1-Second Invincible Player in the Game

129. At Our Home (2)

The front gate of the Tenest Manor was in an uproar.

Soldiers lined up in two rows, standing at attention across the road.

The identity of the approaching guest was no trivial matter.

If even Aol and Ahile had to come out to greet them, that said it all.

Mircel sulked with a disgruntled expression.

“Can’t we just tell them not to come…?”

Ahile nodded in agreement.

“Indeed, that’s true, Mircel.”

Aol narrowed his eyes sharply.

“…It is Her Highness the Princess. Let us refrain from any disrespectful remarks. Even if it’s bothersome, we must maintain decorum.”

“Oh my, you’ve spoken a bit irreverently yourself.”

Mircel recalled Daysel, who had gone abroad under the pretense of broadening his horizons.

‘Why can’t he cling to that guy instead of me?’

In the meantime, a carriage arrived.

A messenger from the imperial court sprang out, announcing the princess’s arrival in a booming voice.

“Her Highness the Seventh Princess, Ezna Din Rungard, has arrived!”

Perhaps it was because the Emperor had indulged in so many pleasures with men, but even in his old age, he continued to take concubines.

The result was a staggering twelve children.

With the child still in the womb, that made thirteen.

Princess Ezna descended from the carriage, lifting her skirt and greeting formally.

“Have you been well, Your Grace?”

Ezna smiled with a maturity that belied her age, a playful glint in her eyes that seemed almost too knowing for someone of her years.

Mircel, aware of the game she played, let out a small, resigned sigh.

‘She only acts like this in front of our parents.’

Ezna engaged in the customary banter with Aol and Ahile, then turned her attention to Mircel.

“It’s been a while, Mircel. I hope you’ve been well?”

The atmosphere was thick with watchful eyes, making the moment feel uncomfortably heavy.

If she didn’t maintain a semblance of formality, her father would surely have something to say about it.

Reluctantly, Mircel replied.

“…I’ve been well. And how about you, Princess Ezna?”

Though her voice was devoid of warmth, Ezna’s smile widened.

Yet, the slight furrow in her brow betrayed an underlying irritation.

“Shall we have a little chat, just the two of us?”

Mircel, who had no desire for such a tête-à-tête, found herself responding in a tone far too casual.

“Without a guard? Considering your safety, that doesn’t seem wise. If you were to get hurt, it would be quite the headache.”

Aol shot her a sharp glance, a silent reprimand.

With a reluctant grimace, Mircel added a formal touch.

“Quite the headache, indeed…”

“Oh my, how considerate of you! It brings me joy to know you care. But here, I feel quite safe, you know? This is the estate of the Tenest family, after all. There’s hardly anything here that could pose a threat.”

Mircel glanced at her father.

Aol nodded, eyes still closed, as if in deep thought.

Her mother, Ahile, regarded him with a piercing gaze, but it seemed to offer little in the way of reassurance.

‘Then, what of the royal guardians?’

Mircel stole a glance at the man standing beside Ezna.

His expression suggested all was well.

No, it felt more like he was encouraging this reckless venture.

‘That man… always sticking close to the princess as if it were his duty.’

With no other choice, Mircel acquiesced to Ezna’s request.

“Well then, as you wish…”

Together, they strolled down the garden path, the distance from their guards allowing for a semblance of privacy, even if the watchful eyes remained vigilant, scanning the surroundings like hawks.

Ezna glanced around, her tone tinged with irritation.

“When you greet someone for the first time, try adding a compliment along with the pleasantries. I’ve gone through all this trouble to dress up…”

She flicked her hair, admiring the gown she wore.

To Mircel’s eyes, it looked no different from any other day.

But if she said that, they would be stuck here even longer.

“Wow, it’s really beautiful.”

Ezna seemed to find even that lacking in sincerity, her narrowed brows showing no sign of softening.

Then, with a deep sigh, she brought up the topic Mircel had hoped to avoid.

“More importantly, have you thought about the engagement?”

Mircel pressed her lips tightly together.

Ezna was the ninth child.

The lowest-ranking princess compared to her elder sisters.

If she couldn’t bring home a suitable suitor, she was destined for a political marriage to a prince from the fringes.

‘Perhaps my eldest brother’s reckless behavior was to avoid being caught up in such matters…’

Mircel found herself disliking Ezna for that very reason.

She intended to use her as a tool to secure power within the empire.

“What’s there to consider? How old are we? Why are you bringing this up already?”

“Think about it. If you and I were to have a son, who knows? He might become the emperor one day.”

Only a male could inherit the empire’s throne.

What was needed was a powerful family to back him and a noble bloodline.

The Tenest family, one of the empire’s pillars, was such a lineage, and the blood flowing through Mircel’s veins was no different.

