I Was Reincarnated as the Prince in a Villainess Story, so I’ll Use My Cheat Knowledge to Create a Noble Lady Harem and Make Them All Happy - 53

Chapter 53: The History of the Founding and Heretical Magic

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー

The preparations for the coronation and the wedding turned out to be far more detailed and exhausting than anyone had expected. From the weight of the crown to the final phrasing of the royal proclamation, even to the tuning of the orchestra. Everything seemed to take physical form as a reminder of the heavy responsibility that came with being “King.” Even the seating order of the foreign envoys required careful consideration as one misstep could lead to a diplomatic incident. There was no time to let one’s guard down.

And yet, Valis spent those days in a calm and peaceful state of mind. Most of all, because Milia and Feril were by Reina’s side. They offered Reina, who tended to overexert herself, just the right balance of rest and cheer. Milia’s brightness and Feril’s sincerity quietly supported Reina as she prepared to become queen.

“It’s okay to relax a little, Reina-neesama.”

“That’s right! Smile more! You’re going to be a queen, aren’t you?”

Their gentle words gradually softened Reina’s expression. Because of that, Valis’s time with them didn’t decrease. They still saw each other every night, and the peaceful moments the three of them shared became a source of comfort for him as well.

Meanwhile, Valis himself—amid all the busyness—continued to train in swordsmanship and magic. One form. One forward strike. After working up a sweat, he would visit the royal archives, carefully turning the pages of manuscripts on the ancient magic known as Archive Arts. By the purpose of this coronation, a king’s combat ability was merely symbolic; there was no practical need for it. Even so, Valis still could not forgive himself for that night in Beltea—when all he could do was wait helplessly for their return.

That was why he wanted to fight alongside them next time, not as a king who needed to be protected, but as a partner who could stand with them. Of course, there was the option to keep them away from the front lines. In fact, that would have been the normal choice. But doing so would mean denying their will, their strength, and their trust.

Noblesse oblige. Born into royalty, raised as royalty, and now on the brink of ascension. He finally felt the full weight of those words down to his very bones. With that thought in mind, he reached for a thick volume among the histories of war. The letters on the parchment were dry, as though telling of the passage of time itself. The red seals stamped across the cover marked it as a record of the founding of the kingdom of Alveria. And as he read, an intriguing name caught his attention.

“Warlock…?”

It referred to an adventurer said to have aided the founding king—one who fought with both sword and Archive Arts.

In my previous life, “warlock” referred to a male mage. In this world, the word “wizard” is used more commonly, though…

“If I take it literally, it means ‘one who ends wars’… Not a bad ring to it.”

The words he murmured to himself carried a faint echo of the “chuunibyou” flair he used to feel in his previous life. However, the historical text was unsparing in its evaluation. Combining sword and magic was tactically inefficient. Divine Arts—which combined self-enhancement and healing, was far more practical for actual combat. In fact, the elven tactics that used Spirit Arts to accelerate arrows with wind or sear blades with fire seemed much more fitting for a true “magic warrior.”

According to the text, the adventurer who called himself Warlock was ultimately exceptional only because of his personal talent. He would have become a hero no matter which path he took, the record concluded.

Even so, the name and the way he lived… Perhaps I’m drawn to them because I’m still hungry for power myself…

As he turned another page, a certain word caught his eye.

“…Sealing.”

In the late period of the kingdom’s founding, during a massive war against the demons, the conflict was brought to an end by heroes who sealed away a mighty demon god. Biblos—the memory of that black demon god resurfaced vividly in Valis’s mind. It was the being that his father, King Ars, had defeated. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to believe that such creatures existed only as a single entity in the world.

Lost in that thought, Valis heard a knock at the door.

“Your Highness Valis. A message from Duke Rozheim of Beltea. The mastermind behind the summoning of the demon god Biblos has been identified.”

“…!?”

News like this—just as he had been contemplating the demons. He hurriedly took the sealed letter from his attendant, broke the wax, and scanned the contents. The name was clearly written.

Lynas Wolm.

I remember that name… A few years ago, he was among the populists who came to petition our country for military intervention.

The report continued. After failing in negotiations with Alveria, Lynas returned to Beltea. He severed contact with his comrades and shut himself up in his mansion. He spent his fortune and devoted himself to dubious research underground. Among the traces left behind, they found evidence of ritual patterns consistent with the use of the heretical magic Valcode.

In the end, only he, his younger sister, and one elderly servant remained in the mansion. On the day the demon god appeared, the sister had ordered the servant to go on a distant errand. Days later, Biblos appeared in the capital and unleashed devastation. The traces left behind matched the summoning sigils exactly.

He offered his sister as a sacrifice…

A cold chill ran down his spine. He had sacrificed his sister to activate the heretical magic Valcode, summoning the demon god and losing his own life soon after. Without realizing it, Valis had bitten his lip.

If only I had reached out to him back then.

A feeling close to regret tore through his chest. That he had fallen into heresy, that he had dragged his sister into it… All of it pained Valis deeply.

Valcode…

It was a Gift—a “blessing” that manifested when someone who had touched a demonic being or artifact infused with demonic power possessed both strong negative emotions and magical potential. Its structure came as if by divine revelation. Though similar in form to Divine Arts, its nature was entirely different.

If Divine Arts were powers granted through faith, talent, and discipline, then Heretical Magic—Valcode—was a power granted when one was consumed by emotion, when one fell, in a sense. What made it even more dangerous was how easily its power could be amplified through a sacrifice. It was, in every sense, a magic born from the descent into darkness. Worse still, the power could spread.

Those who came into contact with its users—or with demonic relics—could also manifest Valcode if they were overwhelmed by hatred, anger, or grief. Negativity begot more negativity, corroding the world. That was the true nature of the ancient demon wars and the most insidious trait of the heretical magic, Valcode. Then what could stand against it… At the very depths of Divine Arts lay a power known as…

“The Holy War.”

As that thought crossed his mind, Valis recalled Milia’s words.

“In short, it’s like fighting poison with poison. Madness to counter madness.”

The phrasing was hardly befitting of a saint, yet she had grasped the truth perfectly. The Holy War was not merely a power to destroy one’s enemies. It was the strength to fight without succumbing to negative emotion, to strike down the foe in the name of God. Even if those who stood in one’s path were unarmed civilians, it allowed one to kill without hesitation. It was, in a way, a “vaccine” designed to counter the virus of Valcode—even down to its mental discipline.

Quietly, Valis picked up his pen. To Duke Rozheim, he composed a new request:

—To investigate the circumstances that led Lynas Wolm to the summoning.
—To examine the heretical research beneath his mansion and trace the origins of the relics involved.

Blue ink spread slowly across the parchment. He sealed the letter and handed it to his attendant. Night deepened. From afar came the faint sound of the coronation bells being tuned.

This world was still teetering on the edge of peril. And that was why he would protect it, no matter what… For their future.

Valis gently closed his sword and his book.

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー