Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 357 The Struggle for the Throne: The Day of Sealing

"The throne never belongs to those who wait for it, but to the first to besiege it."

—Excerpt from the prologue fragment of "Chronicles of Reigns"

The massive gates of the royal palace slammed shut, as if forever closing the last escape route for this once omnipotent emperor.

Orion stepped out of the palace steps, his sword still sheathed, his cloak billowing silently behind him.

His face, bathed in the morning light, appeared as if covered by a layer of frost that would never melt.

Just now, as he stepped into that silent, tomb-like royal palace, he witnessed his father—the one who had once roamed the continent and ruled the world with the soul of the Azure Lion.

Henrian VII, who once sailed the North Sea aboard the Rose of the Darkness, can now only rely on mystery and destiny markings to sustain his life, like a puppet living in a shrine.

"You are only worthy of the card, not of inheriting my kingdom."

Henrian's dying words were like a sharp thorn, deeply embedded in Orion's heart, sending chills down his spine as if he had fallen into an icy abyss.

He stepped down the last step, where palace spies were already anxiously waiting in the shadows beside the palace gate.

Upon seeing Orion appear, he immediately stepped forward and whispered his message:
"Your Highness, His Majesty has fallen into a coma again and is unresponsive. When the imperial physician examined the star chart, he discovered that the life runes binding the three life cards have broken."

Orion's heart sank, and his voice turned cold: "Which two are broken?"

The spy lowered his voice, his voice tinged with fear: "The Pale Lion, the Royal Rose... they've all vanished without a trace."

Orion stopped in his tracks, his pupils contracted instantly, and an indescribable fear gripped his heart like a ghost.

These are the empire's two most important life cards, one symbolizing the soul of royal power and the other representing the strength of the military and the nation, and now they seem to have been taken away by an invisible hand.

He remained silent for a long while, then suddenly turned around, his anger surging and burning in his chest, and strode towards the government office.

—

Duke von Het was already waiting in front of the government hall map. He was dressed in a black and gold palace robe, and his eyes were as deep as still water, as if he had already seen through all the storms.

When Orion recounted every word of his conversation with his father to von Het...

The old duke listened calmly, a cold pity flickering in his eyes.

After a moment, von Het sighed softly and said:
"Your Highness, you have ultimately failed His Majesty's expectations."

Orion stood up abruptly, his voice filled with rage: "He's already delirious; he doesn't even have the strength to clearly identify the successor!"

von Het slowly raised his eyes, his gaze sharp as ice:
"No, he has enough strength to point it out—just not to you."

He stepped forward and stood before the map of the empire, its countless fragmented territories resembling shattered mirrors. He slowly began to speak:
"Those two royal cards have clearly been entrusted to His Majesty... As for who they were given to, don't you have an answer in your heart?"

Orion clenched his fists, his teeth almost grinding to powder, and said with difficulty, "Edel... must be that weak fool! Father always said he was most like himself!"

He paused for a moment, then muttered to himself, "No, it could also be Medici... She's too calm, as calm as a devil about to become a god."

von Het shook his head slightly, his tone cold and serious:
"Speculation is pointless at this moment, Your Highness. The only thing you need to do now is to obtain the last Royal Decree Card before they do."

Feng Hete's words were sharp and incisive, each one like a blade.

"The Thirteenth Quiet Island is the true foundation of the throne. Once His Majesty falls completely, the seal on the Destiny Card will loosen, and only the person who enters the Royal Palace and holds the succession ceremony at the first opportunity will be able to win this power struggle."

"Otherwise, the throne will ultimately belong to someone more decisive and ruthless."

—

Orion's expression was unpredictable, his breathing was heavy, and fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead.

He knew in his heart that this was not an ordinary power grab, but a high-stakes gamble with the future of the empire at stake.

He said coldly:

"But my secret guards are simply not capable of completely controlling the defenses of the royal palace..."

von Het replied calmly, a cold glint in his eyes:

"Most of the royal guard nobles remain loyal to you. Although their mastery of mystical powers is limited, you have the advantage of initiative and time."

“You only need to be one step ahead of Medusa, even just ten minutes ahead—and the throne will be yours.”

Orion fell into a long silence, as if a door tightly shut by fate was appearing before his eyes.

If this door were to loosen even slightly, the imperial crown would fall into his hands.

Finally, he gritted his teeth and uttered a heavy sentence:
"Get your men ready. I will not lose to them."

von Het bowed deeply, a final glimmer of light seeming to shine in his aged, cloudy eyes, and silence returned to the hall.

Orion stared at the map, a hidden fear and expectation welling up within him like an abyss:
He had to be one step ahead of everyone else—otherwise, the fate of this empire would forever be out of his reach.

Deep within the empire, an invisible fear has quietly awakened.

