CH-113

113 Why Doesn't Your Majesty Ask Me Who the Next Ruler Will Be?

Levanci, the royal capital of the Duchy of Sermon.

For centuries, besides the Aderik family, the Duchy of Sermon had witnessed no true miracles or divine interventions.

Yet, when the final successor group arrived at the palace, the knight leading them spoke of a youth in their ranks – Shurik – who seemed the most likely candidate to become the prophesied successor, a bringer of miracles.

The youth had no surname and was of common, unremarkable birth.

Initially, he went unnoticed, even by the knights, who were unaware of his existence. It wasn't until he carried a collapsed youth on his back for hours that the knights first took notice.

Some suspected it was a bid for attention, a performance. It wasn't unusual for aspiring successors to act obsequiously or excessively diligent to curry favor with those in power.

The knights didn't believe that mere virtue was enough to qualify one as the successor.

They also assumed the youth who had been carried likely understood this game. Upon receiving aid, he probably didn't want to show excessive gratitude or further elevate the other's reputation.

However, when the sickly, collapsed youth noticed that Shurik, upon seeing his improvement, had simply left him be, his initial suspicions faded.

The knights acknowledged that the youth was indeed kind-hearted and tolerant.

But what truly impressed them was his conduct at the manor.

There, he displayed remarkable insight and talent. Through his composure and sense of responsibility, he earned the respect and trust of many. Even a locally renowned noble scion had been willing to kneel and beg him to stay, hoping he would preside over the family funeral before departing.

If all this had been staged – orchestrated by someone behind the scenes to build the youth's reputation – the methods used were exceptionally bold.

Using death and mourning to pave someone's path was certainly an unorthodox and risky strategy.

But the situation went even further.

As the knights continued to observe, they discovered Shurik could genuinely communicate with the divine and even channel divine power to subdue others. On the spot, he had caused a guilty man's spirit to break, leading him to confess his crimes willingly.

This string of incredible feats filled the knights not just with awe, but with fervent excitement.

If this person could truly fulfill the prophecy and ascend the throne, he would undoubtedly be a wise ruler. Who would then fear the decline of the duchy?

Perhaps the Duchy of Sermon could even experience an unprecedented revival.

They might finally cast off their annual dependence on the empire and stop living at the mercy of others.

Yet, no one was more shaken than the old king seated within the palace.

For he knew better than anyone that the arrival of these young men and women was not about succession to the throne, but about another, highly secretive plan – feeding the homunculus to create an elixir of immortality.

Only he and the alchemist knew this.

Besides, even if such a candidate existed, the old king had never intended to hand over his throne to anyone else.

If he truly had such intentions, why would he seek the elixir of life?

He immediately summoned the alchemist.

For these many months, it was the alchemist who had been in contact with those 'successors.'

Raising this homunculus was proving to be extremely troublesome.

From the moment the alchemist first cultivated a vague spiritual entity based on ancient texts, intending to present it to the king, to now using the blood of numerous youths to awaken it, thirty-six weeks had passed.

The royal alchemy workshop was no longer what it used to be.

The air no longer smelled of metals and potent reagents; instead, a thick stench of blood permeated everything. The walls were stained with the marks of struggles left by children who had resisted.

Despite all this, the homunculus remained unresponsive, showing no signs of awakening.

Worse still, as time went on, the children were disappearing one after another.

Some, growing suspicious, had begun refusing the potions the alchemist provided, causing him constant headaches and complicating matters significantly.

Meanwhile, the knights within the palace had also begun to notice anomalies. Some discreetly reported their findings to the king, but those who spoke up were quietly dealt with, fed to the homunculus as well.

Those who remained alive either feigned ignorance or simply kept their mouths shut.

Yet, there was some good news amidst the process. The transparent entity within the flask was far more stable than it had been initially and showed faint signs of movement. This indicated their method wasn't a complete failure.

It likely just required a different quantity. According to the alchemist's texts, they needed to continue feeding it the essence of human blood for a full forty weeks to complete the transformation into a true Homunculus.

Patience was key...

When the king abruptly summoned him, the alchemist initially assumed it was to pressure him for faster results. He was about to make his usual excuses when he learned of the arrival of this miracle-working youth.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty!" The alchemist bowed deeply, his excitement palpable. "With the arrival of such a youth, the creation of the 'Homunculus' is within our grasp!"

"Truly?" The king's voice trembled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"A child blessed by the gods... their heart's blood would surely be enough to awaken the one in the flask."

The alchemist's eyes shone with fervor. "Your Majesty, as I mentioned before, I was originally a physician. I have bled members of the Aderik family before. The moment their blood touched the flask, a miracle occurred!"

