263 Shattered Common Sense

Ainar’s mind raced.

He could reject his father’s offer, preserve his sense of honor—but at what cost? The tribe’s future would be placed in Brunda’s hands, and Ainar could not shake the feeling that it would lead to ruin.

Am I really doing this for the tribe… or am I just finding an excuse to justify it?

The thought tasted bitter. He did not know the answer hi`mself.

Still, he had made his decision.

Ainar met his father’s gaze.

“Tell me how.”

Ivar grinned.

“First—”

“Manipulate the artifact’s energy flow through a specific method. Regulate the magic it releases before absorbing it.”

William muttered the instructions under his breath as he paced inside Gunstein’s house, repeating Marius’s explanation.

If what Marius said was true, this method would allow him to control the intake, ensuring only the proper amount of power was absorbed.

If he didn’t regulate it—if he simply took the Dragon’s power without guidance—his body would be overwhelmed.

• Ivar only absorbed the residual energy lingering on the Heart’s surface. But this method… this method allows you to store vast amounts of magic inside your body, to use at will.

Marius had likened it to keeping an immense reservoir of liquid power within oneself, like a living elixir.

If it worked, William would become exponentially stronger.

But that wasn’t the real issue.

The real issue was how much he could trust Marius.

William turned to his companions.

“Hugo. Felicia. What do you think of the old man’s words?”

“He’s not to be trusted.”

“Suspicious.”

They answered simultaneously.

Then, one after another, they explained their reasoning.

“If he had simply told you to use the same method as the chieftain, I would have believed him,” Hugo said. “But instead, he’s offering a better method. That’s strange, don’t you think?”

Felicia nodded. “If something goes wrong after you follow his instructions, Your Highness, you’ll have no choice but to turn to him for help. He may be banking on that.”

At their words, Helen and Colin, Marius’s own disciples, visibly bristled—but neither of them spoke up in defense of their teacher.

Even they were beginning to doubt him.

William smirked.

“Good points. He was trying to tempt me, no doubt about that. But he slipped up too many times.”

A technique that involved concentrating an unfathomable amount of power inside the body?

And yet, there was no guarantee that this reservoir of magic would remain stable forever.

If it unraveled all at once, he would die instantly.

If it leaked little by little, his body would be shredded apart by the force of uncontrolled magic.

Ordinary people simply weren’t built to withstand that kind of strain.

William, however, was far from ordinary.

His gaze flickered to the side.

“Raymond,” he said suddenly. “What do you think?”

For the first time since the discussion had begun, Raymond let out a chuckle.

“Congratulations, Your Highness,” he said, grinning. “Looks like you’ve finally found something to replace all that nectar you wasted back then.”

Common sense was both a shackle and a form of order.

People instinctively resisted when someone tried to break it—because no one wanted to see the world they believed in crumble before their eyes.

But that was only true when common sense was challenged by a fragile force.

When something overwhelming shattered it completely, resistance was replaced by reverence.

To the tribespeople, Felicia was undeniably the latter.

“Is she the King’s champion?”

“Watch your tongue! Show respect!”

The people knelt as Felicia passed, her presence now commanding as much—if not more—attention than William himself.

The man they had once looked to as the sole subject of their devotion was now forced to share the reverence.

William chuckled.

“So? How does it feel to be worshiped as the greatest warrior?”

“…Strange,” Felicia admitted. “If they are to kneel to anyone, it should be to you, Your Highness.”

“They already are. Look.”

He nodded toward the kneeling tribespeople, who, after bowing to Felicia, lowered their heads toward him as well.

Powerful warriors were often seen as rulers in their own right.

And if the greatest warrior of all had chosen a king?

Then surely that king was even greater.

“Though, I’ll admit,” William added with a smirk, “you’re getting more attention than me.”

“My apologies.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” He shrugged. “Just enjoy it. You earned it, fair and square.”

Felicia didn’t respond, but the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her emotions.

For most of her life, she had been dismissed, ridiculed—even by her own father—simply for being a woman.

Yet now, with nothing but her sword, she had obliterated their beliefs.

It was overwhelming.

But… it was also satisfying.

“…Still,” she murmured, “I don’t like that I’m receiving more attention than you. Not just for my own discomfort—politically, it could be problematic.”

William waved off her concerns.

“Don’t worry. By the end of today, I’ll make sure they know exactly who their ruler is.”

It wasn’t that he resented Felicia’s recognition—he was glad she was being acknowledged for her strength.

But a king who was overshadowed by his own retainers?

That was another matter entirely.

William had no intention of letting the tribes think of him as lesser than the warrior who served him.

He would ensure they saw his worth soon enough.

They arrived at the chieftain’s hall, where Ivar was already waiting.

Despite the humiliation of the previous trial, the man’s face was unreadable, his voice steady as he spoke.

“Since all candidates have gathered, I will now announce the second trial.”

His gaze swept over Ainar, Brunda, and William before he raised his voice so all could hear.

“The second trial shall be entrusted to our sacred land—and to our great ancestors! The Dragon’s Heart will determine who is worthy to challenge for the chieftain’s seat!”

A stunned silence followed.

Then, chaos erupted.

“W-What!?”

Murmurs and gasps spread through the gathered tribespeople.

It was already unthinkable to allow outsiders into the sacred land.

But now Ivar was saying the Heart itself would judge them?

“Chieftain! What do you mean? Are you saying the Dragon’s Heart can choose its own champion?”

“Yes.”

“…Excuse me?”

“The Heart is alive,” Ivar declared. “It possesses a will of its own, capable of recognizing who is worthy—and who is nothing more than a disgraceful, power-hungry fool.”

The people gaped at him.

For generations, the Dragon’s Heart had been revered as a sacred relic—a symbol of their ancestors.

And now, they were being told it was alive? That it could judge them?