The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 602: The King of Pride (9)

"The reason the Empire has endured for a thousand years, the reason the Empire has been mighty for a thousand years, the reason the Leopold family has ruled the Empire for a thousand years... is ! ! !!!"

The roar was deafening, like a beast’s bellow. Albert’s eyes were bloodshot, and his twisted, ferocious face no longer held even a trace of the crafty patience he’d worn for decades. It was as if a stiff shell had been smashed apart again and again, until what finally leaked out was a laughable kind of fragility.

But what shattered along with that shell seed to be the reason and humanity that had already been crumbling inside him. A dreadful aura began to rise from this flesh that had never possessed even the slightest cultivation. The King’s Sword was raised high, and indescribable darkness and a nauseating stench now stread from that blade that had once been the Empire’s supre treasured sword.

A silver-white figure swept past like a white dove. Seizing the instant while Albert was crazed, the slender rapier stabbed precisely into his heart.

Cold surged.

The divine might that froze all things turned that still-beating heart into ice in an instant, and at the sa ti, large swaths of flesh across Albert’s body froze solid as well.

And yet...

"You don’t understand... you don’t understand at all!"

Even with his heart already turned to ice, Albert seed not to notice. He kept howling in rage. "Everything Leopold has now—I gave it to them!"

A bloody wind howled. The King’s Sword trembled faintly.

Celicia’s thoughts flickered. She lifted her sword to block, but she still felt a terrifying force slam in—one that was nearly impossible to withstand.

She staggered back a step, wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, and didn’t even look at Albert again. Her gaze fell on the sword instead. "So it really is the King’s Sword."

There was a faint, mocking edge in Celicia’s eyes.

Dion, who had seized the eldest prince by replacing his brain and taking his body, was now being controlled by the King’s Sword again. Was this retribution... or just inevitable cause and effect repeating itself?

"From the First King onward, it was I who gave him the power to quell chaos and rebuild order. Over the next thousand years, whenever the imperial family faced crisis again and again, it was I who let your Leopold line survive to this day!"

On the King’s Sword, a massive blood-colored eye opened wide, glaring at Celicia with rage—yet the voice ca from Albert’s mouth.

"And you still dare betray ?! Abandon ?! Sever ?! How dare you!!"

"Because you went too far. Through the royal family, through imperial power, you kept eating away at the Empire’s foundation. You kept drinking the Empire’s blood."

In the midst of the countless floating specks of golden light, Celicia’s face remained expressionless. "So we resist. That’s all."

"Resist? Shut up! What right do you have to talk about resisting?!"

Darkness continued to pour out. Root-like tendrils writhed like tentacles, drilling deep into Albert’s flesh.

Just like the roots of that enormous golden tree that had once taken hold across the entire Empire.

"Have you ever thought... if you lose , what happens when the Empire’s thousand-year rule is broken? What happens when Leopold is swept into the dust of history?"

Albert’s mouth opened and closed as he spoke, but the one asking was the blade that had witnessed, upheld, and ruled the Empire for a thousand years—the King’s Sword.

"What happens if the rules the First King established are destroyed? What happens if the royal house is usurped in the future, if it’s ended by soone else, if chaos descends on this Empire again? Without , that will inevitably happen!! You have royal blood in you too—don’t you care about that?"

"The royal family’s position? Maybe I do," Celicia answered softly.

Then she turned, looking out toward the distant city—just like her father most liked to do.

"But if that day really cos... then I think... let it co."

In her line of sight there was the prosperous, dazzling upper city, and the cramped, crowded lower city.

There was the decadent indulgence of the noble and the wealthy, and the numb survival of the lowborn and the poor.

So stood high above, looking down on everyone.

Others stood at the very bottom, yearning upward.

This was all part of this city. All part of this country.

It was still brimming with life. Still strong. A thousand years of rises and falls ant it was still far from the mont of destruction.

But beneath that prosperous exterior, countless rotten roots had spread wild, and countless parasites clung to the Empire’s branches, taking huge bites, gulping down sweet sap.

A tree’s nourishnt couldn’t appear out of nowhere—so that sap... was other people’s blood.

"What did you say?" The King’s Sword seed not to have heard her clearly.

"I said: if one day the Empire truly rots so badly that countless ordinary people start to fear and hate the four characters ‘Leopold’... then let that so-called chaos and ending co."

Celicia turned back, facing the King’s Sword again, and answered without the slightest hesitation.

"Just like soil needs to be turned over now and then for a sapling to grow better—when Leopold becos the filth that blocks it from thriving, and gets turned back into the dirt... for most people, that’s the best outco. Isn’t it?"

"No... no..."

"This is what rules really are."

