While white light still shrouded the two of them—blocking the outside world from seeing what happened—the girl bathed in gold seized Linen by the collar.
"You little brat—what did you do?! Why am I here?!"
"I—I dunno," Linen said, guiltily averting his eyes for a moment. But he quickly found a counterattack. "Aren't you the Holy Trial's Administrator? Don't tell me even you don't know what happened?"
"Ghk!"
The girl—about to pounce—froze.
"Hah!"
Seeing an opening, Linen immediately pressed his advantage.
"So the mighty Administrator Ancestor stands here clueless—and you still call yourself an Administrator? Small fry. Truly the ancestor of small fry!"
"And who knows—maybe you secretly wanted to come out yourself, and this is all an act!"
"Y-you… called your own ancestor small fry?!"
No one had ever dared question her ability as Administrator. She had never seen such an insolent descendant.
What made it even more awkward was—
She really had, just now, done something that crossed the line.
She just hadn't expected things to turn out this way either!
Time in the Holy Trial space didn't match time in reality. Only a few minutes had passed outside, but inside, after seeing Linen off, the First Emperor had stood there for a long, long while.
Refusing Linen's invitation had obviously looked cool—
But the regret afterward was also very real.
At least no one could see her. Even if she suddenly remembered one day and rolled around crying idiotically, no one would know…
And besides, what was done was done. Regret was the most useless thing in the world.
As Administrator, the girl quickly steadied her emotions. She then invoked her authority and resumed the Holy Trial space, paused until now, so it could settle the Sacred Competition.
When Linen's portrait appeared before her, her first instinct was to slip in a little bonus—to help the little guy out.
But their second agreement flashed through her mind.
Stop over-interfering. Let go, and let the descendants forge their own path.
It sounded better than letting an ancient ghost meddle in their fate.
Besides, Linen's performance had clearly spoken for itself. He didn't need her interference at all. A normal settlement would suffice.
That really was her intention when she viewed the settlement screen.
But as the settlement scrolled up, the girl—despite being made entirely of light and energy—felt her temple throb like a spike in blood pressure.
"'Destruction of the imperial system'? Calling it 'destruction' is too extreme. It's obviously 'breaking it to rebuild'!"
"'Endless war'? Didn't it eventually stop? And didn't Zijinghua's territory end up twice its size?!"
"'A merciless tyrant'? Your scoring is far too rigid. Half those who died don't even count as people!"
"Forget it… You rigid thing can't score worth shit. Move aside—let me do it!"
In the end, the First Emperor again chose to take over the Holy Trial's scoring mechanism one last time, and she thoroughly revised the evaluation.
Calling it "editing" was generous.
In practice, she simply raised all Linen's positive ratings to their maximum.
But she absolutely wasn't scoring randomly, okay~?
Originally, the Head of House Morris hadn't even qualified to pass a single trial. The First Emperor kindly rounded him up, counting it as one pass. Linen had just… cleared seven perfectly. That was all.
As long as you're biased to both sides, it's not bias!
Treating it as her final selfish act, she returned control, satisfied.
Only this time, the burden fell upon the Holy Trial space.
Because Linen's score was too high.
The Holy Trial's blessing mechanism always granted rewards based on results.
After all, the former monarchs were legendary heroes—but compared to the true dragons that once contracted House Norton, they were still inferior. The blessings former monarchs could grant descendants were all "scaled-down versions" of their own.
If a full blessing was given… the fun would really begin. The Zijinghua Empire might one day produce a super-soldier stacked with complete draconic blessings. No other country or power would permit a monster capable of overturning the world's balance. Those Tower of Chronomancy lunatics would do everything they could to drag the Holy Trial space—and every Norton-blooded person—into their tower for experiments.
Thus: no complete "full-set" blessings. It was one of the Holy Trial's underlying rules.
For Linen—who cleared seven trials with a record-breaking score—lowering the evaluation was actually protection.
But clearly, the passage of time, along with the last indulgent mood, had made the First Emperor forget all of this.
It was like a test scored out of a hundred. Due to a system bug, Linen ended up scoring over five hundred. To protect him, the Holy Trial adjusted his score to a normal value.
And then the First Emperor bluntly cranked it up to a perfect seven hundred.
If the Holy Trial had consciousness, it would've been having a breakdown right now.
A hundred points was already the highest-tier blessing. Seven hundred…
What the hell was it supposed to give him? Just hand itself over?!
