Crimson: born as noble lived as phantom

THE DEATH’S GAMBIT

I materialized in the center of a massive, vaulted hallway. The air was thick with the scent of expensive incense and polished marble. Instantly, a glowing, three-dimensional blueprint of the royal palace was beamed directly into my mind via one of Grim’s miniature eagle drones.

Two minutes.

The actual culprits behind the assassination would breach this exact wing in less than a hundred and twenty seconds. I didn't have time for a stealthy rescue. If I wanted to save Princess Quina, I needed to create an immediate, massive commotion right here to throw a wrench into the assassins' plans and force the palace guards to mobilize.

Reaching into the leather bundle, I pulled out a pitch-black, faceless mask delivered by the drone and snapped it over my features.

As I adjusted the straps, the synchronized clanking of armored boots echoed down the corridor. Three elite royal knights rounded the corner, their eyes locking onto my cloaked, masked figure.

“Who goes there? Identify yourself!” the lead guard bellowed.

He drew a concealed blade directly out of his walking cane. The man was a veteran; he had clearly realized that while his eyes could see me, his magical sensory abilities couldn't detect a single ounce of my presence—all thanks to the light-absorbing, aura-cloaking alloy on Grim’s modified twin blades.

In a blur of motion, I unsheathed my right blade and lunged forward.

SLASH!

I expected the veteran knight to parry or counter, but my new phantom reflexes were far too explosive. Before he could even raise his cane-sword, my blade cleanly sliced through his armor, sending him collapsing heavily to the floor in a single strike. I stared down at my hand. These glowing crimson eyes were absolutely not for show.

“Assassins!” the remaining two knights roared, drawing their broadswords.

This was the moment. I needed to trigger my devil-granted ability. I locked my eyes on the pair and placed my very first thirty-second bet, mapping the outcomes across the spectral cards in my mind:

It was a mathematically calculated gamble. There was zero chance these proud royal knights would run away or waste time shouting for help when facing a lone intruder.

Sure enough, the two knights bared their teeth, their blades flaring with intense elemental magic as they charged me together.

Flash.

The spectral card of the King of Spades materialized in mid-air right in front of my face, shattering into a million glowing particles.

In an instant, a devastating, cosmic wave of pure mana erupted from my core. It was a force far greater, darker, and more terrifying than anything I had gained from my phantom awakening alone. The sheer weight of the King’s authority warped the air, cracking the marble walls and shattering the stained-glass windows along the corridor.

The two charging knights didn't even have time to swing. The moment the black mana wave brushed past them, their eyes rolled back into their heads, and they crashed face-first onto the floor, completely unconscious.

But it didn't stop there.

I felt the mana swirling violently through the entire structural layout of the castle. Through the drone's map, I watched a horrifying domino effect: roughly seventy percent of the total palace guards across multiple floors had instantly fainted from the sheer, suffocating weight of my sudden magical pressure.

'Uh oh... that might have been a bit too much,' I thought, a cold sweat breaking out under my mask.

My eagle drone suddenly pinged a warning. The actual intruders had officially entered the palace wing. There were seven of them. Because they were elite killers, none of them had fainted from the King's mana flare. However, the remaining thirty percent of the palace guards—a massive, furious mob of surviving elite soldiers—were currently sprinting directly toward my location, hunting the source of that catastrophic magical anomaly.

If I stayed here, I would be surrounded and crushed by an entire army of furious knights.

Forcing a smirk behind my mask, I sheathed my blade and bolted down the eastern corridor, heading straight toward the coordinates of the seven intruders. If the palace wanted a war, I would give them one. It was time to force this chaotic mess into a bloody, three-way battle.

Far from the chaotic hallways, inside a lavishly decorated private chamber, Erina stood rigidly at attention.

Beside her sat a breathtakingly beautiful half-elf with shimmering white hair, peacefully sipping a cup of hot tea. This was Princess Quina.

With the King and the high captains away at the summit, the immense responsibility of guarding the young royal fell entirely on Erina’s shoulders.

“What are you going to do now, Erina?” Quina asked softly, setting her teacup down with elegant grace.

Erina blinked. “About what, Your Highness?”

“About the House of Novalanch,” Quina replied, looking up with genuine concern. “As the sole remaining heir, it is your responsibility to rebuild your household.”

Erina’s expression darkened. A heavy, hollow shadow passed over her eyes.

“My parents were brutally poisoned by my own little brother... and then Erik died in that horrific prison explosion before he could ever face a trial.”

She clutched the hilt of her rapier, her knuckles turning white. “My only wish right now is to live out my days as a simple knight and die a warrior's death on a distant battlefield. Let the crown inherit our assets. I will serve my kingdom in life, and I will serve it in death.”

Quina exhaled a soft sigh. “I see. And please, drop the formal titles when we are alone. Just call me Quina.”

“Thank you, Quina,” Erina managed a faint, grateful smile. “What about your own plans?”

“I intend to leave for the Elven Homeland soon,” Quina said, her voice dropping into a solemn tone as she looked out the high window. “Our kingdom has been locked in a bloody war with the Kingdom of Blood for eight years. While we live in luxury here, innocent people die on the outskirts every single day. I want to accumulate enough knowledge and power to forge a true, lasting peace.”

Erina stared at her, her chest swelling with profound respect. “How noble of you, My Lady—”

VREEEEEEEEEEM!

The words had barely left Erina's mouth when the entire atmosphere violently twisted.

A suffocating, utterly devastating wave of pure magical pressure rippled through the solid stone walls of the palace. The sheer weight of the black mana caused the porcelain tea set to shatter. The heavy chandeliers above swung wildly.

It was a terrifying, apocalyptic force—and yet, to Erina, it felt heartbreakingly, impossibly familiar.

In an instant, a vision of Erik’s bright, innocent smile flashed vividly across her mind.

“Erik…?” Erina gasped, her heart leaping into her throat.

Forgetting all royal protocol, she violently spun around and rushed toward the grand double doors of the chamber. “Forgive me, Quina! Something catastrophic has come up!”

As Erina slammed the doors behind her to hunt the source of the magic, Quina stood alone in the trembling room. She, too, had felt the foreign, heavy gravity of that black mana wave. But she didn't hide in terror.

Walking purposefully over to her private closet, Quina pulled out a beautifully forged elven sword. The blade gleamed with a sharp, lethal light.

“I won’t sit on the sidelines anymore,” Quina whispered fiercely, drawing the weapon and testing its weight. “If I want to bring peace to this world, I must be willing to fight for it.”

With her sword held tight, the white-haired princess bolted out of the room, charging straight into the epicenter of the unfolding three-way war.

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[ NOTE FOR SKIPPERS: Welcome! If you jumped straight here to check the palace raid action, you missed Erik's intense training with Grim, his tactical card mechanics, and the lore behind the fated prophecy in Chapters 1-6! It's highly recommended to read those first so the magic system makes full sense! ]

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