Sustaining The King’s Life - Chapter 273

273: Stopping the prophecy

“Eula…?”

Faustina couldn’t believe it. Eula was now in front of her, a living flesh. And it was at that moment that it flashed to Faustina.

The night Eula died.

**

“Ack!”

“Faustina,” says Eula in a very weak voice, “I don’t think I am going to live much longer.”

“Don’t say that,” Faustina softly said, as the ladle touched the dried lip of her master. Eula’s fair complexion was now pale. Her red hair was unkempt, although Faustina combs it every day.

“Is the medicine working?” Faustina asked, “are you feeling better, Master?”

Eula unleashed several fits of cough. Blood trickled at the side of her lip.

“Months have passed,” Eula said weakly, “maybe it’s finally the time…”

Faustina feigned a smile, “You’re going to be better, Master. Just wait for the medication to take effect. I’ve added a hundred percent concentration of the herb, and I went to the forest to search for those mushrooms the book was referring to.”

“Faustina.” Eula says, “y-you have been my apprentice for so long. For seven years of practicing medicine we have been through our own battles and the like,”

“Master…?”

“I want you to leave this cabin when I die…”

Eula says, almost tentatively, “from this day on your battle will be harsh… to escape those traders is one of them… to survive…”

“Master…”

“I…” Eula’s green eyes shined with tears and sorrow, “I’m sorry…”

“If you see the trader… run…” Eula says, her voice was getting smaller, “and… if you see the king…”

Faustina stared intently as Eula mumbled a breathless whisper.

“do not adhere to the prophecy…”

—

“Eula… M-master—” Faustina bit her lips.

“She’s not your master, Faustina,” The forsaken exclaimed. “She is your mother.”

“That’s right, dear.” Eula exclaimed with a smile. “I’m your mother.”

Faustina felt a shiver run down her spine as she stared at Eula. She looked kind, and serene.

“A soft spoken woman…” Faustina mumbled.

“Eula… isn’t a soft spoken woman,” Faustina mumbled.

The rain poured harshly as Faustina propelled her staff forward.

“You are not Eula!”

Eula smiled. “What are you s…”

Faustina blinked. Eula was not on sight anymore.

However…

A tremulous voice behind Faustina alerted her.

“What kind of trick is this…”

Faustina slowly and tentatively turned around, feeling the sword around her neck.

Red eyes met red ones.

The forsaken looked like he was in a state of confusion and agony, something that he does not show.

“Why are you doing this…?”

Faustina blinked, realizing it was not the forsaken that had his blade around his neck.

“Father?”

“You… why are you trying to kill your mother?”

Faustina blinked.

“That woman is not my mother!”

“You don’t understand,” Jonathan exclaimed. “An electric magic in the rain…”

Faustina’s eyes widened as she sees ‘Eula’ smiling at her.

“Jonathan.” She said. “She’s young. She wouldn’t understand now. Forgive her.”

Jonathan then lowered her sword, which then called for an opening.

Faustina elbowed his jaw, and then broke free from his grasp.

But then Faustina tripped as Jonathan used a binding shadow magic in her feet.

He walked towards Eula, embracing her tight.

“Eulalia…”

Faustina’s eyes widened as she sees Eula’s reflection in the puddle.

Eula… was reflecting something else!

A dark entity assuming the shape of a woman with curved horns around her head.

An ominous feeling coursed through Faustina. What was that? WHO was inside Eula?

Faustina gritted her teeth. She has come this long. Eula—the real Eula’s final wish was to stop the prophecy from happening.

Do not adhere to it—

Eula was warning her to not be tricked. She may have foreseen these events.

She was now on her own.

“She’s not Eula!”

Faustina broke free from the shadow chains as she ran forward.

‘Concentrate your mana! Give the final blow!’

“Light dispersion!” Faustina chanted, “turris lumine!”

A large tower made of light then shone before Jonathan and Eula—

“With this…” Faustina then conjured beams of fire towards them. “The prophecy would not be fulfilled!”

Faustina panted as smoke flooded the entire space.

Her hands were still trembling. She clenched her fist. This was the only solution; to the betterment of all, the roots must be cut from the source.

Or so she thinks.

Slow claps echoed in the vast castle ground.

Faustina’s eyes widened as Jonathan came out unscathed, along with Eula who now had a sweet, dangerous smile painted on her face.

“How brave of you to think that you will be able to kill me with that simple type of magic.”

Faustina’s eyes widened.

Her father’s appearance had changed.

“But it did aid on the transition.”

On the left side of Jonathan’s face had his eye with a symbolic moon insignia in it; his left having strange ancient markings of runes around his face and the half of his body.

“Now, we are finally one…” Said the forsaken. “At last… at last!”

Eula chuckled as she wrapped her arms around the right side of the forsaken.

“Eula…” It was the bewitched Jonathan.

“You… just… who…” Faustina said between her rasped breaths.

Eula smiled kindly.

“Allow me to introduce myself.” She stepped forward towards Faustina and cupped her cheeks.

“My name… is Lilith.”

Faustina blinked.

Lilith.

Like… in the mythology? That Lilith, who was—

“The mother of all warlocks… the prophesied evil!” said the forsaken. “The one who shall bring everything back to its rightful place!”

Faustina felt a shiver run down her spine as Lilith smiled using Eula’s face.

“I have bewitched your father,” she whispered. “Now, he is mine, and so is this world.”

Before Faustina could charge again, the tower in the castle collapsed as the ground rumbled.

Faustina’s eyes widened as the dragon fell to the tower.

“I see.” Lilith stated. “It seems everything would be harder than it seems.”

Walking forward with a bloodied armor and a crystal-like sword drenched in dragon blood was a man whose sapphire eyes glinted with anger. He had cut through Lilith and Faustina, and now he had shielded Faustina with his iron-clad back.

“The first obstacle I have to overcome,” said Lilith as she licked her lips.

“Alexander Octavius, the contractor of the Opus!”