A different world game? A different world game!

The Kingdom of Vilanser.

Prince Philip, a prince who lost his right to the throne early due to his mother's humble origins, is sitting in his comfortable study.

Heavy velvet curtains partially obscured the meticulously maintained garden outside the window, and the air was filled with the scents of cigars and fine leather.

Sitting opposite him was his eldest son, a young viscount who had inherited his mother's beauty, with a hint of naiveté and aristocratic arrogance in his eyes.

After his trusted advisors held their breath and gave a detailed report on the Catherine incident—the trial and beheading of the King, Queen, and the powerful Count von Erik by commoners, and the complete eradication of the old aristocratic privileges—they finally finished their report.

Prince Philip showed no surprise whatsoever; instead, he wore a knowing, almost pleased smile.

A smile spread across his lips, carrying a smug satisfaction of knowing everything.

"Ha, it's started as expected."

He even clapped lightly twice, the applause sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet study.

"Those Night's Watchmen are incredibly audacious, and their methods are ruthless and direct. Well done!"

He leaned back, sinking deeply into the soft sofa back, closed his eyes, and a sardonic smile played on his lips, as if he were watching a carefully orchestrated dramatic climax.

“Think about it now, those stupid nobles in other countries, especially those with brains full of idiots and still dreaming,” he drawled, his voice full of mockery.

"Upon hearing this news, I'm afraid many people have already wet their silk riding breeches in fear and are running around like ants on a hot plate in their magnificent palaces, right? Hahaha!"

He imagined the comical and pathetic scene, his laughter filled with mockery and glee.

His son, the young viscount, had a furrowed brow, his handsome face etched with worry and uncertainty.

He shifted his body uneasily, asking with obvious hesitation.

“Father, what...do we need to do? Will Veranser...become like Ktyr?”

The fear in his words was palpable, as if he could see the noose closing in on his own castle.

Prince Philip snapped his eyes open, his sharp gaze like a quenched dagger, instantly piercing his son's hesitation. He interrupted his son without any politeness.

"What are we going to do? Of course, we're going to do what we should have done a long time ago, and what we've been secretly preparing for all along!"

He sat up straight, his tone becoming resolute and leaving no room for argument.

"Immediately find those family branches I mentioned to you before—the Royce family, the Crawford family, and those few good-for-nothings who rely on their ancestors' glory to act arrogantly, bully men and women, and cause resentment among the people in the territory! Don't let a single one of them slip through!"

He spoke rapidly and gave orders in a clear and organized manner.

"Compile all the irrefutable evidence of the good deeds they've done over the years: account books, victim testimonies, and stupid orders they themselves have signed—prepare them all!"
"No need to wait for those old fogies in the council to go through all that damned procedure, what a waste of time! Just have our trained 'representatives of free citizens' lead the arrests! Pick the busiest public square, hold a public trial, and then—"

He made a clean, decisive downward chopping motion, his eyes icy cold.

"Hang them! Let the whole city see the consequences of corruption! Confiscate all the farmland and gold and silver they have seized from the common people! Give a portion to the victims whose families have been ruined by them, and the rest... well, put it into the future municipal public fund."

He looked at the expression on his son's face, a mixture of shock, confusion, and even a hint of resistance, and coldly curled the corners of his mouth, with an almost cruel clarity.

"My son, the winds of time have changed! And it's not a gentle breeze, it's a hurricane that can overturn the entire old aristocratic castle!"

"The Night's Watch doesn't want minor repairs or compromises; they want the entire old aristocratic mansion to be torn down and rebuilt on the spot with new bricks and stones!"

He leaned forward slightly, exuding an air of authority: "Only those who know what's good for them, who are willing to take matters into their own hands and dismantle the rotten beams and pillars of the house, and who humble themselves and pick up new tools, can find a place in the new house built by the Night Watchmen, even if it's just a corner."

He paused, then looked directly into his son's evasive eyes.

