"Of course it was for the sake of our agreement, Ancestor."
The golden girl gave a slight shake of her head, unmoved by Linen's words.
"I'll admit it—your tongue is sharp. You're very easy to like. But I'm nothing more than the lingering obsession of someone long dead. Trying to flatter me has no meaning."
"Flatter you? Everything I said was simply the truth," Linen said with a smile, shaking his head. "Although, if you say it was all for your sake, that's not entirely true either. This was what I wanted to do from the start."
"What do you mean?"
The girl had never been one to think things through, so she asked directly.
The expression on Linen's face gradually sobered. He responded with a question of his own.
"Ancestor—by your design, the child beside me was always the final BOSS of the trial, wasn't she? In your eyes… was she qualified?"
The girl nodded without hesitation.
The nameless girl. The rebellious mad dragon.
Having personally suppressed that rebellion in actual history, the First Emperor remembered her vividly—so vividly that even compared to every enemy from her conquering past, the girl stood out.
Even now, recalling the crisis that had nearly overturned the empire, she could only think she'd won by sheer luck.
Overwhelming power. Boiling dragonblood. Endless potential.
She didn't know where the First Morris ancestor had acquired such a dangerous, forbidden alchemical art—but the results spoke for themselves.
That dragonkin girl, crafted in the First Emperor's own image, had been born with power just a step below hers.
When the Head of House Morris had used Consciousness Exchange to seize the girl's body, his cunning and wisdom poured directly into her mind.
Only because the thrill of dragonblood surging through his flesh—and a catastrophic misjudgment—clouded his reasoning, prompting him to challenge her head-on, had she managed to reserve strength and use the Holy Light Dragon's blessing to reverse the outcome.
Had he waited patiently, choosing a better moment for a decisive strike…
Perhaps history really would have changed.
But whether the girl qualified as a "BOSS" wasn't something Linen should be asking her. He ought to ask all those other "seniors" who'd reached the final stage, full of hope, thinking victory and the Sacred Dragon's grace were within their grasp—only to be mercilessly crushed…
Yet as though seeing through her thoughts, Linen merely shook his head.
"You're thinking of the 'Traitorous Dragon' after Morris possessed her. But I'm asking about the nameless, titleless, pitiful girl herself."
The question pulled the First Emperor back into thought.
Linen continued.
"In my eyes, she's just someone who was altered and lost her past—and then possessed, losing her future as well. Killing someone like that wouldn't give me the slightest thrill. The only one deserving death was the Morris ancestor. But punishing Morris alone… that wouldn't be enough."
A faint smile appeared in the corners of Linen's eyes.
"Besides, Ancestor, our agreement was to bleed those bastards dry. It never said the executioner had to be me."
"If those rats chose to hide forever," he continued, "there'd be no result until the trial ended."
"So I simply let the person who truly deserved revenge… finish it herself."
"You mean…?"
The girl had already guessed something.
Linen replied with another question.
"The Morris family always wanted a boss to rival you. You've always sought a boss to test Holy Trial challengers. But Ancestor—do you know how to raise a real boss?"
This time, the First Emperor frankly shook her head. Linen smiled faintly, pointing at the story still unfolding beside them—the Holy Trial's world running on.
"Like this. Choose a girl who holds a lion in her heart and power in her hands. Give her a miserable life. Offer her genuine hope—something capable of redeeming her."
"And finally… crush that hope with your own hands, right before her eyes."
"Watch carefully, Ancestor. My final gift to that world is complete."
...
In the scene before them, the girl Linen had protected and cherished wiped away her tears. Confusion faded from her eyes, replaced by something cold and clear. Dragging Linen's "corpse" behind her, she walked slowly back to the anxious capital.
Afterward, there was no grand funeral.
But everyone knew: the arrogant, undefeatable king—the great emperor blessed by the Sacred Dragon—was dead.
The remnants of the three Houses erupted in celebration.
Even they couldn't believe they'd actually killed the nearly invincible Sacred Dragon King. And now, faced with a little girl who dared not even hold a public funeral, hope flared again.
The rebels, scattered like dust in the wind, hastily reorganized. Their advance spread like wildfire, blades pointed at the grief-stricken capital.
The foundations Linen had built over years seemed on the brink of collapse.
Yet what happened next left the First Emperor utterly speechless—and plunged the confident rebels into despair.
Clad in the same black armor Linen once wore, the girl's expression was blank as she lowered an equally black visor. At her signal, imperial troops, long lying in ambush, surged from all directions, charging into the rebels' despair.