After repeatedly failing to issue Linen a proper reward—right before the Holy Trial space was about to crash—
A subtle, unseen force, not of this world, stirred mysteriously… nudging the wheel of Linen's fate.
And the problem that nearly froze the Holy Trial space suddenly resolved itself.
If it couldn't grant a full blessing—and couldn't offer itself as a reward—then…
Offer the Administrator instead!
Before the girl could react, a pillar of light slammed down over her head.
Then… the opening scene occurred.
The First Emperor understood instantly. The moment she saw Linen's face, she knew—
Her meddling had caused a problem.
So she chose to strike first.
What she hadn't expected was that Linen, guilty in his own way, would choose the same tactic.
And so, in the fine art of shifting blame, the First Emperor—
Was utterly defeated.
"And you even called me a small fry…"
"Ahem. Anyway."
As the girl sank into gloom after Linen's scolding, a soft cough regained her attention.
Linen took a breath. Then, just as when he'd been rejected, he bowed slightly and extended his hand toward the girl of pure light—like inviting her to dance.
"Welcome back to your faithful Zijinghua, Ancestor."
Faced with an invitation she had just refused, the girl again fell silent.
Only this time, it wasn't because she questioned her right.
"Heh."
At last, she extended her hand—not as the past king who had once shaken the continent, but with the etiquette of a lady accepting a dance invitation.
And she clasped his hand.
"Following you… I doubt I'll ever feel bored."
"But you don't need to call me 'Ancestor' anymore. If this country no longer needs a Sacred Dragon King, you don't need that title either."
"Then what should I call you? Miss Pendragon?"
"Pendragon Norton is a dead soul buried in dust," the girl rejected that name as well. She paused briefly.
Then she remembered the name she'd once had.
A name belonging not to a "king" carrying the weight of a nation, its people, and its future—forced into an iron mask, pretending to be someone else—
But to a carefree girl.
"Lily Norton. Your heroic-spirit blessing—Lily Norton." She chuckled. "A pretty corny name, isn't it?"
"Corny? Not at all," Linen said with a smile.
"Then Linen Norton will be in your care, Miss Lily."
"You…" The girl laughed, shaking her head.
Once names were exchanged, the blessing contract finally completed.
"Oh, right. Your bloodline—what's going on there?" Lily frowned.
The instant the contract formed, she sensed Linen's dragonblood—so thin it was nearly nonexistent. Calling it zero wasn't wrong.
"That's a long story."
"Then make it short."
"My reincarnation RNG sucked."
Linen summarized succinctly.
Lily fell silent.
Because he wasn't wrong.
Aside from her, the direct recipient, and that pitiful artificially created girl, other Nortons awakening dragonblood was… honestly, a luck check.
But even with terrible luck, you should still have something.
With dragonblood as thin as Linen's, Lily genuinely wondered if he was really blood-related.
"Whatever. Overthinking won't help." Lily sighed. "Since you're my contra—…since you'll have to revive the empire from here, I'll help you just this once."
"Ance—Miss Lily can change my dragonblood concentration?" Linen's eyes lit up.
Even an invincible system could only let Linen leech off his mother for power-ups. It couldn't directly alter his dragonblood.
If anyone else claimed that, Linen wouldn't believe a word.
In the original story, some routes featured Linen's original self chasing power by every means imaginable—only to be crushed by the protagonist after becoming "strong." Yet even then, he had relied on begging evil gods, artifacts, or external means.
Never once had Linen's pitifully low dragonblood concentration been changed in any route.
But if the girl before him said it…
Somehow, it didn't feel impossible.
Because the girl in front of him had personally battled dragons, snatching blessings from between those ancient beings' claws and scales—someone who had even secured blessings for generations to come.
"Yes," Lily nodded. "Or rather—what do you think kept this single strand of obsession alive in the Holy Trial all this time?"
She raised her hand. A single golden drop of blood separated from her soul, gently floating above her palm.
Yet just from seeing it, Linen's breath turned heavy. His heart sped up, racing like drumbeats and thunder.
A blood capable of making a Norton descendant's body react without permission—
There was only one answer.
"This is… real dragonblood?!"
But Lily gently shook her head and corrected him.
"This is my blood. Simply the purest kind—closest to that great being who blessed me."
"And it was solely by relying on this purest single drop that I resisted time's erosion and persisted within the Holy Trial until now."
