The Princess Imprint A Traitor - Chapter 30: The One Awakened from the Dream within a Dream (14)

The genuine compliment made Eve feel unpleasant, as if she were on the same level as Brigitte. Just then, Rosenitte’s breath and heartbeat stopped. With her body declared dead, the bond with Silvestian was severed.

“…!”

Silvestian’s body stilled, his blue eyes dimming as his life force began to drain. It was Eve’s turn now. She raised her hand, prepared with a summoning circle, and gently placed it on his forehead.

“Royal Imprint.”

It had been a while since she’d used this invocation. Though not on Mikael’s level, Silvestian was still a formidable homunculus to bond with, and sweat formed on Eve’s brow as she concentrated.

At last, his turbulent energy began to stabilize, the flames of instability gradually subsiding.

“Ah…”

A soft sigh escaped Silvestian, signaling the success of the bond. His spirit steadied, and Eve released him from the binding threads.

“Sylvie.”

Mikael caught the weakened Silvestian, gently lowering him as he struggled to remain on his feet. The imprinting was complete.

“Your Highness…”

Silvestian clutched his chest, overwhelmed with indescribable emotions.

“Rest, Sir Millard.”

For now, Eve set aside her thoughts of gratitude and turned back to Rosenitte.

“Rosie.”

But an unexpected surge of dark energy erupted from Rosenitte’s body.

“Your Highness!” Mikael immediately moved to shield her, and despite his exhaustion, Silvestian tried to protect her as well.

With a deafening crash, Mikael’s Night Ray shield blocked the wave, protecting everyone from harm.

“Rosie?!”

As Eve hurried to check on her, a grotesque shape began to form from the dark energy above Rosenitte. It was the shadow of a dragon with seven heads, each twisting like a serpent.

‘The dragon, Ambroxah!’

As they stared at Ambroxah’s spiritual manifestation in horror, a chilling voice echoed through the room.

[Heh heh heh. It’s too late now.]

Each of the seven heads coiled menacingly, surveying the room as if searching for prey. Then, in unison, the glowing red eyes fixed on one point in the room.

Gasp.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Ambroxah’s gaze fixed intently on Eve, and a familiar sense of dread overwhelmed her. The gaze of a Lord-class dragon felt like a binding curse, paralyzing her entire body and squeezing her heart with an iron grip. She couldn’t even blink. The dragon, now fully wrapped around Rosenitte’s body, addressed her with a voice that seemed to echo from the depths of a nightmare.

[You, blood of the alchemist who leashes the hounds of war. It is already too late. I have planted the seed of disaster deep within this traitorous body…]

Its voice, chilling and otherworldly, carried an enchantment-like power, holding a sway over the human mind. Everyone present trembled, feeling as though they were listening to a grim prophecy of doom. Only Mikael remained unaffected, drawing his Night Ray sword, the blade glinting with a deadly aura that shimmered like dancing petals around the obsidian edge.

[Through this vessel, I will sever the bloodline of the Sage Stone’s master, and cast the vilest creations into a despair as deep as the abyss!]

At that very moment, as Ambroxah completed its curse, Mikael’s blade struck. His sword cut through the dragon’s spiritual form, sending dark energy scattering like violet petals into the air. His eyes glinted sharply as he uttered in a low voice,

“I won’t allow that.”

***

At that moment, Rosenitte found herself wandering through the darkness Ambroxah had created.

‘What… Where am I? This is terrifying. It’s so cold.’

In the suffocating blackness, a path stretched before her, though she could barely see five steps ahead. Strangely, it was a flower path—lush, deep purple flowers with yellow stamens. The path of belladonna blossoms seemed out of place in such an eerie space, yet it led her onward. With each step she took, the flowers withered, curling up as dark blue berries formed where they had bloomed.

Then, a figure appeared directly ahead of her, cloaked in black. It wasn’t a welcome sight. Under the robe’s hood, where a face should have been, there was only a churning darkness.

‘Ah!’