She personally dragged out the remaining leaders of the three Houses—and, without expression, tore out their hearts.
Using that battle as a stepping-stone, supported by House Callenica's guarantee and Linen's already-established will, her dragonblood was "confirmed," and she ascended the throne as naturally as breathing.
This dragonblood king, blessed by no true dragon, was called by her people:
"The Blood King."
Because her kindness and naivety had been buried along with that man. All that remained was a ruthless, decisive "king."
She inherited Linen's will, spilling every last drop of blood from the three Houses that rebelled to the bitter end—and completing her revenge.
The First Emperor had no words to express her feelings. Only the rippling of her golden form betrayed how unsettled her heart had become.
"You did all this… and you don't think it's unfair to that girl?" the First Emperor asked.
"Unfair? I don't see it that way." Linen shook his head.
"I let her complete her revenge with her own hands. In my final battle, I killed or crippled every knight and high-Ring Arcana Mage who could threaten her. And most importantly—"
"Ancestor, you saw what I was doing with that child every night in the study, didn't you?"
The First Emperor nodded.
To lull the Seven Great Houses into lowering their guard, Linen had "spoiled" the child openly, spending every night with her—enough for rumors to spread that the sinful dragon had bewitched His Majesty.
But in truth, exchanging bodily fluids to stabilize her emotions was only a small part.
Most of that time, Linen had been teaching her.
Teaching her knowledge—extensive knowledge. Teaching her ideas so dangerous that the First Emperor felt, if overheard, would bring enormous trouble. Dangerous thoughts.
A world not ruled by a king, but by its "people"…
Could such a thing truly exist?
In that instant, the First Emperor felt fear.
Because she realized Linen's ideas were even more dangerous than forbidden spells—enough to overturn the Zijinghua Empire itself.
She'd had no choice but to forcibly classify scenes that could have been broadcast "healthily" as explicit, using fast-forward and distant angles to prevent the banquet hall from seeing Linen's true intentions.
"Madman. Among the Norton descendants, someone like you actually exists," she said, voice tight. "You're more dangerous than Morris ever was. Perhaps I should kill you myself."
For the first time, Linen felt palpable killing intent from the golden figure before him.
Yet he remained strangely calm.
"You won't."
"Yes," she softly replied. "I won't."
The killing intent vanished instantly. Weariness and helplessness returned to that golden form, exhausted from one shock after another.
Because Linen was too valuable.
If any other family's madman had entered this realm, she would've cut him down without hesitation. But this one belonged to her. She wouldn't kill him—instead, she'd grant him her highest blessing to prevent his future demise from mere weakness.
As for Linen's Holy Trial… she intended to invoke her authority to preserve it. She wanted to see what that world would become—an indulgence for her curiosity, seasoning for her long, dull watch.
Truly dangerous, indeed.
The child Linen had "created" had too much potential. And after losing Linen, she was too diligent. One day…
She might even discover she was merely a virtual figure in a secret realm.
Now wouldn't that be something.
Still, it should be fine. As long as she remained here watching over the realm, she could always shut it down in time.
"Ancestor," Linen said, "you and I both know I couldn't stay with her forever. So I left her my learning—my thoughts—and everything else I knew, as a gift more precious than this empire itself. Even if I die, those things will remain in my place."
"And judging by the results… she's done pretty well, hasn't she?"
"If I could ever see her again someday, maybe I'd praise her. But sadly, that day will never come."
Linen smiled again, meaning pooling in the curve of his lips.
"Because I chose to let go… only after she could stand on her own."
This time, the First Emperor fell silent for a long moment.
"This was supposed to be my Holy Trial—my test, my blessing." Her voice was quiet, rueful. "I never imagined I'd end up taught a lesson by a junior like you."
Linen's words forced the First Emperor into reflection.
The Holy Trial space had been created only for past monarchs to bless future ones. It could have run on its own.
Yet her presence—and her repeated interference—had perhaps become… excessive.
Revoking all of her Holy Trials had indeed been "for the good" of Norton descendants, but it also meant the dragonblood lineage had forever lost the chance to receive the Sacred Dragon's blessing.
In truth, there were still descendants with real potential—like that girl who had once summoned her through a special ritual, Tivira. She had been quite promising.
"I understand your meaning," the First Emperor said. "I'll open my Holy Trial, and I'll reduce my interference in other Norton trials."
"It's not enough." Linen shook his head.
"Not enough?" She frowned.
"I mean for you," Linen said, looking straight at her. "It's not enough—for you."
