Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Two Hundred Seventy-Five:
"What sixteen-year-old birthday?"
The smile on Freya's face suddenly vanished, her eyes turning cold as if sensing a great threat. She immediately jumped off the bed.
However, she soon paused, looking somewhat bewildered at her luxurious bed and the beautiful scenery outside the towering castle.
"Ah? Right, I am sixteen today."
Freya felt puzzled by her earlier behavior.
She was Freya Green, the daughter of the King of Tears Kingdom, and the only princess of this nation.
Seemingly startled by Freya's earlier gaze, the maid beside her approached Freya.
"Your Highness, what happened? Are you feeling unwell?"
"No, it's nothing. I might have just been too excited last night and didn't sleep well," Freya replied with a slight smile.
She glanced at her white silk nightgown and tugged at the collar, feeling inexplicably uncomfortable as if it wasn't her clothing.
"Burn this nightgown later. Now bring me my most beautiful dress; I need to see Father."
Upon hearing her command, the maid looked at Freya with confusion but still bowed.
"Yes, my Your Highness."
...
Fifteen minutes later.
Dressed in a flowing white gown, Freya walked towards the castle hall accompanied by four maids.
On both sides of the road stood the Silver Armored Guards, their expressions solemn and dignified, with crimson capes billowing behind them in the wind.
Freya calmly observed the guards on either side. This familiar sight felt strangely unfamiliar today, an odd sense of alienation washing over her.
It was as if they were not human, but rather cold statues.
'What is happening to me? Why do I feel so strange? Am I ill?'
She touched her forehead, which felt cool to the touch, showing no signs of abnormality.
Suddenly, Freya furrowed her brows and abruptly halted.
She approached the nearest guard, her gaze turning icy. From somewhere, she produced a deep blue dagger and thrust it directly at the guard's neck.
'Swish!'
The dagger easily pierced his neck, and in an instant, bright red blood began to flow down the blade.
"Ah!!!"
The sudden scene caused the two maids behind her to cover their mouths and scream loudly.
Freya's attention was jolted by their screams; she stared blankly at her hand, the dagger, and the blood staining it.
"What is this? Claude, Laud!!" The guard with a pierced neck swayed before collapsing toward her. Freya quickly caught him with both hands and shouted around her, "Get Laud to Dr. Lantrell immediately!"
Upon hearing her command, two nearby guards rushed over to drag the fallen man away quickly.
Blood gushed from his neck, dripping from his silver armor onto the ground, glaringly bright against the sunny backdrop.
Staring vacantly at the pool of blood on the ground, Freya swayed slightly as if something was rising from her stomach.
"Ugh."
Finally, she bent down and vomited violently.
"Your Highness, are you okay?"
A nearby maid, wiping her tears, approached Freya and asked anxiously. The scene had unfolded too quickly for anyone to intervene.
At that moment, the gentle Freya seemed to transform into another person, exuding an eerie coldness that was more terrifying than the soldiers battling on the battlefield.
After vomiting for a while, she slowly stood up, looking weakly at her blood-stained hands.
"I... I don't know. I want to see my father immediately. I..."
Two streams of transparent tears flowed down from her bright blue eyes, cold to the touch.
"Alright, Your Highness."
The maid, trembling, supported Freya as the three continued forward.
The other guards stood solemnly as if what had just happened was merely an illusion.
Five minutes later.
In the grand hall, a middle-aged man dressed in Golden Attire and wearing a Crown sat upright in his seat. In front of him on the Red Long Table lay a Purple Gift Box, and he seemed to be pondering something, lightly tapping his ring-adorned hand on the chair, producing a hollow sound.
As Freya and the others reached the entrance of the grand hall, his dazed expression gradually regained clarity. He quickly stood up from his seat and smiled.
"Oh, my lovely princess, happy sixteenth birthday! Look at what I have prepared for you!"
"Your lovely princess?"
Freya, whose face was stained with tears, trembled upon hearing that title, as if she had heard something disgusting. A wave of nausea washed over her, more intense than the feeling of having taken a life just moments before.
However, this sensation vanished in an instant, as if it were merely an illusion.
She stood dazed for a moment, looking at her imposing father before suddenly running towards him while crying.
"Father, I... I killed someone."
With a soft thud, she threw herself into the arms of the middle-aged man, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Killed someone?" Upon hearing Freya's words, the man immediately lifted the seemingly limp Freya into his arms and smiled.
"It's alright. Today is your sixteenth birthday. Killing someone? Nothing is more important than your birthday. Now, let's see what gift I have prepared for you."
"Huh?"
Freya was momentarily taken aback, looking at her familiar father. It seemed that her act of killing was not considered a big deal at all.
Ignoring Freya's feelings, the man picked up a gift box from the table and handed it to her.
"Go on, open it. I can't wait to see your surprised expression."
"But... but Father, I just..."
Freya hesitated instead of immediately opening the gift after receiving it.
"Don't worry; I've already forgiven you. Hurry and open your present, my dear princess." The man wore an unusually gentle expression.
"But..."
"Open it."
"Okay."
"Bang!"
The palm slammed heavily on the table, and the person's originally gentle demeanor turned extremely angry as he forcefully pointed at the gift in Freya's hand and shouted.
"I! Command! You! Open it! Roar!!"
The voice, like that of a giant beast roaring, made Freya freeze in place. However, she soon furrowed her brows.
"Roar!? Father, did you just roar?"
"Huh? What?" Seemingly caught off guard by Freya's words, the man paused for a moment and reined in his anger.
"I mean, the last word you said was 'roar.' Father, what does 'roar' mean?" Freya calmly explained again.
"Did I?" He instinctively covered his mouth. "Did I roar?"
