IYAMD: Episode 7

“You mustn’t get closer, Your Majesty.”

Ashton, the head attendant, blocked Marsilia from approaching the bed. Marsilia glanced at him before letting out a sigh.

A deep gash ran across Ashton’s forehead, as if it had been sliced by a blade. Blood trickled down his face, and he hadn’t even bothered to properly stop the bleeding. Despite his trembling arms, he spread them wide to shield the emperor’s path.

“Ashton, report. Why is he acting like that?”

The head attendant’s brown eyes were filled with fear as he answered.

“I-I don’t know, Your Majesty. He wouldn’t wake up for quite some time, so I ordered the attendants to tidy up the room. But then… suddenly, there were screams. T-the knights rushed in first, and I followed right after, but by then…”

Even someone as seasoned as him, who had spent decades in the palace, was visibly shaken. His voice trembled as if reliving the moment.

The knights standing behind him were in no better condition. Not a single one of them was unscathed. Cuts and bloodstains covered their bodies, and the sight alone was enough to make Marsilia let out another sigh.

Pushing the head attendant aside, Marsilia began reciting a sacred scripture.

“I have come before you. Open your doors and greet me, my servant. Today, I shall reveal my power to you.”

A green wind filled the room, rising from the floor like mist. It wrapped around the wounded knights and attendants, healing them. The bleeding on Ashton’s forehead stopped, and fresh skin formed where the wound had been. The others behind him would be experiencing the same.

Marsilia stepped toward the bed and gave a simple order.

“Stand down.”

The knights, now healed, cautiously stepped back. Only then did Marsilia notice the aura clinging to Jaha’s fingertips.

A Sword Master? No wonder the knights had been taken down so easily.

Without hesitation, Marsilia called out his name.

“Jaha.”

The response was absurd.

A hand, sharp as a blade, swung straight for Marsilia’s throat. He barely tilted his head to avoid it before catching Jaha’s wrist.

A smile curled his lips in annoyance.

“Get a grip.”

Smack!

Marsilia struck Jaha’s face so hard his head snapped to the side. As he reeled from the impact, he swung again.

“Don’t behave like a beast.”

Smack, smack.

The blows echoed through the room. But with the divine power lingering in the air, the swelling faded before it could take hold. Marsilia struck him without a hint of guilt.

“Do you hear me? Hm?”

Jaha flinched at the first hit, then thrashed, trying to free himself. His free hand clawed at Marsilia’s arm.

When he refused to let go, he bit down on his forearm.

Marsilia bared his teeth at him, meeting his wild, gleaming yellow eyes.

“Shasha, give me a sword. I should just kill this thing right now.”

The mere thought that he had considered rehabilitating him was laughable. He should have waited for another soulmate to appear instead.

A knight threw a sword, and Marsilia caught it midair. The blade instantly gleamed with green aura. Without hesitation, he swung at Jaha’s throat.

At that moment, Jaha suddenly relaxed his jaw.

The madness in his yellow eyes wavered, and he let out a faint smile.

Marsilia saw it.

And without thinking, he altered his strike.

The blade twisted midair, barely sparing his neck. A deep wound was left in its wake, but at least his head remained attached.

Marsilia blinked, staring down at the man slumped against his grip.

He couldn’t understand.

He had been determined to kill him. So why did he stop?

The moment he saw his teary golden eyes—when that faint, almost resigned smile appeared—his body had reacted on its own. His wrist had twisted before he could even think to stop himself.

Is this also the power of the divine?

Does this mean I truly can’t kill him with my own hands?

Marsilia turned the thought over in his mind, staring at Jaha.

The deep wound on his neck closed as divine power mended it. The blood stopped flowing, and fresh skin covered the gash. Only the lingering stains on his body remained as evidence of what had happened.

Blood pooled around a few strands of severed hair before soaking into the sheets.

Marsilia watched the scene for a moment, then abruptly released his wrist.

Jaha collapsed in a heap.

Stepping away, Marsilia tossed the sword to a knight and gave his orders.

“Clean this place. I don’t want a single drop of blood left behind. Give the dead attendant a quiet burial and compensate his family.”

Turning on his heel, he strode out of the room, then looked back at the knights.

