Children of the Holy Emperor

Crack! Whoosh!

The last Nurumachi on the plains fell to the ground, scattering thick blood. Boom!

Woohoo! With a long, drawn-out cry, the massive beast struggled briefly before shivering and collapsing into silence.

Owen gasped for breath as he watched the scene. Soon, a notification window blinks into existence before him.

[Daily Quest – Nurumachi Hunt (Completed)]

[Quest Grade: D]

[Summary: Just because the quest is completed with one Nurumachi, you’ve been sparingly hunting one per day. Don’t you think it’s a waste of time and energy to travel back and forth to the hunting grounds? How about showing more initiative in improving your surroundings, rather than just focusing on rewards?]

[Completion Grade: D]

[Reward: 320(-40)P Cash]

[*This item can be used in the Pangea Chronicle Shop.]

Owen closed the window, suppressing the surge of anger within him.

This damn status window. If it initially offered 360 cash, it should give 360!

Why reduce the reward for a daily quest?

‘I almost spent all my cash on the gift I’m sending…’

He wanted to vent, but this capricious status window could reduce rewards further if it sensed his displeasure.

Once, thinking it wouldn’t understand if he swore in Varsha instead of the imperial language, still deducted his reward. Frustrated but unable to express it, Owen kicked the lifeless Nurumachi.

It had been three years since he left the Imperial Palace, guided by the whims of the status window.

Once a naive country boy, Owen had now grown into a robust young warrior. Years under the hot southern sun had toughened him, his physique intimidating even to seasoned Varsha warriors. Who would believe he was just over 17?

As he was tying back his disheveled hair, someone called out his name from a distance.

“…Owen! Owen!”

It was a Varsha warrior, his long braided hair ornately decorated with cormorant feathers.

Chikudanka of Volanta.

He was Chikudanka, the son of the tribal chief Chikutaruku and a recent friend Owen had made. Considering the number of feathers in his hair, signifying his valor, Chikudanka was undoubtedly a strong warrior himself.

As Chikudanka approached and noticed the massive beast lying dead on the ground, his eyes widened in awe.

“Did you hunt the Nurumachi alone again today! I hurried to lend a hand, but you are truly remarkable!”

“Haha. This marks the end for today, Chikudanka. There are no more Nurumachi left on these plains now.”

The Nurumachi, ferocious beasts, had ravaged the plains and decimated prey populations. The Volanta tribe had suffered from these beasts since childhood, so Chikudanka’s emotions, as he gazed at the last Nurumachi, seemed especially poignant.

“Owen, you once said that alongside the warriors of our Volanta tribe, we would reclaim the glorious hunting grounds of our ancestors.”

“Yes, I did say that. We will drive away the beasts of this land and expand the horizons of Volanta.”

“That’s why our tribe decided to stand with you. Having single-handedly eliminated all the Nurumachi of the plains, even the skeptical elders can no longer doubt your words.”

“I assure you, Chikudanka. You will witness even more astonishing feats in the future.”

As he spoke, a new notification window blinked into existence before Owen.

[New daily quests available.]

[new! Daily Quest – Koratila Hunt (Repeatable)]

Well, following these quests, it seemed he would inevitably have to eradicate all the beasts of this land.

Soon, Owen and Chikudanka began to dismantle the beast. Skilfully, they cut off the Nurumachi’s horns, skinned it, and extracted its tendons and marrow.

As his hands moved repetitively, Owen’s thoughts wandered.

He had hoped to visit Delcross at least once this year, now that the front had stabilized…

‘I wonder if the gift I sent has arrived by now?’

He missed the Holy Emperor, his siblings, and Sisle back in Delcross.

Ah, except for that rascal Morres.

However, the small window in his peripheral vision continued to display a dishearteningly low achievement rate.

[Main Stream 2 – Progress 13%]

It seemed his return to the Imperial Palace was still far off. Owen sighed softly.

As Chikudanka peeled tendons from the Nurumachi’s leg, he spoke up.

“I always think this, Owen, but for someone from the Empire, you’re surprisingly adept at hunting. I’ve seen many Imperials, but none as skilled in handling prey as a Delcross warrior like you.”

“Those warriors you’re talking about are probably mostly knights dispatched from the capital.”

“So, you’re different?”

“My parents were both skilled hunters. Although I was young, I must have learned a lot by watching them.”

Chikudanka, puzzled, asked, “But Owen, aren’t you the eldest son of a tribal chief? I heard the current tribal chief of Delcross isn’t a hunter, but the most powerful shaman of the tribe.”

“Haha, yes. The tribal chief of Delcross is another father to me.”

Owen paused his work and looked up at the distant horizon.

“My parents passed away when I was young. My father now, the tribal chief of Delcross, is my esteemed foster father.”

[Chikudanka called the Holy Emperor as tribal chief here and shaman probably because Nate has the most divine powers in the entire Delcross.]

***

Tap, tap.

Seongjin quickly stepped back to dodge a sword strike, then hesitated, halting his movement too late. Masain, who had been pressuring Seongjin, also stopped his attack and stared at him perplexedly.

“You’re widening the gap too much again, Your Highness.”

Masain tilted his head in confusion.

“It’s strange. I haven’t had much practice in sparring, so I wonder where this habit comes from.”

“Hmm……”

Seongjin scratched his head with an awkward expression. It seemed challenging to completely shake off the habits developed over decades of battling giant monsters in a short period.

