Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 209 Code Name: Dragon Blood
Everyone else stared blankly at the terrifying black hole in Raphael's arm, listening intently to the Black Prophet's voice that seemed to be ringing in their ears, completely unable to react.

Thales' thoughts lingered on the brand on Raphael's hand and the unknown thing beneath it. The little rascal gripped his arm tightly, trembling slightly, not daring to look at the black hole.

Wyatt stood in front of Thales with a grim expression, unconsciously gripping the single-edged sword at his waist. Rolf's expression was hidden behind half a mask, but his constantly twitching eyebrows said it all.

Cohen stared wide-eyed in shock at his old friend's strange appearance, while Miranda stared intently at Raphael's arm, her breathing erratic.

“Communication type: Flying Squirrel,” Raphael seemed very weak. He straightened up, his face pale, and gestured to the others to remain calm while speaking in a language the others couldn’t understand to the strange black hole in his arm:

"The white gloves were stained with blood, and the double-edged gun was broken."

Thales frowned slightly: Is this a code?

As soon as Raphael finished speaking, the cell fell silent.

Suddenly, the sharp teeth around the black hole began to wriggle.

Almost everyone held their breath, and Wyman was so nervous that he even drew his sword slightly from its sheath.

The next moment, that ethereal yet clear voice, along with the movement of the black hole, once again came from Raphael's arm:

"Who's there?" the Black Prophet asked coldly.

Raphael looked up.

“The second prince, his retinue,” Raphael’s red eyes swept over the prince and the people behind him, then over Cohen and Miranda, his gaze complex, “and the two I mentioned earlier.”

The black hole fell silent again.

“His Highness,” Raphael’s breathing calmed down, the weakness he felt when he opened the black hole in his arm seemed to be gradually disappearing, “demands to know about ‘Dragon’s Blood’.”

Thales suppressed his nausea at the disgusting, tooth-like black hole—his tolerance for nausea had greatly increased since meeting the Blood Mage—and the prince, taking a breath, frowned and looked up to ask:
"What exactly is this?"

Nothing could be seen inside the black hole except for a bottomless darkness, but Thales knew that it was not Raphael's arm or flesh inside.

In the dim light, the prince stared incredulously at the black hole and asked the question that had been on everyone's mind: "That was... Morat's voice?"

Raphael gave him a deep look but said nothing.

His answer was the black hole that began to writhe again.

“Your Highness Thales,” a hoarse voice came, but the person being addressed had changed: “Do you know who I am?”

All eyes turned to the second prince.

Raphael nodded to him and pointed the black hole in his arm at Thales.

Thales didn't look at the black hole; instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He cleared his mind of any distractions and forgot about that unpleasant encounter in the Mindis Hall.

“Of course, Lord Hansen,” Thales said calmly, opening his eyes to the black hole, “I was deeply impressed and will never forget it.”

The others watched this scene with varying expressions.

The black hole writhed again, and from within came Morat's hoarse, aged, cold laughter.

“Don’t be nervous, Your Highness, I am not by your side,” the Black Prophet’s voice was like a viper’s hiss, making people uneasy: “Of course, you can also pretend that I am by your side—if that puts your mind at ease.”

Thales gave an awkward and unsightly smile.

Although he did not know whether the Black Prophet could see.

"So, what would you like to know?" the Black Prophet asked slowly.

“Fifteen minutes,” Raphael quietly reminded him, “Don’t forget their next patrol.”

"I want to know what—" Thales clenched his fist slightly, his mind racing, and images flashed before his eyes.

“Everything,” he looked up and said without hesitation, “about the operation in Lumba, about the death of King Nuen—I want to know everything that the Secret Service has.”

A soft chuckle came from inside the black hole.

Cohen and Miranda exchanged a glance, their expressions clearly uncomfortable.

“Alright,” the Black Prophet’s voice finally brightened, though it was still unpleasant, “where should I begin?”

