30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 164

The palace where Sultan Salah was currently residing was one reserved for foreign royalty and esteemed guests.

It was equipped with vast facilities capable of accommodating hundreds of people, including various amenities meant to impress foreign dignitaries.

...However, at this moment, no one had the leisure to enjoy such luxuries.

“Guhhh...!”

“Sultan, please endure a little longer. The bleeding will stop soon. Or perhaps we should use a potion—”

“No, absolutely not! A potion can’t restore my lost ear, can it?!”

With their master writhing in pain, who could possibly think about indulging in grandeur?

On the contrary, they were far more concerned about losing their heads at any moment.

“B-But, Sultan...”

“Enough! Get that thing out of my sight!”

“...As you command.”

Who would dare disobey such an order?

The healer stepped back, unable to hide their dismay.

“...Damn it!”

Salah, who rarely uttered vulgarities, couldn’t stop himself this time.

His wound continued to throb, burning as though it were aflame.

His ear had been cut off as if torn apart, yet it had neither been stitched nor treated with potions or medicine, so the pain was inevitable.

The only reason he wasn’t bleeding out was thanks to Western medical techniques that delayed the flow of blood.

But this was only a temporary measure. His complexion was steadily worsening.

“Those damned followers of the Light...”

Clench!

If he truly wanted to heal his ear, he could turn to the priests of the Light, who wielded divine blessings.

However, as the Sultan, he was forbidden from accepting aid from other religions.

In the West, the worship of the Sun God rivaled that of the Light, and Sultan Salah was revered as the “descendant” and “representative” of the Sun God.

For that reason, worshiping any deity other than the Sun God was considered a “taboo.”

Blaspheming the Sun God was one thing, but accepting aid from another religion could easily be misconstrued as treason against the Sultan.

It was an unyielding rule, but no tool preserved royal authority better than religion.

This was the epitome of the “Divine Right of Kings.”

Consequently, the religions of other continents, including the Light, couldn’t establish themselves in the West. To the people of the West, the Light was nothing more than a heretical cult that could never be accepted.

Especially...

“Urgh!”

“Sultan, instead of enduring this, perhaps we should visit the temple...”

“No. Absolutely not. The moment I receive healing from heretics, my authority will crumble!”

“...Sultan.”

“Ghh!”

The Sultan could never seek healing from the Light.

He was the Sun God’s representative, the bloodline of divinity.

For someone like him to receive treatment from heretics just because he was injured?

Unthinkable.

Should one of his political rivals discover that he had turned to a heretical priest for help, it would shatter the foundation of his sovereignty.

His people would rise in rebellion, declaring that he was no descendant of the divine.

“When did those damn priests of the Sun Temple say they’d arrive?”

“...They’ve just crossed the border.”

“Those insolent vermin! They could have arrived earlier, but they dared to dawdle!”

“......”

“Arrogant bastards! Filthy scum...!!”

The Sun Temple.

They were supposed to serve the Sultan, the Sun God’s representative, yet their relationship with Salah had soured long ago.

The priests of the Sun Temple had always aspired to stand above the Sultan, while Salah had always intended to crush them beneath his feet.

Naturally, their relationship was strained, and the priests no longer accompanied Salah on his journeys.

Now, despite suffering severe injuries, the Sultan remained untreated.

He could have instructed the healer to stitch his torn ear and treat his wounds, but even with divine power, full regeneration would be difficult.

Considering the regulations that demanded the Sultan have no “physical defects” or “mental disabilities,” this injury was fatal.

The pain wasn’t the issue—this was enough justification to dethrone him.

‘This situation is utterly screwed!’

...Clench!

Who would have thought he’d suffer such a blow in Pendragon?

‘Who the hell was it...?!’

Salah refused to believe that his attackers were assassins.

The Crows were ruthless, but they never abandoned contracts or betrayed their clients.

If betrayal had been their way, they would have been wiped out in the West long ago.

Similarly, it made no sense for another Sultan to target him.

All the Sultans knew that maintaining the current system was in their best interest.

Which meant...

‘Someone from Pendragon attacked me.’

...How dare they.

While it was true that Salah had struck first, that didn’t matter.

To injure the Sultan, the representative of the Sun God? That was treason worthy of being burned alive.

Salah had no intention of forgiving his attackers.

“...Salman, if my soldiers stationed near the border were to march, how soon could they reach Pendragon?”

“S-Sultan? Surely you don’t mean—?!”

“They need to be taught a lesson. They need to understand what it means to lay a hand on the descendant of the Sun God!”

“......”

Seeing Sultan Salah’s state of mind, Salman couldn’t hide his despair.

His master, normally calm and calculating, now seemed like an entirely different person.

But as he looked at the Sultan’s severed ear, Salman clenched his teeth.

‘This is all because of those bastards who dared attack us!’

His own missing arm was nothing in comparison, but to leave such a flaw on the Sultan’s divine body...

It was an unforgivable crime, and Salman fully shared his master’s fury.

Master and servant, they were cut from the same cloth.

A knight witnessing the two might have called them beasts in human form.

And beasts followed instinct.

Particularly those afflicted with rabies—they couldn’t be reasoned with.

Thus...

“-Ignorant fools. I tried to let it slide, but there’s a limit to my patience.”

“!!?”

“Who’s there?!”

Salman quickly drew his sword.

Even with one arm, he was a formidable warrior, exuding sharp killing intent as he faced the sudden intruder.

Click. Click.

...However, despite the drawn blade, the figure strode forward confidently under the moonlight.

Their steps exuded authority.

As the moon illuminated them, silver hair shone brilliantly, and their piercing eyes gleamed with a divine light.

“Y-You’re...?!”

Salman froze.

He recognized her face.

She was the first person he had seen upon entering the kingdom and the one with the most prestigious status.

“...Is this how Pendragon treats its guests? Princess Isis?”

Isis Elaine de Pendragon.

The kingdom’s heir apparent and first in line to the throne.

Her beauty rivaled that of angels, making the surroundings seem brighter, as though stepping into a fairy tale.

Had she arrived under different circumstances, Salah might have welcomed her warmly—he admired beauty, after all.

But now?

The timing couldn’t have been worse.

“How dare you draw your sword before the royal heir?”

“...Apologies, but drawing a weapon is only natural when faced with an intruder, Your Highness.”

The tension was palpable—one wrong move, and blood would spill.

Yet Isis remained calm, even as blades gleamed.

Not only that, but she stepped closer.

“Such insolence. You should address me as Crown Princess. Typical Western barbarians...”

“...You dare insult the Sultan?!”

Her provocation only fanned the flames.

And then—

[I never gave you permission to speak.]

Whoosh!

“!!?”

Salman fell to his knees, blood pooling beneath him.

“...Salman?”

“......”

Even as the Sultan called out, Salman couldn’t respond.

His vision was turning red.

“...Wha—?”

Salman realized that blood was pouring from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

Strangely, he couldn’t feel a thing.

Even as the blood spurted out like a fountain, he felt absolutely nothing.

“You should have understood what it means to draw a blade against me. This is what happens when someone like you, ignorant of grace, honor, and etiquette, dares to act so arrogantly. Know your place.”

Isis spat out her condemnation as she looked down at the fallen Salman.

There was no place in her world for those who showed hostility toward her.

If someone were to be spared, they had to be worthy of such mercy—possessing honor and qualifications.

That lowly creature before her had neither.

...He didn’t even deserve to be respected as a warrior.

“What did you do to Salman, Princess Isis?!”