The Kingmaker System
Chapter 345 - 344. Edging Towards The Dawn (3)

Chapter 345: 344. Edging Towards The Dawn (3)

The chilly breeze made my cloak billow behind me like a ghoul as I perched on the high branch of the ancient tree, its bark rough against my fingertips. From my vantage point, I had a clear view of the clearing below, where two armies stood at a tense standstill, waiting for the first move to be made.

Above, the sky churned with dark clouds, their heavy masses veiling the sun and casting the battlefield in an ominous twilight. The air was thick with anticipation, cold and sharp, like the edge of a blade poised for a fatal strike. It felt as though a storm would break at any moment.

It wouldn’t.

I had made sure of that. Even the atmosphere had to be perfect for today’s spectacle.

This was the culmination of the war—its climax. Every piece had been carefully positioned, every player set upon the board, ready to move at my command.

Arian had arrived as promised, his knights standing tall and unyielding behind him, their armor glinting even in the dim light. Eric had done the same, his forces assembled in disciplined ranks, flanked by Rune, who, despite my explicit instructions, had refused to stay out of it.

I should have expected it. He was my brother, after all. Stubbornness ran in our blood.

Eric and Arian now stood at the forefront of their armies, their gazes locked in an unspoken challenge, their hands hovering over their weapons as they waited for the signal.

---

[Goddess of Wisdom wonders why you decided to choose this method.]

[Defender of Divine Glory suggests that you could have simply used another method to ensure Eric would gain his title through this war.]

[Giver of Gifts hopes that none of the candidates will suffer grave injuries.]

A small smirk tugged at my lips as I leaned against the tree trunk, watching the battlefield unfold.

"Don’t worry," I murmured. "I considered every option before settling on this. It guarantees the best possible outcome."

[Goddess of Wisdom admits that she finds your method reckless and foolish.]

"Just wait and see. It’ll be more fun this way." I chuckled, the anticipation thrumming beneath my skin like a song waiting to be played.

[Defender of Divine Glory wonders if this is why you sent your attendant out last night.]

I hummed in response. "Yes."

Last night, I had written a simple message and handed it to Lyall, entrusting him with its delivery. The recipient had been chosen with careful precision—the one person who would bring the most entertainment to today’s duel.

And right on cue, the first sounds of an approaching commotion reached my ears.

I straightened, my eyes gleaming with amusement as a new presence made itself known on the battlefield.

Eric and Arian, who had just begun to advance upon each other, halted mid-step, their heads snapping in the same direction. They weren’t the only ones. Every soldier, every knight, every noble present turned toward the source of the disturbance.

Through the parting lines of warriors, a figure clad in lavish regalia emerged, his golden-embroidered cape billowing behind him as he rode forward on a stallion.

Second Prince Carlos Marus Ferin Marisumus had arrived.

And he hadn’t come alone.

Behind him, a unit of the Royal Knights of Sestia marched in tight formation, their gleaming armor reflecting the dim light of the storm-heavy sky. The insignia of the royal family was emblazoned upon their breastplates, marking them as the elite of the kingdom’s forces.

Carlos wasted no time. He raised his arm and barked an order, his voice slicing through the air like a whip.

"Attack!"

Without hesitation, the royal knights surged forward, their boots thundering against the earth.

From my perch, I observed the reactions unfold like a carefully choreographed play.

Eric stiffened, his eyes narrowing into slits of simmering fury. Rune clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. And Arian—well, Arian simply looked annoyed, as if an insect had dared to interrupt his entertainment.

But what made me grin the most was the way, in perfect synchronization, all three of them turned their gazes upward—straight at me.

I merely smiled and lifted my hand, letting my mana seep into the air.

Water churned beneath the ground like a sleeping beast roused from slumber.

In an instant, a massive wall of water erupted from the earth, encircling the battlefield with a roaring crash. The translucent barrier curled like the fangs of a predator, trapping those within its embrace while keeping the unnecessary nuisances outside.

Carlos, in his impatience, had charged ahead without thought—and now, he was caught.

The royal knights behind him skidded to a halt, their path blocked, leaving only Carlos and his most trusted man, Captain Crowley Vancelot, sealed inside the watery ring.

"What—What the hell?!" Carlos yelped, yanking at the reins of his horse as the beast reared back in alarm. "What is that?!"

Even the seasoned Captain Vancelot, usually a man of unshakable composure, seemed momentarily taken aback as he studied the towering wall of liquid imprisoning them.

But his attention quickly shifted to the figures within the ring.

Eric. Rune. Arian. Their respective forces standing just beyond the rippling water.

A knowing glint flickered through the Captain’s gaze as he turned to Eric and Rune.

"Your Highness, Young Duke," he said, his voice even despite the circumstances. "Might I ask what exactly you are doing here?"

Eric did not answer immediately. His grip on his sword was tight—so tight that his knuckles had gone white. The air around him simmered with heat, his mana responding to his barely restrained fury.

Rune was no better. His glare was sharp enough to cut steel, his own mana creeping into the air like frost on a winter morning.

Carlos, ever the fool, took their silence as an opportunity to run his mouth.

"What else?!" he sneered, his voice brimming with indignation. "They’re conspiring against the kingdom! Traitors, every single one of them!"

