The Queen’s Sacrifice

Delores’s eyes were wide with shock.

She had considered many possibilities, yet deep in her subconscious, nobles, royalty, and a small girl from the stables remained fundamentally different.

How could someone who stood atop the clouds, effortlessly commanding the world, act with such tenderness toward an ordinary young girl?

She closed her eyes.

She recalled the tale of a holy knight during a famine-stricken war.

While others slew their mounts for sustenance, he carved flesh from his own body to feed his companion steed.

Though all deemed him foolish, he had declared:

“Before death, all beings are equal; thus, in life, it should be so.”

All beings are equal.

She had never truly subscribed to that belief, yet now, in the Queen before her, she glimpsed a similar dawn.

So it was—though their philosophies might not perfectly align, the Queen was, after all, someone she could pledge her loyalty to.

The old butler, Azer, observed the unfolding scene.

Loyal to the late king, he often lamented the decline of the royal lineage, having intended to spend his life guarding the monarch’s tomb.

He had never anticipated such a person appearing before him.

She was merely an unforeseen circumstance.

Yet she embraced the bloodline most cherished by the late king, much like a mother.

Azer sighed.

The late king had possessed truly keen judgment, but he had missed out on such a queen, never even having the chance to meet her in his lifetime.

Azer felt a pang of regret on his behalf.

Luca watched everything unfold with a cold gaze.

Ophelia, the Queen—he had truly underestimated her.

She must have, like him, instantly recognized the little girl as a born ruler, which was why she offered such an embrace.

‘I refuse to believe you chose that embrace out of love or kindness! How could such a person exist in this world?’

Yet, she was a born ruler.

Luca was confident.

Yesterday, even with his feigned gentleness, Vina hadn’t left with him.

Today, Ophelia clearly stood no chance of success.

‘To sway a ruler with false benevolence? Do you think that’s possible?’

He sneered, anticipating a good show.

He wondered if Ophelia, with that expression, would become enraged if she were rejected.

‘Hmm…’

‘Wait…’

‘Why isn’t Vina refusing?’

‘Why is Vina staring blankly at Ophelia? What does it mean that she’s taken Ophelia’s hand?’

‘Did she… agree?’

Luca’s expression hardened abruptly.

‘She didn’t agree to me, but she agreed to Ophelia? Why?’

‘This is bad, very bad.

If Ophelia gains control of Vina, Eli will never have a chance to rise again.’

Eli was his investment.

There was no turning back now.

‘If she cannot be used by me, then I must kill her—’

Luca discarded the snacks and hot water he held, caring little; they were merely trifles meant to appease a child, and their loss now was inconsequential.

Vina could not be allowed to grow.

His black cloak transformed into a rather bulky clown suit, designed to obscure his figure and prevent recognition.

A clown mask, smeared with thick greasepaint, now adorned his face, appearing to weep and laugh simultaneously.

He drew his sword.

He was no mere villain meant to provide experience points for a protagonist.

At this moment, facing only an old man, a group of women, and nobles, none possessed combat prowess exceeding his own.

He would unleash every ounce of his strength in this instant, aiming for a single, decisive strike—

The sword flashed.

Ophelia was still holding Vina.

Her heart swelled with pure sympathy.

A ‘Nurturing Value’ had appeared beside Vina, but it displayed as ‘Unmeasurable,’ and the system was loudly proclaiming a bug.

Ophelia, however, found herself utterly unconcerned.

‘Poor thing.

I must make sure she feels warmth from now on!’

Suddenly.

A chill ran down her spine.

As if sensing something, she turned, her eyes widening to behold a grotesque and terrifying clown.

He struck with a single, swift sword stroke, imbued with an almost cosmic fury, executed without the slightest hesitation.

It was a technique capable of shattering an army, yet it was now employed for a mere assassination.

Its target was directly Vina.

Time itself seemed to stretch into an eternity within that single instant.

No other thought could form in Ophelia’s mind; instinctively, viscerally, she threw her own body in front of Vina.

The sword pierced her flesh.

Like a tempest ravaging a delicate bloom.

From beneath the grotesque clown mask came a sound of ‘Tsk.’

‘So cold…’

‘My vision is blurring…’

‘The old butler seems to be roaring…? He’s drawn his sword… Ah, so that’s it… The old butler is actually a formidable figure… A hidden NPC, so to speak? Haha.’

