◇[Holy King]◇
Ortra Stramius.
He was once the king who ruled the Neia Holy Kingdom.
Now, he was having a nightmare.
Dreams sometimes summon vivid experiences from the past.
It was back when Ortra still had plenty of strength left in his legs and back…
△
Neia Holy Kingdom.
Bakoss Empire.
The ruins that straddled the border between the two nations.
At one point, golden-eyed monsters poured out from those ruins.
Both countries decided to deal with them jointly.
The emperor of Bakoss personally led his army to the site.
Not to be outdone, Ortra also led his own forces and headed for the ruins.
It happened when the Neia Holy Kingdom's army arrived late at the scene.
Ortra doubted his own eyes.
Could it really be that the evil god of legend had descended upon this world?
For a moment, he mistook it for such.
The boy's red eyes blazed brilliantly.
His white hair was mottled with the blood of monsters.
What stood out most was the expression on his face—clearly enjoying the battle.
Gradually, the monsters began to avoid the boy.
Those famously ferocious golden-eyed monsters.
And the boy hurled vile insults at the fleeing creatures.
"Why!? Why are the golden-eyed monsters—synonymous with ferocity—acting in a way that shames their own name!? Why won't you come at me!? Don't you have any pride as ferocious monsters!?"
The boy, drenched in blood, berated the monsters.
His voice carried despair.
It sounded almost like a cry of anguish.
The boy was seeking an "enemy."
Ortra learned that truth later.
Then the boy noticed him.
He still remembered it even now.
The moment those red eyes locked onto him.
Eyes that expected the pinnacle of strength from a king.
The boy walked straight toward Ortra, king of a nation.
Yet no one stopped him.
No—none could stop him.
Those red eyes, burning with battle lust, fixed on Ortra.
But in an instant, the heat drained from them.
"You're just trash, aren't you?"
The boy's voice trembled with disappointment.
Genuine letdown.
He raised his face.
He reached out toward Ortra on horseback.
"Hand it over."
With an eerily serious expression, the boy said,
"Send me the strongest thing in your country."
▽
*Gabah!*
"—Ahh, haah, haah…!"
Ortra jolted upright in bed.
The room was hushed and still.
A lakeside manor in the southern territory of the empire.
The former Holy King Ortra now lived quietly here.
After surrendering to Bakoss, this had become his "residence."
To the north lay his old Neia Holy Kingdom.
His former royal castle was now managed by the Black Dragon Knights.
The emperor had granted most of Neia's territory to them.
(The Black Dragon Knights…)
He still dreamed of that boy.
(And now that boy is the commander of the Black Dragon Knights… Ah, how terrifying…)
Ortra loosened the front of his gown.
He was drenched in terrible sweat.
Probably from being tormented by the nightmare.
(Ah…)
Crushed, Ortra covered his face with both hands.
The face of the Holy Knights' commander floated in his mind.
(Seras…)
Before the Black Dragon Knights reached the capital, she had left the castle.
He heard she was still on the run.
(I don't regret letting you escape… I don't regret it—but—)
The worry never ended.
Was she safe even now?
(No…)
Ortra let out a muffled groan.
From deep in his chest surged regret.
(Perhaps I made the wrong choice. Ah, if only I had known it would come to this…!)
Ortra's eyes snapped wide open.
"I should have forced myself on you, even if it meant holding you down…!"
But his daughter would never allow any man near Seras.
Even Ortra, her father and king, was no exception.
The Holy Knights that Seras commanded forbade men entirely.
That rule, too, had originated from his daughter's proposal.
The only times Ortra could meet Seras face-to-face were in public settings.
Even as king, the times and places he could see her were restricted.
Though she was his own child, Ortra found his daughter difficult.
No—he was afraid of her.
Because of that, he had no choice but to stay hands-off regarding Seras.
(Ah)
Every time he remembered, his chest tightened sweetly and painfully.
That gracefully troubling yet beautiful figure.
The smooth pale-pink lips.
The abundant chest that always strained against fabric.
The pure voice that sweetly caressed the ears.
The faint, fragrant scent of woman.
Her dignified yet enveloping personality.
And above all, that perfect beauty…
Everything about Seras Ashrain had remade the withered old king into a vigorous male once more.
(Ah, no…)
He was terrified of her becoming someone else's.
Ortra genuinely feared that.
(She serves me, the king… offers her sword to me. Therefore she is my possession… During my days as king, I restrained myself with that reasoning. I told myself this burning passion and swirling desire must remain hidden inside, that imagining and savoring Seras in my mind would be enough…)
Ortra sobbed quietly.
(In front of Seras, who can see through lies, I always took the utmost care to play the part of a good king… But in truth, I was nothing but a coward…)
Seras had now vanished somewhere far away.
It was his daughter Cattleya who had helped her escape.
He had noticed the arrangements.
And yet he had let it pass.
(Back then I thought—even if it meant Seras falling into the hands of those Bakoss people, at least… Yes… From now on, the existence called Seras Ashrain would remain only as sweet nostalgia for a dying old man…)
Ortra gripped the sheets tightly.
As if to show the full measure of his feelings.
(But—)
"No, it's no good."
He could not allow it.
He must not allow it.
(The thought that someday she will be caught by someone, defiled by another man—my heart won't stop pounding…!)
But she would never return to his side.
He could no longer possess her.
(Ah! If she is going to be taken by someone like this! If this anguish is going to continue forever…!)
Powerlessly, he hung his head.
"Seras…"
The former Holy King clasped both hands together.
As though in prayer.
"This is my final wish… I beg you…"
From his parched throat, Ortra squeezed out a strong, hoarse voice.
"Please, disappear from this world and die…!"