerves. It sounded deliberate, which made it even more bothersome.

If he had an attendant, they would have taken care of it without even being told.

Having no one to serve him was incredibly inconvenient. When he met the abbot, he would have to request a few more attendants.

“Tsk.”

He remembered the priest opening the bedroom window earlier in the day to air out the room. The old window must be rattling in the wind, making that noise.

Annoyed, the emperor stood up and went to the second floor. As he entered the bedroom, just as he’d suspected, the window was wide open, creaking as it swayed.

“What a sight.”

He latched the window shut and took out a handkerchief to wipe his hands meticulously.

They called this the best villa in the monastery, yet he couldn’t find a single thing he liked about it. It was poorly cleaned, and the furniture was too old. He thought he could even smell a musty odor from the carpet.

“And they expect me to sleep in a place like this?”

How absurd.

He wanted to flip everything over in a fit of rage, but he restrained himself, not wanting to get his hands dirty. The emperor hated filth more than anything.

“The furniture will have to be replaced, too.”

He was just adding another demand to his list for the abbot when he turned around.

*Thrust!*

A strange sound accompanied his body’s sudden halt. He could no longer move.

Then, his limbs grew rigid. He couldn’t perform the simple, natural act of putting weight on his legs to walk.

“…Huh?”

What just happened?

The emperor, standing dumbfounded and blinking, looked down. Something was wrong with his chest.

“W-what… is this…”

A black stick was lodged in his chest.

His white shirt was instantly stained red. The strong, metallic scent of blood stung his nostrils.

Staring in disbelief, the emperor gasped for air. He couldn’t breathe.

“Hkk! Hkk!”

Only a wheezing sound escaped his throat. No matter how hard he tried, no air entered his body. He could feel his organs shriveling.

Gripped by the fear of death, the emperor grabbed the stick with both hands.

He tried to pull it out, but why wouldn’t it budge? He felt nothing but excruciating pain as the stick remained embedded in his chest.

Cold sweat poured down his face, and his consciousness began to fade.

He couldn’t die like this. If he could just hold on a little longer, the abbot would come. If he could just stay conscious until then…

“Nngh!”

As he struggled to keep his eyes open, a strange shape came into view. The emperor slowly turned his gaze.

A dark figure stood nearby. His vision was tunneling from the blood loss, and he couldn’t make out the face.

*’W-who’s there? Help me!’*

He pleaded with his eyes, his voice failing him.

The dark figure drew closer. A gust of wind blew.

The sudden proximity brought the other person’s face into sharp focus. The emperor’s dark brown pupils dilated.

*’…Axion?’*

What was he seeing? That bastard was supposed to be dead. Yes, this must be a nightmare. A cripple who couldn’t even lift a sword couldn’t possibly have attacked him.

The emperor looked down again. The stick piercing his chest looked familiar.

A glossy black shaft and a head embedded with a fist-sized emerald. Duke Ruthius’s rod had looked exactly like this.

*’This… isn’t a nightmare?’*

His mind turned to mush. The pain, which had briefly faded, now surged through his veins, spreading throughout his body.

Being burned alive would be less painful than this.

Tears of agony streamed from the emperor’s eyes. Lightning seemed to flash before him. His entire body convulsed uncontrollably.

Countless questions and doubts swirled chaotically in his mind, yet he couldn’t voice a single one. The unanswered questions were more agonizing than the death looming before him.

*Gurgle.* Blood mixed with foam trickled from the corner of his open mouth. At the same time, his rigid body fell backward.

*Thud!*

Duke Ruthius quietly approached and gazed down at the emperor’s face. Seeing the wide, vacant eyes, like those of a taxidermied animal, he curled his lips into a smile.

This was Duke Ruthius, who had never once shown emotion in front of the emperor. He paid no mind to anything. He was a cold-blooded, arrogant man, rumored to have no heart.

But the Duke Ruthius of this moment was different. His unmasked face shone like the sun. It was impossible to look away from his beautiful smile.

The emperor died with his eyes open.