Thales didn't speak; he was waiting for Morat.

“Hmm, there’s a good time,” the Black Prophet said softly, “The Year of Blood.”

Upon hearing that word again, Thales felt his heart begin to pound once more.

Miranda and Raphael looked up at the same time, exchanged a silent glance, and read an emotion that only they could understand.

“At the most difficult time for Starfall, a count from Black Sand Territory brought Exter’s letter of state, or rather, a declaration of war,” the Black Prophet’s voice was as hoarse and unpleasant as ever, but surprisingly steady: “That count had just risen to prominence in the North—following the traditional and cruel customs of the North, he stepped over the corpse of his own brother to seize the succession to the Grand Duke of Black Sand.”

Thales felt the little rascal tighten his grip on his hand slightly.

"When he addressed the entire court with Nun's demands, when the war between dragons and stars was already inevitable," Morat continued, "the late king detained the envoy from Exter—the heir to the Black Sand Territory—presumably as a bargaining chip in the war."

Thales clenched his fist slightly. The story that Rumba told in the carriage ended on the day he set out to the stars, but the prince did not expect that he would hear the continuation from the Black Prophet.

The Black Prophet continued, “However, a wise prince, after combining the investigation of the Secret Society, concluded that Dragonstreet’s purpose was to use us to execute Chaman Lumba—King Nuen probably hates his nephew who murdered his brother.”

Thales's brow furrowed: Wise Your Highness?
"So, after a secret conversation, Chaman Lumba was successfully 'rescued' by his subordinates," the Black Prophet chuckled, as if enjoying the memory. "His Highness Midil told me that he saw something unusual in the eyes of that young Earl Lumba."

Midil Shining Star.

Thales pulled the name from his memory: the eldest son and crown prince of the late king, his uncle.

“Unusual?” Thales frowned slightly. “You mean Lumba’s hatred for King Nunn VII, for Walton, and for Dragonhill?”

From within the black hole came Morat's cold, emotionless snort, which seemed to be both mockery and sarcasm.

“Throughout history, every Grand Duke of Exeter has hated the one who sits on the throne, not necessarily Walton or Lumba,” the Black Prophet rasped. “But why Charman? I think His Highness Midil has his reasons.”

“A seed was planted and grew in the shadows for twelve years,” Morat seemed to be lamenting, “even though Midil can no longer see it.”

Thales tensed up.

"Wait, the communication between Miko and Lumba started twelve years ago?" The Second Prince looked up in astonishment. "Then why didn't you stop his plot to assassinate Moral from the beginning, and prevent the war crisis between the two countries? And the Dragon Fortress..."

His reaction was interrupted by the Black Prophet.

“Contact? You’ve got it wrong,” a hoarse voice groaned from the black hole. “Rumba has always been independent and free. Miko has neither bribed nor controlled him: that would be the least efficient method.”

"This is a tacit understanding."

"We didn't speak to each other for twelve years, and we acted as if we didn't see each other."

"But when the time comes, we will open our eyes together from our dormancy and see each other in the boundless darkness."

The Black Prophet's words grew increasingly cold. At that moment, Thales even felt that on the other side of the black hole was a ferocious beast hunting its prey.

No, it's a poisonous snake.

In the dimly lit cell, Thales stared blankly at the black hole in Raphael's hand, saying nothing.

Across from him, Cohen let out a long sigh, his face showing displeasure.

"Damn conspiracy," the guard muttered under his breath.

No one paid him any attention; everyone was listening to the Black Prophet.
"Ever since Your Highness's identity was established, especially after your assassination attempt at Dragonbreaker Fortress..."

"Rumba and Peffert's plot to break Walton's monopoly on the throne has been exposed," Morat laughed coldly from the other side of the black hole.

"The secret police knew: the time had come."

Thales bit his lower lip and exhaled, "You knew it was Peffert from back then? And you knew about Rumba's plan?"

The Black Prophet sneered, but did not reply.