Linen swallowed.
He understood clearly what Lily meant.
If your dragonblood was weak at birth, then indeed—there was no way to strengthen it later.
So don't bother with the "inborn bloodline" at all.
Why inherit a bloodline that only thinned with each generation?
Just bathe in dragonblood—and become, once again, the original kind of hero who once bathed in dragonblood.
Naturally, the danger of bathing in dragonblood required no explanation.
Just consider the twisted monsters created by the Morris ancestor's alchemy within the Holy Trial space.
And that had been done with a certain degree of "protection."
To bathe directly without any safeguards…
"Ancestor… Miss Lily," Linen sighed softly. "There really was a reason you were the one who unified Zijinghua."
"So?" Lily tilted her head. "Do you want it?"
"What kind of question is that?" Linen raised his head again, grinning with a faint ferocity.
"Only you get to reject me. I don't have the right to reject you. Of course I want it."
"You smooth-talking brat." Lily's hand trembled once before swiftly steadying. "Then catch."
...
"So what exactly happened?"
"No idea. Lord Morris suddenly started vomiting blood and had to be helped away—that's clearly a failure, right? But Prince Linen's still enveloped in blessing light. He should be receiving the blessing, but what kind…"
In the banquet hall, the Head of House Morris's settlement had ended quickly and decisively. Linen, however, remained shrouded in blessing light, prompting murmurs throughout the crowd.
"Your Majesty—does a blessing truly take this long? Could something have gone wrong?"
Quinn frowned and turned to Empress Tivira beside her.
But the Empress was also frowning.
As the only ruler ever to have received seven blessings—not just among those present, but in all the history of the Holy Trial—she could confidently say no one understood blessings better than she did.
Typically, stronger blessings took longer. But from any perspective, Linen's current blessing seemed excessively prolonged.
Long enough to make people anxious.
Long enough to rekindle hope among nobles who'd already resigned themselves.
By ordinary measures, Linen had unquestionably crushed the Head of House Morris.
Yet why was his blessing taking so long?
Had something gone wrong?
For instance… had the Holy Trial judged him guilty of maliciously exploiting loopholes? Or was his bloodline simply so pitiful—almost nonexistent—that he couldn't bear the Holy Trial's intended blessing?
After all, in the Sacred Competition, ministers could win and receive a reward—making any demand from the Norton imperial family—precisely because they couldn't receive former monarchs' blessings, requiring compensation.
Entering the Holy Trial required no threshold.
But receiving the blessing did.
That was common knowledge throughout Zijinghua.
Not to mention—Linen had achieved the highest trial score in history with the weakest bloodline in history.
Could his garbage body really bear something so sacred?
Some already began malicious speculations.
Moment by moment, the hall—which had been ready to toast Linen's victory—grew strangely tense.
The Empress gripped the throne's armrest. Quinn toyed with a lock of hair. Hysteria clenched her fists tightly. Elena alone remained completely composed.
"Elena… y-you're not nervous?" Hysteria asked her friend hesitantly.
Elena had always been calm, but this seemed overly bold.
"I'm not nervous," Elena replied softly.
"Then… what if it was me in there?" Hysteria couldn't resist asking, despite the inappropriate timing.
Elena smiled gently, taking her friend's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"If it were Ria, I'd be nervous. Because Ria is my best friend."
Elena's voice was tender.
"W-wah, Elena!"
Hysteria's eyes welled up emotionally. Indeed—in Elena's heart, she was the most—
Then Elena continued.
"But if it's Linen, I'm not nervous. Because I believe in Linen!"
Hysteria: …
Something had just been shoved into her mouth. And it wasn't exactly moving.
Just then, an inconspicuous maid who'd been following Reinhardt slipped ghostlike through the crowd, drifting toward Segun Bor, who sat looking hollowed-out.
Reinhardt noticed from the corner of his eye.
Yet the old lion swiftly narrowed his gaze, pretending he saw nothing.
As for Segun—after losing vast swathes of his fief, he'd ceased caring about anything. Ignoring events unfolding around him, he sat alone in sullen silence, drinking bitterly.
When the plain maid approached, Segun irritably waved her away.
He assumed she was some opportunist trying to cozy up to a fallen House head.
But the maid wasn't discouraged at all. Instead, she grabbed his wrist in a firm reverse grip, lips moving swiftly as she whispered something.