"Yes." Freya nodded, then pointed to the top of his head. "And also, you now have two extra ears on your head."
"Ears?"
He touched the top of his head and was surprised to find two pointed gray ears had actually sprouted on either side of his crown, making him look quite comical with his serious face.
"And your hands," Freya glanced at his gray claws touching the ears on his head. The claws had bone-white nails that sparkled under the light.
At some point, the middle-aged man had transformed into a gray werewolf wearing clothes and a crown.
Yet Freya felt no surprise at all; it simply seemed like a normal occurrence to her.
Noticing his own transformation, the strange werewolf paused for a moment before surprisingly sitting back down in his seat and speaking in a gentle tone.
"Alright, my daughter, don't mind that. Just open the gift in your hands; I prepared it with great care."
"Oh, okay."
Regaining her composure, Freya looked down at the purple gift box in her hands.
The packaging was exquisite, adorned with a large bow on top, and a golden greeting card was attached.
'Happy sixteenth birthday to my daughter, love your father.' The end featured a pink heart shape.
Seeing the heart shape that seemed to be drawn with crayon, Freya frowned and suddenly pointed at it, looking up.
"I don't like this design; I don't want this gift."
The werewolf stared at Freya in shock, momentarily at a loss for words.
"And I don't think you are my father."
Freya's gaze turned exceptionally cold as she grasped the white dress she was wearing and yanked it forcefully.
"This dress is simply terrible, so inferior; it's clearly not my own clothing."
With a tearing sound, the silk dress was instantly ripped apart and casually tossed aside by Freya, revealing the Red Armor underneath.
Watching as Freya's eyes gradually lit up with the Azure Symbol Array, the werewolf sitting in the chair narrowed his eyes slightly. He rested his chin on his claws and spoke in a calm tone.
"How did you discover that everything is fake? Isn't your subconscious longing to be a princess?"
"That can only mean your setup is too fake!"
Suddenly, Freya reached out and grasped, and a Cross Sword made of countless Azure Wind Flow appeared in her hand in an instant.
She then charged directly at the werewolf.
A faint sound echoed, like a gentle breeze.
The entire body of the werewolf, along with the grand hall behind it, slowly revealed a thin line, as if it were a mirror being evenly sliced open, gradually sliding apart.
Then, large splashes of bright red blood erupted from the Thin Line, bizarrely spraying towards her.
"Hmph, this level of contamination power..."
Watching the blood flying towards her, Freya's gaze turned cold, and she waved her hand.
With a whoosh, a gust of Azure hurricane erupted around her.
The invisible wind blades instantly shattered everything around her into fragments and blew the incoming blood away.
In a daze, the entire massive palace began to shake.
The vividly colored world around her seemed like a faded canvas, gradually turning yellow, then gray, ultimately returning to darkness.
Freya stood quietly in place, looking down at her index finger.
The previously pristine ring was now covered in grimy gray-black stains. Although it still emitted a faint white light, there were strands of gray mixed within.
"It seems it can no longer be used."
She frowned slightly and then removed the ring from her index finger, tossing it to the ground and crushing it underfoot.
Then Freya extended her hand and lightly snapped her fingers.
A burst of orange-yellow flame suddenly appeared above, illuminating the surrounding scene.
The surroundings were no longer the magnificent palace from her illusions, nor the original theater, but a dilapidated laboratory.
A massive Experiment Table, missing half of its surface, was surrounded by various scattered instruments and rune devices.
The entire laboratory emitted a faint, decaying sour smell that was somewhat pungent.
Freya scanned the laboratory and slowly walked to the Experiment Table, extending her hand to gently touch the patterns on its surface.
After a moment, she withdrew her hand.
"It seems this is the real room. Everything before was an illusion created by that Spirit. It can actually probe into a person's deep memories. If my situation weren't somewhat special, it might have directly released it. However, since I've already broken its illusion, I believe its power is no longer sufficient to affect me."
Over the years, Freya's understanding of Spirits had changed significantly from her earlier self.
Although Spirits could be troublesome, they could still be easily dealt with if approached correctly.
Thinking of this, she instinctively touched the peculiar Staff behind her.
Though it was all an illusion, there must be some elements of truth within it, and this Staff might be the key to unlocking that illusion.
Now that she had the Staff in hand, half of her goal was already accomplished.
Just as Freya turned to leave the strange laboratory that trapped the unknown Spirit, she suddenly stumbled in surprise.
She noticed that next to her feet lay a thick black-covered book that she hadn't seen appear.
"Hmm?"
Looking at the books on the ground, Freya frowned and glanced around before speaking coldly.
"I know you possess a certain level of intelligence. Do you really think that in this sealed body of yours, you can still do anything? Dragging a Liquid Wizard into an illusion, that must be your greatest limit."
Her voice echoed through the dilapidated laboratory.
After a long while, a faint cold wind mixed with the sound of 'crack, crack' slowly came from behind her.
Freya suddenly turned her head and saw, not far away in the darkness, a translucent figure slowly emerging.
It was a frail man, his pale skin stretched tight as if there were no slack at all, almost dragging on the ground.
His eyes had no whites, just pure blackness. Aside from his eyes, he had no mouth or nose; his face was entirely white, making him look particularly strange.
Although she had been mentally prepared, this was the first time she had looked directly at a Spirit in such a way.
Being stared at by this bizarre figure made Freya's scalp tingle slightly.
"Stranger, I apologize for what happened earlier, but I was left with no choice." A strange hoarse voice directly entered Freya's mind. "I was once a Wandering Wizard of the Black Sea. My purpose here is the same as yours; I just unfortunately fell and was transformed into this form by an unknown power. If you help me, I will repay you well."
Comment 0 Comment Count