Chapter 235: Only You Can Do It!
Chapter 235: Chapter 235: Only You Can Do It!
Chapter 235 – Only You Can Do It!
"No exceptions."
Morgan fell into a tense silence, her shadow-like black eyes gazing deeply at her grandfather.
She didn’t understand all the "realistic" and "unrealistic" things he’d been spouting since the beginning of the conversation, but she wasn’t dumb enough to miss the gist of what he was trying to convey.
’Incestuous relationships are forbidden... or, as he loves to put it, unrealistic.’ She cocked her head, watching him in sudden deep thought. ’That’s something I already know. It’s common sense. But how bad can it be for the children of such a relationship to be cursed?’
To Morgan, that kind of relationship was merely disgusting to look at. But she’d never thought further about it.
Was there truly such a thing... as a Curse for such an act?
"It doesn’t make sense to me." Morgan finally said, shaking her head in confusion. "I’m not taking my grandmother Morenna’s side, or my Uncle Dantes’s, but even though it’s a frowned-upon concept, incestuous relationships aren’t the monopoly of those two. Many do it. I know plenty in this Kingdom who secretly practise it. And yet I’ve heard nothing of these... curses."
"That, my granddaughter, is where you have me wrong." Mort said, shifting into a more comfortable position. "It’s one thing for a mundane person to do something without knowing the real consequences of their actions, and another for someone with power to do it willingly, with the intention of seeking something."
The Past King of Hood leaned forward slightly, his hollow black eyes boring down on his granddaughter, making her instinctively shudder.
"Intentions, little Morgan. Intentions." He repeated. "Every single action you take is backed by an intention. Every single one. It’s only realistic. And when we speak of the domain of gods, mysteries, Laws, Chosen Ones and Blessed..."
He paused, letting an uncomfortable silence swell within the room, before cutting it sharply.
"...then your Intention matters more than anything. It’s what defines which domain your actions fall into in the Eye of the World. It’s only realistic."
"What did grandmother do?" Morgan was now deeply drawn into the story, trying to understand. "Or rather... what was she planning to achieve?"
"To be more than she was." Mort replied. "And what better way to be more than to birth Special children? Have you heard the Legend of the Unsullied Woman, little Morgan? The story of a woman, mundane in every appearance, who became a Legend because of her child. A child born without a father. A Selfborn, as the wise men called him."
"That’s a famous story." Morgan nodded. "But I thought it was just... a story? One of the greatest by MasterofPaths?"
"Every great story comes from somewhere. Human beings cannot create something out of nothing. It’s only realistic. But I’m digressing..."
He smiled. But there was no mirth in it.
"That story was Morenna’s favourite. Not because it was unique, though, realistically, it was. But because it captured something any mother would wish for." He closed his eyes, as if remembering the past. "Her own elevation through her children. To be more, because her children are more."
"It’s nonsense."
"Indeed. I said so, didn’t I? Morenna was an unrealistic woman. A big one. And a greedy one." Mort shook his bald head. "So what would she do, realistically, if she obtained a way to be more through her children?"
Morgan shrugged. "She’d take it, surely."
"And take it, she did."
"What kind of thing was it, though?" She continued. "A cursed relic?"
"Realistically, yes. Anything promising something Holy and Blessed by doing something fundamentally Unholy and Wretched... could be nothing but Cursed."
Morgan fell silent, completely at a loss for what to say.
So her own grandmother, in her relentless Pursuit of Elevation and Power, had listened to a Relic promising her that her children would be heaven-defying, and slept with her own son to bear such children?
All for Power? All for prestige? All to... be more?
That understanding made her heart quiver in silent, choking dread. She remembered well when she’d wanted to change her Shadow Clone and obtain Mort to become more powerful.
She remembered well what her brother, Dorian, had told her.
’You don’t have a sense of enough, sister.’ He had said, his voice serious for once. ’You always seek power after power without taking the time to weigh the danger and consequences. One day... you might do something that dooms you and dooms us all.’
Morgan had never realised how true his words were until now.
"Did I frighten you?" Mort spoke again, his gentle smile returning as he looked at Morgan’s tense face and pressed lips. "There’s always a lesson to be learned by listening to the stories of others. Always. Did you learn something, little Morgan?"
"...I think so."
"Share it with me."
She thought for a moment, then spoke. "I... need to have a sense of enough?"
"Good lesson." The Past King of Hood’s smile deepened. "You have to be realistic about certain things. Realistic, little Morgan. And when you see something unrealistic, you must do what you can to correct it — if it directly affects you."
"Do you mean...?" Her eyes widened. "You’re going to—!"
"Oh, be at ease." He chuckled, waving his hand lazily. "I will never touch my family, no matter what they’ve done. Little Dantes is my son. A good son with little greed in his chest. I know he’d have become something other than a King had he been given the choice. But Fate has other plans. It always does. And then there are my two daughters..."
He smiled.
"Sefira was never interested in anything but fighting. But Seraphim... Seraphim took many things from her mother."
’I can see that now.’ Morgan added inwardly, still unwilling to tell this loving father the cruel news about his children fighting each other.