When Orion stepped into the circular operations room at the deepest part of the government hall, von Het was waiting in front of the star map sand table. He knew that the eldest prince had finally made his decision.

In the center of the dark gold sand table, a model of a royal palace made of metal stands proudly, with four rings of tight and mysterious incantations slowly flowing, outlining the four-fold sealed area of ​​"Royal Palace", "Inner Corridor", "Outer Courtyard" and "Palace Wall".

Feng Hete adjusted his monocle on his nose, his voice steady yet carrying a cold, sharp edge:
"Your Highness, we must completely seal off all entrances to the royal palace today, and any member of the royal family, church envoys, etc."
Even royal sorcerers cannot approach you until you complete the full inheritance ceremony of the Royal Mandate Chart.

Orion stared at the sand table with a somber expression and said in a low voice, "What if they choose to launch a full-scale attack?"

von Het's gaze was as calm as the deep sea: "We will never proactively engage in battle, but will instead hold our ground. Your personal guard will solidify the core."

General Aesop commands the Golden Guard to maintain the secret blockade, your personal guard controls the inner corridor, and a second wall is formed by loyal noble guards.

"Three chains, as stable as a lifeline."

von Het gently turned his gaze to the center of the palace model and murmured:
"If you hold out long enough, the Royal Chart will naturally choose you as its successor."

Orion frowned, hesitated for a moment, and then his voice carried an undisguised anxiety: "What if... Liseria is here too?"

A glint of mockery and confidence flickered in von Het's eyes:
“Liseria is just a little girl. She has neither your army nor the support of the court or the nobility. You only need to close that door first, and she will never be able to step in.”

Orion lowered his head, staring at the metal marker on the sand table that represented "the Thirteenth Quiet Island," and took a deep breath, as if to calm the anxiety deep within his heart that was being gnawed at by something invisible.

von Het slowly approached him, his whisper sharp as a sword:
“You don’t need to win the throne, Your Highness. You just need to make sure they lose miserably.”

-

Over the next two hours, Orion ordered a general curfew at the palace, and all available military forces were to be rapidly assembled at the Eastern Palace residence, ready for battle.

-

In the study of the Eastern Court residence, Ian was drawing intricate lines of gold guard deployment on parchment with the tip of his pen.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached, and a messenger rushed in, kneeling on one knee and handing over a warrant branded with Orion's gold sealing wax:

"General Aesop, His Highness the Prince orders you to immediately lead the Golden Guard to the south corridor of the Royal Palace Mirror Tower to construct the first line of defense."

Ian gently accepted the secret order, watching the sealing wax cool in his palm, a meaningful smile playing on his lips:

"Your Highness, you've really placed a huge bet."

He stood up, and the Wind Whisper Fate Pattern silently activated, instantly unseen Fate Pattern storm sweeping across the entire mansion.

In an instant, mercenaries, noble private soldiers, and mysterious warriors who had surrendered from Harlan all emerged from the shadows.

Ian walked up to the platform, looking down at the disheveled, unfocused soldiers below, a motley crew, and felt an undisguised contempt and mockery well up inside him:
"To defend the throne with such power is simply a joke."

He smiled slightly, flicked his fingertips, and the power of his life runes surged in the air. His voice, cold and sharp, cut through the wind and pierced the minds of every soldier:

"Golden Guards, assemble! Those who are not in position within ten seconds will be considered as discarded cards."

The air in the courtyard suddenly froze.

"one."

The soldiers looked around in horror, wondering where the sound was coming from.

"two."

Panic spread, and everyone began to hastily line up, stumbling and scrambling in a sorry state.

"ten."

The last soldier who had fallen to the ground struggled to his feet and, covered in sweat, returned to the ranks.

Ian walked down the steps unhurriedly, his gaze slowly sweeping over the group of flustered soldiers before him, a hint of contempt and ruthlessness in his eyes:

"From this moment forward, you will be the first wall before the King's palace."

“If you cannot hold it, someone else will hold it for you, and then you will have no choice but to die.”

He changed the subject, his smile sharp as a knife:

"But I can guarantee that anyone who survives will receive a noble reward that will change their destiny."

In just a few words, a kind of burning light appeared in the eyes of this originally chaotic army.

They were neither loyalists nor warriors willing to die.

They were merely pawns in Orion's game, thrown into this power struggle filled with intrigue and intertwined fates, becoming a wall built with lives.

Golden Guard? No, a more fitting name is—

Offerings to the throne.

Ian gazed up at the distant palace dome, his eyes as deep and unfathomable as the night sea. He knew that this wall was destined to be stained with blood and an aura of mystery.

He, on the other hand, will quietly watch the wheel of fate slowly turn, waiting for his moment.

"The gears of fate have been turned; let's see how long you can hold out."