He turned and thrust a finger at Eric.

"And it’s all his plan! This dirty-blooded concubine’s brat dares to dream of taking the throne?! Hah! He plots to sell out the kingdom because he knows he is unworthy of it!"

That was the final straw.

A pulse of raw, fiery mana burst from Eric, scorching the earth beneath his feet. The very air warped around him, heatwaves distorting his image. His sword trembled in his grasp, its blade glowing red-hot with the force of his fury.

Carlos, oblivious to the impending disaster, continued his tirade.

But Arian, utterly unfazed, merely scoffed.

"Who’s this blabbermouth?" he asked, his voice laced with disinterest.

Carlos turned an alarming shade of red. "Who—How dare you?!" he sputtered. "I am the Crown Prince! The future King of Sestia!"

Arian tilted his head and turned to Eric. "Is that true?" he mused. "Is Sestia truly this pathetic? To have an incompetent, loudmouthed fool as its future ruler?"

Rune, ever the tactful one, stepped forward before Arian could continue.

"Pardon me, Prince Arian," Rune said smoothly, his voice betraying nothing, "but the Crown Prince of Sestia has yet to be decided."

Carlos’ face twisted in fury, his features contorted with sheer indignation as he pointed a trembling finger at Rune.

"How dare you, Rune Aurelius?! Don’t you know who I am?! This is it! You all are dead!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the clearing. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, trembling with the force of his barely-contained rage.

From my perch in the tree, I observed him with quiet amusement, chin resting on my hand as I watched the unfolding drama like a spectator at a grand performance.

Carlos whirled toward his right-hand man, his rage boiling over. "Captain Vancelot, bring me the heads of these three wretches now!"

A deadly silence followed.

Eric took a single step forward, his mana flaring like wildfire. The blade in his grip pulsed with raw heat, glowing a deep, molten red. The very air around him warped, and the grass beneath his feet began to curl and blacken.

Rune stood unfazed beside him. His own sword gleamed as frost climbed up the steel, spreading like veins of ice. The ground beneath his boots hardened into a thin layer of permafrost, crackling under his weight.

Captain Vancelot hesitated. His gaze darted between the two men, then toward Arian, who looked wholly unbothered by the situation—if anything, bored.

Arian yawned exaggeratedly before fixing his gaze on Carlos, a slow, unimpressed smirk playing at his lips.

"You don’t seem like anyone worth remembering," he drawled, his tone almost lazy. But there was an edge to it, sharp enough to flay pride from bone.

Carlos’ face reddened further, his fury mounting.

"But," Arian continued, tilting his head, "since you’re here, there must be a reason."

His smirk widened as his gaze flickered to the tree where I sat. He was sharp—he already understood.

I let my mana presence ripple through the air in response, and his sword hummed in recognition, vibrating in his grip as though in anticipation. Arian chuckled, amused.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

"Prince Arian," I murmured, my voice laced with amusement, "would you be kind enough to beat that arrogant prick to a pulp?"

Though he couldn’t hear my exact words, he understood my intention perfectly.

"Seems like you’re here to get beaten up," Arian mused aloud, rolling his shoulders as if limbering up.

His casual dismissal made Carlos snap.

"You arrogant bastard!" he roared.

He turned back to his royal knights, eyes burning with rage. "Royal Knights! As the future King of Sestia, I command you to kill these mutinous bastards!"

Silence.

No one moved.

Carlos blinked, confused by their lack of response. He turned sharply, expecting to see his knights standing at attention—but instead, all he saw was the swirling, towering wall of water that I had conjured, keeping them firmly on the other side.

He paled.

Arian almost laughed. "You truly are dense," he said, shaking his head.

Carlos, clearly rattled, turned back and puffed up his chest, forcing bravado into his voice.

"I don’t know how you’re here, but I do understand why!" Arian smirked. "Fight me! Prove that you deserve to stand before me as an equal."

Arian’s easygoing smirk dropped, replaced by a sharp, almost dangerous expression.

"And if you can’t," he said, voice lowering to something cold and unyielding, "then get lost."

Carlos flinched. His pride demanded that he fight, but his body betrayed him with hesitation.

He quickly forced his confidence back, straightening his spine. "My Captain shall fight in my stead!" he announced.

Arian scoffed. "Too cowardly to fight your own battles?" His eyes flicked to me, amusement dancing within them.

Captain Vancelot, understanding the situation better than his prince, stepped forward. He was no fool—he knew that a battle with Arian would not end in Carlos’ favor.

"I shall fight," he declared.

Arian let out a long, suffering sigh. "I’m sure I didn’t agree to fight some insignificant paupers," he muttered, his words clearly meant for me.

Before Carlos could react, Eric spoke. His voice was low but carried undeniable weight.

"Captain Vancelot. Prince Carlos. Step back."

Carlos bristled at the dismissal. "You dare order me?!" he spat.

His anger boiled over, and finally, he snapped.

"Fine! I’ll fight you myself!" he shouted at Arian.

Arian’s smirk returned, but this time, there was an almost predatory gleam to it. He stood in an easy, relaxed stance, his posture loose, as if he were preparing to swat away an annoying insect.