Lust for the King’s Wife

Chapter 16



Chapter 16: A Crimson Prologue

“Aaaaaaaaah!!!”

“Aaah… Aaaah… Aaaaaaah!!! Aaaaaah!!!”

“Noooo!!! Noooo!!!”

“Kill me! Please, just kill me!!!”

“…”

The witches’ screams pierced the skies, ablaze with fiery wrath. Like ash that burns relentlessly once ignited, their lives were extinguished one by one, and their agonized cries filled the world.

It was the sound of justice realized. The disrupted order being restored, the world’s peace reclaimed. 

Watching the ultimate downfall of evil unfold before them, a comrade by my side spat cruel words without hesitation.

“Filth burns well, doesn’t it?”

“…”

“Don’t you think so?”

“One hundred percent. You’re right.”

Though I felt no satisfaction, there was no denying the truth in their words, so I agreed. 

My comrade, emboldened, eagerly recounted the atrocities committed by these witches.

“They tore open pregnant women to summon demons and burned children alive to enslave dragons. The leftover souls they handed to necromancers, and the corpses? Ground into ingredients for vile potions.”

“Disgusting.”

“Once, I saw them cooking soup with an old woman’s intestines. Of course, after I found them, they had to eat their own guts. It’s an honor to burn down a den of maniacs like this.”

“Do you feel no guilt?”

“None. I’d do it a hundred times over. I’m only disappointed there’s just one witch’s den to destroy.”

My comrade shook their head and suddenly hurled a spear at something in the distance. 

A shrill squeal followed, and I turned to see a witch, half-transformed into a pig, skewered as she attempted to flee.

It wasn’t a sight worth dwelling on, so I looked away. Yet everywhere my gaze fell, the landscape was filled with scenes of horror.

A witch impaled on a stake, her eyes being pecked out by crows. A mangled corpse, trampled beyond recognition by horses. 

A body clutching its melting flesh, devoured by a crocodile as it begged for water. And a witch, her upper and lower halves torn apart, both abused by the soldiers.

Because the victims were witches, these atrocities were celebrated as acts of glory. Perhaps one day, this scene would be recorded on a monument, heralded as a legendary moment.

If that happens, I’ll likely be at the center of it, I thought grimly, pulling my cloak over my mouth to conceal a frown.

“You look upset. Didn’t imagine it would be like this?”

“I just don’t enjoy trampling the weak.”

“Even if the weak have fallen strong? Such chivalry, hero.”

“It’s a warrior’s code. You don’t strike an unarmed opponent.”

“Quite the upright mindset.”

“Besides, warriors always claim their spoils after battle.”

Perhaps it was less a principle and more an obsession. But a brave warrior never feared to claim what was theirs, and this time was no exception.

I strode purposefully to the heart of the battlefield, where a witch suffered greater humiliation than any other.

The root of all this destruction—the Witch of a Thousand Miles, Nerian.

Once the leader of the witches and master of this vile stronghold, she now lay on the ground, screaming in utter defeat.

“Aaaah… Aaaaaaaah!!! Ugh… Uuuuugh!!!”

“…”

“Aah… Aah… H-Hero!!!”

Even as she endured unspeakable humiliation, she found strength to crawl toward me. Falling at my feet, she bowed in a desperate, pitiful display.

“O great hero! Star and hope of this world!”

“…Hah.”

“I, your lowly servant Nerian, humbly prostrate myself before you! Please, grant this wretched soul your mercy!”

“The infamous witch, reduced to this. How pathetic.”

“Be wary. Even a word from her can unleash a deadly curse.”

“Don’t worry. If she says anything foolish, I’ll cut out her tongue.”

My comrade issued a quiet warning, but I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. I had known her kind was vile, but this level of groveling was beyond my imagination.

“Mercy? Did you ever grant mercy to any of your victims? The golden rule of this world is to reap what you sow.”

“I know. I know that. But what does a lowly wretch like me truly know, hero? So I beg you, teach me through your mercy. Please!”

“Hah! Nerian groveling like this? Honestly, it’s a sight I never thought I’d see.”

“Of course, hero. I’ve always been a pathetic, foolish woman… hehe…”

“As spoils of war, you certainly are intriguing.”

At that, the onlookers’ gazes turned toward us. Disappointment and betrayal filled their eyes, as though my actions threatened to undermine their cause.

But I had no intention of betraying them. My voice turned cold and resolute as I delivered my verdict.

“That, however, only applies to honorable foes. There’s no sparing the leader of the witches.”

“Of course not, hero! I wouldn’t dare ask for such a thing. My request is something else entirely… hehe…”

Her tone changed unexpectedly. Nerian reached into her robes, revealing something she had managed to protect through all her torment.

It was a young girl, barely entering adolescence, her second awakening just beginning. Holding the girl before me, Nerian cackled foolishly.