"No... no... shut up! Shut up! Do you think soone who says that deserves royal blood? Isn’t what you should be thinking about how to maintain the Empire’s rule?"

"It might sound like I don’t deserve royal blood. But as long as I can make the Empire better, the royal rule will naturally continue. And if my descendants do a poor job... then we’re back to what we just said."

Celicia’s frost-flower lashes lowered slightly. Her voice stayed calm. "Either way, a new Empire will be reborn on the ruins. What is there for to care about?"

"No... shut up. Shut up!!"

Dense veins throbbed across Albert’s head—though no one could tell whether they were veins or root tendrils burrowing into his brain.

"You... the royal family only needed to worship obediently! I would have made the Empire eternal, the royal house eternal—obviously... you only needed to hand over your ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) blood obediently, like those lowborn trash!! Traitor—royal traitor! You and your muddleheaded father are both..."

"Sorry. I don’t have a habit of letting myself be treated like livestock."

Cold light cut off Albert’s roar again. Celicia’s sword intent burst out with her strike, sharp and violent like a sudden downpour, instantly severing the hand Albert used to hold the sword.

But in a single breath, the tangled root tendrils yanked the severed arm back into place.

Celicia still didn’t give up. Her silver-white hair flew, and an even more terrifying extre cold descended.

The divine favor of the Goddess of Ice and Snow was unleashed to its fullest. White patterns extended through the air—every trace of moisture in the air froze completely.

Albert was no exception. Even the spreading darkness seed, at last, to congeal under that extre cold.

But—

Crack.

Just like before, Celicia’s attack failed to do much. The congealed frost shattered quickly, unable to last. The foul, terrifying darkness erupted again. Reflected in Albert’s pupils—madness and rage— the King’s Sword swung lightly.

In an instant, the earth trembled.

A formless power rose from the ground, shooting off to nowhere anyone could see.

Then ca a clear sound—the tearing of flesh.

The scene flipped, and the silver-white figure was already on the ground. Bright red blood stained her white dress. Her slender sword lay off to the side, snapped pitifully in half.

Everything ended so suddenly... and yet it felt inevitable.

"I don’t know where you found the courage to tell the Indra King to step down."

The blood-red eye on the King’s Sword curved slightly as it looked down at Celicia collapsed on the ground. Albert regained a asure of his forr poise and cold composure, laughing in a frigid voice.

"But did you forget? Even if the roots have been severed, a great tree doesn’t wither that fast. And besides, I am, at the very least, a holy artifact personally bestowed by a god. You’re only a fifth-tier warrior—what makes you think you can face alone?"

A cold wind in the night blew through broken low walls, wailing and winding like a lant.

But whose lant was it?

"Right... severing the roots, but the golden tree still exists."

Celicia slowly reached out a hand, as if she were going to do sothing ridiculous—like snapping that giant tree in half with her bare hand...

But if you looked from her perspective, you would see she wasn’t indulging in so impossible dream of breaking a tree from afar. In that mont, she was going to grasp sothing—take it into her hand.

"But if I can’t personally solve every problem right here, then everything before, everything now, everything in the future—doesn’t it all beco aningless?"

"That’s why I’m here."

...

...

"Br—Brother, hurry, pass the ball!"

"Heh. Catch it."

Sunlight poured down. Birds sang. Flowers were in bloom.

The flowers in the royal park always blood earlier than anywhere else in the city. The streets still held leftover snow, but here it was already a riot of colors.

It was a rare stretch of good weather—enough to lift anyone’s mood.

Ten-year-old Albert and eight-year-old Andrew ran across the lawn. Along with them, several chattering palace maids—trying to make sure the two princes had fun while also worrying they might fall—kicked a ball around with them.

Laughter rang out, and even the palace seed to be ward by a gentler kind of light.

At that ti, the princes were still young, and none of their physical or temperantal flaws had shown yet. The Emperor was in the pri of his life, and the entire Empire bent beneath his authority. Perhaps this was the most beautiful mont of all— a faint glow called family, rarely flickering within these palace walls.

And little Celicia, still with a bit of baby fat in her cheeks, sat on a stone stool where her feet couldn’t reach the ground. With both hands she held a white porcelain cup, tipped her small head back, and gulped it down in one go.

"Well?" Aldrich sat across from her, and after she finished, he smiled and asked, "Not bad, is it? The coffee your father brewed himself."

"Mm..." Celicia pondered briefly. "It looks like Father hasn’t brewed it personally in a long ti. I suggest—"

"Alright, alright, I get what you an. Don’t twist yourself into knots just to mock your father."

Aldrich cut her off, waving helplessly.

Sunlight spilled into the courtyard. Aldrich looked at Celicia, who still seed to be scrunching her face a little at the bitterness, then turned and looked at the two brothers on the lawn—lively, friendly with each other. The smile at the corner of his mouth deepened, as if for him, this was already the most beautiful scene in the world.