Raphael answered him.

“No, we don’t care about the truth and the details,” the young man from the Secret Service said, holding his right arm and looking quietly at the grotesque black hole on his arm. “What we care about is very simple and very pure, and that is the ironclad fact that ‘Ext’s instability’.”

“That’s right, we’re not just working with Rumba,” Raphael said softly, his head bowed and his expression unreadable. “We also provided him with his one and only act of assistance, which was the most crucial part of his plan.”

Miranda stared at him intently, her expression unreadable.

Thales closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and then uttered the word with difficulty: "Disaster."

Raphael nodded.

“Shortly before Your Highness’s departure,” Raphael raised his head, all emotion vanishing from his face, “an old gang connected to magic users suffered a near-total annihilation in the capital.”

"Because of this crushing defeat, the blood calamity that had disappeared for many years was forced to reappear."

The Black Prophet's laughter rang out again.

“Perfect timing, perfect pieces,” Morat sighed meaningfully, as if admiring a work of art, “and a perfect executor.”

“For Chaman Lumba, there is no better ‘help’ than this.”

Thales felt a chill run down his spine.

He stared blankly at the black hole, his heart filled with complex emotions.

The Black Prophet's laughter rang out again.

“We fabricated some small news,” the master of the secret department said with interest from the other side of the black hole, “and threw out a half-true, half-false bait, enough to lure the Blood Demon Master northward.”

“Ramon, I remember the Blood Bottle Gang is looking for him,” Thales said, snapping back to reality. “So, he didn’t just happen to join my team, did he?”

Raphael gave him a faint smile.

"And so, the Blood Mage was lured into Dragonsky City," the Black Prophet said calmly. "This piece is now in place, waiting for the right person to activate it."

The little rascal let out a fearful whimper—Thales knew what she was remembering.

The qualified person...starts...

Thales recalled the scene of the black sword charging headlong into the blood mage.

but.

"Introducing Dragon Sky City... Activating?" Thales muttered to himself.

Thales clenched his fist.

His mind flashed before his eyes to countless people struggling, wailing, and crying out in the shield zone, before dying helplessly from suffocation or being trapped in tentacles.

He recalled his desperate escape with the little rascal.

In every corner they ran past, there were countless dead bodies.

A few seconds later, Thales let out a difficult breath.

The street scene of the Shield District flashed through his mind.

Dirty, messy paths filled with snowmelt, withered trees and broken walls everywhere, winding alleys, difficult gravel roads, barking dogs behind fences, and the rude, angry shouts of the poor people of the North.

as well as……

And in that instant, all of this turned into ruins.

People clutched their own throats, watching in terror as moisture evaporated from their eyes and mouths. Limbs flailed wildly, faces contorted and congested with blood. Each person struggled and trembled, desperately trying to breathe one more breath in this silent world. Relatives cried out hysterically, screamed, and cursed, clinging tightly to each other as they were dragged along by those monstrous tentacles and withered branches, ultimately sinking helplessly into a hell filled with blood, flesh, and mangled limbs, never to awaken again.

Countless corpses lay in the ruins, their hands and feet cold, their bodies mutilated.

Kilika's enormous tentacles swung through the air, shattering houses and bodies.

Thales' fingernails dug into his trembling palm, almost drawing blood.

That was his path.

It was the road to death that he and the little rascal ran along.

"Is this your plan?" the prince murmured unconsciously, "To bring calamity to Dragon Sky City and then drive it mad?"

The little rascal pursed his lips, lowered his head, and cowered in the corner, his expression unreadable.

“Let it…” Thales raised his head, trembling, “kill all the living people it can see before it is sealed away?”

Cohen frowned, shut his mouth, and glared angrily at the expressionless Raphael.

"This is too much..." The guard gritted his teeth, his face grim. "Tonight's disaster... was all the work of the Secret Service?"

Raphael looked up at his old friend.

