The Legend of the Sword in the Stone

Black remained silent in his heart.

Ever since the incident, Alice had been subtly—yet unmistakably—ignoring him.

What happened in the safe room had undeniably cast a shadow between them.

And that’s for the best.

Black wasn’t a greedy man.

He still had far more important things to accomplish.

If Alice kept her distance from him,so be it—it might even be a blessing in disguise.

Whatever the cost, as long as she was safe, that was enough.

Even if she never spoke to him again…he could accept that.

That was his resolve.

The Draconic Parliament’s assassination had failed.

Therefore, Alice’s death outcome must have changed.

To confirm it, Black activated the All-Knowing Glasses once more.

【Name: Alice】
【Identity: Second Princess of the Dragonheart Empire】
【Class Level: LV.45 Mid-Tier • Diamond Swordmaster】
【Favorite Foods: All desserts, especially strawberry cake】
【Hobbies: Sword practice, combat, painting】
【Key Trait: Never insult the Empire in her presence】

Beneath this, the “Predicted Outcome” field—was now empty.

The death sentence had been erased.

A long-held breath finally escaped him.

He watched her retreating figure—walking beside Pascal—then turned his gaze toward the vast, endless sea.

The battle had ceased. The sea dragons had retreated.

Sunlight pierced through the clouds,glinting off the bloodstains and wreckage littering the deck.

Only one day remained until they reached the Caribbean Sea.

Though this skirmish had ended,the true trial for the fleet would come tomorrow.

Black’s expression remained cold.

Even though what happened in the safe room had shattered his original plan,one thing would never change:

Tomorrow, he would use the Golden Fishing Rod to summon Jörmungandr, the Sea Dragon King.

The ending was inevitable.

The ending was inevitable.

Late that night, the sea lay still—no wind,the air noticeably colder than before.

The moon, usually bright, was hidden behind thick clouds.

Black stood by his cabin window,his eyes fixed on a distant part of the Hodyr—the command chamber, still blazing with lamplight.

Inside would be Empress Elizabeth, Pascal, and other high-ranking figures.

What could possibly require discussion this late?

Logically, the morning’s assassination attempt—an audacious strike on the Second Princess—should have triggered emergency meetings and internal purges.

And indeed, rumors claimed Elizabeth was furious,ordering a full investigation.

But as Black had anticipated,no infiltrators had been uncovered.

Moreover, the Dragon Tide had struck again—twice in a single day.

Though neither wave was massive,the relentless assaults had exhausted the fleet.

The Dragon-Slaying Guards had no time to investigate.

Even if they did, in this chaotic state,evidence was impossible to gather—bodies devoured by dragons, others lost to the deep sea.

Besides… Black suspected Elizabeth hadn’t taken the assassins seriously at all.

To her, they were mere gnats—irritating, but ultimately insignificant.

The real threat was Jörmungandr.

Fail to handle that, and the entire fleet would be annihilated.

Black believed Elizabeth cared for Alice—but as Empress, in matters of state,as long as her daughter was unharmed,she wouldn’t waste precious resources on vengeance.

So the command chamber was likely discussing Jörmungandr.

Inside the Hodyr’s command chamber—the walls gleamed with cold gray luminescence.

Crystal lights refracted light into shimmering fragments,dancing across the robes of those seated within.

Every face here was familiar to Black:

Empress Elizabeth, Lucy, Alice, Pascal, Duke Lambert,Kristine, Cyril…

All eyes were fixed on the Sword in the Stone before Elizabeth.

It was a bronze blade embedded in rock—broad, ancient, weathered with age.

Its crossguard was simple,its hilt wrapped in decayed linen,and at its pommel sat a dull obsidian stone.

At first glance, it looked like a blacksmith’s forgotten scrap.

But its presence here proved it was anything but ordinary.

“The legend of this Sword in the Stone,” Pascal said meaningfully,“should best be told by the Church’s Holy Maiden.”

He turned to Kristine.

She glanced at the Empress, who gave a faint, approving nod.

With permission granted, Kristine opened an ancient tome,and began to recount the sword’s tale:

“In the age of the Twelve Sages,when the Twelve Dragon Kings were sealed away—that was many epochs ago.

Back then, dragon roars shook the heavens.

Their claws razed human cities; their breath froze entire lakes.

The Twelve Sages, born of divine mandate,subdued the Dragon Kings and buried them across the world—allowing humanity to rebuild from the ashes.

But the Sages’ power would not last forever.

A thousand years ago, when the last Sage’s tomb was swallowed by sand,the elite dragons—lieutenants of the Dragon Kings—formed the Break-Seal Legion.

With a million dragons at their backs,they launched the Second Dragon Calamity,seeking to shatter the seals and free their masters.

Though they lacked the kings’ divine might,they inherited the dragons’ ferocity and strength.

Their breath spewed lava for three days straight.

Their scales deflected cannonfire.

Even the weakest elite dragon could summon hurricanes to capsize warships.

The eastern plains burned into ash.

Coastal villages were dragged into the deep.

Humanity’s population halved in months.

Though the Calamity was eventually quelled by the union of mankind’s greatest heroes,the survivors were left broken—wandering, starving, haunted.

Victory brought no joy—only dread.

For they knew: dragons could never be fully eradicated.

As long as the Dragon Kings lived—even in slumber—their kin would endlessly regenerate.

Amid this apocalypse, there was a s*ave named Kaelen.

Once the Church of Creation’s most devout follower,he prayed at dawn each day before the sacred icon—never complaining, even in hunger and hardship.

But when dragons destroyed his village,he watched helplessly as his wife shielded their daughter—both torn apart by talons,their blood staining the very stones where he once knelt in prayer.

In the ruined chapel, bodies of believers lay scattered—while the holy icon remained untouched,as if the gods themselves watched in cold silence.

That day, the faithful s*ave lost his faith.”

Kristine’s fingers brushed an illustration in the tome.

It showed a ragged man kneeling in ruins,two shrouded corpses before him,black dragons circling in a storm-filled sky.