"Sorry," Aldrich said suddenly.

"What does Father an?" Celicia asked softly.

"You think I shouldn’t apologize?"

"No. It’s just that there are too many things you should apologize for, so I’m not sure which one you an."

"Pfft... hahaha." Aldrich burst into hearty laughter. The white doves kept in the courtyard were startled, cooing as they flew up into the blue sky.

"The one I’m apologizing for now can only be that one." Aldrich’s laughter faded as his expression grew serious. "I’m sorry—suddenly making you shoulder so much."

"..."

"What is it? Not saying anything—do you really think Father’s gone too far, so you’re angry with ?"

"No... I’m just surprised. I didn’t expect Father to apologize for sothing like that. After all, I’m your daughter. Royal blood runs in my body... so all of this is only natural, isn’t it?"

"...Yes. You’re my daughter." Aldrich looked toward the two brothers kicking the ball. His expression sank for a mont, then sothing seed to ease inside him and he gave a relieved smile. "I’m glad."

"Thank you."

"Right. Here—this is for you."

"This is...?" Celicia accepted what Aldrich handed her. It was an ornate treasure box, carved with the raised relief of the royal family’s emblem, so vivid it looked alive.

"An edict," Aldrich said. "My final edict—and as Emperor, my final order."

"..."

Celicia’s hand, which had been about to open the box, paused. But after two or three seconds, under Aldrich’s gaze, she opened it.

The box was heavy, yet inside there was really only a single rolled parchnt. It was bound with a golden cord—precious beyond asure.

In truth, that sheet of paper was heavy in a different sense. Everyone knew what a king’s final order ant. It could fill the gap in Celicia’s legal foundation and allow her, smoothly and legitimately, to beco the Empire’s new Emperor.

This was what Albert had chased for so long and never found—so he’d been forced to seek another path.

Now it was right in front of Celicia.

Yet as Celicia stroked the parchnt and stared at it for a mont, she shook her head and closed the box again.

"Thank you, Father. But I don’t need this anymore."

"Why?"

"Because I’ve figured it out. For an Emperor, law and legitimacy are important—but they aren’t the most important thing."

"Oh?" Aldrich smiled. "Then in Celicia’s opinion, what is the most important thing for an Emperor?"

Celicia didn’t answer.

She only looked at Aldrich and asked seriously, "Father... have you ever eaten black bread?"

"..."

Aldrich froze for a beat, then—he laughed again. And this laughter sounded ten tis more unrestrained than before.

"It seems there’s nothing left I can teach you."

"You barely taught anything in the first place."

"Yes..." Aldrich gathered himself. Sadness finally surfaced as he said in a low voice, "I wasn’t a good Emperor. And I wasn’t a good father."

"Then from now on, you’ll be all alone."

"All alone...?" Celicia repeated the words, tasting them. Then she tilted her head and said, "Actually... not really."

In her mind, a handso face surfaced.

That man was always unreliable, flirtatious, and sharp-tongued... but no matter what, she knew he would stay with her until the end.

"Still, even just to make sure that guy behaves and stays by my side—and to completely deal with certain thieving alley cats—I have to pick up the pace and keep moving forward."

Celicia stood.

"Then I can’t drift off too long. Goodbye, Father."

"Mm. Goodbye, Celicia."

Aldrich raised his hand in farewell, then suddenly seed to rember sothing. Smiling, he said, "Oh, no. That’s not right. Now I should say... goodbye, Your Majesty."

...

...

Celicia’s hand closed into an empty grasp.

In her pale, slender palm, it looked as if she held nothing at all—yet in that instant, the wind howled, and endless golden motes gathered, building a sword within her hand.

The King’s Sword.

But this was not the King’s Sword that proclaid imperial power as sothing lofty and untouchable.

It was... because Celicia held it in her hand, that it was called the King’s Sword.

The true King’s Sword.

"I don’t care whether, a thousand years from now, the Empire still bears the na Leopold."

"I don’t care about those so-called eternal, unchanging noble ranks you keep talking about."

"I only care that right now, in this mont... they—so many people—chose !"

Celicia rose and pointed. The radiance hanging down from the golden giant tree leapt with her motion, dancing and condensing rapidly... like countless people raising their voices at the sa ti.

Raising their voices... Long live the Empress!

"Therefore."

Celicia’s breathtaking face was cold and severe as she looked down on Albert—whose expression had turned ugly, even frightened. Her commanding voice echoed, each word spoken like a decree.

"In this mont... I am the Emperor!"

"I am— the Empire!!"

And so—

Heaven and earth roared, and a dazzling crown descended from the sky!