How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game

Chapter 251: Emperor...3



That day felt like fire-blazing brighter and hotter than anything else, consuming everything in its path with an intensity that was impossible to ignore.

It was like the icy grip of winter, freezing your skin and bones to their very core, chilling you so deeply that it reached into the depths of your soul.

And when it all ended in a blinding flash, it felt like darkness-soft, comforting, and all- encompassing.

A darkness as serene as the peaceful nature of death itself.

She was just supposed to make sure the princess was safe that day...

[Hiding will get you nowhere... For once she descends, there will be no place to hide... Remember that, _young knight.]

The voice, low and chilling, resonated in her ears like the cold whisper of death.

The man before her loosened the vice-like grip he had on her throat, allowing her to gasp for breath.

His cold, emotionless gaze seemed to distort time itself, his presence freezing the air around them as he turned to walk away.

[...Since your betrayal is a future you've yet to experience... I'm giving you this chance. Fail to deliver the message, and you shall... die.]

Amana jolted awake with a gasp, her chest heaving as if she'd been submerged underwater and was now fighting for air.

Her breaths came in ragged, uneven bursts, her heart pounding violently in her chest like a war drum.

Her vision was hazy, blurred, and distorted as if she were peering through a fogged glass. Waves of pain screamed through her head; an unrelenting throb that felt like a brain freeze amplified to agonizing levels.

Her throat burned, dry as a desert yet searing with the heat of molten lava.

She clutched at it instinctively, her trembling fingers brushing against her skin as she tried to swallow, but the motion only intensified the sensation.

Disoriented, she scanned her surroundings, struggling to piece together reality from the vivid nightmare that had just shattered her sleep.

But the man's words lingered in her mind, each syllable echoing with an ominous finality.

-Ugh! Cough! Cough!

Her breaths came in sharp and ragged gasps as she reached out, her trembling hands searching for the edge of her makeshift bed.

The rough, uneven surface did little to comfort her as she scrambled to sit upright, clutching at her neck.

Her fingers brushed against the tender skin, her throat pulsing with a pain so sharp it felt like a curse embedded deep within her.

She squirmed, her body tense as she tried to push past the agony, but even her high pain tolerance did little against the relentless torment.

This wasn't the kind of pain one could simply grow accustomed to.

For five days now, it had haunted her mornings, striking with the same fresh intensity as it had on the first day.

It wasn't just the pain-it was the nightmares.

The same repetitive scenes, the same suffocating dread, and the same pulsating agony that greeted her every time her eyes opened.

And for five days, there had been no solution.

Knock-!

Knock-!

The sound cut through the oppressive silence like a dagger.

Her instincts flared, and before she even registered the action, a blade formed out of her shadow.

It shot forward with deadly precision, propelled by the surging red mana coursing through her veins.

The blade struck the door with a violent clang, piercing straight through like an arrow infused with pure destructive energy.

CLAAAANG!

But...

The expected explosion didn't come. Instead, there was only the deep, resonating echo of metal against metal, followed by the slow, deliberate footsteps of someone undeterred.

"Looks like you're still in pain," came a calm voice, tinged with mild amusement.

Her eyes narrowed as she recognized it. "...Ramsey?"

"Yes," he replied, his tone steady and unfazed, as if he hadn't just faced down a lethal, mana- infused attack.

She glared at the door, watching as the shadows she had summoned melted away, the lingering remnants of her power dissipating into the air.

Her body ached, her neck throbbed, but she forced herself to straighten up, trying to mask the vulnerability that came with her current state.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice hoarse and strained.

Ramsey stepped into the room, his calm demeanor betraying no emotion. "I'm here because you look like hell, and from what I just saw, it's safe to say you feel like it too."

"...I don't need your help," she muttered, though her words lacked conviction.

"No, you don't," he agreed, his gaze sharp as he observed her. "But you're going to get it

anyway."

Ramsey's sharp eyes glowed crimson as he scanned her condition once more.