‘Stop thinking.

That’s the male protagonist.

This clown mask and a sword technique meant for military campaigns, now used for assassination—it’s undeniably Luca, the male protagonist from the book.’

‘But why?’

‘Why would the male protagonist try to kill the female protagonist?’

‘Never mind… it no longer concerns me… I’m going to die… Ophelia was always meant to die… This is the convergence of the timeline, isn’t it?’

‘It’s fine.’

‘At least my life saved a female protagonist, a female protagonist who will become queen in the future.

In that case, my life as a shut-in has found meaning… When I go back, I can even brag to my online friends—that I once, for a woman, strove with my life, to protect her.’

She reached out, her fingers brushing that dirty face, and in an instant, the vivid green in her pupils faded, becoming vacant.

“Forgive me, Vina.

These myriad mountains and rivers—I cannot accompany you to see them now—”

Approximately three seconds had elapsed.

Failing to strike a fatal blow, Luca turned to flee.

Seeing his assassination attempt had not succeeded, he prepared to make his swift escape.

Vina watched, stunned, as Ophelia’s body fell like a wilting flower.

It was like the blood-stained crown from her memories.

‘We just met, how could I let you die!’

‘I still want you to be my Queen!’

As Luca swiftly retreated, he suddenly found himself unable to move.

A golden sword light erupted from the ground, illuminating the entire twilight.

Today, two suns appeared in the sky.

Delores, Azer, Emily, and Marta, all profoundly worried for Ophelia’s safety, found their gazes irrevocably seized by the blinding sword light in that instant.

“The Sword of Kings…” Only Azer managed to utter the words, while the others, stunned speechless by the sheer aura, could only think to prostrate themselves.

Vina stepped forward.

She seemed to wield the twilight itself, or perhaps, with a single strike, to cleave it apart.

Luca, in that fleeting moment, had to expend several of his trump cards to avoid perishing beneath that sword light, and he scrambled away, rolling and crawling.

‘Damn it, I’ve completely severed ties with the Queen’s faction.’

‘No matter.

Originally, after finding Vina, the Queen’s faction would undoubtedly use it to pressure Eli’s faction.

For this matter, Hizeta can serve as a disposable pawn; that incompetent and cowardly woman is useless otherwise.’

‘The assassination was a good move.’

‘Assassinate, abandon Hizeta, and I can re-enter the stage, just as my plan for the Queen’s demise was initially—’

‘Vina didn’t die, but we can contend later.

I always get the last laugh, don’t I?’

Luca mused, his thoughts dismissive.

As for Ophelia’s death? He didn’t care; it was merely someone else’s misfortune.

After Vina unleashed her sword, tears welled in her eyes, yet she instantly suppressed them, for she had long grown accustomed to crying.

The Queen had not died this time.

From her own heart, she drew forth a sword sheath.

Spitting blood, her body instantly weakened, but it was inconsequential.

She then placed the sword sheath into Ophelia’s body.

Ophelia’s body immediately radiated a dazzling light, and her expression transformed into one of serene peace.

Vina stood up.

Everyone gazed blankly at the scene before them.

First, they looked at the Queen with relief, then, as one, their eyes turned to Vina with wary expressions.

Vina, though still covered in grime, began to issue commands with the bearing of a true monarch.

“The Queen is safe.

Take her back for recuperation.

Emily, assist me with administrative matters.

Delores, prepare yourself; reforms can proceed smoothly afterward, but first, we must confront Eli’s faction and secure regency power for the Queen—”

Delores was a formidable woman, capable of assessing a situation in an instant.

Thus, while everyone else remained stunned and bewildered, she wasted no words, dropping to one knee to perform the obeisance due to a monarch.

“As you command.

However, are you certain it is wise to bestow the sword sheath upon the Queen?

I have heard that a ruler who loses their sheath suffers a significant reduction in power and endures much pain.”

Vina’s gaze softened, just a fraction.

She turned, looking at Ophelia, who slept peacefully, a slight smile gracing her lips.

The Sword of Kings’ sheath bore the Twelve Glories, a divine blessing, granting its wielder twelve lives.

“It’s nothing,” Vina responded.

“For her, a thousand, a million times over.”