Because he knew so many wonderful forms of Arcane Magic, Lucian had been confident enough in the wine he'd personally inspected—never expecting that this very confidence would prove to be a fatal blind spot. Without the slightest suspicion, he'd drunk a glass of "Azure Sky" laced with terrifying toxins and bizarre curses.
No, it wasn't just the wine!
Lucian's gaze snapped toward Camille. As an eighth-rank Holy Knight protecting Natasha, she wouldn't touch a drop of wine or a morsel of food at a function like this—and yet her face had gone black, her body trembling uncontrollably. She tried to manifest "Tide" but could only produce a thin layer of blue water-spray before it vanished entirely. The signs of poisoning and cursing were unmistakable!
Where had the toxins and curses come from?
A faint, sweet floral fragrance suddenly reached Lucian's nose—similar to the scent drifting in from the open-air banquet outside, but lighter, sweeter, intoxicating to the point of dizziness.
There was something wrong with that fragrance!
An insider, or someone exploited as an unwitting pawn, must have brought something emitting that scent inside. When it mingled with the wine and vapors that had already been tampered with, both the drinks and the air had been transformed into unimaginably potent poison and curses—no wonder his earlier inspection hadn't caught a thing!
But now wasn't the time to hunt for the traitor. Lucian staggered forward toward Natasha. The room blurred and swayed before his eyes, as though he were deathly drunk—not only could he not focus his spiritual power, but even his limbs felt weightless.
Fortunately, Lucian had the Ring of Congus. It had neutralized the deadliest toxins, so unlike Camille, James, and the others, his head wasn't going numb and his body wasn't rapidly losing strength, though the sensation was still profoundly uncomfortable.
With a thud, Baron Haisong—whose knightly powers hadn't been activated—collapsed to the floor, limbs splayed, utterly powerless, eyes glazed over as he sank into a "hangover" stupor.
Lucian still retained some strength. Punching his way through the air like a drunk boxer, he made his way slowly toward Natasha. If his leaden brain and soul remembered correctly, the "Sword of Truth"—a supreme bloodline capable of severing all things—was immune to curses. That meant Natasha should only be suffering from the poisoning, her body rapidly bleeding strength while her mind and consciousness remained sharp. If she could put on the "Belt of Health" and activate its effect, the toxins would be purged quickly.
This eighth-rank high-grade magical item was also immune to any toxin below the legendary level!
As for the Ring of Congus, even if Lucian wanted to hand it to Natasha, she wouldn't be able to use it.
Another thud. Baron Davy, the second-weakest, also crumpled to the ground like Baron Haisong. But his consciousness hadn't yet fully entered the "drunken" state—his eyes darted frantically left and right.
Waves of curse energy surged up from his lungs, from his stomach, gathering at his throat and climbing upward to assail Lucian's brain and soul. His head swelled, his heart hammered, and his temples and blood vessels felt as though they might burst at any moment. His spiritual power was compressed to the bare minimum of self-preservation—there was no way to cast a single spell or activate a single item.
Stumbling over to Natasha, Lucian unbuckled his belt and began wrapping it around her waist.
Natasha's voice was low and strained, as though even speaking took enormous effort: "I can't focus my willpower… hard to use magical items… you—you need to go. The target… the target should be me…"
Lucian seemed not to hear her. His hands circled her waist and fastened the Belt of Health, his tongue thick and wooden: "Try to hold on… your will… the toxins haven't fully taken effect… yet… there should still be a chance… to activate the magical item…"
Natasha didn't waste time, nor did she give up. Her translucent silver-violet eyes blazed with iron resolve as she fought to control her will. At the same time she urged him again: "Go—you still have strength… speed… find the nobles outside… call for help…"
That way, at least Lucian wouldn't die alongside her.
And she herself could pursue that faint, threadlike glimmer of hope without any further worry.
Clap, clap, clap. A crisp round of applause came from the doorway. "What a touching pair. I hope you can stay together forever—even after death."
Lucian lifted his gaze. A man with dark-green hair had appeared in the doorway. His eyes had no pupils—only a heart-stopping expanse of white. His clothing was equally bizarre: even in this sweltering heat, he wore a black cloak that enveloped him from head to toe.
This uncanny man, who appeared to be in his early thirties, pressed a hand to his chest and performed a courteous gentleman's bow. "Your Majesty the Queen, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Pylimas of the 'Venom Demon,' Dark Council."
"Venom Demon" Pylimas—sixty-second on the Purification Rankings, a ninth-rank Dark Knight bearing the bloodline of a Demon Lord, renowned for his mastery of toxins and curses. Though ranked lower than Lucian, his actual strength was unquestionably superior.
Natasha didn't respond to him, concentrating every shred of her will instead, while Lucian too was using his spiritual power to combat the curse energy.
Pylimas showed no urgency to strike. Instead he chattered on, rambling: "Don't recognize me? No matter. All you need to know is that I'm here to kill you. The Council has been waiting for the Southern Church and the Magic Council to wage all-out war for a very long time—so long they're nearly out of patience. When they learned that Your Majesty had also chosen the path of balance, the old men sent me."
Whether it was the influence of his own Demon Lord bloodline, or simply the confidence of a man who believed victory was already in hand, he seemed somewhat neurotic, his manner erratic.
"All I need to do is kill you, Your Majesty—kill Lucian Evans, kill Duke James and the rest of you—and then disguise it as the work of radical Night Watch. After that, the Church and the Magic Council won't be able to avoid all-out war even if they wanted to. Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you—I'm quite skilled at imitation. Especially imitating knights with toxin- and curse-type bloodlines. And the Night Watch's fifth-ranked is 'Curse Angel' Gwil. I rather think I have what it takes to convince Legendary Mages and Holy Spirit Priests alike that it was him."
Listening to his fevered rambling, Lucian and Natasha both seized every precious moment to expel the curse and toxin energies from their bodies. But it seemed that with each passing minute, the effects only grew stronger. Both were finding it increasingly difficult to stay on their feet—the difference being that Lucian's head throbbed and his vision swam, while Natasha's limbs went limp and useless.
Pylimas appeared utterly oblivious to their struggles, and equally indifferent to the fact that Duke James and the others, robbed of all strength, couldn't even open their mouths to reply. He carried on with undiminished self-satisfaction: "To kill you all, I put in a great deal of effort. I controlled quite a number of servants and gardeners, subtly changing the plant species in the garden. If you, Duke James, were a true lover of flowers, you should have noticed something was off long ago. Pity—you only cared about showing off. So when you all entered this secret chamber carrying that floral scent on your clothes, the harmless little things already in the wine went berserk."
"To avoid triggering your will's alarm or your Destiny Star's forewarning, I didn't use any brutally lethal toxins or curses. Instead I opted for an indirect approach—weakness and paralysis. The effect, as you can see, has been rather good. And it gave me ample time to arrive at my leisure from beyond the range of your will's suppression, Duke James."