Chapter 535: Aftermath

“No, this cannot be!”

Gone was Thranduil’s earlier composure—she now resembled a mad hag shrieking in frenzy.

“How could you possibly track me?”

Slowly descending from the sky, Rhonin landed a short distance before her. “Even an archmage can sense presence through spiritual force. You came from the Crescent Continent—surely you haven’t forgotten that?”

Thranduil knew it well. But she couldn’t understand: even a legendary mage’s perception rarely stretched beyond thirty miles; fifty at most for the strongest. She had teleported over eighty miles away to be safe—how could he still find her?

“D-don’t kill me!” Her voice trembled.

Once, when she crossed the Storm Sea under Lord Stormrider Sareth’s command to build his dominion upon this unknown continent of stars, how proud and fearless she had been!

Never did she imagine she would end here—cornered, broken.

Forcing a seductive smile, Thranduil whispered, “Spare me… and I’ll do anything you desire.”

A woman with only half a body speaking such words—only horror and grotesquery remained.

Rhonin curled his lips into a cold smirk. “Do followers of the Demon God fear death too?”

“Followers of the Demon God are no different from mortals,” she replied, sensing hesitation. Hope flickered. She leaned forward, voice honeyed. “Our temperaments are the same… even our bodies. Compared to your wife…”

*Slap!*

Rhonin struck her across the face, then seized the Stormheart from her grasp.

“Stop disgusting me, Thranduil. Had you killed yourself, I might have respected you as a worthy foe.”

He examined the artifact. Its inner structure was intricate, layers shielded by invisible barriers blocking full perception.

“Is this random teleportation? Or fixed-point?”

Thranduil stared blankly—then roared, “Give it back!”

This object not only controlled windwalkers but also granted teleportation, healing, and other powers—the very core of her life-bound relic.

Wind elements surged toward her in a violent spiral as she lunged to reclaim it.

But Rhonin showed no mercy. With one swift thrust, his blade pierced her heart. A twist of battle aura tore through her insides, ending her life.

The moment Thranduil died, the Stormheart in Rhonin’s hand dimmed—as if severed from a soul bond. Now, unimpeded, he probed its secrets.

Within the palm-sized disc, arcane runes formed a complex magical array—reminiscent of the “Fishing Transmission Array” in the Hidden Valley, yet far more sophisticated.

Rhonin channeled magic to activate the array. From the feedback, he sensed it wasn’t random nor fixed-point—but directional teleportation. Distance depended on mana expended, maximum likely around a hundred kilometers.

Thranduil must have been gravely wounded, weakened, perhaps conserving strength—hence only eighty miles. Arrogance and carelessness cost her life.

He removed her spatial ring. His spiritual sense swept inside—barely five or six cubic meters. Aside from personal garments, it held scattered magic crystals and five high-tier spell scrolls, including the ninth-level *Wind Serpent Chains*, one of her favored spells.

Rhonin secured both the ring and the Stormheart, then cast a pillar of flame. He watched until Thranduil’s corpse turned to ash before departing.

Thus ended the capital’s turmoil—for now. Next came Garret.

Rhonin hadn’t killed him—not solely out of concern for appearances, though he didn’t wish to seem heartless. More importantly, he wanted Brannick’s opinion.

With Bruno gone and the sole heir a patricide, once Garret faced judgment, succession would become urgent.

Bruno left one son and two daughters. Should the son prove unfit, law and custom dictated inheritance pass to brothers or nephews.

Yet Bruno’s brothers—Hesus dead, Ferals a traitor who defected to foreign blood—were disqualified, along with their lineage.

That left only the two married princesses:

Princess Shalun, and Princess Brannick.

No matter the path, the crown could never legally rest upon Rhonin’s head. And that clashed with his ambition.

He sought kingship—not for power. As Duke of Conquest, he already wielded immense authority.

But becoming king would accelerate growth.

Completing the achievement *Renowned Across the World* promised thirty thousand attribute points and sixty thousand energy essences—a leap in strength for himself and his followers.

Moreover, kingship would solve population limits, unlock great cities—perhaps even elevate him from Legend to Sage in one bound.

Such an opportunity—he would never let it slip.

“Hmm… must think carefully.”

While Rhonin struck down windwalkers and Thranduil, Goldfeather City seethed.

Many believed Rhonin the true murderer of King Bruno—until he dropped the indictment against Garret. Doubts stirred.

Then Baron Dani and other nobles fled the palace, screaming in terror of Crown Prince Garret’s parricide, treason, betrayal.

Public outrage erupted.

Here, they did not uphold the doctrine that “a father commands death, and the son must obey.” Yet every father—especially noble ones—held sacred status.

Parricide was monstrous. That it came from the heir—it was unthinkable.

Now every alley and street buzzed with whispers of the palace upheaval.

Riffraff sensing chaos ahead poured into the streets, looting, burning, murdering.

Disorder spread like wildfire.

The Royal Knights, leaderless after Philemon’s death, and the Gryphon Knights, temporarily seized by Garret, now found themselves adrift. With Garret captured and his men slain, both orders floundered—directionless.

Broar, deputy commander of the Gryphon Knights, fled the palace and went straight to the Royal Academy of the Arcane.

He chose it because students were passionate, idealistic, pure.

Well-known and respected, Broar mounted the lecture platform—and instantly drew a crowd.

They clamored for truth.

Broar withheld nothing. He recounted everything from the night King Bruno was assassinated.

He spoke factually—neither defending Rhonin nor exaggerating Garret’s crimes.

Yet when he finished, all present reached one conclusion: Rhonin had nothing to do with the king’s death. Garret framed him.

And then came the revelation—Rhonin was now both a Legendary Knight and Legendary Mage.

The tide turned completely.

Young admirers who already idolized him became fanatical supporters.

Their hero wronged, suffering injustice—they would not stand idle.

They gathered, marched into the streets, surrounded the palace gates, chanting Rhonin’s name, demanding justice, demanding Garret’s trial.

Such a scene, if Ronin were to crown himself king, they would probably raise both hands in approval without a second thought. (End of Chapter)