From head to toe, he saw nothing amiss-no external wounds, no visible abnormalities, and

no internal disruptions that his shadow-infused senses could detect.

Yet, for five consecutive days, Amana had been plagued by this relentless pain and unease.

It wasn't just a passing ailment.

This was something unnatural, something beyond the usual threats they faced.

He wanted to uncover its root cause, to eliminate it as efficiently as his training demanded. But even as a seasoned Shadow Knight, his expertise had limits.

Dealing with afflictions of this nature was firmly within the domain of high mages, priests, and other specialized practitioners.

"You should visit a priest," he finally said, his voice calm but firm. "There's a temple nearby

"Then both I and that priest will die," Amana interrupted coldly, her crimson eyes locking

onto his with a sharp, defiant glare.

Her voice carried the weight of absolute certainty.

As Shadow Knights, they were bound by unwavering loyalty to the Emperor.

Any unauthorized contact with the church, especially one shrouded in secrecy, would be considered treason. The punishment? Execution without trial.

"Would you take my head yourself, Uncle?" she asked, her tone steady but laced with

bitterness.

Ramsey didn't flinch at her words. "No one would know," he replied, his voice devoid of

emotion, yet carrying a subtle weight of reassurance.

"There's no point in taking unnecessary risks,"

"Then I'll bring one here," he offered. "Discreetly."

"I told you, I'm fine," Amana shot back, her voice firm despite the strain it carried.

Ramsey studied her closely, his expression unreadable.

Despite her insistence, he didn't believe her-not entirely. The signs of her suffering were too clear, even if she refused to admit it outright. But he knew better than to press her further

now.

"Very well," he said at last, his tone neutral as he straightened. "But if this persists, we will

revisit the matter."

Amana didn't respond, merely turning her gaze away as if to dismiss the conversation

altogether.

Turning her agaze away from him for a moment she slowly made her way towards the one and

only chair in the small room.

"Why are you even here?" Amana asked, her voice laced with suspicion. "I'm sure the Grand Master of the Shadow Knights wouldn't just drop by because he's worried about his beloved

niece, right?"

She couldn't help but wonder if the Emperor himself had orchestrated Ramsey's sudden visit. Knowing her uncle's unwavering loyalty, there was no way he'd come without permission.

Her mind began to churn-had something happened?

Ramsey's crimson eyes gleamed beneath the black mask he wore, his face hidden in shadow as The scrutinized her expression.

Though his weathered visage was concealed, the intensity of his gaze was unmistakable.

In truth, he had come of his own volition, partly out of concern for her deteriorating condition

and partly to safeguard her standing within the Shadow Order.

Yet, the primary reason for his presence was far more pressing.

"The message you sent to the Emperor..." Ramsey began, his deep voice cutting through the tense air. "There's been a reply, and His Majesty has requested your presence." Amana's eyes widened in shock, her mind racing. She sat frozen for a moment, the weight of

his words sinking in, before slowly rising to her feet.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," 'Finally!'n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, though she quickly masked it. Shadows began to swirl around her, wrapping her in their embrace as her black uniform and

mask materialized seamlessly.

The familiar weight of her Shadow Knight armor comforted her, and for the first time in days,

a spark of hope flared within her. Touching her neck lightly, as if to reassure herself, she felt a faint positivity creep in. Whatever this pain was, she was certain it was about to come to an end.

"Let's go,"

Looking at her enthusiastic and naïve expression, Ramsey couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

Amana was a paradox in his eyes-a prodigy molded for the deadly precision of the Shadow Knights yet untouched by the core ideals that defined their existence.

She had always possessed an uncanny knack for combat and an innate talent for killing, mastering the art of assassination with a finesse few could rival.

But as Ramsey observed her now, he couldn't shake a lingering doubt that had taken root over

the years.

Had he made a mistake?

In raising her as a Shadow Knight, Ramsey had forged her into a blade sharper than any other.

But in doing so, he had stripped her of the opportunity to live as an ordinary young woman.