Over these days, he had grown increasingly disheveled – clothes tattered, hair wild. His speech was rapid and feverish, his entire being seeming to burn from within.

The old king watched him,

His excitement, his madness, was unsettling.

The alchemist noticed his hesitation and frowned. "Your Majesty, why are you not pleased? This is a heaven-sent opportunity! What concerns do you have?"

The old king was silent for a moment, then whispered his reply: "I am merely... afraid. That child might be sent by the Lord to punish me."

"Or perhaps the Lord knows of your quest for the elixir of immortality and has sent this child to aid you!" The alchemist's heart surged with excitement and fervor.

He was finally going to create his own miracle!

The alchemist declared without hesitation: "Think about it, Your Majesty. If this is a divine gift, it is meant for you. To refuse it would be a betrayal of the Lord's will."

The king fell into deep thought, his hands slowly tightening on the armrests of his throne.

He was no longer young.

Godhood, the throne, immortality...

If he could achieve eternal life, he would be akin to a god himself. What fear would he then have of divine punishment?

Just then, a palace guard arrived to announce that the youth Shurik had been sent by the Viscountess's carriage. Should he be received today, or tomorrow?

The timing was impeccable.

He had only just resolved to pursue immortality, defying the thunderous wrath of the gods, and this miracle youth appeared.

This was destiny.

"Very well. Bring him to me."

During the wait, the alchemist did not withdraw. He remained, quietly anticipating Shurik's arrival.

Men of their station were not accustomed to waiting, let alone for someone else to make them wait. Yet, their curiosity and desire to understand this rumored miracle youth were so intense that even a wait of ten or twenty minutes didn't feel long.

After a time, a young man slowly entered the hall.

Initially, as he walked up the palace steps with his head bowed, he appeared no different from any other impoverished youth, dressed in simple, oversized grey coarse cloth.

But when he lifted his head, what one saw was a clean, clear youthful face. His eyes were particularly striking – bright, slightly upturned almond eyes, both lively and serene. His nose was straight, his lips naturally tinted a faint pink, full and shapely, with the corners slightly upturned, giving him a gentle smile even when not smiling.

He couldn't be called astonishingly beautiful, but the old king, having assessed people for decades, could see at a glance that this child had the makings of a beauty. As he aged, regardless of gender or age, it would be difficult for anyone to truly dislike or grow weary of such a face.

His frame was slender but well-proportioned. His movements carried a youthful spirit, yet also a gentle grace and refinement.

Such a delicately handsome youth, if walking the streets, might attract unwanted attention and teasing. Yet, the aura of composure and maturity beyond his years overshadowed even his physical appeal.

His gaze was clear but not vacant; it held an uncanny clarity, as if he perceived the essence of all things. After the initial surprise of his appearance, one quickly forgot his features, remembering only the undeniable dignity and authority that forbade any disrespect.

He seemed entirely accustomed to dealing with royalty and nobility, neither humble nor arrogant before the ruler of a nation.

This, ironically, made the old king nervous.

But that feeling was fleeting.

The old king looked into Shurik's eyes and asked: "They say you can prophesy. Tell me, how much longer will I live?"

Shu Li saw the gaunt alchemist and the outwardly robust but inwardly frail old king. He hadn't expected their first request to be fortune-telling.

"Then tell me your full name and the date of your birth."

He needed to recall if such a character existed in the original story.

But as soon as he said it, he realized he really did sound like a fortune-teller.

He wondered if genuine fortune-tellers also carried a book in their minds.

The old king immediately provided his name and birthdate as requested.

Shu Li had never heard the name. He shook his head frankly. "It seems your life will not be long."

He didn't even survive to the main timeline 19 or 20 years later!

He had no interaction with the protagonist, Leslie.

At these words, both the old king and the alchemist turned deathly pale.

The old king instantly glared at the alchemist, lunging for him. "You liar! I knew it! You're a fraud! I'll have you killed!!"

The alchemist was horrified. "Your Majesty! Does the homunculus not prove my claims?"

He then looked towards Shu Li.

"You're the liar! I'll kill you!"

Shu Li merely glanced at him, noticing the bloodstained shoes peeking out from beneath his robes as he stood on tiptoe in his rage. Shu Li actually burst out laughing, a "pfft" sound escaping him.

He had never found anything so amusing.

He threw his head back and laughed.

The laughter echoed throughout the grand hall, like the tolling of a cracked bell – cold, piercing, and utterly unrestrained, slamming into everyone's eardrums.

The king and the alchemist froze on the spot, bewildered. What was wrong with this youth?

Had he suddenly gone mad?

But just as their eyes met, the young man's laughter ceased abruptly, and a cold glint appeared in his eyes.

"Your Majesty, why don't you ask me who the next ruler will be?"