Judgment
"Ah--!"
King Marcus let out a bloodcurdling scream, his massive body trembling violently with agony. His leg, which he was trying to escape, was pierced precisely by a rapier made of pure ice crystals that appeared out of nowhere, pinning him firmly to the cold ground. Dark red blood gushed out instantly, soaking his magnificent velvet robe.
It was Solitär made the move. She had appeared silently behind Marcus without anyone noticing, her face still bearing that harmless, sweet smile like a girl next door, her pale green eyes sparkling with the pure curiosity of a researcher, as if she were simply conducting an interesting experiment.
"Ah~ I'm sorry, Your Majesty Marcus," her voice was ethereal and melodious, creating an eerie contrast with the bloody scene before her.
"Solitär can't kill; I have that much self-discipline. But merely piercing your leg to temporarily incapacitate you seems to be within the permissible scope. Letting you escape like that wouldn't be fun, would it? Solitär wants to observe closely what kind of interesting expression His Anthony will display and what decisions he will make when facing his former enemy, now a prisoner. This data will definitely be invaluable!"
Meanwhile, the battle between Lupa and Linié was also nearing its end. Like tigers among sheep, the two had completely routed most of the stubbornly resisting enemy knights. Lupa's spear was like a crimson dragon, each thrust and parry precisely dismantling the enemy's armor; Linié's battle axe was silent and efficient, like the most precise killing machine. Seeing that the situation was hopeless, the remaining dozen or so knights dropped their weapons in terror and tried to scatter and escape into the surrounding rubble.
However, they had barely taken their first step—
"Whoosh--!"
Several tiny, almost invisible streaks of icy blue light, like living venomous snakes, swept across the battlefield at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye, precisely striking the ankles of every fleeing person!
"Snap!" "Ouch!" "My leg!"
A sickening crack of bones breaking and screams of agony rang out simultaneously. Without exception, the fleeing knights' calves were cleanly severed, and they collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain. The one who had done it was, of course, Solitär. She didn't turn to look at the result; she simply clapped her hands lightly, a satisfied expression on her face as if she had accomplished a small, easy task.
"Hmm~ This way, the variables are controlled quite perfectly. All the 'experimental samples' remain on-site, making it easier for subsequent centralized observation and data recording... The environment is finally much cleaner; it's getting more and more exciting..."
On the rock wall, Lowell watched the scene below being instantly brought under control, clicked his tongue softly, and said with a hint of helplessness, "They really didn't know their own strength. But, dealing with this kind of trash, it doesn't really matter. After all, these knights have probably participated in that fat pig's 'entertainment' quite a bit."
Frieren's emerald eyes swept over the knights below, their legs broken and howling in agony, and Marcus pinned to the ground. She then glanced at Lowell beside her. "Intervening in wars between human kingdoms, aren't you afraid of the trouble that will ensue? Human political entanglements are always complicated and a waste of time."
Lowell shrugged, wearing an expression that suggested he was afraid of trouble but had no choice but to do it. "Normally, that's true; we'd avoid it like the plague. But this time is different. With King Anthony here, as the king, he'll naturally clean up the mess afterwards. We're just 'helpers invited by the king.' After all, using women and children as human shields—such scumbag behavior—no one can say 'no' if we intervene."
He paused, a calculating smile playing on his lips, "Speaking of which, the gems on that fat pig were indeed of excellent quality. A king's private stash should be enough to exchange for quite a few high-class desserts, right? A kingdom should at least have a few decent magic books..."
Upon hearing "year-round supply vouchers for high-end dessert shops" and "magic books," Frieren's blue eyes lit up almost imperceptibly, and she let out a short, satisfied hum. "Oh? Well... it's not entirely a losing proposition." She could almost picture mountains of desserts and ancient magic scrolls.
In the valley below, the battle was completely over, leaving only the howling of the wind and snow whistling over the rocks and the suppressed groans of the prisoners.
