Heir Of The Supreme
Chapter 62: A Weakling’s Resolve (1)

Chapter 62: A Weakling’s Resolve (1)

Cecelia had a secret... One so deeply buried within the darkest recesses of her heart that she tried to pretend it didn’t exist.

It was a stain upon her very soul, invoking a sense of shame so strong that the mere thought of it would send waves of self-loathing crashing through her mind.

In fact, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that this was the root of her crippling self-doubt, the unrelenting whisper that told her she was a failure.

Even the King himself had taken drastic measures to ensure this secret never saw the light of day.

No records were kept, and not a single word of it was allowed to spread.

But what could warrant such secrecy from the sovereign of one of the mightiest nations in the land?

The answer was simple, it was a matter of national security, or, to be more precise, the future security of the Kingdom itself.

A ruler was meant to be both strong and wise. That was an unshakable truth, one as old as the monarchy itself.

After all, strength and intelligence were the twin pillars upon which a sovereign stood, of which even lacking one would lead to ruin.

A ruler with brute strength but no wisdom would become a tyrant, inevitably using their iron-fisted rule to choke their kingdom to death.

At the same time, one with wit but no power would be regarded as a feeble figurehead, struggling to command respect from their enemies and even their own people.

While intelligence could be cultivated through years of study, strength was a different matter entirely.

In order to get truly strong... One had to undergo the trials bestowed by the gods.

The divine crucibles were deadly beyond measure, allowing only those with unbreakable wills and undeniable skill to return alive.

Those who survived these ordeals were tempered like the finest steel, hardened into warriors befitting the weight of a throne.

No ruler who had ever held power had done so without enduring these Trials, no matter the nation.

It was a universally accepted unspoken law.

As the Clairmont Kingdom’s princess, Cecelia was naturally sent into one as well.

’Sent,’ as in past tense.

To the world, Cecelia was nothing more than an ordinary human who had yet to step foot into her first Trial.

But this couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, Cecelia had already undertaken a Trial and had even returned alive.

Despite attempting it at the age of twelve, six years earlier than most, it wasn’t because of her individual skill.

Instead, her father put her up to the task despite her being grossly unprepared.

Of course, while the King had made this cruel decision for a reason, Cecelia was nowhere near ready for such an ordeal.

However, she had survived.

But not through strength, nor through skill.

In fact, none of it was through her own making.

The reason Cecelia survived... Was because others had died for her in her place.

After all, Her father wouldn’t sent her into a Trial alone.

Since the scion of the Lionheart family had done his first Trial with a team of his own, Cecelia had gone in with another group of people.

Instead, the King entrusted his daughter’s safety to another group, which consisted entirely of members of Eclipse. The same shadowy organization that Nuria Ashcroft, better known by her alias Lyn, headed.

With nine highly-trained assassins watching over her, Cecelia somehow managed to stumble her way through the Trial in one piece.

Not because she had fought. No, in fact, she didn’t even lift a finger.

Not because she had proven herself. No, in fact, she hadn’t done anything of note.

Instead, she practically got a free ride while her companions fought and died to protect her.

She had been a dead weight, a burden.

One by one, those tasked to protect her fell... Bodies broken, lives extinguished.

The Eclipse assassins didn’t die because they were weak but because their duty demanded that they protect someone who was.

By the time the Trial had ended, Cecelia was the only one that walked out alive.

As her group’s sole survivor, she had done so with the bitter taste of her unearned survival poisoning her very soul.

Even still, despite this, she had clung to hope.

Since her lack of ability could be chalked up to her relatively young age at the time, Cecelia believed that as long as she could become strong enough, she could eventually give meaning to their sacrifices.

Hoping that one day, she could become someone worthy of the price they had paid.

But then came arguably the cruellest twist of all.

Despite experiencing the baptism that followed the successful completion of every Trial, Cecelia had not formed a Mana Core.

The first such case in history.

Cecelia was sure that she felt something changed inside her during the baptism, but no core appeared.

Initially thinking it was a mistake, she tried to undergo the Trial again with another group of trainee assassins, but she was unable to join them.

This meant that she had effectively ’cleared’ the Trial already.

The only path left was to undergo her Second Trial, but if the first Trial was already a life-threatening challenge for regular people, trying to clear the second one was a death sentence.

Even 1-Stars only had a 1% chance of survival on average.

As for Cecelia?

There were better ways to throw away her life, like invading another country’s territory, for example.

Being the first person in history not to awaken a Mana Core, naturally, this ate away, ruining her self-image.

Latching onto the darkest corners of her heart, these thoughts festered over the years, morphing into horrible feelings like jealousy and envy.

Most of these were directed at a certain auburn-haired boy. Someone who seemed to possess all the talent she lacked.

And now that boy...

Had sacrificed himself to take a blow meant for her.

Seven jagged claws had impaled the auburn-haired youth’s shoulder, biting deep and shredding into his flesh.

Crimson seeped down in thick rivulets, soaking into the dirt, a dark pool forming beneath him.

As his vice-like grip slackened, the Rank-1 dagger fell from his grasp, landing with a hollow thud.

As the remaining force of the impact sent him hurtling backward, his body flew several meters through the air before crashing into the earth with a sickening crunch.

(BANG)

A cloud of dust erupted around him, momentarily obscuring the brutal aftermath of the strike.

The Unknown, its grotesque form quivering with morbid satisfaction, alternated its bulbous eyes between Cecelia and the fallen boy.

Even in its deteriorating state, it seemed perplexed by what had just transpired.

Why had the loach-like boy willingly taken the blow meant for the girl?

However, this turn of events ultimately worked out in the creature’s favour.

Satisfaction filled it’s rapidly dulling mind as it focused its nine eyes on the fallen boy.

The creature’s decaying mind pulsed with malicious anticipation.

After struggling so long against that tiny human, the Unknown was finally given an opportunity to vent its frustrations.

While it still planned on killing the girl... That would come later.

The boy, however...

Killing him was personal.

Dragging its failing body forward, the Unknown lurched toward him.

Despite being only several seconds since outrunning Cecelia, the creature’s speed had already slowed to a crawl.

It seemed that it had fallen so weak it couldn’t even enhance its body with mana anymore.

Even as the monster’s vision blurred at the edges, it didn’t halt its pursuit.

None of that mattered to Unknown; the only thing on its mind was making sure that the infuriating boy died first.

If it was going to fall, it’d at least make sure Blaine died before it did.

Cecelia stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat. Her entire body trembled, her fingers curled so tightly into fists that her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood.

She had survived again... But at what cost?

Why?... Why was she always so d*mn useless?! Always so helpless when it really mattered?!

Her vision swam.

Rage... Despair... Self-hatred... All of these emotions clawed away at her, threatening to consume her whole.

Then... A glint of silver caught her eye.

A weapon, lying still upon the blood-soaked ground.

It was the dagger Blaine had dropped moments ago...

Cecelia’s heart pounded like drums in her head.

She could feel the weight of helplessness press down on her, threatening to suffocate her... But for the first time in her life, she had a choice.

To run away.... Or to fight.