The Kingmaker System -
Chapter 263 - 262. Unshackled (3)
Chapter 263: 262. Unshackled (3)
"Don’t see... I’m ugly..." The child’s voice was muffled as he buried his face in his arms, trying to hide the reality of his transformation from me. His words were soaked in shame, and it tore at me to see him like this.
I shook my head, my voice soft but firm, the weight of my words carrying a sense of unshakable truth. "No, you’re not. You’re still the same child to me, you’re not ugly." My eyes softened as I gazed at him, watching the silent battle within him as he fought to accept what I was saying.
"But I... They all call me a monster when they look at me..." His voice broke on the words, a mixture of pain and confusion lacing his trembling tone. "They all hate me..."
My heart clenched at the thought of the cruelty he had faced. Without hesitation, I reached out and gently cupped his cheek, my touch soothing but insistent, forcing him to meet my gaze. "I like you," I said firmly, a quiet strength behind the words that would not falter, no matter how much doubt clouded his mind. "I like every bit of you, child. You’re not a monster."
He blinked, his eyes filled with confusion as he looked at me, searching for any hint of deception. "But... I’m not like them," he whispered, his voice wavering.
I nodded slowly, my eyes filled with understanding. "I know. I’m not like them either." I paused, letting the words settle before continuing, "You know what I am, don’t you? You’ve felt it, haven’t you?"
His gaze flickered, uncertainty still gripping him, but there was a faint spark of recognition in his eyes. Slowly, I let the truth flow between us, speaking the words that I had carried for so long, words that connected us in a way no one else would understand. "I am a Dragon, child," I said softly, yet with a certainty that would leave no room for doubt. "I am the Scion of the Supreme Aqua Dragon. And just like your parent Dragon, I carry the same essence as you do. That’s why you feel the power in you. You aren’t alone in this."
The child hesitated for a moment, his wide, terrified eyes still clouded with self-doubt, but I saw the change in him—the shift in his heart, even if it was minuscule. His breath caught, and he looked down at his scales, his trembling fingers brushing over the smooth surface. They glittered under the dim light, the soft, glass-like sheen almost ethereal.
"Your form... it’s not something to fear," I continued, my voice gentle yet firm, "It’s beautiful. Look at you—your scales, the way they shimmer. It’s the mark of your true nature, and there’s nothing disgusting about it."
His eyes darted back up to me, wide with disbelief, his lip trembling as if he could not fathom what I was saying. "Am-Am I really... not disgusting?" His voice cracked on the words, and it was like the weight of the world rested on those simple, innocent words.
"No!" I answered immediately, my tone unwavering. "You are perfect as you are, child. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. They don’t understand, but I do. You are not a monster."
The child’s breath hitched, and before I could stop him, he suddenly moved, throwing himself into my arms, his small body shaking with sobs that seemed to come from deep within his soul. His tears flowed freely, mingling with the quiet stillness of the room as his heart broke in my embrace.
I held him close, my hand stroking his back in a gentle rhythm, letting him cry until every tear, every ounce of pain, was poured out. The weight of his anguish was palpable, but the warmth of my embrace, the steady comfort of my words, began to seep through the cracks of his shattered spirit. "Cry, child," I whispered, "Cry it all out. You’re safe here with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you."
His sobs softened, and his grip around my neck tightened, clinging to me as though I were his anchor in a storm he could no longer weather alone.
And in that moment, I felt something shift within me. It wasn’t just sympathy, or even empathy—it was a connection that went deeper, one that linked our hearts together in the most profound way. I had once been like him, trapped in a form I couldn’t control, struggling with a power I didn’t fully understand. But here, now, with him, I realized that my purpose was to show him what I had learned the hard way: that being a Dragon wasn’t a curse—it was a gift. And so was he.
I continued to hold him, whispering softly as he let out the last of his cries, my heart swelling with a protective love that would never fade. "You’re not alone anymore. We are the same, child. And I will always be here for you."
After what felt like hours of quiet sobs, the child finally drifted into an uneasy slumber, his half-transformed body curled on the bed. The faint shimmer of his scaled arms reflected the dim light in the room, a haunting reminder of the suffering he had endured. I stood by his side for a moment longer, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, each breath a fragile whisper of calm amidst the chaos.
I turned away and let my gaze fall on the chessboard I had arranged earlier. The pieces stood in their positions, still and silent. My hand hovered over a pawn, fingertips brushing against the smooth wood. Something about the arrangement pulled at my thoughts—a reflection of questions that gnawed at the edges of my mind.
Who was the one who handed the Pope the recipe for that infernal potion?
What was the black entity, always lurking just at the edge of my awareness, waiting?
And who had erected the anti-mana barrier encasing the palace like a cage?
Each question was a thread, part of a tangled web I was only beginning to understand. At the heart of it all was the child—this so-called Saint. He was more than a victim; he was the crux of something far larger. But until I could find the answers—
"Reina? Reina? Are you there?" Silas’s voice crackled through the communication device, pulling me back to the present.
I picked it up, my movements deliberate. "Yes, I’m here," I responded, my voice carrying the weight of the questions still lingering in the air.
"I found the related documents regarding the curse of secrecy," Silas said without preamble. "It’s just as I predicted—the curse can only be undone by the one who cast it."
"Is there no other way?" I asked, though the answer was already clear in his tone.
"Apparently not," he replied, a faint note of frustration in his voice.
I released a slow breath, running a hand through my hair as my eyes flickered back to the sleeping child. His form, so fragile yet unyielding, was a cruel juxtaposition to the chaos that revolved around him.
"There’s more, Uncle," I said quietly, breaking the silence.
"What is it?"
"Is it possible to create a vitality potion using a Dragon’s blood?" I asked, my tone steady despite the implications.
There was a pause on Silas’s end before his voice came through, laced with incredulity. "What?! Are you even hearing yourself, Reina?"
"It’s not hypothetical," I said firmly. "I’ve seen it. The child—Saint, I mean—his blood has been drawn for that very purpose."
"His blood?" Silas repeated, his tone shifting into something more serious. "Wait—he’s a Dragon?"
"A Lesser Dragon," I corrected, my words calm but weighted.
Another silence followed, the kind that only occurred when Silas was deep in thought. When he spoke again, his voice was careful. "I’ll need to look into this. But how did they even find a Lesser Dragon? And why are they calling him a Saint?"
"It’s a long story," I said, my voice dropping into a quieter register. "But whatever’s happening here, it’s deeper than I expected. There are layers to this that I haven’t unraveled yet."
Silas sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. "So what are you going to do?"
"What I want to do," I said dryly, "is burn everything down and come back home. But that’s not an option, is it?"
"You do realize you have only a month left, right?" he reminded me.
"I do. But I can’t leave things unfinished. There are too many lives at stake."
Another sigh escaped him, this one quieter. "Then I suppose I should start looking into the potion now?"
"No," I said. "Focus on the curse. I’ll handle the rest from here."
"Will you be all right?" he asked, a rare softness slipping into his tone.
A wry smile tugged at my lips, though it didn’t reach my eyes. "Of course, Uncle. Don’t worry about me."
The line went silent, leaving the room in silence once more. I turned back toward the child, his small figure a stark contrast to the burden he carried. My eyes lingered on the chessboard for a moment longer before I let out a quiet sigh.
The game had already begun. Now, it was only a matter of time and everything would fall in the place where I wanted.
If you find any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc..), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.
Report