Instantly, Segun's face twisted into the terror of a man cornered by a venomous snake.
"N-no… I can't. I'll die—I'll definitely die!"
The maid simply shook her head, steady and resolute, then whispered again.
Segun's pupils shrank in shock—as if he'd just heard something unimaginable.
Then, steeling himself, he rasped:
"Fine… I only hope you and the Tower don't forget Bor's contribution!"
Under the crowd's bewildered stares, Segun abruptly stood and shouted:
"Your Majesty!"
His voice pulled everyone's attention from the pillar of light—Empress Tivira included.
"Speak," the Empress said, voice carrying faint, unfriendly heat.
Segun's face was deathly pale. He swallowed, forcing courage into his throat, then shouted:
"Tonight's focus isn't the Holy Trial or a blessing ceremony. A blessing ceremony never takes this long—Your Majesty knows that better than anyone."
"Segun," the Empress said flatly after a pause, "you should carefully weigh every word you say next."
Across the hall, House Bor's members—who had been mocking House Morris moments ago—frantically began nodding.
Why the hell did the death omen suddenly swing over our heads?!
But even faced with this explicit threat, Segun drew a deep breath, trembling as he continued:
"I'm entirely clear-headed—that's precisely why I must speak now!"
"What exactly are you trying to say?" The Empress's voice now contained barely restrained fury.
"I ask Your Majesty to display your divine might and shatter this pillar of light, letting everyone see what's inside—better than waiting here blindly!"
The hall exploded.
Especially House Bor—their legs weakened, some nearly dropping straight to their knees, faces filled with despair.
This was practically saying Linen had already died inside the blessing, and everyone was simply too polite to voice it aloud. They all thought it—but how the hell do you dare say it to her face?!
You're noble, you're brave, you feel great—what about our lives?!
"Rejected. Segun, close your mouth now, and I'll pretend this never happened."
At this point, the Empress became strangely calm. She rested her chin on one hand, leaning back.
But it wasn't over.
With the maid's encouraging—and deeply amused—gaze, Segun Bor summoned his nerve and uttered the bravest words of his entire life:
"Then, since Prince Linen cannot emerge at this time, I request Your Majesty officially declare Morris the winner of this Sacred Trial!"
Hearing that, the Empress didn't become angry.
She simply couldn't remain calm any longer.
She smiled.
Already breathtaking, when the Empress smiled, it was like a rose fully blossoming—radiant, blazing, heart-stopping.
Seeing that, some of Bor's timid women began quietly crying.
"In that case, Segun, you should—hm?"
Crack!
A sharp sound suddenly seized everyone's attention.
It was like something thin and brittle breaking—fragile, but not porcelain. The banquet's servants had been carefully selected; their hands never trembled.
Compared to a dropped cup, it sounded more like something breaking from the inside.
Like… an eggshell.
The Empress's. Quinn's. Elena's and Hysteria's. The nameless maid's. Reinhardt's. Everyone's eyes instantly snapped toward the source.
The pillar of light around Linen had shattered open, a single hand punching through from within. It reached out, grasping as if searching for direction, then lazily waved outward.
Linen's teasing voice echoed from within.
"Sorry, Uncle Bor. Your abacus beads were clacking so loudly they cracked my blessing ceremony."
"So how about… you pay for it?"
Behind him, amid endlessly blossoming radiance, a girl leaned casually on a longsword. Her face was indistinct—but every person in the room shivered, as though her indifferent gaze had swept over them.
"Heroic-spirit blessing—he received a heroic-spirit blessing!" someone exclaimed.
"And that's not all~" Quinn's smile bloomed.
For the first time, facing the little brother she'd always bullied and toyed with, she felt herself shiver.
Her smooth back trembled. Her legs, hidden beneath her gown, shook slightly.
And that was despite a gap of at least three Rings between them.
More importantly—Quinn understood her own body better than anyone.
A monstrous body that inherited dragonblood so potent it barely qualified as human.
Something capable of making even a monster feel fear…
This brat… looks like he got his hands on something incredible.
Without meaning to, Quinn's eyes drifted toward the Empress upon the throne. She narrowed them slightly, gaze playful.
Mom. Save me, won't you~?
---
T/N: WOAHHHHHHHHHHHHH HE GOT SABER AS HIS SERVANT WELL ANOTHER SERVANT!! LILY SABER!
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