Salvation Through Delusion C87

Chapter 87

Borhumi had fallen.

The news spread across all of Tuvine in an instant. The Duke of Borhumi’s death and the sudden appearance of a monster rift were enough to throw the continent into collective shock.

Fortunately, the rift itself was small. Unfortunately, the monsters emerging from it could not be stopped. With no one left who could wield Borhumi’s Divine Beast’s power, every soldier in the duchy was sent to Crystal Lake—only to fall one after another. Fear quickly spread that Tuvine might once again be swallowed whole by monsters.

Now, only one person in all of Tuvine remained capable of using a Divine Beast’s power: the Grand Duchess of Montaine. She suddenly became the continent’s sole hope. The legitimacy of her claim to the imperial throne, once debated, now seemed irrefutable.

“Montaine is urging us to make a decision,” said High Priest Chegi, letting out a weary sigh as she lowered the letter in her hand. The wax bore Montaine’s crest, bold and unmissable.

Ariona looked between his teacher and the letter with a heavy expression.

“So they want us to support Montaine?”

“Yes. Now that Montaine has realized the future we warned of was real. But I never thought that future would arrive this soon.”

Chegi shook her head in regret. They had moved too cautiously, believing there was time left. From the moment they first learned of the prophecy, only one vision had haunted her:

“Tuvine’s calamity will begin with the opening of a new monster rift.”

A rift—where, why, how? They had spent years searching for those answers. They deciphered ancient texts, analyzed causes, and narrowed possible locations.

To deepen their research, they reluctantly shared some information with Montaine and Sarné, in exchange for access to additional archives.

But Borhumi had been kept in the dark.

For one reason alone: the high likelihood that a black magician lurked near the Duke of Borhumi.

“Shouldn’t we have told him the truth earlier, asked him to cooperate?” Ariona asked quietly.

Chegi shook her head. “You heard it, didn’t you? The reason Borhumi’s Divine Beast vanished. There really was a black magician among the Duke’s closest men.”

A long sigh slipped from her lips.

“That is precisely what we feared—that we have no idea how many black magicians are hiding throughout the noble houses.”

“Koon doesn’t have any,” Ariona said firmly.

“No black magician could infiltrate House Koon. That family is cursed by dark sorcery—if a black magician approached, the Duke would sense it instantly and tear him apart. That is why House Koon is the only one we can trust.”

Chegi nodded faintly.

Ironically, the curse placed on Koon had made it the safest territory against dark magic.

“But now we have no time,” Chegi murmured, gazing at the letter once more.

“Tomorrow, the major Divine Houses and the Central Temple will gather in the capital. We’ve decided to reveal everything we know and bring it to public debate.”

“Tomorrow? Why so soon?”

“It must be tomorrow. You know why. Tomorrow is the perfect moment—when people will finally be willing to believe the truth. We cannot waste that chance.”

Her determined expression was firm, as though she were marching to war. But her next words carried weight and resignation.

“In the end, Montaine will take the throne.”

Ariona bit his lip.

“But nothing is decided yet. The people don’t know that Koon’s Divine Beast is merely sleeping. Once it awakens, everything will change. There must be a clue somewhere within House Koon—”

“No one can enter that cursed domain.”

“But—”

“The calamity has begun. All we can do now is place our hope in Montaine, the last remaining Divine House.”

Chegi muttered the words, turning her gaze toward the window.

Ariona, however, noticed the tension in her expression.

“Master… did Montaine request something?”

Chegi hesitated. “…They want proof.”

“Proof?”

“Proof that we truly stand with them.”

“What kind of proof? A contract?”

A heavy breath escaped the High Priest.

“They want a vow between life partners.”

Whoosh!

Wind howled as a blade carved through the air. Lightning-like aura burst from its arc, striking a training boulder cleanly. The human-height rock split neatly in half.

The aura radiating from the sword was formidable—almost overwhelming. Yet its wielder stared down at his own hand, dissatisfied.

Rick, waiting nearby, was far more impressed.

“Your strength has nearly returned, Your Grace. I’m relieved.”

His admiration received no reaction. Tyroc neither glanced at him nor spoke. He simply repositioned his grip and prepared for another strike.

But Rick had come for a reason.

“Your Grace, an important visitor is here for you.”

Even that did not stop Tyroc’s movement. Rick stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“It is… that friend. He says he’s found a method to break the curse. He needs your permission.”

Surely this would make Tyroc turn around. After all, nothing mattered to him more than lifting the curse on House Koon.

Yet Tyroc only paused—briefly.

He did not turn.

He did not react.

He simply asked:

“Other messages?”

Rick blinked. “Yes. Borhumi has continued sending requests for help with the monster hunts. And regarding tomorrow’s White Branch Conference, many houses have sent inquiries. It has been years since one was last held.”

The White Branch Conference—established long ago when Tuvine faced its first great catastrophe. Divine Houses gathered, vowed to cease conflict, and united to survive.

After the fall of the Koon Empire, it became symbolic—held once a year in name alone—until even that stopped.

Now, after ten years, it would be revived.

In the Imperial Palace itself.

“Everyone is asking whether you will attend,” Rick added.

Tyroc gave no visible reaction.

“And?”

“No other urgent messages, Your Grace.”

“Adeye?”

Rick blinked again. There it was—that name.

Since their return from Borhumi, Tyroc had asked multiple times about Adeye Rue.

More precisely, about Rue’s condition.

Rick couldn’t blame him.

Haas had told him things that sounded like lies—even to the one who experienced them.

“You won’t believe this,” Haas had said, still pale. “Adeye Rue dragged me out and hid me from the monster. Me! He even dragged you, Your Grace’s huge body! I don’t know how he did it, but I swear I saw it.”

Even hearing it now felt unreal.

But Haas had looked genuinely shaken.

“At first I thought he’d lost his mind. But he knew the monster was about to emerge. He even comforted me—comforted me! Anyway, he saved us. I owe him. Somehow.”

Rick had stared, dumbfounded.

“Just ignore it. Adeye Rue probably went insane for a moment. He’s still the same selfish, twisted—”

“No,” Haas had interrupted. “He’s… not what he seems. Adeye Rue was actually useful. He carried some monstrous club—knocked out Borhumi’s soldiers in one hit. Even broke through black magic. The Grand Duke seemed to trust him in the end. What is that club?”

After that came a full hour of Haas’ “holy club” praise.

Rick still felt the headache.

But it meant Tyroc’s view of Rue had likely shifted.

They had walked through death together, after all.

And if the rumors were true, Rue had been the only one injured while protecting the others from the monster.

Some said he was still lying unconscious, barely clinging to life.