The Military Princess Won’t Fall in Love with a Magic Scientist

Chapter 219. Unbowed Though the Whole World Condemns Him

Darkness.

Boundless, viscous darkness.

Her mother’s gentle yet withered face flashed through the depths of Sylvia’s consciousness like a meteor streaking across eternal night.

Then countless images spun and collided like a toppled kaleidoscope, frantically whirling and reassembling.

It was the long polar night of Winter City.

Outside the window, the wind and snow howled like wild beasts, while the firelight in the fireplace flickered unsteadily.

When the whole world had turned its back on her, when the whispers of “disaster star” bored into her ears like parasites clinging to the bone, there had only ever been that purple-haired girl, barely older than she was, standing in front of her like a wall built from sighs, refusing to move.

“Your Highness, do not listen. Do not look.”

The young Esmeralda knelt on the floor, covering little Sylvia’s ears with hands that were not broad enough for the task. Yet her eyes were heartbreakingly resolute.

“My mission is to protect you, Your Highness. As long as you are here, the shadow will remain.”

Esmeralda...

That woman, who had been like an elder sister to her, had used half her life to fill every void in the family love Sylvia had never received. If Sylvia died here, she would surely go mad.

The scroll of memory continued to turn, finally stopping in a library one afternoon.

That had been during their days at Saint Arcadia Academy.

Sunlight spilled across the oak desk, and tiny motes of dust floated in the air.

That man who always wore glasses and always looked like a polished scoundrel carelessly closed a thick magitech tome. He pushed up his glasses and spoke in that uniquely arrogant, teasing tone of his.

“Sylvia, to be honest, there are not many people who can understand the way I think. You count as one of them. Without a variable like you, always making trouble, my life would probably have been so dull that I died of boredom.”

The young Logaris turned his head and looked at her, dozing on the desk, the corner of his mouth lifting into a genuine smile.

“So do not die too early. I am very much looking forward to the day you ascend the throne.”

...

“Heh.”

A cold laugh, so faint it was almost nothing, suddenly rang out in the darkness that had been about to swallow everything.

“What a thoroughly disgusting illusion.”

The shadow, which had been gleefully watching its prey die, suddenly froze. The clamorous whispers instantly fell silent.

“What did you say?”

Sylvia slowly raised her head.

Those silver-gray eyes that had been unfocused were now burning with two clusters of ghostly fire that made the heart shudder. She looked like a vengeful spirit that had clawed its way back from hell, the wrath and pride of a queen pushed beyond all limits by violation.

“An illusion is still only an illusion.”

Sylvia’s voice was low and hoarse, yet it carried a finality like shattered metal and broken stone.

“So what if I bear sin? So what if I devoured my kin? Since I was born into this world, then I will make that existence continue!”

She abruptly tightened her grip on Moonfall. The dim blade instantly burst into blinding silver light, the radiance of a will powerful enough to tear apart all falsehood.

Sylvia stared directly at the shadow and spoke each word like a thunderclap.

“So...”

“To hell with your perfect world!!”

BOOM!!!

A terrifying killing intent erupted from Sylvia like a nuclear blast, sweeping madly in all directions and crushing that false throne, that false prosperity, and that false Logaris into dust.

She suddenly raised Moonfall and pointed its tip straight at that lofty “Logaris.”

“A world without me? Even if it were heaven, to me it would still be hell!”

“If my birth was a mistake, then I will let that mistake continue to the very end! If I am a disaster star, then I will become the brightest disaster star of them all!”

“My mother is dead. That is a fact! I will carry her life on my back and go on living with it! Even if I must bear infamy for all ages, I will still climb to the very top until everyone can do nothing but look up at me!”

“And as for Logaris...”

Sylvia looked at that illusion, and a savage, breathtaking smile curved across her lips.

“Who gave you permission to stand so high above me? Who allowed you to look at me with those unfamiliar eyes?”

“You are my accomplice. You are mine!”

“Even if you are going to hell, you do not go unless I allow it! Even if you are going to become a king, then you do it standing at my side!”

“Without the permission of Sylvia Van Astrelia, you are not allowed to go anywhere!”

“A future like this, one without me... this garbage world that denies my very existence...”

Gripping the sword in both hands, Sylvia leaped high into the air. Her silver hair whipped wildly through the darkness like that of a vengeful valkyrie.

“I! DO! NOT! CARE!”

With a furious roar that pierced the soul, Sylvia brought the sword down in a savage slash.

That strike severed the warmth of her mother’s embrace!

It severed the false vision of a loving father and dutiful sons!

And more than that, it severed that lofty, untouchable “perfect Logaris” who existed without her!

CRACK—!!!

The entire world shattered like a smashed mirror, exploding into billions of fragments in an instant.

The warm sunlight vanished, replaced by endless darkness and cold.

Sylvia stood in the void, gasping for breath. Her face was pale, but her eyes were terrifyingly bright. They were the eyes of a true monarch, forged only after passing through the baptism of despair.

“Splendid.”

A burst of crisp applause suddenly came from the depths of the darkness.

The shadow that had been babbling on without end, trying to lure her into suicide, had not vanished.

On the contrary, with the illusion broken, the vague black mist cloaking its body seemed to be forcibly stripped away by some invisible power.

“I thought you were just a little girl with nothing but delusions. But it seems...”

The cold malice and venom were gone from that voice. In their place was a bright, open tone tinged with surprise, approval, and a trace of amusement.

“To think that by relying on that disgusting possessiveness and pride of yours, you forcibly shattered the illusion of self-denial.”

“For a sovereign, even if the whole world destroys him, he must remain unshaken.”

“As expected of a descendant of the Astrelia line.”

A figure slowly stepped out from the shadows and stopped in front of Sylvia.

The moment she saw his true face, Sylvia’s pupils contracted violently, and even her breathing halted for an instant.

He looked to be only twenty-six or twenty-seven.

He had long silver-white hair exactly like Sylvia’s, bright and pure as moonlight, falling loose over broad shoulders with a wild, unrestrained air.

His features resembled Sylvia’s by nearly half, yet his lines were sharper and deeper, making him so handsome he was almost uncanny.

He wore none of the elaborate royal robes, nor any crown that symbolized power.

He was dressed only in ancient, somewhat worn light gray armor, with a rusted iron sword hanging at his waist, not even sheathed.

And yet he merely stood there casually, arms folded across his chest, a crooked grin resting on his lips.

An aura like the rising morning sun blazed around him—radiant, dazzling, and yet scorching like a wildfire spreading across the plains.

It was dominance carved into the bone itself.

It was arrogance that regarded the world as nothing and dared to command the sun and moon to change their course.

The young man lowered his head slightly, and in those same silver-gray eyes was reflected Sylvia’s stunned face.

“It is our first meeting, my descendant.”

“I am Rolandain.”

Looking at Sylvia’s expression, as if she had seen a ghost, the young man bared his white teeth in a grin.

“Of course, those old pedants in the history books prefer to call me—Hero King Astrelia I.”

“Or...”

“The Hero King.”

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