Alice’s Disturbed Mind

“If someone has tampered with this sword,”

Duke Lambert continued, his voice smooth but edged with caution,

“it could pose a grave danger to Your Majesty.”

“Perhaps we should study it further—

and allow everyone to rest—before entering the Caribbean Sea.”

A shadow flickered in the duke’s eyes—no one could read his true intent.

“Duke Lambert,” Pascal cut in sharply,

“we enter the Caribbean Sea tomorrow.

Suggesting this now is far too late.”

“Or… is His Grace simply afraid?”

As a high-ranking Dragon-Slaying Guard, Pascal knew well:in grand-scale dragon hunts, delay bred disaster.

Dragons were cunning—the sooner they struck, the better.

Lucy nodded in agreement.

“Whether or not the Sword in the Stone can truly slay Jörmungandr,we must act.

At the very least, we must reseal it.”

Empress Elizabeth raised a hand, silencing the room.

“Pascal and Lucy speak wisely.

Allowing a Dragon King to roam free is an unthinkable risk to humanity.”

Hearing this, Duke Lambert wisely fell silent.

Elizabeth stepped forward and placed her fingers on the bronze blade.

A faint warmth flowed into her palm—reminding her of the day, three years ago,when she first saw this sword.

Others had strained with all their might—yet not a hair’s breadth had the blade moved.

But she?

She hadn’t even channeled a drop of spiritual energy.

She’d simply gripped it—and the sword came free as if it had been waiting for her.

Effortless. Uncanny.

Truthfully, she was torn about this blade and Kaelen’s memoir.

She doubted it—because the tale was too mythical,with no tangible proof.

And the sword itself?

It felt ordinary—no divine aura, no star-tier radiance.

In her hand, it was little more than a sturdy bronze blade.

Yet she believed—because she could feel it:a strange power within,neither spiritual energy nor magic,something beyond comprehension.

Pascal—Dragon-tier though he was—couldn’t even budge it.

If that wasn’t divine mystery, what was?

Perhaps… it truly could slay a Dragon King.

“Pascal,” she commanded, voice firm,

“immediately prepare all warships for defense.

Dragon-Slaying Guards—stand ready.”

“Lucy—ensure all supplies are stocked:ammunition, spell scrolls, potions—everything.”

“Duke Lambert…”

“Alice, Kristine, Cyril—calm the others.

Prevent panic at all costs.”

“All plans proceed as scheduled.

Tomorrow, we enter the Caribbean Sea.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Pascal and Lucy replied in unison.

The others nodded—no one dared object.

Only Alice remained silent, lost in thought.

Elizabeth noticed.

Her daughter stood with her head bowed, eyes distant,her usual sharp focus replaced by uncharacteristic distraction.

Could it be the assassination attempt?

“Alice,” the Empress asked gently—rarely soft—“are you unwell? Were you injured this morning?”

Alice jolted back to the present.

Her eyes flickered with panic—then quickly stilled.

She shook her head, forcing a faint smile.

“Mother, I’m fine.Just… didn’t sleep well last night. My mind wandered.”

Her voice was hoarse.

She avoided her mother’s gaze.

She couldn’t say it—that her distraction was because of a certain someone.

Elizabeth studied her daughter’s pale face.

She didn’t press further.

“Then go rest,” she said kindly.

“Mm.”

Alice nodded and left with the others.

Outside, a chill sea breeze hit her face,making her shiver.

Unbidden, she remembered a warm, broad chest—solid, protective.

Her eyes drifted instinctively toward a distant part of the ship.

Darkness swallowed most of the deck—but one small cabin glowed with faint lamplight.

Conspicuous in the night.

Is he… still awake?

She stared for a long while—then shook her head sharply and walked away.

Inside that very cabin, Black leaned against the window,his thoughts also on the Sword in the Stone.

In the original game, the legend was just a brief cutscene—but it had stuck with him.

The big question—Could this sword truly erase Jörmungandr forever?

Even the Church’s Pope couldn’t answer that.

But Black could.

Because he knew the truth:

It was real.

The legend was true.

The Sword in the Stone was a Law Weapon—a divine gift from the Creator.

Any Dragon King slain by it would never regenerate.

“Right now,” Black murmured, eyes fixed on the lit command chamber,

“the sword is in Elizabeth’s hands.”

In the original game, there were two endings.

In the good ending, Elizabeth fought Jörmungandr—weakened by the Abyssal Chasm’s power—and was defeated,but not before gravely wounding the beast.

Then the protagonist, Jianye, arrived.

She wielded a six-star weapon,a cache of system-granted OP items,and the overpowered skills of the Dragon Tamer class.

But even all that was just window dressing.

The real key was the Sword in the Stone.

For in this world, only two people could draw the blade:

Elizabeth… and Jianye.

What Elizabeth’s party didn’t know was this:the sword’s power changed depending on who wielded it.

For Elizabeth, it was merely a tool—a sword that could kill a Dragon King, yes,but otherwise no better than a three-star weapon.

But for Jianye, the true protagonist?

The moment she drew it,she received the Creator’s Blessing—her power surging to Emperor-tier,matching Jörmungandr blow for blow.

This was classic ARPG design:when the player faced the final boss,trapped in despair,a miraculous power-up would appear—invincibility frames, stat explosions, divine ascension.

Of course, Jianye didn’t know she could draw the sword.

In the original plot, only after Elizabeth’s defeatdid the blade fall before her—in a storm-lashed moment,she’d pick it up,raise it to the heavens,and erase Jörmungandr forever.

In the bad ending, she failed—and the game ended in ruin.

But now…those endings would never come to pass.

No matter what the original game intended, Black’s interference had already rewritten the script.