If this had been reality, she might have fainted from sheer terror. But dreams often dull the senses, and here, Rosenitte managed to stand firm, staring at the uncanny figure. The dark mass beneath the hood began to speak.

[At last, you’ve come to me. Welcome, traitorous princess.]

‘What?’

Uncertain who this was or why she was being insulted, Rosenitte frowned. The figure, Ambroxah, had little time and continued without preamble.

[You are the perfect vessel for my plan. Though you cannot control time, you have the potential to resist its flow.]

‘…What are you talking about?’

[You, traitorous princess, are destined to repeat the mistakes of your past life.]

‘Excuse me?’

Now it was calling her foolish, and Rosenitte’s irritation flared. She was about to demand respect from this obnoxious voice when Ambroxah’s next words stopped her cold.

[Kill your sister.]

‘…What?’

[Offer her death to me, so that the vilest creature may taste despair as deep as the abyss.]

‘Are you insane? No way!’

Rosenitte’s initial shock turned to rejection, but the conversation was a one-sided assault.

[It is your destiny and my vengeance.]

‘Hey, I said no! Why would I kill my sister? I would never—!’

[Ahahaha! To watch the blood of the Sage Stone’s descendants destroy each other—what joy! Your transgressions will be my delight! Superb!]

‘What a lunatic…!’

Then, suddenly—whoosh!

‘Ah?!’

The figure’s robe collapsed, and the dark mist it contained lunged at Rosenitte, wrapping around her like a suffocating fog.

‘Ugh, what is this?! Stop! No!’

The dark energy felt damp and sinister, as though it had risen from the depths of an underworld. It coiled around her arms and legs like parasitic vines, slithering up to her face. It lingered there, tracing her cheeks before trying to force its way into her mouth.

[Let us seal our pact with a kiss, my beautiful, traitorous princess.]

‘Get away! I said, get away from me!’

[Come now, don’t resist…]

‘…!’

There was no scream. The dark mist forced its way into her, entering through her mouth. In that twisted kiss with the most cunning dragon, the light faded from Rosenitte’s eyes as she was pulled deeper into the nightmare.

***

The envoy hastened their return to the capital. The large entourage was outfitted for the journey back to Hadellun, yet two carriages drew particular attention.

One carriage bore a wooden coffin containing Derek’s body, while the other held Rosenitte, swathed in layers of seals designed to contain the dragon’s curse. She lay motionless on a glass bier, as if dead. With these two carriages essentially carrying coffins, the entire delegation had the air of a somber funeral procession.

“Safe travels, Savior,” Morien bid farewell.

“We shall meet again. Stay well until then,” replied Eve, turning to make her final rounds.

Before departure, she checked on Rosenitte in her carriage. Rosenitte’s form resembled a princess from a fairy tale, cursed into an endless sleep by a poisoned apple. Gazing at her distant and strained expression, Eve’s amber eyes dimmed, heavy with sadness. She muttered quietly to herself, almost involuntarily.

“You wanted to have tea together when we returned…”

But now, even that fragile promise seemed as hollow as her voice. She was interrupted before she could continue her thoughts.

“We’re ready to leave, Your Highness.”

“Yes, Mikael. I’ll be right there.”

The envoy set off on the long journey back to Hadellun. They retraced their path through the Labyrinth, journeyed aboard the skyship, and, after days of travel, finally reached a major western city with a warp portal leading directly to the imperial palace. With this final leg ahead, the arduous mission was nearly complete. Surprisingly, a welcoming party was already waiting for them.

“Your Highness!”

“Alvin?”

A young man with unruly red hair and a sly expression—it was none other than Alvin, her loyal retainer.

‘Why would he leave the capital to meet us here?’

But he wasn’t alone. Standing beside him was Fritz, Viscount and advisor to Brigitte.

‘This means something’s wrong in the capital.’

Eve’s instincts flared. Her suspicions were confirmed when Alvin, his face unusually grim, approached her.

“Your Highness, something terrible has happened.”

“What is it?”

“A massive fire has broken out in Hadellun.”

“…!”

Like fate itself, the tragedy of her past life had begun to repeat once more.