“Maybe a magic swordsman will be born. Our family has a long line of promising mages. I’ve inherited magical talent myself, you know.”

Ezna cleared her throat, straightening her shoulders.

Mircel squinted at her, asking, “But do you even know how to make a child?”

“No? How would you know?”

“How would I know? Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, don’t talk about such things at our age.”

Ezna pouted, perhaps feeling the sting of those words.

Mircel found herself in a difficult position.

She had no intention of getting engaged.

Yet, it was undeniable that it was Aol’s insistence to refrain from hasty decisions, to hold off until he was a bit older, that had led to this moment.

“I’ll think about it a little longer. This is a matter that requires great caution, you know.”

If he could just get through today, he wouldn’t have to face it for a while.

In the meantime, he was set to go to Frost Heart, wasn’t he?

For now, he could afford to ignore it.

Though he had offered what he thought was a wise response, Ezna scoffed and said,

“Oh, really? Someone like you is planning to enroll in Frost Heart?”

Mircel’s eyes widened.

“…How do you know that?”

“Is that what’s important right now? The fact that I came all this way because of it is what matters.”

Only then did Mircel realize.

‘Ah, so that’s why you looked so displeased the moment you saw my face…’

Just as his mind began to clear a bit, Ezna stomped her foot on the stone floor, her face twisted in anger.

“Be honest. You’re planning to run away there, aren’t you? To get away from me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Don’t lie. But why, of all places, are you going there? Do you even know what Frost Heart is?”

Mircel did not know.

Hershel’s brief letter contained no such information, and when he asked Aol, he received only vague answers suggesting he would find out once he arrived.

“I don’t know.”

As he answered honestly, Ezna’s previously confident expression shifted to one of doubt.

“Hm, are you really sure you’re going without knowing?”

“I am.”

“Well, fine. Then I’ll tell you. The moment you hear it, your mind will change completely.”

Yet, Ezna too could not explain exactly what kind of place it was.

What she could say was only this simple thing.

“It’s a place that raises knights and wizards who explore the magic wilderness.”

“Is that so? It sounds kind of interesting.”

At Mircel’s response, Ezna let out a deep sigh.

“But that’s not the problem. You’ve heard of it, right? The monster villain, Dorothian.”

The Grais family was a ducal house, considered a pillar of the Empire, barely standing shoulder to shoulder with Tenest.

And there, in that place, was the infamous second daughter, known as Dorothian El Grice.

Ezna, who had suffered greatly at her hands, revealed the villainess’s misdeeds with a face full of alarm.

“Every time she comes to the palace, she torments me. She levitated me with telekinesis and spun me around for thirty minutes straight!”

Dorothian had a penchant for tormenting anything and anyone, regardless of status.

Even the Emperor, though his own children were victimized, turned a blind eye.

What choice did he have?

Because Dorothian was…

“People say she will become the next Grand Sorceress, but I think otherwise. She is a wicked witch who will bring down the Empire.”

A prodigy among prodigies, she awakened all five senses at birth.

Considering that the Grand Sorcerer of the last century naturally awakened his senses at the age of ten, she was a talent that would not come again.

“That’s not all. I hear she turns her servants into frogs and eats them. The servants who used to work in the mansion are disappearing one by one, you know? And she drinks strong liquor every day to breathe fire. She does it to make them easier to roast.”

Despite all the fear Ezna tried to instill, Mircel merely chuckled.

“Oh, really?”

Ezna, perhaps exasperated by her nonchalance, ground her teeth in frustration.

Mircel remained unfazed, for she held a belief that even if Dorothian truly sought to devour her, Hershel would protect her.

“No, you need to change your mind. Huh? Going to the Academy is fine. Then at least with Valient…”

Just as Ezna was speaking and gripping Mircel’s shoulder, it happened.

“Ugh!”

Ezna flinched, crossing her arms to shield herself.

She had clearly seen something that startled her.

Mircel followed her gaze upward.

It was toward the terrace of the main building.

There, Ahile was sipping tea, smiling and waving at them.

Niasel, seated across from her, mirrored the gesture.

Mircel responded appropriately and then turned to Ezna.

“What’s wrong? It’s just Mom and Niasel, right? Why are you so startled?”

Ezna, gripped by fear, unconsciously took a step back.

With her stiff lips and cold, piercing gaze, the expression Ahile had just worn was terrifying enough to haunt her dreams.

“Ah, no… It’s nothing.”

Ezna reassured herself, thinking that she must have misread the softened expression on her face.

* * *

[…Such a thing happened.]

Today, a page from Niasel’s illustrated diary caught her eye more than usual.

The drawing of the hostess looking down at Mircel and Ezna from the terrace.