"Let go of those vain airs of privilege! With our accumulated wealth, our extensive network of connections, and our far greater knowledge and vision than ordinary people, we will seize one or even several key seats in the future 'National Assembly'."

"This is the only right way to ensure the continuation of the Philippe family and even to gain greater real influence in the new order!"

He shrugged, his tone tinged with self-deprecation yet utterly pragmatic.

"Although the thought of sitting in the same council chamber as those blacksmiths and mud-covered farmers we once looked down upon, arguing about taxes and road maintenance, and even having to stand with them and shamelessly grovel for their support... is quite shameful."

Prince Philip raised an eyebrow, his eyes sharp. "But my foolish son, this is far better than the King and Earl of Cthulhu having their heads chopped off and left like rag dolls stuck on spearheads to be exposed to the wind and sun, and cursed by thousands, isn't it?!"
"By actively shedding some of the blood we've long wanted to shed, by sacrificing a few cancerous and burdensome elements from our families that should have been eradicated long ago, we can win a ticket to the new order—a VIP seat! Is this deal worth it?!"

The young viscount opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbed a few times, his face flushed red and then turned pale, but in the end he could only squeeze out a few broken syllables.

This is tantamount to forcing them to raise their own swords and cut down their own noble bloodlines, abandoning the privileges they were born with that symbolized glory and status, and giving up the narrative their families had been proud of for centuries.

What's the difference between this and betraying one's own surname?
His body trembled slightly, his eyes filled with struggle and confusion.

Seeing his son's hesitant and indecisive demeanor, Prince Philip's long-suppressed anger suddenly flared up.

He slammed his hand on the sofa armrest, the loud noise startling the viscount so much that he shrank back.

"Useless! Fool! Short-sighted frog in a well!"

Prince Philip's voice boomed like thunder, filled with disappointment and rage, making the air in the study hum.

He suddenly stood up, his tall figure instantly looming over his son, whose face was deathly pale.

"Look at you! You're so young, but isn't your blood full of mud instead of passion?! Has your supposedly brilliant mind been marinated in some mistress's perfume?!"

"The Night's Watch has their swords to our throats, and you're still thinking about your pathetic noble dignity?!"

He stretched out his finger, almost poking his son's nose.

"If your eyes aren't completely blind, open them and see clearly! What kind of power are the Night's Watch now?! What an exaggerated power they are, enough to crush the entire Old World! Do you think the unification of the continent of Lebia is child's play? Do you think the expansion of the continent of Tauriel was based on the dwarves' benevolence?"

"You think the Night's Watch's tentacles, spreading across the world, just appeared out of thin air?! They possess magical technology far beyond our imagination, monopolize the blessings of the Creation Stone, their army is a battle-hardened elite, and their will is as firm as steel! They..."

Prince Philip took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his surging anger. His voice lowered, yet carried an even more chilling penetrating power. Every word was like a cold iron hammer, slamming hard against his son's fragile heart.

"...They possess the only universally acknowledged god in the world who walks on the earth—the one you worship, Kana!"
"Prophet Kana! Sun God Kana! When the other side has a true god, all your ridiculous aristocratic logic and bloodline pride should be swept into the trash heap!"
"You should understand that from this moment on, everything in this world must operate according to the other party's will! He's able to get the Night's Watch to still use relatively mild scenarios like 'rebellion' and 'the Council' to 'play' with us, instead of directly unleashing divine punishment and wiping us off the map..."

"You should be kneeling on the ground, thanking them for their immense mercy! Instead of acting like a spoiled coward, questioning your father's decision! You damned, ungrateful fool!!"

This last sentence, like the tolling of a judgment bell, carried the heavy weight of the name of a god, utterly shattering all the young viscount's hopes and hesitations.

His face turned deathly pale instantly, his body swayed as if struck by an invisible force, and fine beads of cold sweat instantly appeared on his forehead.

"God...god..."

He murmured, his eyes previously filled with confusion and resistance, now replaced by immense fear and clarity.

He finally realized that his father wasn't exaggerating, but stating a cold and terrifying reality. He lowered his head abruptly, his voice trembling.