King Anthony in his red robes took a deep breath of the cold air, suppressing the pain from his wounds and the exhaustion from the fierce battle. He pushed away the soldiers who were trying to help him, used his blood-stained sword as a support to straighten his back. Despite his tattered armor and blood-stained face, an undeniable majesty and resilience rekindled in the eyes of this monarch.
His gaze slowly swept across the valley, littered with corpses and wounded after a bloody battle, finally settling solemnly on Lupa, Linié, and the enigmatic Solitär who had approached. He placed his right hand on his chest and solemnly performed a standard royal salute. His voice, though slightly hoarse from exhaustion, remained clear and steady:
"Gentlemen, I, Anthony Nasser, will never forget your kindness today. May I ask your esteemed names and origins? The Nasser Kingdom will forever remember your generosity."
His gaze lingered on the spirited and still-fighting Lupa and the silent yet formidable Linié, filled with undisguised gratitude and curiosity.
When his gaze fell upon Solitär, who effortlessly controlled the situation with a sweet smile, an indescribable solemnity and caution flashed deep in his eyes—the methods this young girl displayed had completely exceeded his understanding of "power."
Lupa sheathed her spear, the fighting spirit in her heterochromatic eyes subsiding slightly. Uncomfortable with such formal occasions, she waved her hand. "My name is Lupa, this is Linié, and this is Solitär." She pointed to Lowell and Frieren, who were slowly descending the rock face along the path. "Up there are my master, Lowell, and Lady Frieren. We're just passing by."
Just then, Solitär, like a nimble bird, floated to King Marcus, who was pinned to the ground by an ice sword and whose face was ashen. She then quickly turned to Anthony, her pale green eyes gleaming with intense excitement, and began to speak rapidly, her words coming out in rapid succession:
"So, Your Majesty Anthony, Your Majesty Marcus, please satisfy my curiosity! As kings, when waging war and using your people as shields, how exactly do you weigh the moral implications? Do you have thoughts of 'necessary sacrifices'? How are proportions defined? How is the cost-benefit model constructed? Your Majesty Marcus, you seem completely unrepentant. Is this due to an innate lack of relevant emotional modules, or has it been developed into a specific, result-oriented cognitive logic? Your Majesty Anthony, your 'mercy' just now put your side in danger. Did you regret it for even a moment afterward? If you could do it again, knowing we were involved, would you choose a more effective tactic that might harm innocent people? What is your ranking of 'royal power' and 'life'? Is the core of your rule power, legitimacy, or the well-being of the people? Do you love your kingdom? Do you love the land, the people, or the power that comes with the title of 'king' itself? Which love takes precedence? If... ah~ there are too many questions... but every answer is crucial! It is key data for understanding the power struggle between humanity and the people! Please answer in detail and sincerely!"
Marcus winced in pain, and faced with the barrage of questions, all he could do was curse with a contorted face, "Bastard! You won't get away with this... Ugh!" Solitär frowned slightly, flicked her finger, and a thin icicle sealed his mouth shut, leaving him only able to make "ooh" sounds.
"It seems His Majesty Marcus needs a little time to calm down before he can gather his thoughts. I'll ask him later then." She turned to Anthony with a sweet smile, blinking expectantly. "Your Majesty Anthony, would you please go first?"
Anthony was stunned by the series of sharp, penetrating questions. A slight twitch appeared on his weathered face, eventually settling into a complex smile, a mixture of bitterness and determination. He remained silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the terrified soldiers supporting each other, and the children on the ground, their eyes vacant, finally freed from their control. His voice, deep yet carrying an undeniable strength, rang out clearly in the wind and snow:
"This... young lady's questions are all to the core, probing the soul. But some choices are not about weighing pros and cons, but only about one's conscience. Even if I were to do it a hundred or a thousand times, I, Anthony, would never point my sword at innocent children. This is not outdated mercy, but a bottom line that a person, a king, must never cross! If becoming king requires paving the way with the bones of children, then I have no choice but to relinquish this throne!" He did not answer all the questions directly, but his resolute words already demonstrated his unwavering stance.
The valley was silent, save for the mournful sound of the wind, as if whispering a lament for the few remaining steadfast acts of perseverance in this cruel world.