“Wrong answer,” the young man from the Secret Service shook his head, his expression indifferent. “That was done by a calamity—we don’t have the ability to wipe a district off the map of Dragon Sky City overnight.”

Cohen let out a frustrated sigh.

Thales clenched his fist and exhaled through gritted teeth: "But you brought disaster."

He suddenly raised his head, his neck cracking as if he were unleashing all his deep-seated resentment and anger in that movement: "You used Ramon to lead it to the North, to Dragon City!"

Thales' chest heaved as he struggled to suppress his voice: "Did you see what the Shield Zone looks like? Did you see what it did?"

In the darkness, no one spoke.

Until the Black Prophet's voice echoed again.

"You think it was our fault?"

"The secret department's fault?" Morat said calmly.

Thales stared intently at the grotesque black hole in Raphael's arm, his eyes unwavering: "You want it to do this, don't you?"

"Let it bring disaster to Dragon Sky City?"

The Black Prophet's cold, unceremonious laugh echoed from the unknown on that side.

"Wake up! That's a disaster!" Morat's tone rose slightly, his voice seemingly filled with deep-seated hatred: "They bring calamity wherever they go!"

"Do you really think they'll become good citizens in Yongxing City?"

Thales gave a soft snort, his eyes cold.

"Then why don't you just bring it to Dragon Sky City so you can easily carry out your plans, your conspiracy?" he gritted his teeth and said, "Use it as a weapon, as equipment, as a pawn?"

The Black Prophet laughed again.

This time, his laughter was particularly eerie.

"Then you should be even more grateful, little prince."

"Fortunately, the Secret Service still has the ability to control this terrible pawn, the Blood Calamity," Morat said coldly, as if his words contained the hardness of years: "At a small cost, let this scourge be put to an end in Dragon City forever."

“Instead of one day,” the Black Prophet’s voice came coldly, bringing the matter to a close, “you will cry and scream as you see our Everstar City reduced to ruins by that murderous maniac.”

Morat finished speaking.

Silence returned to the cell.

Thales stared blankly at the black hole.

In that instant, he suddenly remembered what Yodl had said to him in the Mindis Hall not long ago.

What is truly terrifying and frightening is not the disasters themselves.

Thales recalled Ashida's cold and ruthless face, and Giza's uncontrollable laughter.

It is ourselves.

The next second, the faces of the two magic users were replaced by another person—Molat Hansen's wrinkled face and his lifeless eyes.

[It is we ordinary people who, for the sake of those so-called disasters, will degenerate to what extent, become corrupt, and sacrifice our bottom line.]

Thales loosened his fist.

He sighed silently.

He glanced at the others: Raphael lowered his head slightly, his face hidden in shadow; Miranda frowned deeply and remained silent; Cohen gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

"Chess piece?" Thales slowly lowered his head.

The second prince felt his mind was in complete chaos.

The weariness he hadn't felt in a long time returned to him.

He feels very tired.

"You treat... disaster as a pawn?" Thales' voice sounded weary, filled with deep sorrow: "What gave you such confidence that you could control the legendary disaster, control those world-destroying powers?"

"Even if it nearly slaughtered the civilians of an entire district of Dragon Sky City?"

Raphael turned his head and glanced at him.

"confidence?"

Raphael narrowed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

"In all of recorded history, the most powerful forces, the most terrifying beings, and even those monsters that could shatter continents in the blink of an eye, are nothing more than fleeting noises and passing clouds."

“No one has ever been able to conquer everything by sheer force,” Raphael raised his hand and tapped his head. “So you don’t need to be superstitious about power.”

"In the face of a true strongman, even calamity is nothing more than a pawn."

Exhausted, Thales was slightly taken aback upon hearing this.

The true strongman...

“Who told you that?” Thales perked up, his eyes full of suspicion.

Raphael's eyelids twitched, and he glanced at Thales.

But the young man still quietly spoke up: "My teacher."

Thales' heart skipped a beat.