Recently, Masain had started giving him swordsmanship lessons and occasionally sparring with him.

While sparring with Masain, Seongjin realized that he still found hand-to-hand combat more comfortable in a one-on-one fight. When facing an opponent with a sword, he involuntarily tensed up, often disrupting the flow of the exchange.

Moreover, when he wielded a sword, he found himself reverting to habits formed while battling giant monsters, swinging it as if it were a monster’s tentacle.

It appeared Seongjin wasn’t a natural swordsman like the Holy Emperor or Logan. While he found sword practice enjoyable, his progress in swordsmanship was slower compared to his advancement in aura cultivation.

‘And when I think about it, even my aura cultivation feels like I’m using some kind of shortcut…’

Logan had mentioned it. Seongjin’s way of manipulating aura seemed different from that of other Delcross people.

His rapid accumulation of aura layers might be because he handled aura more easily than others, almost like a monster’s energy.

‘Well, there’s only one solution.’

Repetitive practice.

Resolute, Seongjin gripped his practice sword tightly and charged at Masain again.

“…The more I watch, the more perplexing it gets.”

Kurt muttered as he observed the sparring session between the prince and Masain. Vincent, a knight recently dispatched from the 1st Knight Division, looked at him curiously.

“Is there a problem? Initially, he seemed a bit lost, but now he seems quite accustomed to sparring.”

Kurt crossed his arms, deep in thought, responding to Vincent’s question.

“Not sure if that can be called being lost…”

Kurt often found Prince Morres’s training sessions peculiar. Although Morres appeared to be a beginner in handling a sword, there were moments when an odd sense of experience shone through him.

There was a familiar ease in combat situations, a comfort in the midst of battle.

Kurt initially thought that the prince’s previous unruly behavior might have included some fighting. He didn’t consider it significant at first.

His suspicion that something was unusual started when the prince began sparring with Sir Masain. Specifically, after recognizing the distance Prince Morres maintained during combat.

Prince Morres had a habit of suddenly closing the gap from a seemingly safe distance, diving deep into the attack at what he perceived as the right moment. His swordplay might have been clumsy, but this agility was indeed impressive.

Additionally, when Sir Masain attacked, instead of clashing swords, the prince would swiftly move backward, significantly widening the gap.

It seemed more like a movement pattern familiar with fighting something much larger than a human, not a person-to-person combat style.

Yes, it reminded him of the movements of hunters who roamed near the Northern Demon Borders, hunting large beasts.

Initially, the sparring sessions did not progress well. Before the swords could clash, the prince reflexively kept widening the distance.

After several repetitions, the prince slowly adapted to the new distance. Soon enough, he was able to exchange blows with Sir Masain, an advanced knight, for extended periods.

What Sir Vincent perceived as ‘wandering’ was actually the prince diligently adjusting to the combat distance.

“…And yet, His Highness has never been completely overpowered.”

Despite the absolute gap in skill and experience between an advanced knight and a junior knight, the prince strangely seemed to have an ease in dealing with Sir Masain.

Even in situations where he was overwhelmingly on the defensive, Sir Masain couldn’t completely break down that last bit of composure from the young prince.

However, Kurt had witnessed firsthand how Prince Morres’s demeanor changed when he truly intended to strike with his sword.

In the basement of the Digory estate, he had seen the young prince thrust his sword like lightning into the vital spot of an indescribable monster.

What would happen if the young prince turned that clear intent to kill and the tip of his sword towards a person?

After an intense morning training session, Seongjin couldn’t help but chuckle as he entered the dining room for lunch. There, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Logan and Amelia were already seated together.

At this rate, Sisle might become a regular at lunch too.

And Logan’s eyes visibly shook with shock upon seeing Seongjin’s flamboyant butterfly-patterned indoor robe for the first time.

“That… What bizarre thing is that?”

Ah, seeing his disgusted face makes me want to tease him a bit.

Seongjin, with a mischievously wicked smile, approached Logan and spread his arms wide to display the butterfly pattern more prominently.

“How about it? Pretty cool, right?”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course. Don’t you see this trendsetting fashion sense? Just wait and see. By next year, the whole capital will be covered in these butterfly patterns!”

“…Good heavens, Almighty.”

Logan murmured with a pale face.

That guy, not particularly devout, is invoking the Almighty. I’m somewhat looking forward to his reaction if the Brittany-style volant skirt becomes a trend in Delcross soon.

Seongjin chuckled and turned around.

But he had to stop abruptly as Logan suddenly reached out and swiftly grabbed the hem of his robe.

“Hey!”

Caught off guard by the sudden pull on his robe, Seongjin grabbed his throat, struck by the collar.

“What the hell, Logan! What’s with the sudden move?”

As Seongjin turned around in irritation, Logan’s face had hardened into a rigid expression.

“Where did you get this robe from?”

“Huh?”

“Why does it have the Dilerial butterfly on it?”

“…What?”

Seongjin blinked, slowly realizing the implication of Logan’s words, and was shocked. Quickly flipping the hem of his robe to inspect it, he soon let out an incredulous laugh.

“…It really is?”

The unique patterns, hidden among the wings of the tiger butterflies, were hard to notice at first glance.

But those eye-like patterns amidst the various wings closely resembled the wings of the Dilelaria butterfly mentioned in the apocalyptic texts of another world.

“…Salon de Merci.”

Facing Logan’s serious gaze, Seongjin spoke with emphasis.

“We need to find the designer of these patterns there.”