“Take my worthless life as many times as you wish, hero. But this child knows nothing. She’s just a child.”

“…”

“A girl too young to have committed any sin. I beg you, spare her life. In return, I offer everything—everything the witches hold dear!”

Even such a monstrous being harbored traces of maternal instinct. It was unexpectedly poignant.

But her pleas did not represent all witches, as evidenced by the anguished voices nearby.

“No! Just kill us already!” 

“Don’t listen to her, hero. Please, I beg you…”

“…”

“Please… I’m begging you.”

Nerian extended her trembling arms, presenting the child. What little flesh remained clung to bones driven solely by a mother’s desperate will.

Showing mercy in such a situation hardly seemed a hero’s duty. And yet, this was no ordinary moment. My comrade interjected firmly.

“She’s the daughter of Nerian, the Witch of a Thousand Miles.”

“I know.”

“The woman who nearly destroyed the kingdom. A child of hers must carry similar power.”

“There are ways to control such power. And above all, who stands over that nightmare of a woman now?”

“Unstoppable,” my comrade muttered, finally raising their hands in surrender to my stubbornness. Around us, the soldiers bowed their heads, silently acknowledging my decision.

At that moment, the girl’s fate was sealed. I did not declare my mercy aloud but instead reached forward and plucked the child from her mother’s arms.

“Poor thing. Being born is no sin, yet you suffer because of it.”

“A… aaah…”

“I’ll take you in, so the sins of your kin do not pass down to you.”

“O hero…”

“I’ll love you in her place.”

I held the girl’s gaze, tilting her delicate chin upward. Her white hair, reminiscent of Nerian’s, shimmered in the fiery light, and her pale skin gave her an ethereal beauty.

This child’s worth extended beyond her symbolic significance; she was truly worth claiming. 

Concluding thus, I drew her into my arms. The girl didn’t resist, silently nestling against me.

“Good, good. What is your name?”

“…”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. If you don’t wish to keep the name given by a witch, I’ll grant you one myself.”

“…”

“Quiet, aren’t you? A fine temperament for someone who will stay by my side—no, by the side of a hero.”

Satisfied with my decision, I felt a flicker of genuine sentiment slip through my thoughts. Worried someone might notice, I quickly rose and approached Nerian.

“You should be content now. But know this mercy does not extend to you.”

“Of course, my hero. I understand, yes, I understand completely.”

“Then let’s end this. Someone, cover the child’s eyes.”

“Hehehe… thank you, hero… hehehe…”

“…Nooo!!!”

A scream, raw and endless, erupted from somewhere nearby. Even this cursed race seemed to possess a familial bond, a love too deep to sever without anguish.

To sever it nonetheless, I unsheathed my sword one final time. Nerian stretched her neck and opened her arms wide in mock reverence.

“O great king, I see it now—your radiant future and the dawn of a golden age for your kingdom! I prophesy: no army in this era can threaten your reign!”

“Even now, you prattle on.”

“Rejoice! For the dawn of a new king’s era is upon us! Witness the dawn that welcomes you!”

“Goodbye, witch.”

“May you never flinch from the brilliant light of your destiny.”

Her final words etched themselves against the stained sky. Before they could spread too far, I brought my sword down.

“…!”

“…”

Expecting a dramatic twist, I took a step back as her head separated from her body. But just like any ordinary person, Nerian’s head fell lifelessly, rolling into the dark void of the scorched battlefield.

Frankly, it was an underwhelming end. Suppressing my disappointment, I turned to see the girl staring blankly at me.

“You were supposed to keep her from seeing this.”

“I know. But she insisted…”

“Hah. Even as a child, a witch is still a witch.”

Perhaps she wasn’t as young as I thought. She might have already been burdened with the cruelty of her lineage.

I sheathed my sword and gently placed my hands on her small shoulders. 

The girl lifted her gaze to meet mine, her eyes cold and crescent-like, reflecting no emotion.

“Don’t worry,” I said softly.

“…”

“I’ll protect you. I’ll cherish you.”

“…”

“You are mine.”

Her empty eyes revealed nothing. After a long, silent stare, the girl suddenly collapsed without warning.

Even for a witch, this was too much for someone her age. I gathered her fragile body in my arms and rose.

“It’s time to return home.”

“Indeed.”

“From now on, humanity has only glory ahead.”

Murmuring quietly, I turned to the soldiers and raised my voice to its fullest.

“This is our victory!”

“Uwaaaaaaah!!!”

The thundering roar of triumph followed, shaking the battlefield. Their cheers reverberated endlessly, each one a chant of my name.

“Hero! Hero! Hero! Hero!”

“…”

“Hero! Hero! Hero! Hero!”

A land pierced with countless crosses. A river flowing crimson with blood. And warriors blessing the path of their hero.

Thus began the legend, written in blood.

In the fallen land of witches, the crimson moon still rises from time to time, a silent witness to the prologue of this tale.

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