I Pioneered Scientific Magic C.291: Uncontrolled Power Will Eventually Bring Disaster to This Kingdom!

"You must be delighted. If I had come alone, I'd be a dead man under the guards' swords by now," Hatar scoffed in response.

"I didn't expect you to see me this way, Hatar..." the king sighed, speaking softly.

"But isn't that your approach, father?" Hatar's expression turned cold as he stared at Bazeel, the aged king seated on the throne before him. His tone grew sharper as he questioned, "Why Harold? What does he have besides pandering to the church? What makes him better than me?"

"Answer me, father!" Hatar gritted his teeth, eyes wide with fury as he demanded an answer.

Bazeel gazed at Hatar in silence, yet Hatar persisted, relentless in his questioning.

"Reducing the church's authority, consolidating power in your hands—aren't these your actions? Or are you afraid? Afraid of the church's power, willing to be a puppet king like Harold?"

"If you cannot grasp this, it shows you're not ready, Hatar. Far from being capable of bearing the weight of a king," Bazeel looked at his second son with immense disappointment.

"Is that so?" Hatar's face contorted, but quickly regained composure, laughing aloud. "But now, it's proven I'm right. Harold has lost, Anluke is dead. From tomorrow, I will be the new king of Hadralata!"

"And I... have surpassed you, father! I'll expel every priest from the kingdom, bringing all territories under the rule of the king and nobles, making Hadralata a true kingdom!" Hatar exclaimed, filled with excitement.

"If that's your choice, then come." Bazeel struggled to rise from the throne, drawing his sword, pointing it at Hatar. "Over a hundred years ago, it was here your grandfather chopped off the former king's head, claiming the throne for Hadralata... Let me see if you have the mettle to be a king!"

Surprised by the sword pointed at him, Hatar hesitated. He had come to claim the throne, not to commit regicide. He only wanted Bazeel to see he was the rightful choice for king.

"Or you could opt for someone else to kill your father!" Bazeel's words were sharp, laced with subtle mockery.

With matters having reached this point, Hatar hesitated no longer. Wiping blood from his blade, he rushed at Bazeel, his grip tight on the sword hilt.

"Clang!"

A piercing sound of metal clashed, sparks flying as the two swords met. Bazeel, old and frail in appearance, yet steady-handed, blocked the strike.

"Is this all your strength amounts to, Hatar?" Bazeel, the king, sounded disappointed. "Power and position may be crucial, but true strength lies within you and will be your ultimate reliance."

Enraged, Hatar swung his blade toward Bazeel's head, roaring, "That was when I didn't want to kill you!"

The clash of blades echoed throughout the vast palace. Hatar's movements were swift and precise, trained as a prince under the best guidance and rigorous combat training. With his powerful bloodline, his strength was not to be underestimated.

But his opponent was the king of Hadralata, Bazeel, hailed as a lion for leading military expeditions across lands. 𝚏r𝐞𝗲𝚠eb𝚗o𝐯el.com

"Do not let anger cloud your actions, it's a grave mistake. Never let your emotions betray your next move," Bazeel blocked Hatar's forceful strike once more, then swiftly angled his sword to leave a visible gash on Hatar's face. "A foe's blade shows no mercy!"

Observing the father-son duel with great interest, Lynn pondered on these so-called noble bloodlines and aristocracy, passed down through generations.

As per the "Artificer" Victorio, these 'superior bloodlines' were remnants of a bygone era, possibly descendants of powerful shaping wizards.

Similar to Owen gaining beastly strength through the fused magic potion...

Yet, this remained uncertain. Wizards' methods varied greatly, especially in the era before established schools of magic. Any means to acquire power were plausible.

Regarding their strengths, Hatar possessed the physique of a second-tier shaping wizard, while King Bazeel was evidently more formidable. Despite his aged body, he deftly parried every one of Hatar's strikes.

Superficially, they seemed evenly matched. However, the gap soon revealed itself. Hatar, unable to breach Bazeel's defenses, grew increasingly impatient. A surge of red energy enveloped him, boosting his strength and speed.

"Forcing uncontrolled power only leads to backlash!" Bazeel maintained composure. Rather than defending this time, he strategically struck the sword, hitting its hilt. "Speed isn't always advantageous for a sword!"

In an instant, Hatar felt his right hand numb, his sword slipping away.

Yet Bazeel didn't seize the advantage. Letting go of his own sword, the old king grabbed Hatar's collar, about to speak, but the next moment, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. A dagger had pierced his heart.

The assailant was none other than Hatar!

"This is what you taught me, father. Never let your guard down," Hatar, in a frenzied yet composed manner, uttered almost through clenched teeth.

Blood welled at Bazeel's lips. Despite the pain, a hint of a smile appeared on his face. He held Hatar's hand, driving the dagger deeper, his gaze piercing. "Do not fear. Remember this feeling, my son. The throne is forged from iron and blood. The only one you can truly trust is yourself."

"And the priests, nobles, and wizards—are all the same... Uncontrolled power will eventually bring disaster to this kingdom!" Bazeel's voice dropped low, mingled with painful murmurs, almost whispering in Hatar's ear. "You've erred. You shouldn't have dismantled the church entirely, disrupting the balance. But it's too late now. Everything is too late!"

"I'm the same to you and Harold..." Bazeel attempted to continue, but blood surged, choking his words. His body quickly went limp and collapsed...

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