Little Tyrant Doesn’t Want to Meet with a Bad End

“What’s so bad about succumbing? Who knows, it might lead you to happiness.”

Roel shook his head in response to Nora’s efforts to tempt him.

“Perhaps so, but there are many different types of happiness in this world. The happiness I wish for is one that I grasp hold of myself. Happiness bestowed might be convenient, but it’s easily lost too.”

“You know that I’m not that kind of person.”

“… There are always circumstances where a person is forced to make a choice.”

“Hmm, what you said makes sense too… Looks like I’ve failed to tempt you once again. You really know how to crush my confidence.”

Nora straightened her body upward as she sighed softly, revealing the expression of a child throwing a tantrum at not having obtained a new toy, but soon, her lips curled up once more.

“While you have rejected me, I must say that the reason you have given me is quite satisfactory.”

“Thanks for the compliment. Speaking of which… did you come all the way here just to tell me these things?”

“That’s not it. I’m here to deliver a gift to you. You can think of it as a token of gratitude from the royal family.”

“A token of gratitude?”

You are giving me a gift for fighting on your birthday? Dear goodness, are you an angel? Oh wait, you are…

Roel thought as Nora turned around to take out a gift box.

“Shall I open it? Or would you prefer to do it yourself?”

“You can open it.”

Roel looked at the long wooden box in Nora’s hand. It was a black box crafted out of resilient black ironwood. It typically wouldn’t be used as a gift box because it was too heavy.

The toughness of black ironwood was comparable to steel, but its density surpassed it. Even though Nora was able to hold it easily with a single hand, an ordinary human would probably struggle to carry it even with both.

Just what in the world could it be?

Nora smiled. Before Roel’s expectant eyes, she lightly pulled away the ribbon wrapped around the heavy wooden box before prying it open. Roel immediately saw a sharp flash of light burst forth, causing his eyes to hurt a little.

Unable to withhold his curiosity, he stood up and walked closer to take a look.

The exterior of the box looked humble, but its interior was surprisingly magnificent. There was a painting at the center of the box, depicting an angel standing with closed eyes, emanating holy light. There were armed men gathered around the angel as they faced the darkness surrounding them.

Yeap, it was likely to be some sort of mythical painting, but Roel couldn’t recall what the story behind it was on the spot. That was not important anyway. What was important right now was the metallic item wrapped amidst a white silk cloth sitting inside the box.

“This is a… short sword? Wait a moment, could this be…”

“Yes, it’s Saint’s Blade—Twelve Wings, Ascendwing.”

“!!!”

A smiling Nora calmly revealed the name of the black short sword nestled within the box. This revelation left Roel gobsmacked and frozen in place.

Saint’s Blade—Twelve Wings. Roel couldn’t be blamed for gawking like a bumpkin, for this weapon was simply too well-known. If he had to draw a comparison to his previous world, it could be considered his previous world’s Lance of Longinus.

While the overall commander-in-chief of the Genesis Goddess Church was Goddess Sia, the ones who made decisions were the angels. There was a verse concerning the blade in the Edda Poems, which originated from a time several millenniums ago, during the lost era. Humans of that period still lacked the ability to record events in writing and could only pass down history orally in hymns and poems.

The verse went like this,

Man didst discover the lake and encountered the Death Moon therein. Darkness and corrosion chased them from behind, sweeping fear and panic through the believer’s ranks. Falling into madness, they tore their brethren apart with hands and teeth. The holy disciple didst beseech the heavens for succor, and in light and flames, an answer was proclaimed. Twelve wings of incandescence descendeth from the sky to fall before the feet of the holy disciple; twelve wings turned dark as they settled upon the earth. The holy disciple raised them up and roared, and the bloodied claws retreated at last.

It was a very dark fairy tale that sounded ridiculous and bizarre to those living in the current era, but this was indeed what that had been passed down.

Scholars and theologians had never come to an agreement on the poem’s meaning, but the majority of people believed that the twelve angel wings were weapons. Many humans over the years had tried to trace the epic through the vague details depicted, hoping to uncover the truth. One of the most famous stories surrounding that came from the Ancient Austine Empire.

Legend had it that over a thousand years ago, the vast Ancient Austine Empire obtained twelve weapons that resembled feathers. The emperor back then bestowed them to the nobles. However, the Spirit Cataclysm of the Capital occurred, and humans were forced to migrate to the west. The empire fell apart, and the twelve weapons disappeared in the annals of history.

There were rumors that the Saint Mesit Theocracy had five of them in its possession, and they were bestowed upon the first generation patriarchs of the Five Eminent Noble Houses, who had made great contributions to the founding of the country. However, after the five patriarchs died, the holy weapons were recollected by the Xeclydes, and they were rarely seen since then.

The last time one appeared in public was more than a hundred years ago, in Ponte Ascart’s generation. Back then, after the battle of the royal twins concluded, the Xeclydes bestowed Ponte with one of the Twelve Wings out of gratitude for his contributions and conferred him the title of a ‘Holy Disciple’. But ever since then, none of the Twelve Wings had been seen again.

“You’re giving it to me?”

Roel pointed at the box in Nora’s hands as he shared his doubts. Wasn’t this a gift of the highest honor, given only to those who had saved the Theocracy from a major crisis? Even though he had managed to unearth a massive underlying problem threatening the Theocracy, no matter how he looked at it, he still wasn’t worthy of receiving something as valuable as this.

Were the Xeclydes too rich and sought to squander their money? Or was this some sort of bribe?

Faced with Roel’s question, Nora chuckled softly and replied.

“Of course we can’t give it to you directly. You would have to be conferred as a Holy Disciple first. Your qualifications and age don’t meet the requirement, so we can only temporarily lend it to you, or more specifically, to the Ascart House.”

Nora’s words helped Roel make sense of what was going on.

To put it in simpler terms, the Xeclydes were very worried that Roel would suddenly drop dead.

Since their house was working hand-in-hand with the Ascarts to weaken the Elrics, and this internal battle was currently happening in the shadows, it was unlikely that it would elevate into a direct clash. However, this was under the assumption that the enemy would obey the ‘implicit rules’.

Count Bryan had just lost his son, so it was not unthinkable for him to want to exact vengeance. Considering that the Ascart House only had a single successor, there was nothing that would hurt it more than assassinating Roel. Count Bryan definitely had the motive to hurt Roel, and the rewards were great if he succeeded.

In order to avoid any mishaps from occurring, the Xeclydes decided to lend a holy weapon to Roel, so that he would be in a safer position.

Having finally understood the situation, Roel nodded quietly in acknowledgment before he pointed to the black short sword in the box and asked.

“So, how is this item supposed to be used?”

Nora’s lips curled up. She tucked her hair gracefully to the side as she replied.

“It’s quite simple. You just have to connect your bloodline with mine.”