“And tie that thing up. I’ll deal with him after the meeting. Shasha call Darren and have him guard that.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

At the mention of calling in Deren Brims, the vice commander of the Black Knights and another swordmaster, Shasha’s expression darkened. Hee clearly hated the fact that his squad had been overpowered.

As Marsilia exited, his eyes met Cerez’s stunned expression.

They both sighed at the same time.

Even he had no idea how to handle this situation.

Marsilia withdrew his divine power and walked down the hall, Cerez trailing close behind.

“Are you keeping him alive?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

Cerez said nothing.

He must think it’s ridiculous. Even I think it’s ridiculous.

Marsilia smirked bitterly.

An attendant removed his bloodstained coat and replaced it with a fresh one.

Was there blood on it?

He stood still as the fabric was adjusted, then spoke.

“I’m not sure if I can kill him.”

Cerez opened his mouth as if to question his, but Marsilia cut him off with a shake of his head.

“Don’t ask why. I don’t know either.”

At his frank admission, Cerez pressed his lips together. Marsilia understood his frustration all too well. He let out a quiet sigh, tugging at the sleeve of his tunic with an irritated motion.

“I feel more exhausted than after a battle.”

“You’ve used quite a bit of divine power today.”

“Is that so.”

The Arhen Empire was plagued with monsters, and as emperor, Marsilia led every major subjugation effort. During those times, he used his divine power until it ran dry.

Yet somehow, this felt even more exhausting.

“You didn’t just use simple healing techniques,” Cerez pointed out.

Indeed. He had even erased old scars last night. And today, he had cast a large-scale healing spell—one usually reserved for war.

All this within a single day of bringing Jaha in.

Even with his immense divine power, he was still human. The more he used, the greater the strain on his body.

He could train her physique to endure, but there was no such thing as infinite power.

And yet, he was already using healing spells meant for battlefield casualties.

If that lunatic didn’t regain his senses, what then?

Now that he knew he couldn’t kill him himself, should he hope the Grand Duke would do it instead?

The thought was so absurd that Marsilia let out a quiet, unhinged laugh.

His expression hardened as he made his way back to the main palace.

…

Later that afternoon, after the meeting concluded without issue, Marsilia summoned General Des to his office and inquired about Eastern martial arts.

“Ah, you must mean “Qi Deviation.”

“I have no idea what that even means. Just explain it simply.”

General Des chuckled awkwardly before continuing.

“Swordsmen from the Western Continent train their bodies to form a “Spiritual Core” and accumulate aura. In contrast, the Eastern Continent cultivates something called “Inner Cultivation” to store internal energy in their dantian. Once they reach a certain level, they can produce sword aura, but the methods differ.”

He seemed to be struggling to explain things as clearly as possible, carefully choosing his words for Marsilia, who still didn’t seem to fully grasp the concept.

“”Berserkers” and “Qi Deviation” are similar but somewhat different. Most berserkers in the Western Continent are just madmen. However, in the Eastern Continent, it’s a more delicate matter. It can happen if internal energy builds up incorrectly and disrupts the meridians, or if the person experiences extreme mental shock… There are many other possible causes as well. There are simply too many variables… I’m not sure if I can give you a proper explanation, but… it is different.”

A veteran warrior, his mind hardened by years of military life, he eventually gave up on choosing the right words. His expression turned vague and bitter.

“Berserkers burn their life force until they die, don’t they? But with “Qi Deviation”, the person simply explodes and dies. If the accumulated energy in their body erupts, they go berserk and die in madness.”

“Is there no cure?”

“Hmm… I’ve never actually seen one. But I’ve heard that someone with greater internal energy can clear the blocked meridians, or that doctors sometimes manage to treat it. The Eastern Continent has acupuncture, which they use to unblock the meridians and save people. However, the doctor must be highly skilled for that to work. And… ah, there are also rare elixirs—legendary medicines that are extremely hard to find. They say some people survive by taking those. I’ve heard all sorts of rumors, but… it’s hard to tell what’s true, Your Majesty. Most of what drunk men ramble about is nonsense.”

General Des scratched the back of his head awkwardly, admitting that most of what he knew came from taverntalk.

Marsilia focused on one thing: He could be cured.

A faint glimmer of hope stirred again.

Tiresome. It never seemed to die.