"You've already fulfilled your duty. You owe no one anything. Those past mistakes… not all were yours."
"You don't have to wander here alone anymore."
"So, before you completely fade away—"
Linen extended his hand toward her.
"Are you interested… in stepping outside, to see the current world?"
Staring into Linen's eyes—so full of sincerity—the First Emperor sank into hesitation and conflict. Slowly, she reached out.
At the moment their hands nearly touched, she suddenly changed the gesture into a push—forcing Linen from the Holy Trial space.
In the split second before his consciousness was expelled, the radiance surrounding the First Emperor finally scattered. For one brief instant, Linen thought he clearly saw her face—
But why did it look… familiar?
"I'm sorry, little one. Thank you for talking me through it," the First Emperor said gently. "But I'm only a ghost of a bygone era."
"The hand you must hold… isn't mine anymore."
A decision that might haunt her for eternity.
But she was already dead. What right did she have to interfere with the living?
Her soft voice echoed one last time, and Linen's consciousness and body returned fully to reality.
...
In the banquet hall, two figures reappeared.
Taking in the expressions on Linen's and the Empress's faces, the Head of House Morris gave a cold laugh, immediately going for the throat.
"It seems your Holy Trial is complete as well, Your Highness."
He was extremely satisfied with his own performance. Linen Norton appeared disappointed, and the Empress couldn't conceal her irritation. One glance was enough to confirm their outcomes had been far worse than his. Mother and son were clearly panicking.
When Linen didn't even bother responding, the Head of House Morris grew even more pleased. He turned, intending to share his joy with the other heads…
Only to find every one of them wearing expressions as if their parents had died.
The Head of House Morris frowned. He glanced at his own clansmen, and his face darkened further.
Because their faces were pale… pale as though they were those dead parents.
Linen sighed softly. He had to accept the fact he hadn't managed to lure the ancestor from the Holy Trial space.
Did she see through it?
No way. She shouldn't be that clever.
But Linen hadn't been thinking solely of personal gain.
The First Emperor had plenty of shortcomings—clumsy aspects, even.
But such a hero of the past shouldn't be forgotten in bleak solitude.
And that face… it truly was familiar. Yet the glimpse had been too brief for certainty.
…Hm? Why is the corner of my vision flashing like crazy again?
When Linen had been inside the Holy Trial, perhaps because the space had pulled his soul away, the system had become so quiet it might as well have died.
Now that he was back, it flashed urgently—something was clearly wrong.
Could it be…?
A possibility slowly surfaced in Linen's mind.
If even his cheat-coded mother could be recognized as a heroine, wouldn't a cheat-on-cheat like the First Emperor Ancestor also…?
Two streams of light gradually enveloped the Head of House Morris and Linen.
"The Sacred Duel will now conclude."
From the throne above, the Empress's calm voice gave the order.
A halo suddenly descended—proof of passing the Holy Trial. After a brief hesitation, beneath the baffled gaze of the crowd, it actually landed on the Head of House Morris.
The Head of House Morris burst into laughter.
Nearly scared me to death—but in the end, it's still my victory!
But before his laughter finished, another halo appeared, immediately falling upon Linen's head.
Then another.
Then another…
Seven halos in total descended upon Linen.
That meant Linen had cleared seven Holy Trials in one go!
"Th-this… what is this?!" the Head of House Morris cried, face twisted in panic. He spun toward his allies—only to find them silently turning away.
His expression instantly soured.
Geneva—what the hell happened? Why does it feel like everyone knows except me?!
But Linen had no attention to spare.
With Novie's last "lesson" still fresh, he didn't hesitate. He pressed down.
Roll the dice—turn the bicycle into a motorcycle!
In an instant, two settlement screens overlapped.
Or rather—
The system's interface devoured the Holy Trial space's settlement screen completely.
[The Sacred Trial reaches its end. O warrior… the dust-covered story is no longer fresh, yet heroes of the past still shine golden. Congratulations, Host—successfully rejected the Hidden Heroine. Beginning Rejection Rating!]
[Comments]: A handsome stance, a shocking performance, incendiary words, profound affection, the schemes of a calculating man—and an unexpected, final rejection.
[Overall]: A magnificent rejection. Ah—System is trembling! Wish granted!
[Now, it's reward time!]
Golden light flashed, and a familiar figure appeared before Linen.
Even bathed in golden radiance, Linen could feel it clearly.
Their gazes met.
Linen scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Hi…?"
"Huh?!!!!!!!!!!!!"
---
T/N: saibah
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