268 The Shattered Illusion

William kept his expression as calm as possible, forcing his trembling cheeks to still. From a distance, he must have looked like a man who had gained enlightenment—one who had cast away his attachment to the heart.

“As a warrior once chosen by the heart, my duty is clear. No matter how long it has been kept as a sacred relic of the tribe, once its rightful owner has appeared, returning it is the proper course of action.”

“So you’re acknowledging me as the heart’s master?”

“I am.” Ivar nodded, his voice steady. “Take it. The heart is yours now. However, the dragon’s choice and the chieftain’s trial are separate matters. You still have one final test to pass.”

William let out a low chuckle.

Clever.

If Ivar had refused to take the heart, he would have seemed weak and cowardly. If he had taken it and suffered for it, his fraud would have been laid bare.

But instead, he had pivoted flawlessly, turning his retreat into an honorable gesture.

Rather than the image of a failure, he painted himself as a man of principle—one who followed the natural order.

And on top of that, he had drawn a line between the dragon’s choice and the chieftain’s trial, reinforcing the illusion of fairness.

“Smart,” William murmured under his breath. “You gave up your pride, but you still managed to keep everything else intact.”

Ivar, however, remained impassive, as if intending to let this moment pass without further incident.

But then William spoke again.

“In that case… I suppose it’s time I make the same offer to your sons.”

Ivar’s body went rigid.

Just when he thought he had navigated his way out of the storm, the ground was ripped out from under him.

If his sons were forced to take the heart, they would either explode on the spot or, like him, have no choice but to acknowledge William as their superior.

But their situation was entirely different from his.

They were still in the midst of competing for the position of chieftain.

For them to admit that William stood above them was no different than surrendering.

And if they yielded here… the tribe might very well rally behind William as the third chieftain.

“P-Please…”

A shuddering breath escaped Ivar’s lips. It was the only word he could manage.

Sweat drenched his body as he struggled to breathe.

And then William’s voice, calm but absolute, echoed in his ears.

“The final trial must be carried out fairly,” he said. “No more schemes. No more tricks. Understood?”

Ivar’s head bobbed up and down in an almost desperate nod.

Satisfied, William finally turned away, lifting the dragon’s heart high into the air.

“Even the one once chosen by the heart acknowledges me!” he declared. “Who would dare deny my right to claim it? From this day forth, the dragon walks with me!”

A thunderous roar erupted from the gathered tribesmen.

Not a single voice rose in protest.

Despite the sacred relic falling into the hands of an outsider, there was no fear.

They had already accepted him as their rightful king.

Even as Colin’s voice trembled with uncertainty, Marius remained silent, his head lowered as if he lacked even the right to look up without William’s permission.

His posture was that of a peasant humbling himself before a noble, and the sight of it made William frown in distaste.

“I don’t like this. Raise your head.”

“Forgive me,” Marius murmured.

“Forgive you? For what? Why have you suddenly abandoned your role as a wise man and started acting like a groveling farmer? Are you mocking me?”

“No, I…”

Marius parted his lips as if to explain, only to clamp them shut again.

He had learned from bitter experience that speaking impulsively never led to good results.

William clicked his tongue, deliberately leaning back in his chair, his posture dripping with indifference. If he heard something he didn’t like, he looked ready to stand up and walk away without a second thought.

“So what’s your angle? Your grand plan fell apart, so now you’re bowing your head in hopes of winning my favor?”

“I simply came to a realization,” Marius replied at last.

In just the short time since his defeat, he looked as though he had aged ten years.

“I thought my wish was an obsession,” he continued, his voice hollow. “Something I would rather die than abandon.”

“But it wasn’t?”

“No. It was all an illusion.”

A self-deprecating smile twisted his lips.

“I pursued my dream because I thought it was within reach. Because I believed it was possible. If I had truly believed there was no hope, I would have compromised from the start.”

Marius recalled an old mercenary he had once fought beside, a man who had said it was better to destroy everything than to settle for a partial victory. If he couldn’t have it all, then he didn’t want anything at all.

At the time, Marius had wholeheartedly agreed. He had believed himself to be the same kind of man.

“But when I faced the reality of achieving absolutely nothing, I found I couldn’t endure it,” he admitted. “I am not the kind of man who can throw everything away simply because my greatest dream was shattered.”

“So?” William tilted his head. “Since rebuilding the Tower is no longer an option, you’ve decided to chase a new dream?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. And what is it?”

“I wish to serve under you, Your Highness, as your Chief Mage.”

A scoff rang out from behind William—Hugo’s unmistakable voice.

It was laughable.

The dream of restoring the Mage Tower had crumbled, so now he was trying to take the Chief Mage position—one that should have rightfully belonged to his own disciple?

Even Felicia and Raymond, who had remained silent thus far, looked incredulous.

But William alone remained unreadable, his expression calm as he asked, “You want the Chief Mage position?”

“I do. But if that is not possible, I would accept any other role beneath it.”

“And if I refuse that as well?”

“Then allow me to dedicate myself to magical research. I could also serve as an educator, training the next generation of mages.”

“And if I deny that too?”

Marius trembled. His voice, steady until now, shook as he whispered, “Your Highness…”

The gathered onlookers turned their heads in surprise.

Marius, the arrogant sage who had stood above all other mages, now looked on the verge of tears.

His trembling hands abandoned all decorum as they clutched each other in a desperate plea, like a tenant farmer begging his landlord for mercy.