In the center of the palace, a mysterious blue flame hangs atop a high tower, and the whispering wind whistles through the corridors, foreshadowing a tide of destiny slowly rolling in.

Ian unfolded the simple formation diagram outlined in dark silver ink in his palm, a slight smile playing on his lips, his pale gold eyes flashing with a faint chill.

He began setting up the defensive line quickly and meticulously:
The first line of defense is the establishment of the "Wind Whisper Perception Domain".

He will use his dual-world system mysteries as a base, adjusting the wind wall and echo lines as needed.

Anyone who steps into the Wind Domain will have their breath, heartbeat, and even the fluctuations of their life lines captured in an instant. Their memories and thoughts may even be glimpsed by the whispers of the wind.

The second line of defense was manned by the "Mysterious Guardians," whose core consisted of Harlan's surrendered warriors.

Their Mirror Tide Elemental Technique can create countless mirror mazes that intertwine reality and illusion.

When an enemy steps into this place, it is as if they have fallen into an endless illusion of their own self, and they cannot even distinguish whether they are the enemy in the mirror or themselves outside the mirror.

The third line of defense consists of heavy card archers and magical mystics to provide firepower.

Orion's powerful firepower array, built over many years, will unleash its ultimate attack in a short time, and anyone who crosses this line will pay an extremely heavy price.

The outermost perimeter is defended by the Orion Guard and the Noble Defense Knights on a rotating basis.

Layer upon layer, like the Four Symbols Formation, completely blocked the way in and out of the royal palace.

Ian slowly climbed to the observation deck of the central tower, his gaze sweeping over the densely packed defensive troops below, a sense of mockery and coldness that seemed not to belong to him welling up in his heart.

He whispered to himself:
"How absurd that I have become the gatekeeper of this power struggle for the throne."

Before he could finish speaking, the long axis of floor tiles in the center of the palace suddenly trembled slightly, and a mysterious light quietly rose from the lines of destiny.

Hundreds of eerie, dark blue runes opened one after another, like the eyes of the deep sea. The ancient palace array awoke from its long slumber, and in an instant, the entire palace was enveloped by an oppressive, profound power.

Ian knew this was a sign that Orion was about to take action.

-

Ian stood on the south corridor of the Mirror Tower, his gaze fixed on the last squad of Golden Guard soldiers slowly taking their places. Then he slowly turned around and looked at the figure walking towards him from the East Court residence in the distance.

Orion.

At this moment, his lion-patterned battle robe was adorned with gold and silver accents, and the dark gold cape on his shoulders fluttered gently in the wind.

With each step he took, the runes on the ground would faintly flicker—a sign that fate was paving the way for his ascension to the throne.

This indicates that he is no longer an ordinary prince, but a "candidate" who has taken a step towards the throne.

He slowly ascended the high platform and stood before the marble monument in the center of the four lines of defense.

Von Het stood quietly to his side, holding a scepter engraved with the star of destiny, his expression solemn to the point of being enigmatic.

Orion took a deep breath, his voice ringing out like thunder:

"Due to the disorder of the three royal decrees, the king's critical condition, and the vacuum of the throne, the royal palace will be completely sealed off from today."

"No one—whether prince, princess, nobleman, officer, or even church envoy—is permitted to set foot in the royal palace without the order of Prince Orion!"

His voice was booming, and his mysterious amplification technique spread out like waves, impacting every corner of the palace.

In an instant, everyone's eyes were fixed on him.

The Golden Guard, the Mysterious Guard, and the Noble Knights—no matter their inner struggles and doubts, they could not resist his powerful declaration at this moment.

Because at this very moment, Orion had already grasped the key to taking the lead—

Those who act always precede those who act legitimately.

At least in this game of fate, this law couldn't be more true.

-

Ian stood atop the tower, his gaze sweeping over the four lines of defense: the Noble Guard, the Golden Guard, the Harlan Secret Guard, and the royal palace where he resided.

The entire palace slowly closed like a giant lock of fate, locking not only the royal palace, but also the future destiny of the entire Trelian Empire.

Beside the slumbering Lion King in the center, the "Thirteenth Quiet Island" remained quietly asleep, seemingly watching the power struggle that was about to spiral out of control with cold eyes, awaiting its final destiny.

-

Ian withdrew his gaze, closed his eyes slightly, and a mysterious smile appeared on his lips:

"What do loyalty and betrayal mean before the throne, Your Highness Orion... Do you really think you have a sure hand?"

The wind passed silently, yet it seemed to bring countless whispers:
"I just want to see just how many people the flames on the throne can burn to death..."

The palace gates closed heavily and slowly, like the irreversible turning of the wheel of fate, emitting a low, solemn metallic sigh.

