Chapter 317 : Chapter 317

Chapter 317. History Will Remember My Choice

At ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍the other end of Thunder Gorge, inside the Valeria Empire’s camp, the originally silent night was instantly torn apart.

Piercing ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍magitech alarms rose one after another, resounding into the clouds.

Amid ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍the endless rows of tents, nighttime illumination spellworks lit up one after another, illuminating the originally dim encampment until it was bright as day.

The ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍empire’s mage corps commanders and generals rushed out of their tents in disheveled clothes, the sleepiness on their faces completely dispelled by the sudden thunderous explosions.

They ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍looked up and saw firelight soaring into the sky in the distance, dyeing the leaden clouds blood-red. The collapsing mountainsides rolled down like mudslides, carrying clouds of dust with them, as though doomsday had descended.

Everyone’s ‍​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍heart violently trembled at that moment.

“How... how is this possible?!” a legion commander clad in heavy armor cried out, his voice trembling with disbelief.

They had originally thought that only after the negotiations between Dorg and Sylvia broke down would a gap appear in the defensive line.

They had been waiting for the chance to advance unimpeded and strike straight at the heart of the enemy.

Who could have imagined that the other side would directly weld their own gate shut?

“Quick! Activate the highest-level communication array immediately! Report this to the marshal!” the imperial commander shouted hoarsely amid the chaotic camp.

As he looked at the mountain-like pile of rubble that had even triggered Aether Turbulence, his face was filled with horror and disbelief.

On Thunder Gorge’s side, dust and rainwater mixed together, making it impossible for anyone to open their eyes. The air was filled with the scorching odor of gunpowder, earth, and magic elements violently clashing.

Several powerful auras rushed over from the direction of the Duke’s Manor in the Western Territory.

They were the secluded powerhouses of the Grahaed Family.

They stayed in seclusion year-round and would only act when the family’s survival was at stake.

The leading peak Sixth-Tier elder descended from the air, and violent battle aura formed a substantial halo around his body as he locked firmly onto Simov not far away.

“Wretch!” The elder’s hair and beard bristled with fury, and his voice exploded through the rain like rolling thunder.

“You killed your brother, placed your mother under house arrest, and forged military orders! Are you trying to destroy the entire Grahaed Family? Come back with me at once and accept your punishment!”

Just as the elder was about to reach out and seize him, an equally powerful Sixth-Tier pressure suddenly erupted, forcibly cutting off the elder’s aura.

The Royal Guard commander sent by the First Prince to garrison the Western Territory drew his sword and stood before Simov like an iron tower.

Seeing this, the Northern Territory’s troops also raised their magitech firearms and cannon muzzles one after another, all aiming at the secluded powerhouses who had descended.

The auras of two Sixth-Tier powerhouses collided violently in the rainy night. The rainwater around them was even forced to roll upward by the pressure, and the atmosphere instantly became tense enough to snap.

The elder’s face turned ashen. Since the other side also had a Sixth-Tier powerhouse holding the line and commanded heavy troops, he could not make a direct and brutal move. He could only glare at Simov and demand an explanation.

“Young Master Simov, please step back,” the Royal Guard commander advised in a low voice without turning his head. “His Highness ordered us to protect you. With us here, they cannot take you away.”

However, faced with this deadlock that could erupt into a bloody battle at any moment, Simov suddenly began laughing.

His laughter grew louder and louder in the rain, carrying a hysterical fanaticism.

He ignored the Royal Guard commander’s protection and advice, directly pushed aside the sword blade blocking him, and calmly took a step forward.

“No need to be nervous, General.” Simov wiped the rainwater from his face, his voice exceptionally calm. “The task that belonged to me has already been completed.”

He turned his head and stared fixedly at the family elder burning with rage, the corner of his mouth curling into a mocking arc.

“I will go with you.”

Under the stunned gazes of the elder and the Royal Guard commander, Simov walked straight out of the army.

“Because in the future...” he declared wildly, his voice piercing through the thunder and curtain of rain, “my choice will be written into the kingdom’s history!”

...

Redleaf Manor, reception hall.

Oak logs crackled in the fireplace. Firelight leapt across the oil paintings on the walls, illuminating the twisted corpses across the floor and the blackened bloodstains.

After Old Grand Duke Grahaed heard the name of his second son, his body shook violently, and the mad fury in his bloodshot eyes slowly went out.

He raised his head, his murky gaze seeming to pierce through the ceiling and see the blood and fire in the Duke’s Manor in the Western Territory thousands of miles away.

After a long while, he let out a long sigh that sounded both like a mournful cry and a release, then lowered his head in dejection.

“Heh heh... Very well. Very well...” Old Grand Duke Grahaed’s voice was hoarse and broken, yet it carried a strange calm. “He is still of Grahaed’s bloodline, in the end... still...”

He did not curse again, nor did he roar again.

As the leader of the old nobles, he understood better than anyone that the transfer of power was itself a life-and-death feast.

He had lost, and lost completely.

He had lost to the sickly man before him, whom he had thought he could manipulate at will. He had also lost to that son of his, the one he had always ignored, who was even more ruthless than he was.

The poison had already invaded his heart meridians, and Grahaed’s life was rapidly draining away.

He stared fixedly at Dorg, his eyes filled with unwillingness and confusion as he asked the final question in his heart.

“The wine... was not poisoned. The Holy Grail... was not poisoned.” Every word he spoke required immense effort.

“The mage beside me used the 【Eye of True Knowledge】 to check three times... How... did you do it?”

This was the shared question of every dying noble.

Dorg did not answer.

He merely raised his hand and looked at the index finger that had been cut by the silver knife. The wound was no longer bleeding, but that tiny scar seemed like a curse that would never heal.

He picked up the handkerchief on the table, now completely dyed red by his blood, and smiled miserably.

“Of course it was because of the ‘blood.’”

“My blood is the deadliest poison in this world.”

What?

Grahaed’s pupils contracted abruptly.

Dorg ignored his horror and sank into his memories by himself.

It was as though he were recounting a sealed past to a dead man, and also as though he were telling it to himself.

“Eight years ago, I returned from studying abroad across the world. I saw the power of the magitech industry. I saw a brand-new world without hereditary nobles, where everyone had the chance to rise by talent.”

“I naively believed that I could change Astrelia. I submitted a reform bill to Father-King, proposing new policies, the implementation of compulsory education, and the expansion of the standing army under direct royal jurisdiction...”

His voice was very calm, but beneath that calm lay volcanic ash that had long since cooled.

“You all should still remember the result. My bill was ruthlessly rejected by the noble council.”

Dorg’s gaze swept over the twisted corpses on the floor. There was neither sorrow nor joy in his eyes, as though he were looking at a group of ghosts long since dead.

“And not long afterward, I received a ‘gift.’”

He slowly raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the twisted corpses on the floor. Then he loosened the collar of his silk sleeping robe.

Grahaed forced his eyes wide open and stared fixedly at Dorg’s exposed chest.

On Dorg’s chest, where his heart was, a pitch-black scar like ink had taken root, like a vicious brand.

Countless wriggling black threads extended from it, stabbing into every blood vessel and spreading throughout his entire body.

“An ancient curse that not even the Pope could cure.”