“Continue,” Miranda began, her cool voice standing out particularly in the cell: “How do you intend to use it, that calamity?”

The Black Prophet let out another low, hoarse laugh.

“Last night, we activated the Blood Calamity as planned,” Raphael continued, picking up where the Black Prophet left off. “King Nunn soon learned of this—a legendary monster is wreaking havoc in his city.”

“This is all our work,” Raphael glanced around at the people around him, his tone returning to its previous calm: “Just to achieve two goals.”

“First, lure away and divert the two powerful legendary anti-magic weapons,” he said coldly.

Cohen frowned slightly: "Draw them away? Draw them away from the disaster?"

Raphael looked at his old friend and gave him a mysterious smile.

“No,” the young man from the secret service said softly, “draw them away from King Nuen.”

Thales shuddered; he remembered the man with the gun and Nikolai when the Black Sword led him into the battlefield.

They were all deliberately lured away...

“The Soul-Slaying Spear, which can kill with a single blow, and the Soul-Severing Blade, which can create an absolute barrier,” Raphael explained softly, “they will be major obstacles for assassins in dealing with Nunn.”

"And the second target?" Miranda asked coldly.

Raphael turned around and looked at the female swordsman beside him.

This time, there was something indescribable in his eyes.

"Secondly, we will also use the disaster to completely strip Nun from the heavy protection of the army and guards." He looked into Miranda's eyes and continued.

“The more enemies there are, the stronger the Blood Mage becomes—to deal with it, we must give up our numerical advantage,” Raphael shifted his gaze from Miranda, his eyes slowly focusing: “As expected, King Nunn, just as we predicted, ordered martial law in the city, evacuated the people, redeployed the patrols, and strictly prohibited the conscription of militia before we could even remind him.”

The Black Prophet sighed softly on the other side of the black hole, and Thales could tell it was a heartfelt lament.

“In the past thirty years of his reign, King Nuen has never been as vulnerable as he was last night, so far from the protection of the army and armed forces,” Raphael said softly. “The rest can be left to Lumba.”

His words trailed off.

Silence returned to the cell.

Cohen, unable to hold back any longer, spoke up in disbelief.

"This is... this is the truth behind the calamity that befell Dragon Sky City?" The guard gritted his teeth, recalling the hearty man with the big leather belt, and said hatefully, "So many people died? Such a huge price was paid... just for this?"

Raphael interrupted him.

“We went to great lengths to bring disaster to Dragon Sky City, of course, not just to cause it some trouble, which is so naive,” the young man from the Secret Service sneered. “Our goal has been clear from the beginning—the rebellion of Lumba.”

Cohen lowered his head, his fists clenched, his expression unreadable.

The Black Prophet's words appeared again at this moment:
"With the help of a Duke of Exeter, we overthrew the throne of the Commonwealth King."

"For the first time in history, a northern duke murdered the reigning monarch."

“Nicaru’s co-governance pledge has never been so severely violated.”

Thales felt the little rascal behind him flinch slightly, whether from fear or pain, he couldn't tell.

"Ext will be plunged into endless chaos from now on."

"The mighty dragon, its blood spilled across the northern lands, lay dying; its wings, which had once soared through the sky, fell limply to the ground, never to rise again," Morat sighed softly, as if recalling those glorious years of the past:
"This is a top-secret plan that the Secret Service has been preparing for twelve years since the Bloody Year, originating from His Highness Midir's concept."

Code name: 'Dragon Blood'.

(Holy crap, Dota released the Juggernaut Arcana! I'm speechless, it's so cool and awesome! -- Too bad I don't have the money.)
The book review section has been deserted lately.

Perhaps it was because I wrote so well that everyone nodded in agreement after reading it, and men were speechless while women wept.

Yes, that must be it.

If it weren't for...

That must be because all the recent articles were written by the neighbor's dog.

By Wujian, who looked completely serious.

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(End of this chapter)