Perhaps Niasel’s skills had improved; the hostess’s expression was captured with remarkable detail.

“Wow, just look at those fierce eyes.”

The princess must be out of her mind. To consider such a woman as a mother-in-law.

‘It’s only natural for a father to be reluctant to send off his daughter, and a mother to hesitate in letting her son go.’

“Does she see all men as cunning foxes in those eyes…?”

With a brief exclamation, she carefully tucked away Niasel’s letter into the cabinet.

Now it was time to read Mircel’s letter.

As expected, like Aol, this one was short as well.

[I’ll be there soon.]

So, Mircel was indeed coming here after all.

There was no longer any surprise. The signs had been plentiful for some time.

“Well then, let’s end the rest here. Shall we continue the discussion we started earlier?”

‘I’ve been waiting for this, Hursel.’

I rose from my seat and conjured hundreds of gold into a sphere, floating it in the air.

A special liquid metal manipulated by mana.

When I had wrapped it around my arm and swung a sword as a demonstration last time, it had been as swift as if cloaked in the aura of speed.

Of course, saying it was fast was subjective.

Superior compared to the ordinary, yet still lacking when measured against the main players.

As I experimented with various things, the shortcomings became apparent.

“I wish I had more gold; it’s a pity. It’s far too insufficient to operate alongside the mana blade.”

The downside was that to deliver a strike comparable to the aura, I had to forgo enhancing the sword.

Donathan replied.

‘What can be done? We have no choice but to extract efficiency from a small amount.’

“Right, let’s proceed with that. Next…”

And the strain on the muscles was severe.

To exaggerate a bit for illustration, it’s akin to the notion that a human cannot survive moving at the speed of a jet.

The flesh and blood of a person were never as solid as metal, capable of withstanding such a tremendous barrier of air.

“This is the most serious issue. I can’t handle the recoil. Just yesterday, after one swing, my ligaments were slightly stretched. My muscles are torn.”

Donathan explained.

‘Aura is the power that flows from within. Even when exerting superhuman strength, it is filled with substance that the body can bear. In contrast, you are not the same.’

“Is there really no way?”

When I asked, Donathan let out a low hum.

He seemed to be deep in thought for a moment.

‘Hmm, what if we infiltrate hundreds of gold into your body? We could attach it directly to the muscles to absorb the recoil.’

It was quite a good idea.

However, that method carried a significant risk.

“So I’d have to stir my insides with hundreds of gold?”

I’m no doctor, but I know that the body is filled with complex organs and blood vessels.

Yet, I had no confidence in my ability to avoid harming them while controlling just the muscles.

Even if I couldn’t handle the recoil, it would be safer to use an exoskeleton suit.

“One wrong move, and I could tear a blood vessel or an organ. That’s out of the question.”

‘Indeed, that’s true. Handling it delicately during battle would be even more difficult.’

In the end, nothing had changed.

No matter how much I trained, flesh and blood remained the same.

Without the ability to use aura, avoiding overexertion was impossible.

“Is it that I can only use attacks beyond my body’s limits a few times…?”

‘Twice. Beyond that, the flesh cannot endure, and you will experience paralysis.’

Two strikes for the arms, two for the legs.

This meant two strikes for the right arm, two for the left.

A quick leap could only be done twice.

“I’ll take my time to ponder this part. For now, I’ll use it as such.”

I placed an empty bottle on the desk and positioned my feet.

What I was about to attempt was an experiment to unleash a single, explosive strike by channeling the existing mana into hundreds of gold.

“Then, let’s begin.”

As Donathan sent forth the electric signal, the muscles responded instantaneously.

The hundreds of gold imbued with mana felt as if they transmitted the explosive force of gunpowder from the shell casing straight into my arm.

Ping──

The strike passed in the blink of an eye.

And as expected, the cooldown window materialized upon my retina.

[Shock detected.]

[Traits activated.]

[1-second invincibility cooldown: 58 seconds]

Had it not been for the ‘1-second invincibility,’ my arm would have been torn asunder.

This was a speed no ordinary person, incapable of wielding aura, could withstand.

At that moment, a rustling sound reached my ears, belatedly.

Perhaps unaware that the empty bottle had been severed, the upper portion now slowly slid down the cut surface, cascading onto the desk.

Thud.

I approached with a sly grin, intent on disposing of the empty bottle.

Yet, as I heard the rustling sound once more, I halted in my tracks.

“My word······.”

For there, etched into the wall where the blade could not have possibly touched, was a long, horizontal scar.

So deep that the light from outside spilled into the room······.

What left me speechless was Donathan’s words.

‘A strike drawn to the utmost will conjure a sharp blade’s wind. Even if it does not touch, a sword’s breath can still be felt······.’