"Father...Father, I...I understand! I was foolish! I'll do it right away! Right now!"

He almost staggered as he turned around, forgetting even the proper etiquette of taking his leave, and rushed out of the study as if fleeing, his hurried footsteps quickly fading into the distance in the corridor.

Prince Philip watched his son's disheveled figure disappear into the distance, as if all his strength had been drained away in an instant. He slumped back onto the sofa and let out a long, exhausted sigh.

He rubbed his throbbing temples and closed his eyes.

To be honest, if it weren't for the indelible mark of his mother's lowly bloodline that restricted his right to succession, he should have become the king of this country long ago, instead of being a prince in a precarious situation.

In his eyes, his cousin, who was now sitting on the throne enjoying unparalleled glory, was simply a pleasure-loving, short-sighted fool!

At least that's how it is for Philip himself.

His father, the late old king, was, in a way, kind-hearted.

The old king did not condemn him to the ranks of illegitimate children because of his humble dancer mother's lineage. Instead, after his mother's death, despite immense pressure from the court, he brought him back to the strict royal palace and bestowed upon him the status of a prince and the title of "Prince Philip".

But this "mercy" comes at a price—the price is that he must sign a soul contract with his father in front of all the high-ranking officials and members of the royal family, a contract with powerful magical binding force.

To forever and completely relinquish the right to inherit the throne of Veranther.

He understood, of course, that this was the best protection the old king could secure for his beloved but awkwardly positioned son amidst the complex power struggles and infighting within the harem.

Otherwise, as a child, in that deep palace surrounded by wolves and traps, he might not have survived to adulthood and would have been silently killed by those "legitimate" princes or the powerful queens behind them.

This contract, this declaration of relinquishing his right to succession, was the talisman that allowed him to grow up safely under the royal wing—albeit on the periphery.

With his extraordinary intelligence and forbearance, he gradually built himself up in the cracks of power. With his outstanding diplomatic skills and the network of interests he wove in neighboring countries, he earned himself the status and influence that a prince deserved.

But in essence, he had little sense of belonging or loyalty to the entire aristocratic system or the Vilanse royal family itself.

What binds him together is more of a complex emotion towards his deceased father and a responsibility to protect his own bloodline.

Domestically, the core circle of the royal family has always been wary of him, and his room for maneuver is extremely limited.

His power base was built outside of Villanther, through his mediation with various courts and his participation in international affairs.

For this reason, he paid more attention to the changing world than those nobles who only focused on their own little plot of land.

He had long ago astutely realized that the rise of the Night's Watch was no accident, and personally went to the continent of Lebia, which had become the Night's Watch's stronghold.

He lived there like an ordinary businessman, observing carefully and experiencing it firsthand.

He had to admit that the order established by the Night's Watch was far more efficient, dynamic, and capable of mobilizing the lower classes than the old, corrupt aristocratic feudal system.

From that moment on, he clearly foresaw that the great changes that were about to happen in Kertil were inevitable, and that, like the torrent of history, no old power could truly stop them.

Therefore, he chose to embrace the storm of change early on.

He quietly changed his approach to educating core family members, especially his son, deliberately downplaying or even abandoning the outdated notions of "noble bloodline" and "the inviolability of aristocratic glory."

What he was taught was reality, the balance of power, and the way to survive.

If not.

Today, this son, who grew up in a pampered and privileged environment, would probably not hesitate to step forward when faced with the cruel order to "clean house," but would instead jump up and turn against his father, accusing him of betraying his bloodline and family.

Thinking of this, he had to let out a sigh of relief.

There is still a long way to go.

“Night Watchman, Sun, I beg your grace, and hope that you, Great Lord, will not render my decision futile.”

When a god truly and undeniably exists.

Spontaneous faith is inevitable.

Even those who are not members of the Night's Watch.

Or perhaps it is precisely because they are not members of the Night's Watch that their fervor and faith in Karna flourishes even more. (End of Chapter)