The only thing that had stopped them from killing one another was the Restriction imposed by their bloodline.
Morgan truly didn’t want to deal with the sad, forlorn face of an old man. She was worried enough about her brother.
"That’s why, to protect my children, I think I need to finish what I started...now that I have the opportunity." Mort said, making the Firstborn of Desdemona instantly focus.
"Finish what you started?" she echoed. "Do you mean...?"
"Yes. The Crimson Daggers." he said with a sudden dark, murderous tone. "I need, little Morgan, to eradicate that whole joke of a sect. And I need your help with it."
"My help?"
"Your help." He nodded. "Because I cannot kill the Leader of the Crimson Daggers."
"If you can’t kill that Leader, how could I?"
"Because you’re not a Hood." Mort said darkly.
Morgan’s brain froze, as if unable to instantly grasp what she’d just heard. But once the information fully registered, her eyes went wide.
"The... the Leader is...?"
"Correct, little Morgan." He lifted his head, fixing his hollow gaze on the ceiling. "And the reason I died was not that I was killed. It was that I killed myself, in order to keep our Hood bloodline from being weakened."
He sighed, lowering his head again, looking at his granddaughter.
"So, will you help me?" He asked. "With you, I can finish what I started and kill my father without destroying our Bloodline. Only you can do it, little Morgan."
The Past King of Hood smiled slowly at his granddaughter.
"Help me protect our Family."
...
At that very same moment, in the Sky City of the Academy, inside the meeting room where important decisions were made, the High Teachers, Adam Kai, White Chamberlight, and finally Mallory Octavia of Claweye were all gathered, sitting solemnly.
Mallory’s silver throne was set slightly higher than the others, followed by Adam and White just below, then the remaining High Teachers.
Seraphim was among them, her crimson eyes fixed on the person in the middle of the room.
"What we need for the First Year, Helene Mars, is a teacher able to guide them in the perilous art of survival." Mallory said in a stern, flat tone. "As you know, there’s a big difference between being knowledgeable about monsters, being able to fight monsters, and finally being able to survive the whole ordeal."
Helene Mars, High Priestess of the Church of Death, listened with her ever-present faithful, pure smile. She didn’t wear her hood that day, dressed in a simple black robe that covered enough of her body.
And yet the High Priestess looked far too holy for most of the teachers; but they couldn’t help admitting this could be an asset useful for teaching the students better.
Mallory continued,
"Your application told us you’re the one for the job."
’I didn’t even look at it.’ She added inwardly.
"But are you really?"
Helene nodded demurely. "Vorn as my witness, I will not disappoint any of your expectations. My knowledge of the divine would also be of help, I believe, in surviving a world watched by gods. After all, sometimes..."
Her smile widened slightly.
"...a sincere prayer and a heartfelt confession can save a soul from ruin."
At her words, Mallory said nothing more. She looked at Adam, White, and the other High Teachers.
"The final decision rests in your hands." She said to them. "What will it be?"
Mallory already knew the answer.
Adam was looking at Helene with his permanently closed eyes, yet she knew him well enough to sense his eagerness at the prospect of a High Priestess in his faction.
The same with White, whose face was always twisted into an amused smile mixed with underlying cruelty. He was excited, and Mallory knew nothing good ever happened when he was excited.
Still, for the current situation...
"I agree." Adam said curtly, playing with his sphere.
"Heheh. So do I." White followed.
Then all the High Teachers.
Hearing unanimous approval, Mallory Octavia looked at Helene Mars, thinking of what her disciple had said, and parted her lips.
"Congratulations, Helene Mars. Welcome to the Elysia Academy."
Her eyes twinkled strangely.
"You start tomorrow."
...
Helene Mars was not the only one finally stepping inside the Academy.
In the Outer Ring, inside one of the biggest buildings — called LeBon, which sold all kinds of clothes on the lowest floor, held a luxurious restaurant on the middle floor, and a spa with a pool on the highest — the owner of the wealthy establishment stood before two women.
He was an incredibly bald, fat man, rolls of flesh around his neck, his belly a round ball, his thick, meaty hand continuously wiping the sweat dripping down his face with a golden napkin.
His fat wrist and neck were adorned with heavy gold, his orange eyes clear and filled with strange compassion.
"I’m so lucky, right?! So lucky to have found two women knowledgeable about the jobs and customers just in time!" he shouted, sweating even more the longer he spoke. "So lucky! You two are definitely hired! Obviously hired!"
Then he abruptly stopped, huffing, sweating, drooling with exhaustion. He immediately recognised his condition and began to hurry.
"Ah. I can’t talk for long. Too hot. I probably need to eat again! Forgive me, but I’ll let the manager explain your tasks! No problem, right? Right?"
"No problem, sir." They said at the same time.
"Right? Right?" he laughed, then stopped as if remembering something. "Ah, your names?" he asked, drooling again. "Tell me your names?"
The two women took a moment, gathering themselves, then slowly, in perfect succession...
"Diary Law."
"Katherine."
—End of Chapter 235—