The quiet joys of youth, the innocence of a simpler life-he had taken all of it away from her, filling her world with shadows and bloodshed instead.

What troubled him most, however, wasn't her aptitude for violence. It was the absence of something far more significant-loyalty.

Even now, after everything, Amana had yet to develop any true allegiance to the Emperor or

the imperial family.

"Amana..."

The cold, commanding voice echoed through the vast and dimly lit throne room, sending a

shiver down Amana's spine.

Seated upon his throne of ice and steel, the Emperor exuded an aura of absolute authority.

His piercing blue eyes, as cold as glaciers, bore into her with a pressure so immense it felt as though the air itself had frozen solid.

There was no warmth in his gaze, only the unwavering dignity and ruthlessness of a true-

born ruler.

Amana knelt before him, her head lowered in deference.

Cold sweat trickled down her back as she struggled to maintain her composure.

She had met the Emperor before, but never like this.

While he was always distant and regal, today his presence was far more foreboding- apathetic and subtly threatening, as if the weight of his expectations could crush her at any

moment.

To his right stood the White Knight, a figure cloaked in gleaming armor so pristine it seemed to glow even in the dimness of the room.

The mask covering the knight's face gave it an otherworldly, impenetrable aura, but Amana

knew the truth.

The White Knight's eyes were fixed on her, cold and unyielding, and it was all she could do to suppress the tremor in her limbs.

One mistake—just one- and her life would end in an instant.

The White Knight was not merely a protector but an executioner, a living weapon that

transcended mortal limits.

And then there were the shadows.

The throne room teemed with unseen eyes; Shadow Knights lurked in every corner, silent and

watchful, their presence a constant reminder of her precarious position.

"The academy has made their response..."

The Emperor's voice broke the suffocating silence, low and deliberate. Each word struck like a

hammer, weighing heavily on Amana's shoulders.

Her body stiffened involuntarily. Even before he finished, she could feel the tension in his

tone, the unspoken threat laced within.

"I know you are quite close with Snow..." he continued, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, "but you understand what will happen if your information proves false, don't you?" "Yes, Your Majesty," Amana replied, her voice steady despite the tight knot forming in her

throat.

"Good."

The single word was final, absolute. It offered no reassurance, only the expectation that she would fulfill her role flawlessly-or face the consequences.

The Emperor rose from his throne, his movement as fluid as water and as commanding as a

storm. With a mere wave of his hand, the dim, oppressive atmosphere of the throne room dissipated.

Light flooded the space, chasing away the shadows that had clung to every corner. Yet, oddly, the room felt no warmer. Instead, the shadows seemed to retreat, not into the

walls, but into the Emperor himself, as if they were part of his very being.

"She's all yours now, Luther," the Emperor said, his tone casual but carrying an unmistakable

finality.

He didn't wait for a response.

With a dismissive wave, he turned and began walking out of the room, his footsteps echoing

against the cold, polished stone.

Amana's eyes widened in surprise, confusion clouding her mind.

What was going on?

She wondered considering she had expected more from the emperors direct summoning....

Before she could gather her thoughts, the White Knight took a deliberate step closer.

The soft clang of armor reverberated through the room, each sound like the toll of a bell. "Recall everything you have told His Majesty," the knight commanded, its voice cold and devoid of emotion, yet somehow heavy with an authority that rivaled even the Emperor's. Amana's breath hitched.

The demand was absurd-no mere knight had the right to order a Shadow Knight like her.

Shadow Knights served directly under the Emperor, answering to no one else.

Yet, as she gazed at the White Knight's faceless helm, a primal fear gripped her. Disobedience means death.

The thought was irrational, and yet it resonated with a certainty she couldn't ignore.

She gulped, her throat dry as sandpaper, and clenched her fists to steady herself.

Still, her lips moved before her mind could process what she was about to say.

"Five days ago..." she began, her voice trembling but audible, "I met a monster who asked me

to deliver a message to his majesty..."

The White Knight's helm tilted slightly, as if intrigued.

"Who?"

"......Riley Hell"