Orion stood before the palace, gazing up at the golden lion relief above the door, his eyes flashing with a mixture of hesitation and determination.

He spoke softly, as if speaking only to the empty air, or perhaps confessing to his unresponsive father:
“Father, if your soul is still awake at this moment, please forgive my overstepping. But I can no longer wait for your death.”

He turned around, his gaze landing on von Het, who stood like a shadow behind him, his voice carrying a deep sense of oppression and gloom:

"From this moment on, this battle is no longer just a struggle between me and my brothers and sisters, but the throne—the moment when I choose it."

von Het's gaze was calm, yet revealed a barely perceptible sharpness, as he responded in a low and clear voice:
“You have the chain in your hand. Now, we just need to wait for the blind to crash into this door.”

Orion nodded silently, his gaze sweeping across the dawn light that was gradually appearing on the horizon.

As the sun rose, its light failed to penetrate the heavy shadows of the royal palace—the four palace gates remained tightly shut.
The fate of the entire Trelian Empire seems to be sealed here, awaiting the activation of the next life rune.

Above the south corridor of the Mirror Tower, Ian stood solemnly in the center of the Whispering Wind Domain, his enormous wind wings appearing and disappearing, echoing the whispers of the world.

The Golden Guardians gathered quietly like a dark torrent, while the Mirror Array of the Mysterious Guardians unfolded, weaving reality and illusion into an unbreakable barrier.

Just as the defensive line was taking shape, Orion stepped heavily but decisively up the tower.

His magnificent yet ferocious lion-patterned battle robe flowed with a radiant glow interwoven with dark gold and blood.

The still-burning flames of his destiny symbolized his near-legitimate status as the "temporary ruler of the royal mandate."

He walked up to Ian, his voice low and authoritative, like a vow, yet carrying a chilling threat:
“Aesop Lee, from this moment on, until the moment I am crowned, your life and death, and the glory of your family, are inextricably linked to this line of defense.”

He paused, his gaze sharp as a knife as he stared at Ian:

"However, I have never been one to demand loyalty without compensation. When the throne falls into my hands, you will be granted the title of 'First Military Privy Councilor of Trelian,'"
Your family—the Barletta clan—will also be granted dukedoms and titles, with territories spanning three states, and your secret military power will henceforth be freed from royal control.

Orion's words were straightforward and unvarnished, yet they struck at the heart's desires more directly than any spell.

Ian smiled and bowed his head, his posture impeccably humble.

“For Your Highness’s glory, and for my family, I, Iso Li Barletta, will burn through all my life runes, defend every inch of land, and never retreat an inch.”

However, only he himself knew that the whispers in his heart went beyond loyalty:

"How ridiculous! Do you really believe that the glory of the throne can illuminate everyone's ambition?"

They both gazed at the majestic and heavy golden gate of the royal palace.

The red life-mark chain in the center of the golden lion emblem has not yet been fully lit, just like the power that Orion has not yet fully grasped, which is still on the verge of being unresolved.

von Het reminded him at the opportune moment:

“Your Highness, as long as His Majesty has a breath left, the sovereignty binding of the Thirteenth Quiet Island cannot be fully activated. What you hold in your hands is the ‘power to guard the palace,’ not ‘royal power.’”

A shadow crossed Orion's brow.

He knew perfectly well that he was now merely the "night's watchman" before the throne, caught in a game of chess called power.

No matter how tight his defenses were or how perfect his game was, it was still a victory declared in advance.
The true destiny card that could grant him legitimate status was still in the palm of that dying old lion king.

He couldn't kill the king, as that would provoke the wrath and retaliation of all the empire's enemies.

He could only wait, and this waiting was even more agonizing than fighting directly.

He took a deep breath, turned around, and faced the neatly lined-up soldiers of the defensive line. His voice was as clear as the cold, merciless iron:
"At this moment, though I have not been crowned, I will guard the path to the throne. Anyone who dares to make a move will have to be crushed step by step through the four layers of barriers I have personally set up."

A gentle morning breeze stirred, causing the life-patterned cloak on his back to flutter in the wind, symbolizing the silent prelude to a war that had quietly begun.

Ian stood behind him, gazing at the layers of defenses, but his gaze drifted towards the distant capital city.

He muttered to himself, his tone laced with barely suppressed mockery and coldness:

"A man who only sees the throne as a gamble... I'd really like to see how many lives you can wager on the throne?"

Countless tiny, indescribable murmurs drifted on the wind, like some ancient and absurd laughter:

"The throne does not belong to bloodline, nor to prophecy, nor to the so-called destiny of the stars. It belongs only to the first person who dares to close the door to the throne."

"...Will the final step lead to light or to the abyss?"

—Quoted from the Imperial Code, Clauses on Royal Succession, Secret Appendix

(End of this chapter)