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

Chapter 238. Star’s Judgment (Happy New Year!)

Maggie ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍looked at Logaris, her eyes full of admiration. “But I like that kind of arrogance. Truth has always belonged to madmen.”

She extended her hand. Within her palm, countless complex golden runes began to gather and compress, eventually condensing into a crystal key that radiated an ancient aura.

“This is what you wanted.”

“It contains all of my lifelong magical research, including my analysis of Dragon-Tongue Magic, bio-alchemical diagrams, observational data on the demon plane, and all the parameters of that failed god-ascension ritual. At the same time, it is also the core authority key to this Tower of Inverted Truth.”

The illusions around them began to collapse.

The ancient land, Hell’s sea of fire, and the phantoms of the gods all turned into specks of light and scattered away.

When their vision became clear again, they had already returned to that cold stone chamber—the site of the third trial, the “Heart’s Lock.”

“Take it, Logaris.”

Maggie handed over the brilliantly shining Key of Truth.

“Since you think you can solve the question I could not, then prove it to me.”

Logaris reached out and took the key.

The moment his fingertips touched it, an icy and massive stream of data instantly surged through his nerves, making him shudder involuntarily.

“I wish you smooth sailing, young madman.”

Logaris did not bother with pleasantries. His five fingers suddenly clenched, locking tightly around the brilliantly shining Key of Truth.

It felt icy in his hand, yet so heavy that it was as if he were gripping an entire mountain.

The enormous stream of information poured madly into his mind through his fingertips. Logaris let out a muffled groan, immediately sat down cross-legged, and began using his monstrous mental power to sort through the massive data flow.

Administrator authority transfer...

Defense system reset...

Energy core synchronization...

Watching Logaris, who had already entered his working state, Roland turned his gaze toward Sylvia.

That girl who had the same silver-gray eyes as his own.

“All right, stop staring. That boy is not waking up anytime soon.”

Roland waved a hand, like an old man calling his granddaughter to the backyard to pick melons. “Come with me, little girl. As your elder, I have to give you a meeting gift. Otherwise, what if you curse me in the family genealogy later for being stingy?”

Sylvia: “...”

She stiffly withdrew her gaze from Logaris, took a deep breath, and followed in the footsteps of this old ancestor.

The two of them passed through the tower’s deep and winding corridors.

Roland did not linger on this former battlefield. Instead, he expertly avoided several traps that had long since failed, and finally stopped in front of an ordinary-looking redwood door.

There were no elaborate magical seals on the door. Even the handle had been polished somewhat shiny, carrying the warm, worn texture of something that had been touched over many years.

“Come in.”

Roland pushed the door open. Sylvia had originally expected to see another cold stone chamber filled with experimental equipment, or perhaps an arsenal displaying countless divine weapons.

Yet the sight before her made her pause in surprise.

The room was covered in a thick, soft, long-pile carpet, so that footsteps made no sound at all. The ceiling was not cold stone, but was instead layered with a permanent gentle illusion that simulated a quiet deep-blue starry night, casting down soft light like flowing water.

The air carried a faint fragrance, like dried irises.

It was filled with a sense of quietness and domestic warmth utterly at odds with the title “Mad King.”

Roland entered the room. He did not touch any of the personal belongings there, but walked straight to a low cabinet beside the bed.

There rested a long black wooden box.

The box bore no magnificent carvings, and the material was nothing more than ordinary black ironwood, yet its surface had been rubbed smooth and glossy.

Looking at the box, the somewhat unserious expression on Roland’s face finally faded a little, and his eyes revealed an indescribable complexity and nostalgia.

“This is Star’s Judgment.”

Roland extended his rough hand and gently patted the box, then opened it.

A sharp chill instantly flooded the entire room, and even the gentle starlight seemed to dim a little.

Inside the box lay a longsword in silence.

The scabbard as a whole displayed a deep, muted shade. There were no magnificent gemstones decorating it, only countless scratches that looked as though they had been left by surviving ten thousand baptisms of war.

Those were the marks of war.

They were “epitaphs” left upon this sword by countless mighty enemies in that age of endless flames, each with their lives.

When Sylvia drew close, the blood within her body seemed to boil at once. Her Fifth-Tier Knight battle aura, as though sensing the pressure of some terrifying higher existence, actually began trembling uncontrollably within her meridians.

“It was originally nothing more than a piece of mortal iron. Later, it followed me through a lifetime of conquest. It shattered dragon scales, pierced divine envoys, and chopped off the arm of a Grand Duke of Hell.”

“But under the washing of the Power of Belief, it had long since evolved into a divine weapon.”

Roland turned around and pointed at the sword, his tone low.

“In the final years of my life, I felt that my end was drawing near. I knew that the kingdom I built with my own hands would eventually decay, and that my descendants would become useless fools in the honey jar of power. So I dragged that body, which was on the verge of collapse, to this tower alone.”

“I forcibly stripped away thirty percent of my battle aura while I was still alive and sealed it inside this divine weapon. Then I asked Maggie’s memory to place this power seal upon it.”

Sylvia stared at the sword in shock. Thirty percent? Thirty percent of the Hero King at the height of his strength? That was an astronomical amount, enough to drive any peak Sixth-Tier or even Seventh-Tier powerhouse mad with desire!

“There’s no need to be so serious.”

Roland waved his hand. That relaxed expression of his made it seem as though what he was giving away was not a divine weapon, but a cabbage he had just picked.

He pointed at Star’s Judgment in the box, his tone like that of an elder introducing a family heirloom to a junior. “It does indeed contain thirty percent of my full-strength battle aura, but do not think about ascending to the heavens in a single step. With your current little Fifth-Tier body, you can only take it slowly.”

Roland shrugged and explained, “Maggie set ten ‘Threshold Locks’ on the sword. It will gradually unseal its power according to the endurance of your body. For example, right now it can help you stabilize your foundation, allowing you to break through to the Sixth Tier without any bottlenecks. And when you really have to risk your life, this sword can let you briefly borrow a burst of power at the Hero King level—though only for a few seconds.”

At that point, the former ruler of humanity touched his chin with some emotion, his gaze sweeping across this warmly furnished bedroom.

“To be honest, I did not think that much back then. Picking some chosen child of destiny, testing character—all that was just something I said to fool outsiders.”

“As long as you do not sell it as scrap metal, that is enough.”

Roland bared his teeth in a grin, stepped back half a pace, and made a gesture of invitation.

“Take it. Do not overthink it. It is just a sword. You are its master, and how you use it is your own business.”

Sylvia looked at this utterly unrestrained old ancestor before her, then at the personal belongings around the room that had once belonged to Maggie. The tense corners of her mouth finally relaxed, curving into a confident and flamboyant smile.

“In that case, I won’t stand during the ceremony.”

Without the slightest hesitation, Sylvia stepped forward. Those hands of hers, which had held a sword for years, reached into the wooden box and firmly gripped the cold hilt.

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